Self-Esteem.

Something that I haven't really consciously thought about in awhile is my self-esteem, inner and outer. Considering that I've never had any confidence in myself in terms of appearance, intelligence, etc., I clearly have problems with my self-esteem and how I view myself.

Having an eating disorder from 12-15 didn't help either. Anorexia is horrendous when it comes to self-image, you always see yourself +20 pounds whenever you look in a mirror.

Luckily, having gastroparesis is an excellent way to kill any inclination of an eating disorder, and is probably the only silver lining of having this condition. Once you physically lose the ability to eat, not by choice of mind but by choice of stomach, all you want to do is eat. It's absolutely insane what a mental change I have made in terms of food.

Through college I still followed habits from my anorexic past-coffee in the morning, eating only once a day, refusing just about everything. Until I started puking every day. After the idea that daily vomiting was a definite possibility for the rest of my life sank in, every iota of my anorexia disappeared. All I want to do for the majority of every single day of my life is stuff my face. With things besides gerber graduates entrees.

However, the loss of anorexic tendencies did not lead to an increase in my self-esteem. If anything, GP has worsened my self-esteem by a great deal. For one thing, it's hard to feel good about yourself when you feel nauseated, or after puking. (Hunger pangs mixed with nausea, I've deduced, are the worst possible combination of feelings you can have. I don't wish it upon anyone. ANYONE.)

In addition, GP is an unfavorable condition because people tend to think you have bulimia when you first discover you have the condition. Running to the bathroom every meal? Of course the gossip mills are going to run with that.

Being labeled with another eating disorder after conquering anorexia is one of the driving reasons as to why I kept at my diagnostic progress. I was tired of being labeled as 'that girl with the eating disorder.' No one wants to be that girl.

GP also reduces self-esteem in more ways than I can list--including lack of personal care (NOT hygiene, I shower daily. I mean going outside the house not looking like you just rolled out of bed) and consistent bloating due to my metabolism, which has decided to stop working completely just so I can keep down and use as many calories as possible.

Altogether, gastroparesis is not an illness that aids in increasing confidence about yourself. I think one of the hardest parts of having a chronic condition, besides the ability to recognize that in order to thrive, you have to beat the disease, and not let it beat you, is the complete lack of self-confidence I have for myself.

As the boyfriend once said, "You walked around like you didn't give a fuck what anybody thought about you."

I walk like that because I don't want to be noticed. I don't want to KNOW what other people are thinking about me, especially on bad days where I feel and look awful. I walk like that because of an absence of self-confidence, not an overload of it.

I will continue crossing my fingers until my GI doctor visit next Monday. I keep hoping everything will fall into place once I can eat somewhat normally and don't spend the majority of my evenings wrapped around my toilet.

I'm honestly riding on this stomach medication. I can't think of what will happen if it doesn't help--and I don't want to think about tubes through my intestines yet.

But I do know that my self-esteem has been steadily deteriorating. And that as is, right now, I don't like myself.

I'm crossing my fingers for change. Because I need to regain the ability to like myself.

I will say though, as a complete sidenote--I've become obsessed with doing my nails. After all, it's not like I have much to do during the day besides continually avoid my calculus textbook. For the record, anti-anxiety pills kill any desire to bite your nails, so I am now the quite the manicurist. I've already mastered the basic french, so now I'm on to glitter, because I do enjoy sparkly things. So, after two hours of serious, frustrating effort, voila!



Like I said before, I really need to start studying calculus. This is the epitome of too much free time. But with GP comes boredom, and thus my newly marketable nail design talent.

Distractions..

Distractions are your best friends, in terms of gastroparesis. Distractions, good ones, keep you from focusing on feeling so nauseated, depressed, and energy-deprived. Distractions numb you from the world, keep your entire mind occupied, and is simply a state of bliss for those of us that suffer from 24/7 flu-like symptoms.

My biggest distraction of late has been this blog, in all honesty. I have put in a good amount of man power messing around with the layout, the posts, etc. I can tell I've been spending too much time distracted by it and its associated programs (I use GIMP, a photoshop knockoff that works pretty fabulously)because I've reverted to wearing my glasses every night. Clearly, I've spent far too many hours in front of a computer screen.

