When the Dam Burst, I Was Honest with Myself

This past week was incredibly eye opening and revolutionary for me. While in earlier weeks I had been dealing with physical illnesses, this week it was all about emotional turmoil and spiritual dryness.

It happens every year around the anniversary of my father's death. I start feeling a bit apathetic, a little depressed, and a little anxious. It didn't help that I felt like people were dumping all of their problems on me and then disappearing once they "deposited" their problems into the human vault that is me. It's an unfortunate pattern with me; many friends only touch base when they need to unload and then I don't hear from them again until they need another round of venting.

After being physically drained from the dehydration, infection, and the consequent side effects of the medication, I wanted a little break. I wasn't going to get it with July 11th (anniversary of my father's death) coming up but I wasn't expecting to get overwhelmed with everything else that happened. Between the dumping of problems, various other comments about me and others (read: gossip), and feeling, well, almost bullied into doing things I had no desire to do, it's amazing I didn't have a full blown panic attack.

The dam burst around Thursday/Friday. I sobbed. I vented my own frustrations to my poor mother who had to deal with a daughter who was fed up. "I'm tired of people judging me," I cried. "I'm tired of being pushed into doing what I don't want to do. I'm tired of people make snide comments. I'm tired of..." the list went on. She let me cry because she knows I occasionally need to emotional release when I'm overwhelmed by others' problems. Does this happen often? No, but it happens more often than I'd care for.

After I let all that pent up frustration out I did something I had been working up the courage to do: I was honest when someone upset me. I started doing it even before I read this article on Introvert, Dear. Instead of just bottling it up or pretending I was okay, I told whoever upset me that I wasn't happy. "I'm upset right now... let's take a break from this conversation," was my mantra this weekend. The reactions were varied. Some chose a very passive-aggressive route. (Thanks for helping me identify it, all those psychology courses I took as an undergrad!) Thankfully, I have incredibly understanding people in my life. It became quite clear who I could count and whom I couldn't. I only talked to two friends this entire weekend -- both incredibly patient and supportive guy friends whom I trust implicitly. I took a break from most things until I got my thoughts and emotions sorted out.

A beautiful thing happened during this time: my spiritual dryness lessened considerably and my eyes were opened. As I immersed myself in prayer after feeling somewhat apathetic for weeks, I began seeing that certain situations had been pulling me away from God and my prayer life. A number of things I have to go to confession for came as a result of these situations. The worst in me was being pulled out by certain friendships. When I took a breather and really saw what was my fault and what I couldn't take "credit" for, a peace settled in me. Furthermore, I saw which friendships brought out the best in me; which challenged me to become a holier and more humble version of myself, one who was more aligned with the kind of woman I'd like to be. With perfect timing, the chaplet of St. Michael Archangel I'd custom ordered from Allison arrived when I had this breakthrough. Well played, God. Well played.

Even though most of us are out of college (and then some), there are a couple of things that don't ever go away as we get older; things we think will die in college. Recognizing that we occasionally need to look at our friendships and be honest with ourselves is something I periodically do but it's never easy. You develop a camaraderie with people who may lead you down the wrong path or whom may be all wrong for you. I'm still learning that it's okay to say "I appreciate what they've done for me but it isn't a healthy friendship for either of us" (because I DO take into consideration what I bring into the friendship for the other person). I'm learning to not feel guilty for realizing that it's actually an act of charity (to myself) to do something for myself; something that will help keep me on the right path towards holiness.

I have a massive mountain to climb in the next couple of weeks, but I'll keep my beloved Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati's words in mind: "Verso l'alto." I must remember that I'm striving towards something that will be hard to obtain yet eternally rewarding: Heaven and sainthood. I can't do that on the path I've been on lately and it's going to take a lot of emotional suffering (on my side) to make things right. Well, the path to Heaven is not easy one but one I'll gladly suffer through to reach the destination.

That's it from me for now. I hope the temperatures go down a bit so I can make the last Mass of the day. I hate missing Mass so fingers crossed. In the meantime, I'll go read a book. :)

I hope y'all had a lovely weekend. :)

As always, thanks for reading and God bless! :D

Dear Dad...

