Friday, February 27, 2009

Trying 2 Come 2 Grips With Disability

The life I used to have was filled with activities and hobbies. I loved being involved in sports and doing what truly interested me. Being a couch potato was definitely not in the cards for me. As a matter of fact, I used to swim 2 miles, run a mile and bike 5-10 miles a day- everyday. Except weekends- I would slack off on the swimming 2 miles on Saturdays and Sundays.

I continued this regimen well into my 30's. I looked forward to the day when I could be active with my own children, as I taught swimming and gym to youngsters for about 15 years. I taught at the YMCA, the city pools all summer and some high school pools in the winter. I also swam in the Master Swimming program for a number of years, during very rigorous workouts for hours at a time- which I loved.

You can't imagine how devastated I have been to be so crippled now that I have 3 sons- and my youngest is 11 years old. I can barely walk on a good day, let alone run and bike and swim everyday, like I used to do.

However, I don't seem to have very much pain at all when I swim- and I can still swim pretty fast and fairly long- with some practice. In the summer, I would love to swim everyday, and the exposure to the bright sunlight is excellent for dispelling the deep, dark and dreaded depression that is always prevalent with Fibromyalgia. Swimming makes me feel good.

Unfortunately, I don't have access to a swimming pool all year round, and cannot afford to join the Y right now. But I have dreams that someday soon I will be able to get back in shape somewhat again. I actually do dream about swimming. It is an extremely calming dream, and I always feel better after I dream about swimming. Pulling myself through the water, feeling my muscles stretch, reach and pull while I glide through the endless pool in my dream, not bothering with turns or having other swimmers in my way- it's great!

Back to reality really is a buzz kill. As my father used to say, I have more problems than you can shake a stick at. As David Letterman says, I have more problems than a monkey on a rock.

Everyday I get deluged with bad mail. Bad mail is bad news that comes in the form of the USPS - delivering in rain, sleet or snow. Two weeks ago, I received 30 pieces of mail that were all not good news. This deliverance really puts a damper on my day and makes the depression unbearable. Mostly all of the bearers of bad news have come from Bradex in his quest to continuously destroy my family's life. And, apparently, there aren't enough lawyers in the world to stop this slimy, slippery snake from infesting our lives.

It is pretty hard to fight 30 different directions all at once. People (who do not know) suggest that I just take one problem at a time. What they don't realize is the magnitude and urgency of these problems takes almost immediate action, or the problem will triple in size and complexity.

What I really need is for all these people who like to give their advice so freely is to stop, take a minute or two, and give me some time to help me. Normally, I am not one to ask for help. All my life, I have been very independent. I like being independent and making my own decisions. But lately, I need some help. I need some people that claim to be friends to give me some time and help me get the things that I need to get done. I have been waiting patiently for years now.

My kids deserve the time for their activities while they are still children. Right now, I have been relegated to be the coach on the sideline for my boys, instead of being an active participant, teaching my kids sports by example- which is definitely the way I would have preferred to do it.

I'm not getting any younger, as my father used to say.

Brash

Monday, February 2, 2009

"Good Itentions" & The Road To Hell

I am so sick and tired of being sick and tired. I am fed up with stupid people that really shouldn't be so stupid. I mean, their jobs would normally indicate that they must have some level of intelligence.

My current life is very messed up, and I hate my life. Unfortunately, I don't have much control over any of the things I hate most in my life right now. It's like a huge tsunami hit my life about ten or twelve years ago, and I have never been able to recover. Pieces of my being have been scattered around and the ones that have remained somewhat in tact are so battered and devastated that they are almost unrecognizable to me, the self. One of the worst parts of my situation is that no one understands my plight, and I get tired of trying to explain all the screw ups and hard times that I have had to drag my family through.

First there are the physical and mechanical hardships. For the past 11 years, I have been forced to live without a washing machine and dryer-with three small children, under four years old. My ex-husband broke the washing machine and dryer that were barely usable when Danny was only months old. Since then, it has been weekly trips to the laundry mat with hundreds of pounds of clothes, tons of soap, and trying to watch 3 toddlers- two of which are special needs- in a filthy laundromat- with dubious clientele. Needless to say, I nearly broke my back. The ex rarely helped, and if he did, he would make such a scene so that I wouldn't ask for his help again. That left poor Ryan to help me lift the heavy clothes when he was a young and tender 9 years old.

Bradex could have easily purchased a washer and dryer- he works at Titan. He is such an asshole that it didn't matter how much pain he put his family through- hence the divorce.

Then there is the matter of the dishwasher. My cousin gave me a portable dishwasher when she put in a built-in dishwasher. Prior to that, I had to do dishes constantly by hand to keep up with a family of 5. I also was the only one that changed diapers, so my hands got pretty torn up and cracked skin. Bradex did everything he could to break the dishwasher- and he managed several times to temporarily break it- but I managed to fix it- even if it was with electrical tape to hold the spout on that washed the dishes. That changed the one day I asked Bradex to load the dishwasher- then he broke the hose hook-up to the sink(in a fit of rage)- and that couldn't be fixed. So I only had a dishwasher for about 5 years. Bradex never bothered to replace the dishwasher that HE broke because, according to him, "he didn't buy it", so therefore it wasn't a loss.

