A Look Back at 2023

It's the end of 2024. As I reflect on this year, I realize that I never posted about 2023. So, here it is. 

Note: I wrote this in December 2023.

I last posted about 2022 (and here's 2021). I may not always share an annual blog post. I don't want to place pressure on myself to write one. I'm allowing space for myself to do so, if it feels right. 

I closed out the year wanting 2023 to be "full of peace, calm, grace, and abundance. I want to flow through the challenges that will inevitably show up. I want to be present in moments of beauty and joy."

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 on Unsplash

My previous year's review offered a few questions to ponder. While they're good questions to ask about any chunk of time (a day, week, month, year, and so forth), the new year offers an opportunity to consider them for 2023.

What did you overcome this year?

I faced a lot of fear this year. I was strong and brave in ways that I haven't always noticed. I took chances and opened myself up in new safe spaces. 

This year, I made huge strides in changing the way I relate to myself and my emotions. 

• I'm learning how to be more aware of and better identify and express my emotions. 
• I'm learning more about what I need and want. 
• I'm learning new ways to use my voice. 
• I'm learning more about neural pathways and the relationship between my thoughts, emotions, and physical sensations. 

What brought you joy this year?

So much has brought me joy this year. I feel like I'm seeing things through clearer eyes, in some ways. Depression has loosened its grip on me, and life is brighter. 

I have a support system that has offered me safe presence, encouragement, feedback, and guidance. I love sharing space with these souls, even if it's mostly virtually. 

I have been able to spend time with people I love, in-person and virtually. I have been writing more, exploring new recipes, and taking more pictures of beauty.

What do you want next year to look like?

I want next year to be a time of growth and rest, consistency and change, depth and frivolity. I want there to be meaningful conversations, moments of joy, soulful connections. I want my days to be filled with creativity, love, and laughter. 

Questions for reflection (and sharing, if you'd like to). Feel free to adjust the timing to what feels right for you. Perhaps you want to consider these questions for a month, quarter, etc. 

• What did you overcome this year?
• What brought you joy this year?
• What do you want next year to look like?

"Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

A Year in Review (2022)

Note: I wrote this in December 2022.

I don't always do a year in review sort of post, though I did in 2021. I was recently part of a writing group that prompted me to consider some questions about this year.

eberhard 🖐 grossgasteiger on Unsplash

This year has been an intense year. There has been a lot of deep sadness and grief. Depression has taken hold multiple times. Anxiety has spun me around more times than I can count. Pain remains my daily companion.

Through it all, God has remained faithful. I'm grateful for His provision, especially when I don't know what I need.

I have overcome a lot this year. I've made it through every single time that I wasn't sure I would. Every time. Every. Time. I will continue to make it through, even when I'm not sure how.

I did a lot of hard work this year. I tackled depression with TMS (transcranial magnetic stimulation), Ketamine, and therapy. I completed a 3-week intensive pain rehabilitation program. I consistently showed up for physical therapy, both in office and at home. I made it through pelvic trigger point injections and acupuncture. A lot of needles. A lot of pain. A lot of work.

I am a warrior. I’m tired of fighting, and I'm doing my best to find balance.

I still have a long way to go to get to where I want to be. Where I thought I would already be. I'm doing my best to accept where I am and continue working to get to where I want to be.

I spent time with family and friends this year, both virtually and in-person. I enjoyed moments of love and laughter.

I want next year to be full of peace, calm, grace, and abundance. I want to flow through the challenges that will inevitably show up. I want to be present in moments of beauty and joy.

Intentionally reflecting allows me to recognize how far I've come.

• Writing about the obstacles that I overcame reminds me of my strength and resilience, and God's faithful provision.
• Remembering the people and moments that brought me joy reminds me of all that I'm so very grateful for.
• Looking forward to the coming year reminds me that there's space to grow and change, and that there's always hope.

Questions for reflection (and sharing, if you'd like to):

• What did you overcome this year?
• What brought you joy this year?
• What do you want next year to look like?

"Year's end is neither an end nor a beginning but a going on, with all the wisdom that experience can instill in us." - Hal Borland

A Letter to Myself

It's been 15 years since I was in a car accident that altered the trajectory of my life. I've written and posted about it multiple times over the years. Each time differs, as the grieving and healing processes continue. 

Note: links to previous posts about the anniversary of the car accident at the end of this post.

This year feels different. 

The past year has included a Pain Rehabilitation Center (PRC) program, Emotional Awareness and Expression Therapy (EAET) course, and attending a writing support group, all of which have provided me resources and opportunities to make important changes in my life and within myself. I will share more about these in future posts. 

Today, I want to share a letter I wrote to myself. I've written multiple different letters to myself over time. These letters offer compassion, guidance, and encouragement to myself, reminding me that I can and will make it through whatever hard thing I'm facing. They serve as a gentle guide, map, or light for me to get through the difficult times. Here is one such letter. 

My dear self,

I know you’re struggling and your heart feels heavy. Pause and take a breath. 

Feel the air come in through your nose and out through your mouth. Notice how that feels in the body. 

You are going to get through this, just as you have every hard thing before. 

Breathe. 

Rest. 

Identify and acknowledge the emotions and core beliefs that come up. 

Be gentle with yourself. 

Write. Writing helps to gain clarity and release hurt better than anything else. 

Pray. Ask God to come alongside you and provide what you need in each moment. He is faithful. 

Reach out. Jeremy is your strongest supporter in life. Allow him, and others, to be there for you. 

Use the skills and tools you’ve learned and strengthened over the years: breathing, healthy coping and distraction, and resilience. 

You are so resilient! You persevere through challenges. You are a warrior. 

Listen to music. Look for beauty. Bake a cake. Play a game. Write, write, write. 

Do these to help you feel like you again. 

Breathe and let go of what you’re able to. 

I’m so proud of you! I'm proud of you for never giving up, for doing the hard work, for always holding onto hope as well as you were able. 

Keep going, you’ve got this.

Love, Me

Photo by Jamie Valendy

I wrote this letter during the PRC program in 2022. I wrote it on October 10. That day has a history of pain and redemption, over the years.

• It was the day that I was in a car accident that changed my life. 
• It was the day that I started seeing my amazing headache specialist.
• It was the day that I wrote this letter to myself and graduated from a pain rehabilitation program. 

A lot has changed in the past 15 years. I have picked up the pieces of a shattered life, more than once, and chosen what to keep and what to let go of. I have fought battles within (and out) that few or no one knows about. I have worked hard to become the person I am, and I will continue to keep (re)building and growing. 

I've got this!

