He sees me for more than just what my illness has taken from me. He still loves me despite my flaws. He embraces me when I’m feeling anxious. He holds my hand when I am scared. He makes me laugh when I am sad. He reminds me of my worth. He listens to me when I’m feeling alone. He walks beside me when I lose my way.
I am truly blessed that he is mine; My funny Valentine.
Love, I mean real love, is unconditional. Real love is a choice. Real love takes work. Real love means trusting one another, communication, appreciation and mutual respect. Real love is never perfect. Sometimes you go through hard times together, maybe you weather some storms and disappointments along the way as well but I promise you that if you can get through the hard times, the storms and the disappointments together you will truly know what real love is.
I could also care less that Taylor Swift flew all the way across the world yesterday just so she could be at the Superbowl game tonight.
But what I do care about and am a huge fan of is bearing witness to loving, mutually respectful, happy relationships and people who show up for love.
Something we do not see nearly enough of these days.
Since the start of Taylor and Travis’s relationship all I have seen are the haters who continue to bash two fellow human beings simply for loving one another and cheering each other on in their life and their wins.
What happened to a world where teaching our young boys to respect women was a thing or empowering our young girls to be fierce and fearless were too?
Haters are gonna hate and maybe I’m just a hopeless romantic (it also happens to be love week ya know), but I truly believe that if they can stop the haters from getting in between them, I think that the odds will be in their favour that they can make this relationship last.
So tonight, the only team I will be rooting for to win, both on and off the field, is “Team Love”.
I needed to find a way to get out of my head today. It was a really tough week for me. I started on a downward spiral last Sunday, and by the end of the week, I was left feeling an overwhelming sense of despair (see blog from yesterday).
Even though we are having spring-like temperatures in February (which I’m not complaining about), our #summerofrich hikes have needed to be put on hold for the time being as Rich is dealing with a hernia that will not be removed until April.
So, instead, I decided to go swimming at my mother in law’s condo pool today.
Like hiking, swimming brings me joy.
The pool was the perfect temperature and a perfect distraction.
For one full hour, I found myself lost in the moment and feeling good.
The last flame of hope I’d been clinging to for the past couple of months burned out last night.
The claim to our insurance company for a treatment I’d been anxiously awaiting and could not afford otherwise was denied yesterday. Their letter was vague, siting a whole bunch of scientific gibberish and asking for additional medical information to be considered moving forward.
(I won’t bore you with all the details again, but in case you missed what I’m referring to from a few weeks ago, here are the blogs I wrote;
This has hit me REALLY hard. Harder than every other roadblock before. I cried a whole lot last night. I was angry and frustrated and confused as to what went wrong. The specialist had assured me over the phone that she saw no reason for me not to be approved by insurance. I never saw the actual submission, though, but had no reason not to trust her, even after chasing her down for seven weeks just to fill it out.
Last night, I took a closer look at the form she had filled out. My anger, frustration, and confusion only escalated further. Everything we had spoken about had been scratched out and changed to something completely different. It looked so unprofessional, and almost like a child had scribbled on a piece of paper. Maybe instead of scratching everything out, she could’ve taken an extra few minutes to start a fresh form, a form I had chased her down for seven weeks to write.
Hope is a belief that there is a possibility of positive outcomes. In the absence of hope, our feelings can turn to despair, helplessness, and an unexplainable emptiness.
That’s where I’m at today. I feel like I have no hope left to cling to or any chance of finding some relief from my neurological damage after witnessing that last flame of hope burn out last night.
I received this message in the wee hours of the morning from an old friend.
I’m not calling them old per se, I’m just saying that they are an old friend from high school!
I spiraled yesterday to a very dark place.
I felt defeated.
It came on fast and furious.
Reading this message really helped.
But like they pointed out, I don’t need approval from anyone, none of us do.
However, it sure doesn’t hurt because I can tell you that there is no better feeling in the world than knowing you have so much love and support in your life to keep you fighting.
Yesterday was filled with such a mix of emotions. Regret and self-doubt swirled around in the pit of my stomach all morning as I prepared myself to leave for my Boudoir photoshoot. I’d also woken up at 4 am. with a horrible headache that didn’t seem to want to go away either.