And in personal terms, the hours of distraction that this blog has given me has motivated me, given me something to progress towards. It's a nice change from tiring, monotonous days of watching Jersey Shore/Kardashian reruns.

However, the problem with distractions is sometimes, they are too good. They keep you out of touch with the daily happenings of life, and aid in procrastination of necessary chores.

For example, I've blown off the pet store today to change the bunny's cage because I was too busy trying to add something to the blog. I should also be relearning calculus, as I will be in a differential equations class soon and I absolutely suck at math. Not kidding, I literally failed and retook both previous parts of the calculus series at UCSB. And I lived in Math Lab, my personal math aid mecca.

The point is, I've become a little too distracted and let myself fall out of place with reality. I need to begin focusing on future goals, and learn to focus more on the present. I've definitely tuned the boyfriend out accidentally a few times today, just because I was so busy working on the blog, which in retrospect, I feel terrible for doing so. He's my now, and I'm ignoring him for a computer. I've vowed to change that.

It's hard to give up such a good distraction though. It really is. Boredom tends to lead to a focus on all the things going on with me that are wrong, and focusing on your illness always makes you feel worse, symptom-wise. It's such a thrill to sit for hours and feel absolutely nothing. That, compared to a constant state of nausea throughout the day, is the best feeling in the world.

However, I need to learn to balance my distractions with my life. In all honesty, I feel guilty for slipping out of real life this weekend and focusing on nothing but the website. I need to learn that I can exist with the nausea, and can do other things, like chat with the boyfriend, clean, or take a small walk, that will both distract me and keep me in touch with my non-virtual life.

I feel optimistic that I can make these changes, considering my appointment with my GI doctor is next week. Knowing that I'm this close to my life hopefully changing for the better is both terrifying and exhilarating.

So, to hell with obsessive distractions. I will learn to balance, and deal with my GP.

Or I'll try my damnedest to become obsessed with Calculus. Either or, it's a win.

Exhaustion.

The exhaustion I feel after the slightest of exertions is amazing to me, even after dealing with energy loss for months. It honestly scares me that my body is so weak-I feel incredibly out of shape and actually acknowledged it when I had to do a swim test to prove that I could be a competent swim instructor this month.

I don't know exactly how many calories a day I actually manage to keep down, but it is clearly evident that my body is having difficulty surviving. Case in point, I went to the tanning salon today (I rely on my half-Pakistani side to keep me skin cancer free), and felt physically dead after twenty minutes, with fun side effects of dizziness and faintness.

I haven't had this happen before and it terrified me. I didn't realize that I was weak enough to the point where excess sun exposure exhausted me. After I half-staggered out of the nail salon, going to the grocery store with the boyfriend felt like the last leg of a triathlon. I'm sitting here now, several hours later, barely able to stay awake while watching Grey's Anatomy.

Although, in all fairness, Grey's has really gone down the shithole in terms of jumping the shark repeatedly. It is, however, enough of a distraction to keep me conscious and not feeling as nauseated.

Another aspect of today that surprised me was how easily I could tear up over just about anything after my tanning spree. I felt very weepy, depressed, and emotional after, and had a good cry with the boyfriend for about an hour.

I even called my parents, just because. Usually, I call them when I'm in some sort of financial trouble. They don't appreciate those calls particularly, so they do enjoy a good chat when I'm not frantically dialing for cash.

The point is, I tend to forget the most basic of human emotions sometimes. Namely, that when at the brink of an exhaustion overload, people cry. They emote. They freak out in some sort of way. And that is exactly what I did today.

Post cry, I wish I could say that I feel better, but I honestly just feel drained, empty, devoid of feelings. Numb, you could say.

The fact that this ridiculous proportion of exhaustion hit me after one 20 minute session in a tanning bed really is scary. It's proof that my body is falling apart, something that I've been continually trying not to acknowledge. I want to believe that even with puking every day, that I'm ok.

It's getting harder and harder every day to keep that facade up. So, for tonight, I'll let myself be numb, let the wall down, and face my exhaustion head on.

"But you don't look sick..."

I honestly wish I could have a dollar for every time someone has said that to me within the last two years...I could probably pay off all of my medical bills by myself if that option was a possibility.