If you'd like to listen to me read this letter, you can! I was asked to share on a recent US Pain Foundation Building Your Toolbox talk about the importance of writing. Click here to listen on YouTube (https://youtu.be/AolqG1FvoUw). I read at 24:00.

If you'd like to read more, here are some links: 

• The Battle Begins
• 3-Year Anniversary of Car Accident
• 4-Year Anniversary of Car Accident
• Reflecting 12 Years Post Accident
• 13 Years Later, Now

Suicide Prevention Awareness

September is National Suicide Prevention Month. September 10 is World Suicide Prevention Day.

Photo by Thought Catalog on Unsplash

Suicide is something that hits close to home for so many people, yet we often don't talk about it. There is a lot of shame, guilt, and stigma associated with mental health and suicide. 

We need to talk about our mental health. 

I've shared some about my experiences with depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), panic attacks, grief, loss. It's all part of my journey and it's important to share so others know they're not alone. 

You're not alone.

My cousin died by suicide in 2020. It's a heartbreaking and complicated loss. The stigma around suicide affects how we process the loss and grieve. For me, I found that it's further complicated in light of experiencing deep depression and suicidal thoughts at various times in my own life. 

I do my best to speak about mental health, chronic illness, and suicide with honesty, vulnerability, and language that reduces the shame, guilt, and stigma associated with them. Life is hard enough without these piled on. 

You matter. You are enough. You are not alone.

*The following resources include additional information, support, and helplines*

Awareness

• The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP) highlights the Talk Away the Dark campaign: "There are countless ways you can help Talk Away the Dark by initiating open conversations about mental health; speaking up and making sure more people know what research reveals about how we can help prevent suicide; lighting the way for those in distress to feel comfortable asking for help; and knowing what to say to support survivors of suicide loss and provide them the care they need." 

About Suicide

• Globally, more than 700,000 people die due to suicide each year, that's about one suicide every 40 seconds. (WHO, Suicide Prevention Fact Sheet and Suicide – TWLOHA)
• In the U.S. (2021), there is a suicide every 11 minutes. (Suicidology, Fact Sheet)
• Suicide is the 10th leading cause of death for Americans. (CDC, Fact Sheet" and Suicide – TWLOHA)
• Suicide is the 2nd leading cause of death for Americans ages 10-34. (CDC, Fact Sheet" and Suicide – TWLOHA)
• Males die by suicide four times as often as females, but there are three female attempts for every male attempt. (Suicidology, Fact Sheet and  (Suicide – TWLOHA)
• In 2012, the US Department of Veteran Affairs (VA) released a data report for suicides among veterans and active military members, indicating that an average of 22 die by suicide every day. (22Kill and Mission22)

Resources

• American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP)
• World Health Organization (WHO) (mental health and suicide data)
• American Association of Suicidology (AAS)
• National Alliance on Mental Health (NAMI)
• To Write Love On Her Arms (TWLOHA): "A nonprofit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury, and suicide."
• The Jed Foundation: "A nonprofit that protects emotional health and prevents suicide for our nation’s teens and young adults, giving them the skills and support they need to thrive today…and tomorrow."
• The Trevor Project: "We provide information & support to LGBTQ young people 24/7, all year round."
• 22KILL (One Tribe Foundation): "Restore the value of life by empowering veterans, first responders, and their families."
• Mission 22: "Our Veteran non-profit offers programs at no cost to all participants. We focus on three main pillars—Veterans, families, and community."
• Talk Away the Dark: Resources to learn the warning signs, know the risk factors, and have real, open conversations with those you care about.
• 988: We can all prevent suicide: Know the risk factors, warning signs, help others in crisis, and change the conversation around suicide.

Helplines

• 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline (formerly known as the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline) at 988 or text TALK to 741741. For those that are deaf and hard of hearing, use your preferred relay service or dial 711 then 988. Spanish is also available.
• Crisis Text Line (24/7): text TALK or AYUDA to 741741 or chat online to connect to a trained crisis counselor for free, 24/7.
• NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) Helpline (M-F 10am-6pm ET): 800-950-NAMI (6264) or info@nami.org
• Veterans Crisis Line (24/7): dial 988 (press 1), text 838255, chat online
• Additional 24-hour helplines (including child abuse, domestic abuse, sexual abuse)

If you, or someone you know, is in suicidal crisis or emotional distress, please call the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline (formerly known as the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline) at 988 or text TALK to 741741. For those that are deaf and hard of hearing, use your preferred relay service or dial 711 then 988.

Depression: What Does It Feel Like?

This is a post I wrote six months ago exploring depression. At the time I wrote this one, I posted Depression: An Update.

Photo by micheile henderson on Unsplash

Depression is an insidious disease. Mental illness and pain are liars. I battle with multiple diseases, which has taught me that you can't always see the depth and intensity of pain another is going through.

The ways I've learned to cope with and survive depression, anxiety, pain further complicate things because one part of that is that I hide it. Not consciously, most of the time. But, I've become a master at hiding pain (of all kinds). It's so engrained in how I move through life, that it's mostly been through feedback from other people that I've really seen how "well" I do it.

For example, my therapist said that it was difficult for her when we first started meeting because my demeanor and my words weren't aligned. I was sitting in front of her, completely put together, while my words were filled with pain and despair.

Hearing that others typically don't see the chaos inside of me is bittersweet. I want to be seen and known. I think we all do. Yet, much of the pain I experience is invisible.

In an effort to pull back the curtain, both on depression as a disease and on my personal experience with it, I explored the question: What does depression feel like?

It's a question I wish there was a simple answer to, but the answer is as complex as the disease and people that face it. I've experienced depression in more ways than I can even recall. Here are some descriptions that come to mind.

• Apathy
• Nothing matters... yet everything matters (depression + anxiety)
• Emptiness
• Anguish
• Despair
• Heavy darkness
• Weighted blanket over everything
• Trying to walk in quicksand
• Drowning in the depths of the ocean
• Carrying a boulder
• Fatigue and lack of motivation
• Breathing takes everything you have
• Spiraling into the abyss
• Gasping for breath, while an elephant is on your chest
• Moving in slow motion
• Thoughts out of my control
• Stuck in a nightmare or twilight zone
• Sleepwalking
• Endless blackness / darkness
• Tunnel
• Spiral
• Deep dark pit
• Perpetual 

What does depression feel like for you?

"That’s the thing about depression: A human being can survive almost anything, as long as she sees the end in sight. But depression is so insidious—and it compounds daily—making it impossible to ever see the end. That fog is like a cage without a key.” - Elizabeth Wurtzel

Depression: An Update

Depression is hard. 

Photo by Greg Rosenke on Unsplash

That's true. And, yet, a huge understatement.