Today is the 7th anniversary of your death. I still can't wrap my mind around it being that long. It both does and doesn't feel like much time has passed. I haven't forgotten what you look like but I occasionally forget what your voice sounded like. I guess that's normal since it's been so long.

I started playing the guitar again. This time, it's a little more regularly. I stopped playing after you died. It took me a good 5-6 years to really find any interest in it again. You promised me a guitar shortly before you died which still occasionally hurts. No, getting the guitar doesn't matter; it's the fact that you promised something that will never be fulfilled that got me down. It's a constant reminder that there were things we planned that will never get fulfilled. Every time I picked the guitar up, I was reminded of you and that promise. I remember all those times you drove me to my lessons as well as the times you drove me to get my first two guitars (and how you picked out the first one I ever owned). I think it was quite funny that the only thing that cheered me up this weekend was picking up my acoustic guitar and playing, followed by singing. There's more music in the house, like you liked when you were alive.

I've been through heck and back over the last year but I'm still here, thriving despite the setbacks. I still have that fire in me that I inherited from both you and Mom. My health has gone through ups and downs but I'm overall recovering. The car accident didn't feel me down for too long and I've been driving ever since I got my car back from the mechanic. You'd be proud of me for that. I know you were worried about me and my anxiety before you died but it's been better than it's been since I was a teenager. I've had moments of anxiety (and the darn antibiotics brought them back this past week) but I'm not letting it keep me down for long. Your little girl doesn't get easily scared nor does she quit.

Speaking of quitting, despite the academic setbacks, I've not quit that either. I'm returning to the SLP field. I was accepted to Utah State once again over the weekend. I should be graduating early next May. On your deathbed I promised you that I'd take care of Mom and since it's becoming quite clear that she's going to need to retire sooner than later, I've put my dreams of that Theology MA on the backburner in favor of a career as an SLPA. Isn't that what you and Mom taught me; that sometimes we need to make sacrifices for our family? Once I can get that going, I'll return to finish the other degree. I don't regret it nor am I upset at the sudden change of plans. They weren't what I had planned but God knows what He's doing. I know He is helping guide me down this journey of mine and for now I have to focus on this. :)

Not much else to report on. I'm that same content little girl you raised. Things don't always work out as I'd like them to and I do get down for a little while but I bounce back. I'm still incredibly silly when I'm with those whom I trust. I still carry myself the way you and Mom taught me to act. I hope you'd be proud of the woman I've grown up to be. I still feel like I'm growing but I think that's a never ending process.

I'm still single (I'm sure you'd appreciate that since my sister married so young, lol) but I'm happy. I know I have to be happy with myself by myself or else I'm going to place unrealistic expectations on the future fella and future family. I still think it's in the cards for me but not now. For whatever reason, I have to wait a bit longer and that's okay. One of the last things you said to me before you died was that you trusted my judgment when it came to relationships and that's something I continue to carry with me. Don't worry, I've got more than enough people willing to step in and check out (*cough*interrogate*cough*) potential candidates. Thank you for raising me with old fashioned values; it's helped me weed out jerks.

I still think about you all the time and you pop up in my dreams quite often, especially when I have an important decision weighing on my mind. I hope I can continue making you proud. I'll always remember the lessons you taught me (especially how to parallel park like a boss) and make sure I'm the best person I can be.

With love,

Life as a Highly Sensitive Catholic

When I was a little girl, my teachers would tell my parents that I was highly sensitive; I would cry easier than other kids. It was looked down upon as a flaw. They thought it was low self-esteem. They thought I was too coddled by my parents. This continued as I got older. Doctors would say I was just a really anxious person who didn't know how to handle too much stress at a time. Then I found out something revolutionary thanks to Anne of Mrs. Modern Darcy: I'm actually considered a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP).

For all of you who don't want to read through all the articles: being a HSP means that I am more sensitive to both emotional and physical stimulation. Loud noises, extreme temperatures, even the effects of medications -- I feel them a lot more intensely than most other people. It wasn't something I picked up growing up; I was just born with this trait.