One of the most difficult things about GP is the explanation of what's wrong with you. First of all, people don't tend to think that stomachs can just stop working, and if they have any iota of an idea that stomach paralysis is possible, they don't realize how the hell that would affect a person's entire body, as well as mind.

Just because someone appears to be healthy doesn't mean they are. Personally, I try my best to look somewhat 'normal' whenever I go to the grocery store, 7-11, etc because I always feel as if people can tell that something medically isn't quite right with me, but don't want to ask. This may be because I have lost a significant amount of weight since starting to follow GP diet guidelines.

Or perhaps because lately, I carry around an aura of depression. Just one of unhealth, of general unwellness. but I digress.

The most common time I actually have to explain that I have GP is at the grocery store, go figure. Not having a job right now is helping in terms of lack of explanation to the general public, but there are some random people at various locales who ask about my hospital bracelet, skinniness, etc.

But, the grocery store is the most common place. This is because what appears to be a 17 year old girl is buying baby food in bulk at the self checkout.

I get one of two reactions at the grocery store--the judgmental "I can't believe I'm seeing a teen mom at my local Vons!" glares from people, and the look of general confusion-"why is this teenager buying baby food?"

First of all, I look very young for my age. I'm 24, and I still get carded for tobacco on a daily basis because apparently I don't look like I should have a driver's license. So I can imagine why it'd be weird to see me at the store, but still. Being on the side of the curious stares is not a pleasant experience and really expedites my grocery shopping

Usually, people don't comment. But more times than I've expected, either a random person in line or one of the checkstand people makes a comment. Some sort of "how's the kid?" begins the conversation, to which I always reply, "No kid, just a chronic illness."

This logically follows into a quick synopsis of what GP is and how it affects me on a daily basis, all before I can swipe my debit card.

I usually launch into some sort of a Wikipedia-esque discussion of what GP is and what it does to you. After I inevitably tell whatever person that I throw up at least once a day is when I receive the requisite "But you don't look sick!"

You have no idea how much I absolutely DESPISE hearing that. Instead of, "you don't look sick," why not, "Wow, congratulations on not disintegrating from starvation! Keep that weight up!"

Obviously that statement is completely idealistic and I'd never expect to hear it from anyone. But it is a daily battle trying to keep my weight to some semblance of normal and it is incredibly irritating to have to hear day after day that I don't look sick, so therefore I shouldn't act like it.

I always fantasize and play the 'what-if' game with these people--"Imagine if you had the flu every single day, but without the knowledge that you will feel better after a few days of hell," or "Try eating 200 calories a day for three days and then imagine how you'd feel about trying to go through a typical day in your life."

People in general don't understand that either. It's very frustrating. They know what it feels like to have the flu. They know what it feels like to be famished-but usually only after skipping one meal. Try skipping everything but your morning coffee everyday and you'll see how I feel like.

The conversation always ends with some sort of generalized "well, I hope you feel better!"

...thanks, random people at grocery store. It's a nice sentiment, but it really doesn't do anything for me, especially since I "look so healthy." Great!

I wish that, with even one person, that GP would sink in with them. People try to understand cancer, AIDS, other chronic illnesses, but GP is a relatively unknown one and some actual awareness beyond a five minute conversation would do wonders for GP research.

The point is, if you see someone buying baby food, don't judge, especially if they appear young. And if someone tells you they are sick, don't brush it off. Respect them, tell them you're sorry, and to keep your head up.

That's all people with GP need-a positive wish that our lives will improve. Think about it next time you're at the grocery store--4% of the population has idiopathic GP, and even more have diabetic related GP--there's a possibility someone there at your store is suffering.

Just tell us to keep being positive, because on good days, those words will hold. And on the bad days? They'll keep us going.

Waiting.

I've noticed that as of late, particularly with my lack of social life, that the majority of what I do on a daily basis is wait.

I wait for a dazzling array of possibilities to occur. I wait for small tasks to finish, to create progress in whatever I am doing. (in terms of messing around on my mac). I wait for mail to tell me good news. I wait for the BF to come home so I don't feel so lonely.

But mostly I wait for October 8th, which is hopefully when I will begin my new regime of pro-kinetic meds for my stomach. Due to my atrocious reaction with reglan the first time I took it, a few weeks ago (it made me severely depressed, then pass out. However, I did notice that when i puked, the food was slightly more digested. Plus?