I can see ways that I've improved:

• I can more readily spot the signs of depression worsening.
• I have been growing my toolbox with ways to help me in battle.
• I find myself reaching outside of myself more than I used to.

I'm trying to focus on those things, but the truth is that there's so much other stuff chattering in the background... that I'm right back where I've been time and time and time again. Like there's no way to not.

Over the years, I've experienced depression to varying degrees. It's always there, though the depth, intensity, and disruption vary. Each episode is a unique and ever-changing combination of depression, anxiety, and panic attacks... making it a moving target to identify and manage. 

I've been in a depressive cycle for nearly 4 years. There have been moments of sheer beauty and joy, but the lows have been just as impressive as the highs. 

Depression does its best to push those positive moments out of my memory, while latching on to the painful ones. I'm doing my best to allow the space to grieve the losses and experience the joys, both with the intensity that shows up.

I seem to have more recently turned a corner to experiencing the deep lows, but the highs feel dampened. This may be partly due to deep sadness and grief stacking atop the depression. It's too heavy. 

I'm so tired and weary. The daily battles feel like a permanent fixture in my life.

I'm not sure how to get through all of this... but, there is no other way but through. 

Update: I wrote the above some number of months ago. 

There have been ebbs and flows to my experience of depression. Sometimes, depression is in the background and things don't feel quite as heavy and dark. Other times, there's a sense of emptiness and it feels like there's a blanket over everything. It takes a lot of hard work and energy to try to allow and accept even the difficult moments. I'm trying.

"I’ve managed to live with and through Depression before and can do it again. And that is a truth Depression cannot dispel." - Marie Shanley (Mxiety)

Allowing What I Need Right Now

I'm grateful for words that show up at the perfect moment and resonate.

Photo by Andreas Wagner on Unsplash

"Allow yourself the things you need right now. Whether that's space, rest, support, or something else, know that you are not a burden for taking care of yourself." - To Write Love On Her Arms

I'll admit that I don't always do the best at identifying or allowing myself what I need in the moment. It's something I've been intentionally working on... and it feels like life is giving me tons of opportunities to practice.

I have read the above quote at different moments over the past few months. It remains something I need reminded of, even though my responses to it have varied. 

• I have no idea what I need right now or how to make it through this pain, this grief, this moment. None of those things will bring relief or reprieve. 
• I am doing all the things I'm able to do for what I need right now, including, acknowledging that various pains (physical, mental, emotional) often team up with one another and have a propensity for telling lies. 

I'm fighting back with truths:

• This moment is hard, and I will make it through.
• The pain and grief are real, and I'm anchored to the One that will see me through each wave of every storm.
• I am doing what I can to take care of myself, and that is always enough.️

I know that there's likely more I want to write and explore on the topic. I'm choosing to focus on getting through the current storm, jotting thoughts down as I'm able, and being ok with revisiting them when I'm better able to. 

A Year in Review, Kinda (2021)

I like things to be in order. I always have. Sometimes, it gets me locked into place and prevents me from starting or reaching out or sharing at all. It's more than ok to start from where you are... from where I am. That's where we are: now, this moment.

This year has included many health-related challenges, including a hospitalization, multiple infections,
major surgery, new symptoms, testing, imaging, new diagnoses. Oh my!

Photo by v2osk on Unsplash

I've faced a lot, made it through a lot, and learned a lot. 

I'm still going through a lot, processing through a lot, and focusing on healing a lot. 

A lot.

It's been nonstop.

Generally, my primary way of processing is through writing. It's how I move through life's ups and downs... especially the latter.

This year, though, my writing has been more focused on documenting what's going on, defining a bunch of new to me terms, and doing my best to wrap my mind around it all. The processing part has been tricky, as I've often been merely trying to get through one moment to the next. 

I want to write.
I want to process. 
I want to share.

I need to survive.

There are times that the physical side of recovery consumes all of my energy. That's compounded by trying to strike a balance of allowing the emotional aspects to ebb and flow, and not getting completely swept away by the waves of emotion. Physical pain is rarely experienced without an emotional impact, at least for me.

So, I write thoughts down. What that looks like varies: snippets of thoughts or ideas, a list of questions, prayers, words or songs that resonate with me, unedited raw emotion, a moment when dots suddenly connect... even a complete blog post.

Then, weeks and months (and, sometimes, years) pass by before I finish or share / post what I started writing in the midst of it all.

I know that it's ok. And, it can feel overwhelming.

I have to start somewhere. Somewhere is here. Now.

I'm struggling. On multiple fronts. 

There are times that it feels like there's no time, space, or energy to slow down to process something before another thing drops. 

I recognize that I'm in a season of needing to focus on my health and hurts. I know that it's important. Crucial, even. I know that it's what I need to do. And, it's really hard. 

I'm not comfortable with needing to focus on my stuff so intently, for so long. It's exhausting. 

I'm well-versed in managing and seeking support for the chronic illnesses I've had for years. Asking for and accepting help have been things I've gotten much better at over the years (Help: A Four-Letter Word). The trouble is, there's been so much new health stuff this year, and I don't yet know what help or support I need to ask for. 

It's frustrating to so frequently have something new, worse, and/or more going on with my health. I feel like I don't have much left to give to others... and, that... that is so hard.

I acknowledge that feeling it doesn't make it true. It's a self-judgment / critique. I truly believe that a poll of my people would show that I'm giving others love, support, care in multiple ways and that I am and have always been enough.

I'm also able to recognize that I've grown in how I handle and face uncertainty, change, loss, complexity. I'm still learning and growing, for sure. 

I don't know how things will look here on my blog moving forward. I plan to continue to use this space as a place to process and share. I think that might look like a combination of words I wrote in the moment and where I'm at in the process now. 

I'm looking forward to writing and sharing more of my journey. 

"No matter how big or small, allow yourself the chance to reflect on all of the things you've championed in the past year. You are allowed to feel proud of yourself." - Olimatta Taal

13 Years Later, Now

I recently posted Reflecting 12 Years Post Accident, which I wrote in 2020. Please feel free to click over and give it a read. While I don't post about it every year, I felt the need to, again, this year (2021).

Mixed emotions. That's how I feel, as the 13th anniversary of my car accident approaches. Each year hits a bit differently. It doesn't always affect me. I took the power of that date back several years ago. I know that the date isn't inherently bad... yet, I feel the weight of it a bit more this year.

Photo by Tengyart on Unsplash

This year, it makes sense why it's on my mind more.

On September 30, I woke with what I labeled a "sleeping injury." I had pain and limited range of motion in my right shoulder and neck. I joked about how ridiculous our bodies are, that I could hurt myself while in an unconscious state.