I'm empathetic to the point of tears when I see someone suffering even in the littlest way, which is why I had to leave social media (for the night) a couple of days ago when all the shooting chaos began. I can't sit through any violent scenes or even listen to intense fighting. I faint easily in hot weather (heat sensitivity) if I'm not cool enough. Medication side effects are stronger than I'd like. (side note: last ER visit when I felt like I was going to faint? Antibiotics were so strong that it caused that feeling and it increased my anxiety about 3-fold for 72 hours after my last dose. Anxiety has been gone after I hit the 72 hour mark though my stomach still feels like I have a brick in it.)

After reading about the 16 Habits of HSP, as well as the 12 Things a HSP Needs, I didn't feel quite so alone or odd. However, it didn't hit some just how much I struggled with this label until I read the article on how a young woman learned to love herself as a HSP. This article hit home because, despite being aware that HSP was a real thing (my childhood doctor even confirmed it a couple of years ago; I do have a very sensitive body that can't handle certain medications nor caffeine), I still struggled with accepting and even loving this part of myself.

I've always felt like it was more of a flaw than an asset, one that I couldn't "fix" and that was looked down upon by most other people (especially doctors). After the past week in which I spent 6 out of 7 days in the hospital, it became even worse; I couldn't pray or feel like I could do much. I've recently began on my own journey in trying to learn to love this side of myself but I know I still have a long, long way to go.

Now, let's talk about being a HSP who is also Catholic. I love, love, love the smell of incense... but when it's too strong (or too close to where I'm sitting), I get lightheaded, nauseous, and a headache will pop up. I don't like clapping at Mass. I don't like Spanish Masses because of the music (usually involving a guitar and drums or Mariachi). I like my Masses solemn. I don't mind babies crying or babbling during Mass because I love babies so that doesn't bother me. Altar wine can be too strong for me at times.

I think being a HSP is why I quickly fell in love with wearing mantillas/chapel veils; it helps me focus solely on the Mass. Because the veil literally blocks my surrounding views and gives me a bit of "tunnel vision" in which my eyes will be focused on the altar or on the missalette, it helps me not get too distracted by what other parishioners are doing during Mass.

Lent? I can't make it through reenactments of the Stations of the Cross. I actually almost fainted the first time I watched The Passion of the Christ in one of my Religious Studies courses as an undergrad. I had to look away, something I knew my other classmates took notice of (there were less than 10 of us in that class; only 3 Religious Studies majors in my class).

The Rosary? I couldn't make it through the Sorrowful Mysteries without being a blubbering mess the first couple of years after my reversion. Though I still occasionally cry, it's nowhere near as bad as it used to be. I also don't like noise while I pray because I can get easily distracted and then overwhelmed. It's not fun. lol.

I felt like sharing this because I don't think it's talked about enough. Being a highly sensitive person isn't bad (and I'm going to keep repeating that to myself); it just means that we can get overstimulated more easily than other people. If 15-20% of the population is considered a HSP, then I know I'm not alone. :) If you're wondering if you're a highly sensitive person, you can take a self-test here.

Alright, I should go do something productive with my day. :)

I hope y'all are having a good weekend thus far. :D

As always, thanks for reading and God bless! :D

My Body Likes to Scare Me

As I sit and write this out, a full blown panic attack is passing rather slowly. Oh, Keflex, I will be glad when you're out of my system...

If you hadn't guessed from the post's intro, the antibiotic I was given for my bladder infection -- Keflex -- gives me the unfortunate side effect of anxiety. Full blown panic attacks for no reason. One pharmacist said it wasn't possible and another said it wasn't a common side effect but could be possible since I noticed it appeared shortly after my first dose. I had my first full blown panic attack at the 4 hour mark (4 hours exactly) after my first dose of the antibiotic. I had the latest round of panic attacks at the 31 hour mark after the last dose. A Google search brought up several people reporting anxiety being amped up as a side effect to the Keflex so I'm just going to wait it out.

Anyway, if you're wondering what's going on with my body scaring the chocolate chips out of me... it's been a crazy couple of days. I went to the ER 6 out of 7 days. (USA! USA! /inside joke) No, it wasn't fun. I was apparently dehydrated a few days ago and I received another round of IV fluids yesterday when I felt like I was going to pass out at the 2 hour mark of the last dose of the antibiotics. (side note: are we seeing a pattern yet?) Yesterday's latest round of blood work (yep, third time they drew blood in 6 days) showed something interesting: no anemia (it was at 11.1 out of 10 normal range cut off), platelets were the highest they've been in at least 5 years (175k out of 140k normal range cut off; up 75k from the last time I blogged), and I was basically the picture of health since even the bladder infection was gone after 3.5 days of the antibiotics. How my platelets were able to jump 75k on their own in 4 days, I don't know. I didn't do anything differently except cut wheat out of my diet.