I was teetering on the edge, and I knew that one wrong step would send me flying right over that edge. Thoughts of canceling consumed me all week long, to be honest. What was I thinking? I can’t do this? I’m definitely not worthy of being a part of their 50’s & Fabulous collection.
But as soon as I walked through the doors of that studio, I was made to feel as though I was unstoppable. From the manager who greeted me with so much enthusiasm and excitement for me, right down to the photographer herself, whose encouragement and direction made me feel confident and beautiful.
The photoshoot itself flew by. I let my guard down the entire time and allowed myself to feel vulnerable both in front of and behind the camera. For a brief moment, I was focused. I felt free. My body was not something I feared. I was unapologetically me and embraced my imperfections; scars, stretch marks, and all.
Self-love is a lifelong journey. It’s about embracing your vulnerabilities, loving yourself unconditionally, and honouring the person that you are, as you are. I know I need a lot more practice before I can truly even begin to conquer it. I know I need to start by showing myself more moments of grace in my everyday life, like I did yesterday, and not just once in a while.
A week from tomorrow, I have another appointment at the studio for my big photo reveal where I will get to sit down and view the entire collection of proofs taken of me during my session yesterday. The photographer did show me a sneak peak of some pictures in real time as she was taking them. I tried to look away, though, in order for me to stay focused and continue to be in the moment.
As part of my gift, I have a $750 credit towards an album. I am already feeling very anxious about seeing the proofs and finished product (which will likely take approximately 3 months to get). That journey towards loving myself wholeheartedly feels so far out of reach today.
But, I will continue to hold on tightly to the memories of yesterday and filled with pride for even allowing myself to have this amazing experience.
Just when I thought I couldn’t love Elmo any more than I already do. He then went and sent out a message to his hundreds of thousands of Sesame Street friends on his social media pages a few days ago, which has since gone viral.
His message was simple yet powerful, asking his friends how they were doing, and boy was he ever happy he did given the response. And so am I.
Many people took advantage of his kindness by getting real. They let Elmo know they were not feeling so tickled with life at the moment, many more thanking him for giving them a safe space to feel as though someone is listening.
We all need to be more like Elmo and check in on our friends and loved ones regularly. We need to be there for one another and ensure that everyone in our lives know that they are not alone and that it’s ok to ask for help.
We need to start hard conversations.
Thank you, Elmo, for this gentle reminder to everyone on how imperative it is for our mental wellbeing to take a pause sometimes and to be mindful of our feelings.
I would love for everyone reading this to check in with a friend or loved one this weekend, and while you’re at it, remember to take a pause yourself and be mindful of your own feelings too.
where I spoke about how, after losing both a significant and necessary amount of weight over the past 6 months (which started from a diagnosis of a stress ulcer), has now left me indulging again in many of those same dangerous tendencies I’ve battled with on and off since I first developed an eating disorder when I was 18 years old.
Most people go through life taking very little notice of their thought processes. I, however, am not most people, though.
Yesterday, it was one of my work bestie’s birthdays. My boss decided we should surprise her with a beautiful bouquet of flowers and a cake, but not just any cake. A vanilla cake from Loblaws. The.Best.Cake.Ever.
We lit candles, sang happy birthday, and celebrated her. And boy, does she deserve celebrating. It was a nice distraction from the everyday grind for everyone, everyone but me that is, because all I began to focus on as this delicious cake stared me in the face was now I was going to have to eat it.
Everyone happily took a slice as I stared at the cake in fear. I felt pressure to have a piece as my mind started to spiral. I couldn’t eat it, I won’t eat it. Well, maybe if I just have a small piece, I just won’t eat supper tonight was my negotiation and thought process in the moment. That would be ok, right? So I gave into the pressure and cut myself a piece of cake.