I figured it was simply a matter of sleeping weirdly and that it would dissipate in a few days.

It didn't.

The tightness, pain, limited range of motion worsened each day. I've tried: heat, ice, muscle relaxers, nsaids, theracane, lidocaine patch, gentle massaging and stretching.

My sleep and daily functioning are both being disrupted and limited. I want to write, but I'm having a difficult time physically doing so.

There's an emotional component to this pain, as well, as it's reminiscent of past trauma / pain.

I know that our minds are prone to distort or misremember things, including pain experiences. This is often compounded by time. Understanding all of that, there's still a familiarity with the pain and limited range of motion I've been experiencing.

I injured my neck and right shoulder in a 2008 car accident. While I don't fully remember a chunk of time after the accident, I remember pieces. One of those pieces is that there was a lot of pain and I was physically very limited in using my right arm and neck.

Two years after the car accident, I had a neurostimulator implanted (2010). I had a very long and difficult recovery, including severely limited range of motion in my neck.

I've been doing a good job recognizing the connection to these past traumas / events that my mind and body are making, and reminding myself that they are separate. The car accident isn't happening right now. I am safe. 

In light of current struggles, I'm being reminded:

• Healing isn't linear - past grief, trauma, loss, challenges keep showing up. Each time they do, I do my best to feel it and process through.
• I'm safe - it can be especially difficult to remember this, when there's such similarity in how I feel (physically and/or emotionally). 
• I'll get through this, as I have previous challenges.

Update: I was seen by primary care on 10/5. I woke on the 13th anniversary day (10/10) with the first notable improvement in symptoms since they started. I'm so grateful for that. I have imaging and doctor appointments on the schedule to help determine the path forward.

In Loving Memory of Jordan Conkle

*Sensitive Topic / Trigger Warning: death, suicide

My cousin, Jordan Conkle, died from depression by suicide on November 3rd. 

Loss and grief are part of the human experience, happening in a multitude of different ways throughout our lives. It's never easy. Processing tragic, devastating losses is really hard. I want to share some things that I’ve written, as I've tried to wrap my mind around this loss. It may be a bit bumpy, but grieving is rarely smooth sailing. 

In the Moment

Today started like any other. When I checked my phone, however, I had a missed call and voicemail, overnight. I listened to it and reached out via message to find out more. It was about Jordan, but that's all I knew. I didn't feel up to a phone call, but my anxiety nagged at me, so I texted my sister in law to see if she knew what was going on and if Jordan was alright. She immediately called me. Ok, so it's something that takes explanation. My mind didn't immediately jump to the worst (which is actually an improvement for me). 

Then, she said the words. The words that made everything spin and stop at the same time. 

Jordan ended his life last night.

What?

She repeated it.

I started to collapse down and lose it. Jeremy caught me and helped me safely down to the ground. 

I think I whispered, "Jordan's gone," in disbelief.

There is no good way to find this type of thing out. That said, I'm grateful for the family member that reached out during the night and for my sister in law. She was direct with telling me what happened, and was a soft and safe place for me to experience the initial shock and wave of emotions. I'll always be thankful for her love and care in such a heartbreaking moment.

Thoughts Day-of

Today, I found out that my cousin ended his life last night. I don't know how to wrap my mind around this.

Losing someone is hard. The circumstances around the loss, I find, can magnify different parts of the grieving process. You still must travel through the stages, in whatever order they present and re-present, but some come up more or are more pronounced.

This year, I've lost two people, both completely unexpectedly. I knew losing people would happen. It's part of being human. I wasn't prepared for the losses to strike so soon to people in their 30s, like I am. It's so hard to process, on multiple levels.

I don't want to sit in it, but I've been in the depths of depression. I know how bad that place is, and I'm so grateful that I've gotten out. I know others that have been in that place, too. We live with deep depression. There's a knowing that only people that have experienced that type of depth can have, even though everyone's experience is unique. I try to support those I can, in the ways that I can. They ultimately have to get out of the pit, but I can sit with them and shine a light for them when they're surrounded by darkness. 

I woke today, wishing it had only been a bad dream. It isn't, and that is crushing.

Memorial Service

The memorial service for Jordan was held in-person in Texas, followed by a graveside service. They streamed the memorial service on the church's social media. My sister and I were able to FaceTime and watch together. 

I attended a virtual memorial service earlier this year, but this one felt different. We weren't in Zoom rooms watching the service together. It felt like everyone was gathered together, and we were watching from afar. There was a disconnect. 

During the service, I learned that Jordan's favorite worship song was Here I Am to Worship. Jordan was someone who lived and loved big, and he's deeply missed by many.

I'm grateful for conversations with loved ones, both those also grieving the loss and those supporting me in my grief. I'm grateful for my cousins, who reached out and connected. I'm grateful that my sister and I were able to watch the service and be with one another in the ways we were able. I know that there will be waves of processing and grieving, much of which is done alone. I'm so grateful to have people that love and care surrounding me, who will support me however they can.

The Following Months

The holidays were filled with a lot of different emotions, for a lot of different reasons. In light of a loss in the family, my mind fluttered through memories, specifically those of growing up so close with my cousins. 

On Thanksgiving evening, I began to miss more... our big family Thanksgiving get togethers. Kristin and Jordan would get there later in the day and we'd play games. 

As Christmas approached, I felt the missing grow. Missing out being with family and friends, especially in light of a pandemic and unexpected family loss. I had dream(s) that included PaPa and Jordan, two family losses in as many years. I knew in the dreams that they're no longer with us, but they were special all the same. The one that Jordan was in: I think we were gathered as a family trying to watch his funeral service or something. Jordan came to me. He was younger. And we hugged, the way he did. 

I continue to give myself space to process. I wrote, "Jordan, it's Christmas Eve. We used to spend every one of them together (as we grew older, it was the weekend before Christmas). We would be eating, laughing, opening gifts, sneaking off to play with our gifts as the adults talk."

It's interesting the things we remember. I have tons of memories with Jordan, but many of them are simple moments. The silly grin on his face, his facial expressions, the way he hugged and laughed and smiled. 

As I've been processing, it's clear that we don't always remember the details of a memory or moment. That's ok. We can remember and hold onto how we felt in that person's company or presence. Love, laughter, comfort, calm, joy. All of these are so precious. 

Letter to Jordan

Jordan,

How can you not be here anymore? It's so hard to make sense of this world not having you in it. I know that we haven't kept in touch. But, you always have a place in my heart. I cherish the memories of all of us throughout the years. Watching Milan, playing games, playing pool, dressing you up, going to car shows, monthly family birthday get togethers, Thanksgiving at my parents' house, Christmas at your parents' house... I'm grateful that we were able to have that time together. 