I felt terrible all night (starting at the 4 hour mark after the penultimate dose of the antibiotics...) two nights ago and then I nearly fainted yesterday morning (again, at 2 hour mark of last dose of antibiotics). The doctor said it was anxiety but I didn't believe him until today. Anxiety is real, y'all. I don't think it's anxiety caused by so many ER visits because even the doctors said I looked really relaxed while I was there and I don't feel stressed or anxious about anything; these panic attacks will happen randomly while I'm watching TV or praying or doing something relaxing. Thankfully 90% of the antibiotic has flushed out already, just to wait for the other 10% to vacate the premises in the next 38 hours.

Except for the random panic attacks (which I can thankfully manage through; I've had enough CBT training to ride it out without it escalating into something worse), I'm apparently okay. I definitely feel like myself again except I'm a little  exhausted because I've only slept maybe 3-5 hours most night in the past 2 weeks due to the fever or ER visits. I'm so excited about the anemia being gone and the platelets having jumped so high on their own. My weight was still at a good place (within normal range) at last weigh in.

In a weird way, everything I went through in the past 2 weeks has made me more confident about what could be coming up for their upcoming Fall. Whether I return to Utah State to complete my degree in Communicative Disorders and Deaf Education (Speech-Language Pathology) or I don't get re-admitted and end up going to Steubenville to continue my Theology MA degree, I'm ready. :) Now all I have to do is get back to my normal prayer routine.

In the past two weeks, I've fallen asleep praying the Rosary more times than I care to admit. I have missed praying either my morning or nighttime prayers about 5-6 times this past week. I haven't been doing the Chaplet of St. Michael Archangel either. I've mostly done morning prayers (missed once or twice), the Litany of Humility, and the Daily Consecration to the Blessed Virgin Mary because they're short and the easiest ones I do. No Mass or confession for me last weekend either since I was in the ER or unable to drive. Sigh. I miss it.

Dear body, please, no more scaring me. I'd like a little break from worrying about health issues, mmmkay? No more ER visits. No more bladder infections. No more plummeting platelets or anemia, okay? Thank you. lol. Anxiety, you can go fly a kite. You're not welcome here.

Anyway, anxiety has finally subsided a bit (yay!) so I'm going to go read or do something fun. The weather is cooperating so I may take a drive in a little while. :D

I hope everyone else is having a better time than I am. lol. Thank you all for your continued prayers.

As always, thanks for reading and God bless! :D

ITP, Kidney Infection, No More Anemia... Oh My!

Quick update since I'm still feeling a bit under the weather... in list form.

1) Went to ER yesterday to get new antibiotic prescription. Doctor ordered blood test. Platelets plummeted from a healthy 152 to a sad (panda) 100 in a month and a half. I think they may officially diagnose me with ITP at this point; waiting to hear when I can see my doctor about what the next step will be (which may be a trip to see a hematologist). With my history of adverse reactions to different medications, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little worried about potential treatment plans. At least people like Allison (and specifically Allison) give me hope that things can get better. :)

2) I started displaying symptoms of the bladder infection I had possibly having spread to my kidneys so I was given a new antibiotic for it. Yay for antibiotics... boo for potentially being worse than originally diagnosed.

3) At least I'm no longer anemic. It was an 11 last night; I was at a 9 a month and a half ago; 10 is normal range. Yay for progress there!

4) I think they might also have to do a biopsy to check for Celiac because the blood test came back negative but I've been displaying symptoms for it, including a drop in platelets. They were steady for almost 2 years and then I reintroduced wheat into my system and my platelets and digestive system got exponentially worse.

5) If you're on #FeverWatch with me on Twitter, the latest is 100.04. Hasn't gone over that in several hours (more than 12 hours). The lowest was at 99.0 at the ER last night (though they had me in a freezing room for hours).

Okay, I'm going to try to take a nap or something. I feel exhausted. Thanks for that, low platelets. :-P