It's a sad thing, this waiting game I play, and it isn't by any means fun. Waiting on answers that I have no control over and that detrimentally could affect my life is one of the most frustrating impasses I have ever reached.

The control freak aspect of it is the worst, of course. I've had undiagnosed anxiety and issues with control since my tween days, and the build-up of my anxiety over the years does not help in terms of being patient.

I have always been the type of person who is the first to go out and make sure something is done. I pride myself on that. However, I am now at a point in my life where most of my control over myself, my body, has been taken away from me, and I am left to wait.

So, unfortunately, today is just like any other day, and i will wait for the decisions made by others that will change my life for the better.

I will wait.

But, I never said I would be patient. And my impatience is the only control I have left, so I will maintain it.

On a sidenote-I found this website, Pura Vida Bracelets. They have a Gastroparesis Awareness Bracelet, which you can see below:



It's adorable, I already bought one. And the best part is, the company donates $1 to GP awareness fund. As GP is one of the most under-researched conditions in the history of the world (in my personal opinion), this is an amazing way to spread awareness of this illness.

and so, I will wait for my bracelet too. But with a smile.

Loss.

One of the hardest obstacles in the battle against GP is the continuation of a social life. In a way, it almost screams 'haha, I may throw up all day but suck it, GP, look at me having normal social interactions!'

However, due to the truly amazing coalescence of gastro-related symptoms, social interactions are pretty much out. period.

I think I've finally reached a point in my life where I am mourning this loss. Never again will I be able to spontaneously get drunk with friends. Never again will I be able to go out to a restaurant and order something off the menu without worrying about the far ranging consequences of soup versus the crackers and tic-tacs in my purse. Never again will I be able to enter a bar and actually enjoy the atmosphere drinking entails.

I know this is a ridiculously pessimistic way of looking at things, but it's the honest truth, at least in college. If I look back at the past few years of my life, I really can't remember a good portion of them, and that's because I had the freedom of putting whatever the hell I wanted in my body without fear of hours of throwing up and nausea which remains steady for hours after.

Since the GP really started affecting my life, hitting its worst and continuing downhill from there in around November of 2011, I have felt this loss. Repeatedly. The worst part of this loss takes place in several stages:

Stage One: Receiving requests from friends to hang out/drink/go out tonight and subsequent refusal without a real explanation of why.
Stage Two: Repeatedly denying requests from friends to hang out/drink/whatever, with small explanation of stomach problems.
Stage Three: People stop asking you to do things because they know you'll say no, and become frustrated with you due to your complete de-evolution from social butterfly to couch caterpillar.

Although my friends do understand to some extent about my social limitations, it's hard for them. I do give a few of my friends some serious credit though-they make time for me, even if they aren't in Santa Barbara, to just come and hang out, talk, maybe smoke a little--changing the scenario of hanging out into one that's suitable for me. Namely, no food involved.

I am ridiculously lucky to have these people in my life, those that are willing to just sit around, listen to me complain, and make me laugh instead of wallowing in pity with me. These are the only components that my 'loss' has allowed me to keep and i will treasure them.

However, I will say that the absolute worst part of living around people who still maintain the freedoms I've lost is the jealousy. Do I want to go drink every night and rage my face off at the age of 24? No. But would I like to have a few beers and watch the football game? Hell yes. That has been my favorite activity since I came to college. Stanford + ShockTop + Game Win. That was an explicit equation to my personal happiness.

The jealousy kills though, especially in terms of the BF, who still drinks like he just turned 21. It honestly feels like at some points that he's throwing it in my face that he still has the ability to go out and party and essentially has freedom, while I remain chained to my bed in my apartment, trying to hold down my yogurt bites.

I think that at some point, I will get over this 'loss,' this lack of being able to live the life of a normal person and not of a formerly entertaining ghost of a person.

But, I think right now, in wake of my recent diagnosis of GP, I am allowed to wallow. and wallow I shall.

The Building of Frustration: A Case Study

It simply amazes me how the meds I'm on affect my mood. With all the mood swinging I still have to endure until the drugs in my body decide to harmonize, I feel like I'm simultaneously PMS-ing and going through menopause. This isn't fair. Although I feel as if the hot flashes are due more to a lack of ventilation in my apartment than the neurons in my body running awry.