We last saw each other in November 2019 at Grandma's 80th birthday party. When you were leaving, you stopped and chatted with me, giving me all of your attention. You told me that you read my posts and you asked me to tell you more about my advocacy work. We talked about Headache on the Hill and me speaking at RetreatMigraine and Miles for Migraine events. You shared that you wished I wasn't in so much pain, but that you're so proud of who I am and the work that I do. Then, you gave me a hug. Your hugs were so healing, a safe and loving embrace. I am beyond grateful for those moments and that memory with you. I felt seen. Beyond the childhood and familial connection, but rather one adult to another. That connection we had, I will always remember and cherish.

Jordan, I'm so sorry that you were in a place of such despair that you didn't see a way out. I won't get wrapped up in how I imagine you feeling or even what mental health challenges you might've been facing, as it's all conjecture, and truthfully doesn't matter... it won't bring you back.

I love you so much, cousin. 

Final Thoughts, For Now

I am working so hard to process the grief. To acknowledge and express the things I wish were different, without carrying the weight of regret. I will continue to process through the hurt places and grieving potential future outcomes. Learning lessons along the way that I can use to help shape how I move forward. Processing through the grief until what remains is love, cherished memories, and lessons to move forward.

Links:

• Obituary: Jordan Lee Conkle Obituary - Visitation & Funeral Information (lucasfuneralhomes.com)
• Memorial Service Video: https://fb.watch/34RAxG6ieW/

About Suicide

• Globally, there is one suicide about every 40 seconds. (WHO, Suicide Prevention Fact Sheet)
• In the U.S., there is a suicide every 13.7 minutes. (Suicidology, Fact Sheet)
• Suicide is the 10th leading cause of death for Americans. (CDC, Fact Sheet" (Suicide – TWLOHA))
• Suicide is the 2nd leading cause of death for Americans ages 10-34. (CDC, Fact Sheet" (Suicide – TWLOHA))
• Males die by suicide four times as often as females, but there are three female attempts for every male attempt. (Suicidology, Fact Sheet)

Resources

• American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP)
• World Health Organization (mental health and suicide data)
• American Association of Suicidology 
• 22KILL
• To Write Love on Her Arms
• Helplines: 
• National Suicide Prevention Hotline (24/7/365): 1-800-273-TALK (8255) 
• Crisis Text Line (24/7): text TALK to 741741 to connect to a crisis counselor
• NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) Helpline (M-F 10am-6pm ET): 800-950-NAMI (6264) or info@nami.org
• Veterans Crisis Line (24/7): 1-800-273-8255 (press 1), text 838255, chat online
• Additional 24-hour helplines (including child abuse, domestic abuse, sexual abuse)

"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear" - C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

In Loving Memory of Jenn Tingwald

My dear friend, Jenn Tingwald, passed away unexpectedly on July 2nd.

I’ve been experiencing the full spectrum of grief. I have tried turning to writing, as it’s always been how I process my emotions and experiences. As I’ve found, though, words are often insufficient to express the fullness of universal human experiences… including, grief. This may be a long, bumpy post; but, I want to share some things I’ve written since I heard the news of Jenn’s passing. 

Words in the Moment 

Today, I found out that Jenn Tingwald passed away last night. I don’t know how those words together can be true. I can’t wrap my mind around it. I know that she was in and out of the hospital a lot over the past few months, but how is she gone? When I read of her passing, my heart broke and my body collapsed. We messaged earlier this week. She wasn’t well, but she was a warrior… like she always was. 

How do I even find the words to describe what I’m feeling? 

I’ve lost people in my life, from drifting away to death. 

This loss is different than others. 

Of course, it hurt badly when my grandparents passed, but they were ill for years beforehand. There was much grieving, sometimes for years, as there were a series of losses before the final one. 

This was different. 

This was completely unexpected. 

Jenn had a lot of health challenges, but she always made it through… until she didn’t. 

I know that grief is a process. I know that the waves will continue to come. Waves of disbelief, sorrow, overwhelm. The waves will vary in size and frequency, but they will continue. 

Today, it’s waves of disbelief and overwhelm. I can’t grasp it, and then it swallows me. It’s such a difficult part of being human. All day, I’ve sobbed and keep saying, “I don’t understand.” 

I know that a lot of things I do will remind me of her, as we shared so many ups and downs together. Living with chronic pain (struggles, successes, treatments, disability, etc), Mayo Clinic, advocacy work (including, Headache on the Hill and Miles for Migraine). Right now, that seems overwhelming. I'm reminding myself that each of these is an opportunity to respond with gratitude for our friendship and move forward with courage and perseverance, knowing she's with me in spirit.

Every ounce of me knows that she’s finally out of pain and with our Lord. I know that I’ll carry her with me, as will the many others whose lives she touched during her time on earth. I’m grateful for all of that, truly. 

Letter to Jenn

My dear friend, 

It’s been a week since you passed. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around you not being here. My heart aches and tears continue to stream down my face as waves of sorrow and overwhelm wash over me. I’ve been thinking a lot about you, and about our interactions. 

I remember the first time I met you. We were at the final American Headache and Migraine Association conference in November 2017. We sat next to each other all morning, but neither of us spoke to one another because we were both managing a migraine attack and medication side effects. As we broke for lunch at the end of the conference, we started talking (my mind doesn’t remember clearly if we just started talking or if Dr. Starling introduced us). Either way, we learned each other’s names and chatted a little. Then, we connected through social media, and grew our friendship. I’m so grateful that we didn’t allow the opportunity to meet pass us by. 

You were the first local friend I made, after Jeremy and I moved to Phoenix. I didn’t know how I’d make local friends, given the limitations of this disease; but God crossed our paths and we became close friends quickly. 

Over the past couple years, we were open books with one another, allowing for a depthful connection that transcended the number of days we knew each other… 956 days. I cherish the conversations we shared about faith, advocacy, and the challenges and successes of living with chronic illness. 

You loved fiercely. I think that’s something we have in common. Your love for your family was unquestionable and second only to your love for God. I always enjoyed hearing stories and seeing pictures of your daughter. She is so precious, and I’m grateful that I was able to meet her in-person this March. 

Among other things, I will never forget your generosity and kindness. You always did your best to support and encourage me, despite the challenges you faced. Thank you for that. 

You made a difference in so many people's lives. Amongst the darkness of losing you, your light continues to shine. It's there in the lives you touched. It's undoubtedly you, and it's beautiful. 

It’s been two weeks since you passed. How can that be? My experience of time is warped. I want to tell you that it was such an honor being friends with you. Thank you for always encouraging me to simply be myself and reminding me to speak from my heart. What a beautiful gift. 