After I ate it, the guilt got the best of me, and without any warning, I went into a full-blown panic attack. I convinced myself I was dying. My heart was pounding uncontrollably. I thought I was having a heart attack or possibly going into a diabetic coma (I don’t even have diabetes). I couldn’t catch my breath. I felt numb. I was shaking and extremely nauseous. My neurological symptoms flared up from head to toe. I wanted to run and hide as I did everything in my power to hold back tears.
My boss and the rest of my coworkers saw what was happening as much as I tried to hide it. I tried to fluff it off, but I literally couldn’t catch my breath. I was so embarrassed. I couldn’t get a grip on reality. They poured me some water before demanding I go home. But only after I promised I could actually drive.
Our minds truly are powerful tools and simply put, I guess maybe I can’t actually have my cake and eat it too.
Last night, I had a Zoom call with a PhD Student. His area of study is in clinical psychology. Our call lasted two hours.
We “met” online several months ago through a private Facebook group we are both members of. Our purpose in joining this group differed greatly. His was strictly for research he is doing for his dissertation. The subject, “Track Two, Non-Terminal Illnesses for M.A.I.D” (Medical Assistance in Dying); my reason was for a very different kind of research.
He had originally reached out to me a few months back to ask if I would be willing to talk to him about M.A.I.D, knowing that I had already taken several steps in the application process. I told him I’d be more than happy to chat with him, but that it would have to wait until the new year as I had a lot on my plate at the time.
He made me feel very relaxed right from the start of our conversation last evening. Everything we spoke about was recorded for research purposes only and in the strictest of confidence.
He told me this was my opportunity to contribute to helping people better understand what it’s like to have conversations about M.A.I.D and what I believe doctors outta hear. He was most interested in learning more about my life experiences, my reasons for researching M.A.I.D, why I made the decision to start the process, and my relationships; mostly he wanted to know how they all feel about me applying to the program, including that of my Therapist and Psychiatrist.
When I first learned about M.A.I.D potentially becoming legal in March of 2023, the year prior, for individuals suffering with a mental illness, I was torn, confused, and scared. A year later though, still torn, confused and scared but now living with irreparable neurological damage, I started looking into it more seriously with each new treatment failing me and my mental health declining due in part to the more recent issues. It was just about that same time that the government announced they were delaying the start date by another year to March, 2024. I made a promise to myself I would hold on until then but I’d also found a loophole in the system where some people with a mental illness may still be eligible “if they also have a ‘grievous and irremediable’ physical health condition. Their illness, disease or disability or state of decline causes them enduring physical or psychological suffering that is intolerable to them and that cannot be relieved under conditions that they consider acceptable.” A person’s death also does not need to be reasonably foreseeable for M.A.I.D eligibility (i.e., a person does not need to be at the end of life).~ Camh
After months of going through the process, I was told in November by one of the M.A.I.D team doctors that my case falls into a very gray area and that I would most likely have to wait until it becomes legalized this year. Just last week, I asked my Psychiatrist during my appointment with him if he had heard anything yet as the March deadline was nearing. He told me he hadn’t but that he would let me know as soon as he did and that he takes every inquiry from his patients very seriously.
Then, this past Monday as I drove home from work, alone in my thoughts, I heard on the radio that the government was asking for another pause on M.A.I.D again for individuals suffering with a mental illness who are seeking assistance in dying. I was torn, confused, and scared once again.
The government still feels, from conversations they’ve had, that the system is not ready yet, that they need more time and if they plan to move forward to make M.A.I.D legal for those suffering with a mental illness, they need to get it right.
Upon hearing the news on my drive home, that promise I had made to myself a year earlier that I would wait out the year suddenly left me with a lot more to think about this week. It’s been all I’ve been thinking about, to be honest. I know my loved ones think that the government’s announcement earlier this week was a good thing. My fear is where is this going to leave people like myself now.
I think last night ended up being quite a therapeutic experience for me at just the perfect time, and the best part was that this research study, unlike so many others I’ve participated in, won’t leave behind any further irreparable damage to my body or mind. After we finished our call, the kind young man sent me a $20 Amazon gift card for my time. I really appreciated the sweet gesture. So, at least for today, I am now focused on deciding what I should treat myself to with my gift card!!! Any thoughts??
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