Case in point. I woke up fairly early this morning, like I have been for the past week. I haven't been sleeping that great, waking up 2-3x a night and watching P-90X informercials until my body graciously grants me sleep again.

In addition, I have now apparently become the lightest sleeper in the country. I don't know how this shift occurred, because I used to possess the innate ability to be literally dead to the world until my body thought it was ready for the next day. Usually, this was around 12 or so hours of mostly uninterrupted bliss. (My mother seemed to be the only element against this plan).

So, needless to say, I am not a morning person as of late. I tend to get really frustrated, especially if the boyfriend is still sleeping and I feel bad for doing things like flushing the toilet (NOW WORKING BY THE WAY, THANKS BF + UNCONVENTIONAL CLEARING METHODS) and making coffee, because I have assured myself that I will always wake him up doing so, even though he DOES possess my former sleeping abilities.

However, it seems like the abilify I'm on does help in the morning. Abilify, a cigarette and coffee together tend to make my mornings pretty happy-go-lucky as of late. Granted I am supposed to be re-teaching myself calculus right now but as calculus tends to make me cry and/or throw things, I don't think it's in my best interest to be attacking a task that fucks with my neurons anymore than the present.

Not this morning. This morning, I woke up queasy, 7-11 ran out of pumpkin spice creamer, and I've been messing around with this pinterest gadget on my page for a good 4 or so hours. And am still queasy despite all of the anti-nausea meds I'm on. For some reason, today, my body just decided that it didn't want today to happen. And its punishing me for living through it.

I can tell you right now, the trip to the grocery store seems incredibly difficult. The appeal of doing absolutely nothing besides rewatching Sex and the City reruns all day far exceeds any sort of productivity.

Add that feeling to my general irritation of the day and predictably, I'm going to curl in a ball with my baby blanket and glare at the BF's food as if it is responsible for how i feel.

Here's to (perhaps!) no puking (or just no eating) tonight!

Last Tuesday Night...

Last night was not a fun one in terms of GP. However, I have made a discovery that I think will help in terms of one of the three sessions of puking i did last night.

The discovery: If i take all my meds within the same thirty minute period and then try to eat, I will throw up, and I will throw up medicine at the end of said puke. For the record, that's the worst part of throwing up for me. Undigested food is nothing compared to the half-digested stomach acid/medication i get to puke.

Currently, my nightly routine is as follows.
1. Take anxiety and anti-nausea pill.
2. AT LEAST ONE HOUR LATER [thanks to new discovery] take anti-depressant, which also is helpful in that it increases appetite/stops nausea. I swear to god, I don't know how its even possible for me to throw up with THREE different medications in my system claiming to have 'anti-emetic' effects.
3. Wait a half hour for anti-depressant appetite to appear.
4. Attempt at eating.
5. Around 90% of the time, I puke every time.
6. Repeat attempted eating and puking until I finally can fall asleep.

As you can see, not the most pleasant cycle, and certainly not helpful in terms of my social ineptitude. This is where I am hoping having an actual stomach medication to un-paralyze my apparently retarded organ.

In all fairness though, I do some of this damage to myself, albeit unintentionally. Problem is, my stomach is essentially non-existent in terms of size, thanks partially to the anorexia of my past which continues to haunt me, as well as about two or so years of puking up everything i ate.

Of course I'm aware of this, but once I finally have an appetite, all I want to do is eat! So I stuff my face to the best of my ability, (keep in mind that used in this capacity, 'stuffing my face' equates to about 400 calories) and then suffer the consequences in the toilet bowl a half hour later. Almost a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts, no?

This is where, unfortunately, I'm banking on the stomach medication to help. If I have the ability to eat during the day, so that I'm not starving by 9pm, I think it'll greatly reduce my current state of barfing.

Unfortunately, due to the medications listed in the steps above that are still wreaking havoc on my poor brain, I don't get to have my reglan/domperidone for another month. And people wonder why I'm depressed?

And let me just say that as a side note, I have followed the guidelines for my nightly eating to a tee. Trust me, before I got officially diagnosed, I would eat whatever the hell I wanted (soup, sandwiches, cookies from ralphs that are amazing and that i'm going to greatly miss for the rest of my life) and then puke and give up for the day. I give myself major props for adopting and kind of actually enjoying my baby food diet.

