More Art Therapy. Images showing grief. In memory of Monty Oum.
Wednesday, April 1, 2015
Progress Report on my health
It's been about a month now since I've been put on medication for fibromyalgia. I think we will be increasing the dose when I see my doctor again on Monday.
At first, the medication knocked me on my ass. Then after a week, I was feeling actually pretty good. Granted, not healed or cured, but ok. I had more energy. Yes, I was also manic more often than not. And with my bipolar disorder, that is a concern. But after a couple weeks, I think my body fully adjusted to the medication and now I am back to feel nausea and intense soreness every day.
I know that no matter what, this will be quite the balancing act. The right dose of medication, the right diet, the right amount of exercise, reducing stress, resting when my body says rest (rather than push myself anyway like I usually do) and monitoring how it all affects my mental health.
Actually, this is a condition where my mental health affects the physical and the physical affects the mental. And I need to keep track of it all.
I will say this...
I thank my parents. I thank my life. I thank my hardships. I thank those who I've loved who have shaped me. I thank it all, because it's made me this person who can battle this pain every day. Hopefully, I won't have to feel it every day for much longer. But flare ups will happen. And I know that I can handle it. I know I can force myself to still get up, get things done, and do it all without crying out in pain. I'll keep on living, keep on battling. Because my life taught me how.
At first, the medication knocked me on my ass. Then after a week, I was feeling actually pretty good. Granted, not healed or cured, but ok. I had more energy. Yes, I was also manic more often than not. And with my bipolar disorder, that is a concern. But after a couple weeks, I think my body fully adjusted to the medication and now I am back to feel nausea and intense soreness every day.
I know that no matter what, this will be quite the balancing act. The right dose of medication, the right diet, the right amount of exercise, reducing stress, resting when my body says rest (rather than push myself anyway like I usually do) and monitoring how it all affects my mental health.
Actually, this is a condition where my mental health affects the physical and the physical affects the mental. And I need to keep track of it all.
I will say this...
I thank my parents. I thank my life. I thank my hardships. I thank those who I've loved who have shaped me. I thank it all, because it's made me this person who can battle this pain every day. Hopefully, I won't have to feel it every day for much longer. But flare ups will happen. And I know that I can handle it. I know I can force myself to still get up, get things done, and do it all without crying out in pain. I'll keep on living, keep on battling. Because my life taught me how.
Friday, March 20, 2015
Fibromyalgia... Maybe
I don't know why I didn't write about this before. I was busy I guess. And waiting to see what happened.
Almost 2 weeks ago, I saw my dr and he diagnosed me with fibromyalgia. It's something that you can't really test for. More like, after other things have been eliminated, they decided it could be fibro and we try some medication to see what happens.
Fibro can be responsible for my constant body aches, exaggerated pain response, chronic fatigue, migraines, sensitivity to light, sounds and smells, stomach issues (possibly even the constant nausea) and even depression.
In the beginning, the medication made me so sleepy and loopy. My head felt like it was disconnected from my body! But after a few days, that decreased. My energy levels went up. But so have the mood swings and weight gain! I've been warned these could be side effects. But I was of course hoping it wouldn't happen. I already struggle with my weight. The physical pain has been less.
Now on the second week of these pills, I think my body has adjusted more and the high energy I felt just a couple days ago is gone. I'm tired and achy. We may need to increase the dose (I'm currently on the lowest possible dose) but I worry about the weight gain and mood swings. I'm already bipolar, we don't need me getting even moodier!
It's been a tough diagnosis for a few reasons.
1 - Irvin is mad it's not something curable. It's treatable, but will be a life long thing with flare ups and set backs. He wanted me to get better now!
2 - My dr told me that I won't get disability for having fibro. I can't find a job that will work around my random days or hours or minutes of being well and then sick and then well again. But they won't give me benefits. I am angered that drug addicts and over obese get money from the government, but I can't.
3 - If this medicine works, I'll be really angry that I've spent the past 4 years miserable. Because another dr should've thought of this diagnosis at some point.
I don't see the dr again for a couple more weeks. To give me some more time to get used to the medication and see how I feel overall. Then we'll revisit the diagnosis and treatment plans.
I'll keep you updated as best I can :)
Almost 2 weeks ago, I saw my dr and he diagnosed me with fibromyalgia. It's something that you can't really test for. More like, after other things have been eliminated, they decided it could be fibro and we try some medication to see what happens.
Fibro can be responsible for my constant body aches, exaggerated pain response, chronic fatigue, migraines, sensitivity to light, sounds and smells, stomach issues (possibly even the constant nausea) and even depression.