Goodbye, for now, my friend. 

Tributes
I was asked to share an overview of Jenn's headache disorders advocacy:

Jenn Tingwald was a fierce advocate for the headache disorders community. She participated in Headache on the Hill multiple years, spoke at two Phoenix Miles for Migraine events, and was featured in a PBS Newshour special that aired in February. Jenn openly shared about her and her daughter’s experiences living with headache disorders, and highlighted the importance of finding your voice and reclaiming your purpose through advocacy.

Jenn’s husband, Aaron, generously provided an opportunity to share a short video with a story about Jenn. I have many, but the one that was on my heart perfectly displays the kind, generous spirit of my dear friend: 

Jenn and I met at a migraine advocacy event in fall 2017 and quickly became friends and fellow headache disorders advocates. Last year (2019), Jenn and I were going to room together for Headache on the Hill. A couple days before the training, she canceled her trip. She desperately wanted to go, but she needed to focus on her health. When a horrible migraine attack knocked me down after my travel day, she tried to coordinate getting heat pads and Epsom salt delivered to me. Despite the challenges she faced, she messaged me throughout my travels and the Headache on the Hill event. She told me she’d be with me in spirit, and I could feel her presence every step of the way. 

Jenn was one of the strongest, most kind-hearted people I’ve ever known. She was a fierce advocate, especially for her daughter. And, she was a faithful prayer warrior. She always encouraged me to be myself and speak from my heart, especially when she knew I was anxious. I know she’ll continue to be with me in spirit, and I’ll hear her voice reminding me, “You’re going to do amazing!” 

For anyone interested: 

• Jennifer Tingwald Memorial Celebration Video: https://youtu.be/sapHU5bTyHQ 
• Celebrating the Life of Jenn Tingwald Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/2734079326696053
• Go Fund Me Page (the page beautifully expresses what an amazing person Jenn was, touching the lives of so many): https://www.gofundme.com/f/jennifer-cohn-tingwald-memorial
• National Headache Foundation (Jenn’s story): https://headaches.org/2018/06/29/jennifer-tingwald/
• PBS Newshour (featuring Jenn): https://www.pbs.org/newshour/show/15-percent-of-americans-have-migraine-disease-why-arent-there-better-treatment-options 

“The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same nor would you want to.” - Elizabeth Kubler-Ross and David Kessler

An Update & More Migrainous Musings

I have been struggling with a rough stretch of status migrainosus. I sometimes get flashes of clarity or expression, when I'm in the midst of deep distress... sometimes I'm able to capture the words, scribbling them down wherever I can. Last year, I shared some Migrainous Musings. I'm here, again, yet there's little comfort in the familiarity of this place. The timelessness and dominance of pain described in Pain has an Element of Blank continues to resonate and ring true to my own experience.

I continue to share, and hope you'll excuse the raw, unedited migrainous musings / ramblings of a brain in pain.

There's an emptiness inside me that knows no bounds.
Sometimes it tries to swallow me up.
Is it the pain? The anxiety? The depression?
Or is this emptiness me?

To know me truly,
See the darkness inside me,
Then don't turn and run.

The darkness surrounds.
Is it here to stay this time?
Please don't consume me.

I do not fear the darkness in others. I generally don't fear it in myself. But, there are times that it becomes overwhelming, and I can't see the light.

I feel like I'm disappearing. Shattering into tiny pieces and blowing away in the wind. Like I'm a fragile shell, being crushed by the weight of darkness. Do I still exist? What is left of me, when the pain overflows?

I'm not ok. I know I've been in this place before, and somehow come out the other side. But, that doesn't compute right now. This feels like my forever. Like I'm trapped.

Update 1 (March 3):

I've spent most of the last week in the hospital getting infusions to try to break this status migraine.

Six days. Three IVs. Loads of meds. My mind and body are still in turmoil, and I don't know how long it'll take to feel like me again. I've been here before. I know that I get out. But, I don't know how. It feels too hard. I feel too weak.

Update 2 (March 4):

Today is filled with more pain than I feel I can bear. I'm not sure how I can survive it. I've treated hard. I'm trying to give myself rest. Nothing feels enough. I know I'll get through it... somehow... because I always do. Every time. Yet, even that gives me no solace in this moment.

Update 3 (March 5):

I woke today feeling more me than I have in a long time. Pain levels are lower. My mind and body are so weary and I can feel the weight of the battles fought. But right now, in this moment, I'm praising God for His provision and the respite.

"At the end of the day, we can endure much more than we think we can." - Frida Kahlo

Checking In

I disappeared for a while, and I apologize. When I wrote Migrainous Musings, I was two weeks into an intense status migraine. Unfortunately, it persisted.

Following an unsuccessful round of corticosteroids, I completed a 3-day course of outpatient infusions. They brought it to a bit more manageable level, but it didn't help as much as they did last summer when I did them.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Then, I got sick. Deciphering whether head and face pain is from migraine or sinus pressure / mucus is tricky... much less how to treat it. A couple days in, the coughing started and made my asthma flare. Dealing with common sickness on top of chronic illness is unpleasant.

I've been doing my best to allow my mind and body the time and space to rest and heal, but it's hard.

Fatigue, depression, anxiety, insomnia from meds, boredom / difficulty distracting oneself... all on top of the ongoing pain and other symptoms.

I'm trying to complete what I can, when I can, how I can. Then, do my best to practice grace and compassion with myself.

"Give yourself the same compassion and grace that you give to the people in your life that you love the most." - Jennifer Rothschild

Migrainous Musings

I have been struggling with a rough stretch of status migrainosus. When I'm thinking a little more clearly, I know that it will end... but when the pain levels are unbearable and the insomnia from treatment is added to the mix, night can bring out all kinds of demons (anxiety, depression, PTSD). In Pain has an Element of Blank, I wrote about the timelessness and dominance of pain, so this is something I've been facing and working on throughout the last 10 years.

This is part of my journey. Please excuse the raw, unfinished, unedited migrainous night musings / ramblings of a brain in pain; but I thought they might be worth sharing.

All alone, in the dark, is where the true torture happens. The incessant pain is magnified by the lies that it tells. When will it end feels like a question not worth asking. The pain decides without your consent.

Mind racing. Heart thumping, Head pounding, Body screaming.

The light of hope seems so soft and dim, but it's what holds us together when the night seems to never end.

Day in and day out, the pain becomes an unwelcome but constant companion. Sometimes it's there lurking in the shadows, sometimes it walks right along side of us, and sometimes it completely overtakes us.