I attempted to branch out last night and go 'buck wild,' as described by the boyfriend, and try some 'cup o noodles.' needless to say, this is why I puked MULTIPLE times last night and for all you out there with GP....BAD DECISION.

There really isn't a point, or message behind this post. I'm just in a rather whiny, pity-myself-because-jesus-christ-all-i-really-want-is-animal-style-fries-from-in-n-out-and-i'm-stuck-here-with-grape-juice mood, and felt this rant was appropriate. Plus, the boyfriend leaves for the weekend to go see his family, so I'm stuck here alone for the next few days. So thus i shall lament. [well, mostly lament. i am excited to have full, no-guilt control over the tv for the next few days].

Here's to a night free of puking!

Food.

Something that I haven't quite touched on yet is what, if actually kept down, I eat on a daily basis.

My eating habits have always been strange, especially after a stint with anorexia about ten years ago. Couple that with swim team and lifeguarding throughout high school, and you'll find that I don't tend to eat like a normal person.

For one thing, I've never been a big breakfast person. I don't like to wake up and go to school, work, etc. with a heaviness in my stomach. Thus, as soon as I learned to operate a vehicle somewhat correctly, my morning routine began with a starbucks frappucinno, every day.

Although most people can't seem to survive without developing irritability/general out-of-it-syndrome between meals, I weigh about 110 pounds soaking wet and had already trained my body in years of "it's not six pm yet, so you aren't hungry."

Thus, I would drink my frappucinno and look forward to my next meal, dinner. Which is where I would obtain about 70% of the calories I needed for the day. Simple, no? This system worked for years, and I can tell you now, looking back, that the ability to stuff my face with no repercussions is one i sorely miss.

Since the introduction of my GP, I have tried multiple methods of keeping calories in my body. Luckily (Unluckily?) my stomach has shrunk to the size of a lap-band patient, so my metabolism has decided to say fuck it, and hold on to every calorie it can.

Method one was simple: eat soup, eat a bunch of snack-y type crap, and try not to throw up. success rate: about 3%. (I did throw up the 3% of kept down food the next morning, for the record. and after a awhile of this consistently occurring, I became more amused with the fact that I could recognize what I ate for dinner--8 hours previous--than horrified that I was once again barfing.)

Method two is even simpler: don't eat, and you won't throw up. However, the whole starving myself thing was a nod to my anorexic past and although I still have the ability to go a few days after eating, now i'm OLD so I actually suffer for it.

Method three is the current one in progress, and it seems to work out about 25% of the time. This is an improvement, believe me. I have christened method three the "Baby Food Diet."


Looks pretty tasty, right?

Although initially deterred by the idea of eating pureed beets out of a jar, I visited Vons and was met with an epiphany: Gerber makes baby food that isn't in a jar! And thus, I introduce to you the line of Gerber Graduates baby food, which in all actuality, is pretty tasty.

On an average night, I'll try to keep down one of the baby food entree portions (can't each the vegetable portion, I've puked carrots at 8am before and do not plan on repeating that instance ever again). And to snack on? One or two of these:



Let me precede this with the fact that i HATE yogurt. and melted cheese. and anything with that sort of creamy texture. It absolutely disgusts me. However, these freeze dried yogurt drops are pretty freaking fantastic and also have a whole bunch of vitamins. If it's a good night and I'm not looking towards the toilet yet, I can also manage to keep down the Gerber snacks 'baby cheetos,' which totally satisfy my munchie cravings.

Pair that along with a cup of coffee with peppermint creamer in the morning, (I can't drink my frappucinno anymore, alas, it is too filled with fat and dairy), and that's my daily eating experience. My current goal is 'no puking for one week.' still yet to happen.

I think the main problem I'm facing still is that when I get around to eating dinner, all I want to do is stuff my face. So, I binge on my baby food, my stomach tells me to fuck off, repeat cycle. I know that GP 101 states to have smaller, more frequent meals a day but considering I actually like to do things with my day as a generality, I don't usually enjoy eating an applesauce, barfing it up 20 minutes later, and then heading back into work.