In the beginning, the medication made me so sleepy and loopy. My head felt like it was disconnected from my body! But after a few days, that decreased. My energy levels went up. But so have the mood swings and weight gain! I've been warned these could be side effects. But I was of course hoping it wouldn't happen. I already struggle with my weight. The physical pain has been less.
Now on the second week of these pills, I think my body has adjusted more and the high energy I felt just a couple days ago is gone. I'm tired and achy. We may need to increase the dose (I'm currently on the lowest possible dose) but I worry about the weight gain and mood swings. I'm already bipolar, we don't need me getting even moodier!
It's been a tough diagnosis for a few reasons.
1 - Irvin is mad it's not something curable. It's treatable, but will be a life long thing with flare ups and set backs. He wanted me to get better now!
2 - My dr told me that I won't get disability for having fibro. I can't find a job that will work around my random days or hours or minutes of being well and then sick and then well again. But they won't give me benefits. I am angered that drug addicts and over obese get money from the government, but I can't.
3 - If this medicine works, I'll be really angry that I've spent the past 4 years miserable. Because another dr should've thought of this diagnosis at some point.
I don't see the dr again for a couple more weeks. To give me some more time to get used to the medication and see how I feel overall. Then we'll revisit the diagnosis and treatment plans.
I'll keep you updated as best I can :)
Friday, March 6, 2015
Painting
I've started painting. It's something I've always kind of wanted to do. But fear held me back. The same old anxieties. I figured I'll suck at it.
Sadly, it took the death of my good friend Monty Oum for me to take the plunge and paint. It was a little thought that first popped into my head about a week after his passing. Soon the thought grew, and it became almost a need to paint. My fingers twitched with the longing. I couldn't sleep at night as I "painted" in my head.
Finally, with the aid of money from my very supportive man, I found a great price on a start up painters kit and ordered it. Yay Amazon.com! It came with a small easel, paints, a ton of brushes, and some canvases.
I'll admit that I have NO clue what I'm doing when it comes to painting. I'm learning and experimenting and trying to find my style. I also want to become good enough to sell my work. To pay my fiance back for the money he's managed to scrounge up for my art supplies. He knows I need to do this. So he sacrifices for me.
I also want to get good enough to paint an interpretation of an image that Monty made for me. A personal image that I hold dear to my heart. The meaning behind the image and his thoughtfulness still brings tears to my eyes. For me, creating, as he pushed us all to do, is my tribute to him. My way to honor him. And it calms me!
Monty, I'm sorry it took you passing to get me to paint. I can you in my head saying "Life is short, if you want to paint, fucking paint man!" So I do. I miss you. But I will make beautiful things out of this.
Speaking of Monty, I'm having a hard time mourning. I have no closure. I don't know what happened and how it happened. As close as we were, I was not close with his family that remains. So I get nada. And no closure makes it hard to let go. But I'll have to. I'll paint it out of my system.
In other news, I see a new doctor on Monday. We will hopefully get a confirmation on my diagnosis of fibromyalgia and start looking into treatment. Fingers crossed. Sometimes, I can't paint because of the pain and my easel is so small that I must hunch over it on the floor. Not good for someone in constant pain. I'll let you all know how it goes.
Here's a few of my paintings so far. Keep in mind, I've only been doing this about 2 weeks now and still learning!
Sadly, it took the death of my good friend Monty Oum for me to take the plunge and paint. It was a little thought that first popped into my head about a week after his passing. Soon the thought grew, and it became almost a need to paint. My fingers twitched with the longing. I couldn't sleep at night as I "painted" in my head.
Finally, with the aid of money from my very supportive man, I found a great price on a start up painters kit and ordered it. Yay Amazon.com! It came with a small easel, paints, a ton of brushes, and some canvases.
I'll admit that I have NO clue what I'm doing when it comes to painting. I'm learning and experimenting and trying to find my style. I also want to become good enough to sell my work. To pay my fiance back for the money he's managed to scrounge up for my art supplies. He knows I need to do this. So he sacrifices for me.
I also want to get good enough to paint an interpretation of an image that Monty made for me. A personal image that I hold dear to my heart. The meaning behind the image and his thoughtfulness still brings tears to my eyes. For me, creating, as he pushed us all to do, is my tribute to him. My way to honor him. And it calms me!
Monty, I'm sorry it took you passing to get me to paint. I can you in my head saying "Life is short, if you want to paint, fucking paint man!" So I do. I miss you. But I will make beautiful things out of this.