Regardless of how wonderful a support network we have, there are moments that simply have to be faced alone. In the dead of night, when everyone is sleeping, the pain, anxiety, and isolation make their move.

Photo by Travis Bozeman on Unsplash

I've written several Haikus (and Tankas) previously in my journey, here and here. Sometimes it helps to try to focus my mind on thinking or writing in a specific way.

Darkness breeds darkness.
Incessant pain tells us lies.

We must seek the light.

We may feel alone,

But we never truly are.

Reach out and have faith.

Stark desert. Dark night.

Looking for a small reprieve

From the pain and fight.

“Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you.” - Ovid

Status Migrainosus: A Difficult Week

I'll warn you (and apologize) up-front, this post may be kind choppy...

This has been one of the worst pain weeks I've had in a long time. I've taken migraine and pain meds (maxed out) and rested a lot. My doctor prescribed a round of corticosteroids, which hasn't seemed to offer much relief.

Status migrainosus is basically a severe intensity migraine that is unremitting for more than 72 hours. Now, I have some degree of head pain every, single day. I have chronic migraine, which means that I have migraines 15+ days per month. And, yet, I get these status migraines that I seem to have no way to prepare for. I know, intellectually, that at some point the pain will break. But, it doesn't seem like it, in the midst of the pain, especially when nothing (meds, coping skills, etc) is offering any relief.

Sleep Disturbance
My sleep pattern is completely insane. Since this horrible stretch of migraine pain began, my hours slept per day (can't say per night because some nights were no sleep, but a nap during the day) have been:

• 8.25 hours
• 3.50 hours
• 9.00 hours
• 3.25 hours
• 17.00 hours
• 0.00 hours
• 15.75 hours

Talk about out of whack! Hypersomnia intermixed with insomnia... quite a toxic combination.

Memory / Processing Problems

Early this week (day 2 of severe pain), my memory was so bad... it was scary! My mind wasn't working at all - I would forget what I was saying, mid-sentence. My difficulties with memory and processing hasn't been that bad in a long time, and it reminded me of some of the struggles I had following my car accident. Strangely, though, I was inspired (and somehow able) to write a blog post, start to finish - When Your Pain is Invisible: You Look So Good. Honestly, I sometimes have more inspiration to write, when I'm at my low (not lowest) points... in the darkness... it's weird.

Irritability

I know that I've been extremely irritable, and not doing a very good job of filtering it. I've found myself snapping easily. It seems uncontrollable, out of my hands. I'm easily frustrated and/or annoyed by the dog, my husband, anything, everything, nothing...

Visual Disturbances

The visual issues I've faced with this migraine attack have been expansive. Aura, blurry vision, trouble focusing, see flashing lights (in all different lighting, from a dark room to bright outside).

And More...

If all of that wasn't enough, there have been so many other symptoms (many more than I'd like to write here)... aphasia, allodynia, hypersensitivity, vertigo, anxiety, depression, fatigue, and the list goes on...

Oh Yeah, Head Pain

If you noticed, I didn't even really mention the incessant head pain, and the neck and back stiffness and pain. The horrendous and unceasing nature of the pain has been paramount in my week... I can't seem to find relief.

Grateful

I will say, though, that I'm grateful to have been able to spend a little time out at a friend's (wedding) couples shower Saturday evening, and with my Mom to visit my grandmother in the hospital Sunday evening. I can't say that it didn't take a lot out of me, or even that it really even distracted me from the pain, but I'm glad that I could be there for those that I care about.

When Your Pain is Invisible: You Look So Good

A devotional, When Your Pain is Invisible, really resonated with me today. This morning, when I read this devotional and listened to the song below it, I felt moved to write.

"You look so good." 

Why did that comment bother me? 

I knew each person who said it meant to say they were glad I didn't look sickly. 

Still, it bothered me every time I heard it. Why? 

Was I afraid they thought I was exaggerating my discomfort or faking it? Was it pride? Did I desire attention? Did I want pity? Certainly not. 

So, what was it? 

     ~ Excerpt from When Your Pain is Invisible 

This piece of the devotional really jumped out at me, as I've struggled with the same grievance.

When someone says, "You look so good," I've found myself feeling enraged, distraught, and deceptive. Then, upon reflection of such encounters, I find myself feeling guilt and shame for having those emotions. My mind starts questioning what made them emerge: "Was I afraid they thought I was exaggerating my discomfort or faking it? Was it pride? Did I desire attention? Did I want pity?"

How could a comment as innocuous as "You look so good" evoke such strong emotions and striking questions?

This intrigues me because I don't want to act out of fear, pride, and/or desire for attention. Just as the song found at the end of the devotional, "Do Everything" by Steven Curtis Chapman (a link to my other blog, where you can access the song), I want "to do everything you do to the glory of the One who made you."

As for the swarming questions, I've come up with various answers / theories / explanations, but the answer found in the devotional is so simple and spot on:

"I wanted them to understand."

I think that everyone has a desire to feel understood, and to have their experience validated.

Suddenly, I realized that that's exactly where the conflict lies.

When we're hurting (especially when we're hurting in ways that others cannot see), I think we guard ourselves... perhaps because our pain has been misunderstood, ignored, and/or discounted in the past... or we fear that it will be. If we don't feel like our pain / experience is validated, believed, or understood by the other person, a comment as innocuous as "You look so good" can push us over the edge.

Ironically, when we live with one or more invisible illnesses, especially if chronic, we may have spent a lot of time and energy to "look so good." So, it seems odd that we would then feel somehow slighted, when someone comments on how we look.

I think it partially depends on who is commenting... For example, I find myself feeling more receptive to a comment about how I look from those that I know really understand how much pain I live with. Perhaps because I don't feel like their comments are discounting the pain I'm in - they know I'm in pain, but are simply giving me a compliment.

In light of all of this, I'm trying to remember what's most important: "The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, and his ears are attentive to their cry" (Psalm 34:15). He understands my suffering. He hears my cries. Regardless of whether others do. And, for that, I'm so grateful.

The Dark Duo, Continued (4/9/14)

Here are some other thoughts from April 2014.

This post was written 4/9/2014:

How am I supposed to keep from feeling defeated, when so much of what I try to do defeats me.

Picking weeds (because our yard looks ridiculous)... I know that it's hard work, so I've been pacing myself and doing a little bit every day or two. But, I can't seem to get a handle on it. What's worse is that I'm struggling to physically be able to do it, even for short periods of time. I don't like feeling like I can't do something, so I continue plugging away a little at a time... but, it's not working. It's just making me feel worse about myself. My spirit is willing, but my body isn't able. And, I don't know what to do with that.