So, I guess it is an ongoing cycle in terms of how I'm going to keep myself fed. Right now, my hopes are pinned down on finally getting a pro-kinetic stomach med that works. But until then, let me feast upon my baby food!

Two interesting side notes on the subject of baby food:
1. I have gotten countless judgemental looks at the grocery store while attempting to purchase my baby food. This is further exemplified by the fact that I look like a fifteen year old, and do get carded for tobacco/asked if I'm excited for prom on a daily basis. People, this is not fair. I am not with child, I am eating this crap myself, and I'm going to enjoy it. Luckily, "chronic illness" tends to make people shut up in terms of judging apparent teenagers purchasing multiple bags of baby yogurt drops.

2. Once I finally am through the worst of this GP mess, I'm totally going to create a new dieting system. You know the Atkins diet? Meet the Baby Food Diet. I don't know how filling my meals are relatively, considering that like half a juice box fills me up for four hours (oh, how I loathe early satiety), but seriously, baby food has like no calories in it. One entree=100 calories. One bin of baby cheetos=150 calories (for six servings!!!!) I always get people asking me how I stay so thin, and have decided to just tell people that I follow the Gerber Graduates plan of weight loss.

I'll get back to you when I'm a millionaire.

Alone.

the concept of the word 'alone' is a funny thing. The definition of the word is so vague and can be used in so many connotations that at some point, the feeling behind the word is lost.

However, I can assure you that today I truly do feel the emotion behind the word 'alone.'

I could have also titled this post "i told you so" because in today's instance, my parents were spot on.

I've been lectured during every phone call to either parent throughout the last few weeks. One of the things that both parents repeatedly made a point of mentioning was the idea that I should make sure that I was physically and mentally stable before going out and pursuing extraneous activities such as a part-time job or internship.

Following along the same course of action I have developed over the last 24 years, I completely ignored my parents and decided that with the conclusion of my movie class, I should get a part-time job so I wouldn't just sit and dwell on everything wrong in my life.

Go figure, I actually manage to get a job. I do have the innate ability to interview well despite whatever turmoil is occuring in my life.

But today, for the first time, I really sat and thought about the weeks ahead, with at least four before I finally get to try a stomach medication again. And I thought about what my parents had repeatedly told me. And i recognized that the feeling of dread I had when arriving at work was not the attitude with which I wanted to start a job.

So, I quit. Well, less 'quit' and more so 'hired at a later date,' provided that I have stabilized in terms of my health. And I cried about it, but do realize it's probably the best decision for me in terms of attempting to get a career job in the future, I don't need anything negative in terms of job history.

However, with that feeling came the loneliness. I have let my medications get the best of me again, and pissed off the boyfriend to the point where I think he's done in terms of 'us'.

I have no friends here, all of my college friends actually graduated on time and are out and about living their adult lives. My parents are understandably tired of my crap and repeated whining as well.

Today I can truly evoke the feeling of being all alone.

Obstacles

I feel like i face new obstacles everyday on this journey to a somewhat normal life. Today's obstacle: parental support.

Like i said in an earlier post, there is a point where people get tired of hearing you whine about feeling sick, about waiting to feel better, waiting for stability.

I guess I've hit that point today while on the phone with my mom, who listened to me whine for about 5 minutes before delving into a lecture about all the ways I've fucked up my life since I've left home, that I've "done this to myself" concerning my gastroparesis. Hearing her straight out call me a failure in an especially cruel way, "I talk with my friends about their children. they're all adults, graduated college in four years, and are successful. When they ask about you, I don't have anything to talk about because there is nothing positive to discuss. You are a failure to us and you just irritate us more and more because you can't support yourself"...

...just wow. talk about a way to kick someone when they're down. She took my anxieties about work in the same manner, (I told her I was worried about meeting the fitness requirements for a swim instructor, I just don't have the energy it takes for all of the certifications right now. I can teach, it doesn't require much energy, but all of the requirements outside the lesson itself is too much for me) --she told me that I probably wouldn't be able to do it and to work on getting healthy first.

I find it completely unfair that she has this opinion, when lately I've been getting alternating lectures of "don't do anything until you're healthy" and "wow, it sucks that we have to pay for you again, and we're pissed off we're having to support you." It just honestly makes me feel like shit about myself.