Speaking of Monty, I'm having a hard time mourning. I have no closure. I don't know what happened and how it happened. As close as we were, I was not close with his family that remains. So I get nada. And no closure makes it hard to let go. But I'll have to. I'll paint it out of my system.
In other news, I see a new doctor on Monday. We will hopefully get a confirmation on my diagnosis of fibromyalgia and start looking into treatment. Fingers crossed. Sometimes, I can't paint because of the pain and my easel is so small that I must hunch over it on the floor. Not good for someone in constant pain. I'll let you all know how it goes.
Here's a few of my paintings so far. Keep in mind, I've only been doing this about 2 weeks now and still learning!
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Monday, February 23, 2015
A little reflection
I gotta say that losing a friend to a freak accidental death at such a young age really makes you stop and think about your life. Life is short. And sure, I sank into a depression over the loss. But I also know that at some point, I need to kick my own ass and get my shit together. Get my health on track. Get back into my photography. Try to fight all my phobias and anxieties and live my life. Because who knows when it might suddenly end.
Sure, this is easier said that done. My physical illness makes daily life difficult. The pain can be so bad sometimes that I can't stand or walk. The nausea is there at all times. So enjoying food, enjoying going out, its all so hard. Toss in a good panic attack and it's a wonder I get anything done at all!
But there are good days. Days when the pain is dull and the nausea is tolerable. And the anxiety takes a little break. I love those days. I feel almost normal on those days. It's nice to forget my physical and mental issues and just enjoy a moment here and there. We all need more moments to enjoy.
The reflection on my life has shown me this. That I need to embrace and enjoy the little things. The little victories. The days when I'm feeling ok.
And who knows, maybe someday I'll be feeling more than ok. I'll be feeling great!
Sure, this is easier said that done. My physical illness makes daily life difficult. The pain can be so bad sometimes that I can't stand or walk. The nausea is there at all times. So enjoying food, enjoying going out, its all so hard. Toss in a good panic attack and it's a wonder I get anything done at all!
But there are good days. Days when the pain is dull and the nausea is tolerable. And the anxiety takes a little break. I love those days. I feel almost normal on those days. It's nice to forget my physical and mental issues and just enjoy a moment here and there. We all need more moments to enjoy.
The reflection on my life has shown me this. That I need to embrace and enjoy the little things. The little victories. The days when I'm feeling ok.
And who knows, maybe someday I'll be feeling more than ok. I'll be feeling great!
Friday, February 20, 2015
Kate Middleton wants to talk about the mental health of kids
The princess is trying raise awareness. I went so long without any diagnosis because my issues were considered acting out. Good for her! Check it here.
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
Time to be honest with myself
I want to be honest about something. Not that I was lying before. I just never knew or accepted the answer till now. Why do I take so many photos of myself?
The short answer - my anxieties, phobias and fears.
They held me back from so much...
I was just thinking about my friend again, Monty. How we met online and what things were like a long time ago on DeviantArt. And all the times we talked about meeting up, but never did. Actually, there were quite a few people that I wanted to meet back then, but never did.
It was the fears, the anxieties, my flaws that held me back. And oh how I regret it now.
Clearly, getting on a plane and going to a strange place wasn't an option. I also held back in my friendships due to a very abusive ex. Didn't matter if it was a male or female, he wouldn't like me talking all hours on the phone with someone who wasn't him. He definitely wasn't about to help me hop on a plane or train or bus or even drive me somewhere. Yes, I know now that was bad. That's why I'm no longer with him. But that whole fiasco is a story for another time.
Photographing myself in my own home was the easiest. I don't like going out to new places. I don't like meeting new people. The anxiety attacks often send me running back for home. They prevent me from traveling far. But guess what, it also kept me from traveling outside my own door.
And if I'm honest, it's still there. Some days, I can go out and do stuff, with someone I feel safe with. Some days I can't. Some days, I can make it a few hours away from home and be ok. Other days, 15 minutes away is enough and I need to go back.
How does one go out and photograph a band if you're having a panic attack and trying to figure out the fasted way out of there? How can you photograph friends when you don't even want to go to the nearby park to shoot them?
So I photograph me because I'm here. I've gained weight, I've aged, I don't like how I look in photos anymore. I'd love a new model. But with the lack of friends (because who wants to be friends with a girl who never leaves her home?) and lack of ability to leave, that's tricky. I haven't found someone who's comfortable coming here and being confined to my home for photos.