This post was written 4/6/2014:

The words of the enemy have been eating away at me, no matter how hard I try to stop them. I struggle to find anything of meaning to do in my life. Hearing the eulogy at my grandmother's funeral (in February) made me think how little there would be to say at my own. I know that's dark, but that's where I am right now. 

The enemy tells me that I don't and can't do anything meaningful. And, I feel like I can't argue with him. While I'd love nothing more than to prove him wrong, I don't know how to. I don't have the energy or the mindset to fight right now. 

So, I'm trying to remind myself (and God has placed angels in my life to remind me) that I have the King of Kings, the Lord of lords, the God of angel armies, fighting for me... that my Lord will provide the strength I need.

But, the enemy just gets louder.

The Dark Duo: Anxiety & Depression (4/9/14)

I can't believe that it's been so long since I've posted anything here on my blog. I finally sat down to take a look at what I've started writing, and came across several things I started back in April. I'm not in the same place as I was then, but I'm still struggling a lot with depression, anxiety, and pain. I'm going to try to get back to writing, and I feel like posting these things (even if some of them are incomplete) that I wrote several months ago will give me a start.

This post was written 4/9/2014:

I've been away for a long time, and though I'm ready to come out of the darkness I've been entrenched in, I don't really know how to... But, I have to try.

Honestly, the last few months are somewhat of a blur... in some ways, the anxiety and depression feel like they've been all but consuming me for so very long... but, the calendar tells me otherwise. But, that's what the dark duo does. It blurs and twists reality.

I haven't talked much about my experiences with depression... or, maybe I have. I don't really remember. I know I've shared some about my struggles with anxiety. It's hard to put into words. I've tried writing in my hand-written journal a few times over the last few months, as a way to get some of the internal struggle out; but panic attacks put a quick stop to that.

Being completely honest, I've been lost.

I have felt so much over the last few months... and, yet, so little. I've felt the weight of everything, indifference to everything, great sadness, complete helplessness.

Just a quick update on some things that have happened:

• One of my grandmothers passed away.
• My husband has been to (and currently is in) Afghanistan for work.
• Botox was tried twice and failed.
• Another treatment option brought on such side effects that it brought back fears of losing the weight I've (finally) gained back.

My list of blessings is long, but here are some:

• My Lord has carried me through everything.
• My husband continues to be the most loving and supportive person in my life.
• My family has helped support me, especially when my husband isn't physically here to do so.
• I've gained back the weight I've lost and struggled to gain back over the last 5 years (finally back to pre-accident weight).
• I've reached out, when I didn't know that I could (and I have a couple cheerleaders that help me celebrate the victories / successes, like this, that are bigger steps than they seem - thank you!).
• I've taken care of myself, the dogs, and the house, while Jeremy has been out of the country.
• I had an amazing time with loved ones for several days around my birthday last weekend - I truly enjoyed myself.

I'm going to try to start writing again. I'll forewarn that I'm still in a pretty bad place, in general (it's not 100% of the time, but I tend to feel the need and pouring of words in some of my darkest and most painful times... so, that's when I write). I want and need to be open and honest about the pain and emotions I'm having (especially the ones I try so hard to hide from the world), so it may be rough going for a while. My hope is that by sharing them, I can take some of their hold and power away.

It's Been A While & Neck / Shoulder Pain

I've been away... for quite a long time. I apologize for my absence. There are many things that have been happening, some of which are still being worked out. There's a lot that I'd like to share with you guys. I definitely want to get back to blogging more soon, but it may still be a little bit before I can do that. We'll see how things go... so, please stay tuned. 

At the beginning of April, I started having increasingly severe neck pain; and by the end of the month, my right shoulder started to ache deeply (in addition to the severe neck pain).

The intense neck and shoulder pain really broke me down, making me feel like I was just falling apart. I couldn't find any relief or peace. Everything came to a head, so I went to the doctor to try to help with the severe neck pain (stiffness to the point that I couldn't turn my head to the left), right shoulder pain, tingling and numbness in several fingers... it was bad.

Here's what I wrote on May 3, 2013:

The pain type and intensity are eerily similar to right after the car accident in '08 (at least as much as I can recall). I feel overwhelmed with A LOT of thoughts and emotions that race through me. The pain has made it hard to write or type... even texting. It's re-closing my world, and I don't know what to do. I keep reminding myself that I've grown so much since right after the accident, but I don't know if I can do all this again. 

I went to the doctor today. (5/3). Long story short(er), the severe neck / shoulder pain (and subsequent tingling and numbness in my right hand) could be caused by a few different things - could be muscle spasms squeezing the nerve, bursitis, lasting effects from my car accident, a muscle tear, a bulging disc, etc. It's complicated by the fact that the medical test to best narrow it down is an MRI, which I can't have because of my neurostimulator. My doctor said that there's pain in the rotator cuff, so we might be able to get rid of most of the pain and then just have to deal with the cuff. Or, meds + rest + ice could take care of it. There's so many different possible causes, treatments, and outcomes.

So, I was on muscle relaxants for a couple weeks, and took NSAIDs for a month. I also rested and iced the area. Thankfully, all of this helped, and I've gotten back to my normal levels of neck and shoulder stiffness and pain... which is still pretty bad, but no where near as horrible as it was then (and no tingling / numbness).

During this very difficult and painful time, I reached out to a dear friend, who offered me hope and encouragement. She reminded me of God's promises:

"'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future'" (Jeremiah 29:11).

She also reminded me that even when we wonder what God's purpose is for us, when we're unable to write, talk, or even pray most days... that what matters most to God is His relationship with each of us... and, even though we may want more (to be able to do more)... He only longs for us to be in and with Him.

So, when I'm hurting so badly that I can't really do much of anything and I feel worthless / helpless / etc... as long as I focus on being in the moment with Him, I'm exactly where He wants me to be... and that's what I cling to.

[Please stay tuned for more updates.]

Migraine, Migraine, Go Away... Please!

I'm feeling pretty down right now. I've been struggling with migraine(s) that have been nearly non-stop for 5-7 days... it's hard to tell when one stops and another begins. I called my headache doctor today (so as not to get stuck over the weekend), and I feel like he just brushed me off - I was told that he doesn't have anything else to try and to go to the ER if it persists or worsens.

I've gone into this doctor for emergency care several times before (same meds they might give me at ER, but in a much more migraine-friendly environment, with my own doctor, and a third of the cost).

These words came crashing down on me... so disheartening, especially while I've been trying to fight this one off all day without meds because I've maxed out for the week. I can take more of my meds tomorrow - and, if I'm feeling this badly then, I'll be taking the higher dosage (an option my doctor has left to my discretion)... which should lead to sleep, and hopefully relief. Otherwise, I guess I might be going to the ER.