Trust me, if i had the ability, I'd be back bartending 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, and supporting myself. I hate feeling this weak and at the age of 24, still having to rely on my parents financially. It just sucks to know that my parents think that low of me and are mad at me for developing this illness.

You want to know what depression feels like? It's the feeling that your parents have completely given up on you and don't care. Because they want progress and independence, and I can't give that to them right now.

So maybe I shouldn't talk to my parents anymore, because I can't handle that in addition to the depression I'm already feeling.

And I really don't know if I can do this job. I guess I'll find out tomorrow if I'm an even bigger failure than the one i am today.

On a Particularly Bad Day...

With GP, there are always good days and bad days. Unfortunately you can't predict them, and they have an uncanny ability to occur on days where you actually have to be productive. The bad days, for lack of a better term, blow. Constant, annoying nausea that refuses to wane even with the aid of two anti-emetics. Tiredness, weakness, irritability, and quite often, a good puke or three.

I've had the lucky ability to have about 4 bad days in a row this week. I've considered not eating to save my throat from puking, but I have about 6 hours of actual work on Monday, and I need to fill up on energy this weekend. So, puking aside, I've been pretty down and pissy.

Also-Stanford is playing USC right now and without Andrew Luck as quarterback I'm terrified we're going to lose. No faith in the new QB yet. I HATE when Stanford loses. Talk about bad days...those are the absolute worst.

So, because I've been moping around all day, I had the bright idea to come up with some instagram goodness of things that do make me happy. It'll be nice to have a virtual pick me up available whenever I'm feeling overwhelmed.

Regardless, Stanford had better win.

Once Upon A Time..

Once upon a time ago, i had everything. And before i realized it, i lost it all.

But have i really?

At the age of 24, with a recent diagnosis of gastroparesis, a chronic illness which stops the movement of the stomach and comes with a debilitating array of symptoms, including constant nausea, daily vomiting, exhaustion, and frequent trips to the emergency room.

In fact, i'd say i have the qualifications to become Goleta Valley ER's patient of the year, two years running, given the multiple misdiagnoses i've been presented with. (For the record, pity the employees of this hospital, I raise holy hell anytime a needle is involved in a hospital visit, which tends to be every time.)

Gastroparesis isn't as simple as described-it also comes bundled with constant anxiety and fear concerning eating, depression, daily weight and mood fluctuations, and social isolation.

Perhaps the worst symptom of gastroparesis is the isolation that comes along with it. You never realize how much human social interactions (especially in college!) involve food and/or alcohol until you begin to repeatedly decline invitations to hang out, grab lunch, have a beer and watch the football game (Go Stanford, for the record).

It's a difficult condition to explain to friends and family, who theoretically hear and share sympathies with you, but who truly cannot comprehend a lifestyle where puking several times a day is normalcy, and keeping down half of a fruit smoothie is considered an Olympian-esque victory. In fact, over the course of this summer with an 8am class, I have devised the motto "puke and rally" into my morning routine.

The most common explanation for how gastroparesis feels is usually something about feeling like you have the flu, without the expectation of feeling better after a few days of your head in the toilet. Most people know how it feels to have the flu, but most people don't know how it feels to have the flu without the optimism of a healthy self in the near future, or comprehend the large variety of side symptoms that come along with throwing up so frequently-the chest pain, burning throat, and constant exhaustion to the point where starving feels better than trying to eat.

With gastroparesis, you slowly lose touch with friends, just because you often feel so tired or worried about puking (which is, of course, totally socially unacceptable, especially in a college community) that it isn't worth trying to maintain a connection. Family remains there for you, but can only really listen to you cry and whine about feeling awful to a certain degree before they lose interest.

The people who are there for you are ones you treasure. Whoever your support system may be, if they stand by your side through puking, complaining, boredom,(because they can't do anything besides lie around with you), mood swings, anger, and depression, they are difficult to find and are truly strong people, because they bear their own life on their shoulders, as well as yours.

Thus, once upon a time I had everything.
And this condition has slowly stripped away some of the simplest joys of life.

However, I have created this blog for me.

An outlet for my anxiety, my fears, my daily struggles, so that I can, for the first time, have control over my gastroparesis.


And perhaps to show others that over time, normalcy can be found in the chaos of such a daunting, debilitating condition.

I'll keep you posted.