Now I've told everyone that I take self portraits for therapy. And that is also true. I found this most evident when Monty died. I had a pain in me and had to get it out. Cutting is no longer an option. Drinking myself senseless and taking pills would upset him. So I took pictures. I created. I captured my pain in photos that are so raw, I probably won't ever share them with anyone. But I was able to breathe again afterwards. I felt slightly lighter. And posting them eased the pain just a little more. So I was never lying about my art being therapy. But I was hiding a big part of the picture.
More to regret I suppose. But also, more to work on. And work on it I will!
The short answer - my anxieties, phobias and fears.
They held me back from so much...
I was just thinking about my friend again, Monty. How we met online and what things were like a long time ago on DeviantArt. And all the times we talked about meeting up, but never did. Actually, there were quite a few people that I wanted to meet back then, but never did.
It was the fears, the anxieties, my flaws that held me back. And oh how I regret it now.
Clearly, getting on a plane and going to a strange place wasn't an option. I also held back in my friendships due to a very abusive ex. Didn't matter if it was a male or female, he wouldn't like me talking all hours on the phone with someone who wasn't him. He definitely wasn't about to help me hop on a plane or train or bus or even drive me somewhere. Yes, I know now that was bad. That's why I'm no longer with him. But that whole fiasco is a story for another time.
Photographing myself in my own home was the easiest. I don't like going out to new places. I don't like meeting new people. The anxiety attacks often send me running back for home. They prevent me from traveling far. But guess what, it also kept me from traveling outside my own door.
And if I'm honest, it's still there. Some days, I can go out and do stuff, with someone I feel safe with. Some days I can't. Some days, I can make it a few hours away from home and be ok. Other days, 15 minutes away is enough and I need to go back.
How does one go out and photograph a band if you're having a panic attack and trying to figure out the fasted way out of there? How can you photograph friends when you don't even want to go to the nearby park to shoot them?
So I photograph me because I'm here. I've gained weight, I've aged, I don't like how I look in photos anymore. I'd love a new model. But with the lack of friends (because who wants to be friends with a girl who never leaves her home?) and lack of ability to leave, that's tricky. I haven't found someone who's comfortable coming here and being confined to my home for photos.
Now I've told everyone that I take self portraits for therapy. And that is also true. I found this most evident when Monty died. I had a pain in me and had to get it out. Cutting is no longer an option. Drinking myself senseless and taking pills would upset him. So I took pictures. I created. I captured my pain in photos that are so raw, I probably won't ever share them with anyone. But I was able to breathe again afterwards. I felt slightly lighter. And posting them eased the pain just a little more. So I was never lying about my art being therapy. But I was hiding a big part of the picture.
More to regret I suppose. But also, more to work on. And work on it I will!
Time moves on
That's just how it goes. Time moves on. Even if you're doing absolutely nothing but being and breathing. The time goes on. And hopefully with that comes healing.
I'm trying. I do stuff again now. Ya know, normal people things like shower and eat and grocery shop. I know it's what he'd want. Plus, I can't bring my family down. Gotta keep taking care of myself and getting my health on track so I can try and contribute to society again.
Spring has arrived early this year. It's kind of nice but also kind of stressful. Spring makes me feel like I have to clean, create, do. And I'm just not ready to leave hibernation mode just yet...
But time is going to keep moving on. And so shall I.
I'm trying. I do stuff again now. Ya know, normal people things like shower and eat and grocery shop. I know it's what he'd want. Plus, I can't bring my family down. Gotta keep taking care of myself and getting my health on track so I can try and contribute to society again.
Spring has arrived early this year. It's kind of nice but also kind of stressful. Spring makes me feel like I have to clean, create, do. And I'm just not ready to leave hibernation mode just yet...
But time is going to keep moving on. And so shall I.
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
The loss of a friend
This journal entry should've been written a week ago. I kept telling myself I'd write it. Kept debating if I should. And how to do it. Do I write exactly how I feel? It is my blog after all. Or do I remain diplomatic?
On Feb 2nd, I found out a good friend of mine had died. Monty Oum. Well known around the world. A very thoughtful and brilliant man. A genius who worked his butt off for everything he ever had. Many knew him as an animator. I knew him as friend. For over a decade. And tho we never met in person, we knew each other's lives. Shared death and life. Happiness and depression.
Feb 2nd. It was such a good day. I wasn't as nauseous or in as much pain as usual. So I took advantage and ran to the store and made sweet mexican corn cake while my Irvin cleaned house. It was one of his days off and we try to make the most of his time home. After the success of the corn cake, we went and got Starbucks and went mattress shopping. Our old one has been killing our backs. We got a great deal on a mattress and strapped it to the roof of the car and took it home. Then off to the hardware store for some things to reinforce our bed frame for the new mattress. Being as busy as we had been all day, I hadn't look at my phone or the computer.