He also broke the washer and dryer in a fit of rage because I asked him to help me with the laundry. He routinely broke the sweepers that I bought- I think he broke 6 sweepers in 5 years. One year he bought a sweeper for me for Christmas! My father had a talk with Bradex about the meaning of Christmas and that he should probably NOT buy work-related items for the house for Christmas presents. So Bradex never bought me another Christmas, birthday or anniversary present. What a prince(not).

When we moved into this house, I was 9 months pregnant. It was an old house converted into a duplex for a rental. It was in bad, bad shape. It took years for me to get it in shape, which I did mostly on my maternity leaves. This proved to be the most disastrous plan I could have carried out for my general health and well-being. I did all the painting-inside and out, layed the floors and carpeting, plastered and/or refinished all the walls and woodwork, etc., etc. I decorated the entire house with curtains and other accessories. You get the picture.

Bradex couldn't(wouldn't) do any handy work without completely screwing it up- so I would have to do it over- or call in a professional, like when he permanently cemented the toilet to the floor upstairs. All he ever did for the nearly 2 decades we were married was eat, sleep and bitch-then go to work. He never helped around the house or helped with parenting- so, for all practical purposes, I was always a single parent, as I am today. The only job I could ever get him to do was take the trash out to the curb once a week- and he usually failed that task unless I constantly reminded him to do that.

I had to take care of all the car maintenance, grocery shopping, parenting, pet care, laundry, pay bills- you name it- I did it. Bradex literally never did one single thing in/for our marriage to work.

Yet he complained endlessly. He would get very abusive very fast. Half the time I got beat up by him, I never knew why or what set him off. Same with the kids- he would not do any fun activities with them. And even if he took them for a walk around the block, 9 times out of 10, he would return with all 3 boys screaming and crying.

Naturally, it was sooo bad for so long that I tried to get a divorce for many years before it actually happened. I couldn't get an attorney without any money. But Bradex's pattern of horrendous behavior had already set the stage for my family's life after the divorce. It was certainly NOT going to get any better, if Bradex could help it.

Of course, due to several criminal no-contact orders, and a civil no-contact order built into the divorce decree, the physical abuse ended for the most part. But Bradex has really ratcheted up all the other forms of abuse- mostly monetary and harassment. He has spammed our phone number endlessly. He has had control over our utilities getting constantly turned off, or the threat to do so. I could go on and on about how much more horrible my family's life has become since idiotic judges gave Bradex all the power and control over our lives through money. I got nothing monetary in the divorce- HE GOT IT ALL. After I endured broken bones and black eyes, emotional death by Bradex, and he beat my children- all I got was this shitty rat-hole of a house that he destroyed before he left, and never maintained.

I am a cripple because of Bradex. Because I did all the work and hard labor during maternity leaves- my body couldn't handle the stress of being a new mom and construction worker. All his emotional, verbal, physical and monetary abuse that I suffered under his hands, the rest of my body just shut down. It couldn't take it anymore. It was either shut down or die.

Bradex couldn't handle Riley's diagnosis of severe and profound autism, so he beat Riley when he was 2 years old. I could never trust Bradex to be around the boys without hurting them, especially Riley.

So, for the past 2 decades, it has been no help for me from anybody. No help. No help. No help. It is too much to bear. People (that don't know) tell me that God doesn't give you more than you can handle. My answer to that is WHY would God think I could handle ALL THIS??!!!

Every single gd day I have excruciating pain and debilitating depression. No one cares. I don't care. I just have to "deal with it". Yeah, right.

I CAN'T do half of the activities that I used to be able to do. It is difficult for me to accept all the limits that my 'life' has become. But what is really killing me is all the people- family and friends- that refuse to acknowledge that I am disabled. They can't see it; it's not a "cancer" or MS or anything they have heard of before- so therefore I must not be suffering.

People judge what they do not know. Since not much is known about Fibromyalgia, they make up treatments they think will help. That is so much bullshit. Listen, if a doctor that is a pain specialist - not a GP- can't figure out Fibromyalgia, you should just shut the eff up! Believe me when I tell you I am in pain. Just because I don't fit the 'normal' profile for what you think my symptoms should be doesn't mean you can judge how much pain I am having. How could you know?

Trust me, you do NOT know what is "best for me". Do not make decisions for me. I am not stricken with Alzheimer's. A little understanding would go a long way. A long way. Talk to me, not about me. Ask me what you do not understand about Fibromyalgia. Don't guess or assume you know. Please don't compare Fibromyalgia to any other disease. It doesn't work that way. I could really use some empathy. I don't want pity. I feel so all alone. I am lonely. Be a friend. Be a good friend. BFF.

Sheila

P.S. Want to know something funny? Spellcheck doesn't have a meaning and displays "no suggestions" for the spelling of the word 'Fibromyalgia'. I've been diagnosed with it since the fall of 2005.