Then it happened, I was in the car in the parking lot of an Orchard Supply, sipping my coffee and relaxing, while Irvin ran inside. And I got a message on my phone from another old friend who was part of our little group on DA with Monty, myself and others. The message was a link to a news article saying Monty was dead.
Dead? News article? It's a hoax right? He was just alive. I had spoken with him not even a full 2 weeks before. How? Shock was obviously the first emotion. Then it started to sink in. Coffee was thrown and tears were shed. When Irvin came back, I choked out the news, wailing and thrashing. He held me in the car, there in the OSH parking lot as I cried myself out. My beautiful perfect day was gone.
The past week hasn't been easy. Besides feeling shock and grief, I feel regret and guilt. Guilt that I let our friendship slide from talking daily to just random Facebook correspondences here and there. Regret that I never met him in person. He was here in California for most of our friendship. But with my phobias and anxiety and controlling boyfriends, traveling even a few hours never seemed an option. And I thought I'd have more time. At least once a year, Monty and I would talk about meeting up. And then we'd get busy and it wouldn't happen. But there was always next year.
Its been some time since I've lost someone close to me. Perhaps I forgot how to grieve. All I know is that I haven't been myself since Feb 2nd. I wake up each morning and check my phone, hoping that someone will say they made a mistake and Monty is alive. I go thru out old emails. Dug up artwork he made of me. Watch videos of him. Go thru photos. More of less torturing myself.
I know he wouldn't want this for me. He was pretty pushy when it came to moving on. Bad break up? Yeah, there's better out there, move on. Well, my friend, I am trying. As he said "keep moving forward." So I'm putting one foot in front of the other, and hoping at some point, I won't have to think about moving my feet. That I'll be walking and then maybe even running.
On Feb 2nd, I found out a good friend of mine had died. Monty Oum. Well known around the world. A very thoughtful and brilliant man. A genius who worked his butt off for everything he ever had. Many knew him as an animator. I knew him as friend. For over a decade. And tho we never met in person, we knew each other's lives. Shared death and life. Happiness and depression.
Feb 2nd. It was such a good day. I wasn't as nauseous or in as much pain as usual. So I took advantage and ran to the store and made sweet mexican corn cake while my Irvin cleaned house. It was one of his days off and we try to make the most of his time home. After the success of the corn cake, we went and got Starbucks and went mattress shopping. Our old one has been killing our backs. We got a great deal on a mattress and strapped it to the roof of the car and took it home. Then off to the hardware store for some things to reinforce our bed frame for the new mattress. Being as busy as we had been all day, I hadn't look at my phone or the computer.
Then it happened, I was in the car in the parking lot of an Orchard Supply, sipping my coffee and relaxing, while Irvin ran inside. And I got a message on my phone from another old friend who was part of our little group on DA with Monty, myself and others. The message was a link to a news article saying Monty was dead.
Dead? News article? It's a hoax right? He was just alive. I had spoken with him not even a full 2 weeks before. How? Shock was obviously the first emotion. Then it started to sink in. Coffee was thrown and tears were shed. When Irvin came back, I choked out the news, wailing and thrashing. He held me in the car, there in the OSH parking lot as I cried myself out. My beautiful perfect day was gone.
The past week hasn't been easy. Besides feeling shock and grief, I feel regret and guilt. Guilt that I let our friendship slide from talking daily to just random Facebook correspondences here and there. Regret that I never met him in person. He was here in California for most of our friendship. But with my phobias and anxiety and controlling boyfriends, traveling even a few hours never seemed an option. And I thought I'd have more time. At least once a year, Monty and I would talk about meeting up. And then we'd get busy and it wouldn't happen. But there was always next year.
Its been some time since I've lost someone close to me. Perhaps I forgot how to grieve. All I know is that I haven't been myself since Feb 2nd. I wake up each morning and check my phone, hoping that someone will say they made a mistake and Monty is alive. I go thru out old emails. Dug up artwork he made of me. Watch videos of him. Go thru photos. More of less torturing myself.
I know he wouldn't want this for me. He was pretty pushy when it came to moving on. Bad break up? Yeah, there's better out there, move on. Well, my friend, I am trying. As he said "keep moving forward." So I'm putting one foot in front of the other, and hoping at some point, I won't have to think about moving my feet. That I'll be walking and then maybe even running.
Here's a collaboration done with my photo and his rendering and vision.
Grief.
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