Chronic Illness

It was all yellow…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 9 Comments

The lovely people at Hotter Shoes & Taking Shape invited me to an event this week. I was pretty sore on Wednesday & wasn’t sure I would make it, but I am so glad I pushed myself.

Taking Shape is a company I had a little experience with as I checked out their stores when I was in Oz. I hadn’t had a chance to peruse their Glasgow store, so their collection was all new to me. The store is a pleasure to shop; clearly zoned, neat, sleek & lovely big changing rooms. The staff are knowledgeable & refreshingly chirpy. So far, so good.

  
 
Regular readers will be aware that I have a penchant for colour. Taking Shape gets a big tick in the brights box. They also easily check off size, fit & variety. There are enough daring pieces to keep a weirdo like me happy, but also plenty of staples. The arrival of a little sun has me drawn to vivid yellows & sheer fabrics, so this top was perfect. I snapped it up & wore it the very next day. 

  
The accessories are also on point. Their range of bold statement necklaces really pleased me. I will definitely be back to stock up.  

 
  

I have to give big props to the PR team who were a dream. Special mention also goes out to the my fellow bloggers who were charm itself & rocking some amazing looks. 

  
Oh & of course a peek at how I wore my sunny new piece.

  
I really love the cut at the bottom.

 

Top – Taking Shape

Skirt – Forever21
Stay tuned for my Hotter adventures. 

* Items have been gifted, but opinions are my own. 

The time is now…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 3 Comments

I’m lying on my bed with the sun streaming in my window having a lazy morning. I’m planning dinner in my head & pondering what colour to paint my nails, when it happens. A vivid flashback, of a day like this, but 16yrs ago. 

  
Like today I am resting on my bed observing the sunny world outside. Unlike today, back then I had a life growing inside me. I can smell the incense I used to burn in the flat & see the steeple of the church at the the end of the street. I feel the warmth on my face, the ache in my back & the love pounding through my veins. 

As fast as it strikes, it wanes. Part of me wants to cling to those sensations, the rest still finds these memories tender. I’ve been having these flashes a lot lately. They’re not new to me; I’ve been living with PTSD for a long time. This wasn’t a bad one, but it still leaves me feeling sadder than I did before. I’ve been thinking about why these bolts into the past have become so frequent of late & I think I know the answer.

For the first time in a very long time I am making baby plans. I have always wanted to be a Mummy. The loss only increased that desire. For years I’ve watched friends & family create beautiful little people. It’s never been the right time for me. Well, I’m 35 now and life never really gets any simpler. There is no right time. There will never be a perfect set of circumstances. So, the time is now. 

  
Or the time for planning is now. I’m getting my self and my life in shape for baba. It’s a little scary, but I don’t have any doubts. My life will never feel complete without children. It’s going to be a long campaign, but Operation Baby is go. 

My week in pictures…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 3 Comments

 

It’s been a fairly rough week filled with more Dr’s than I would have liked. There were some amusing moments & cool snaps, hence I am sharing my hospital expoilts.

It all started last Monday with a pain in my lower back. By Tuesday it had spread around my side & all over the right side of my stomach. The pain had intensified to such an extent that I had to see my gp. Dr suspected possible upper uti infection, but wanted to rule out pancreatitis,so off to the hospital I was sent. Not, however, before I had to pee in a tiny bottle & was given two injections in my bum. One was for pain, which had no effect. There other for nausea, which was entirely counter productive as shortly after leaving the surgery I began impressively vomiting. 

I founf myself waiting to be assessed in hospital. For some reason I was surrounded by babies & their parents watching me repeatedly throw up into those horrid little cardboard hats. Once again it’s a round of peeing in various receptacles & being prodded by numerous medical personal. The result being I was admitted with probable kidney infection.

After another two injections in my arse (their is no dignity in being ill) my behind was now feeling a little tender & turning some vibrant colours. My nurse was unable to get any blood despite trying both arms & hands. A Dr was then summoned to attempt to draw blood. Much to my embarrassment the Dr who arrived is already known to me. I had a fling with him many years before. So, I find myself lying in a hospital gown, groaning whilst a very attractive surgeon who has seen me naked pokes me with needles. Only I could end up in the medical care of an old shag.

  
Anyway, blood is finally collected & kidney infection confirmed. I stay in hospital for a further day 1/2 for Iv  anti biotics & pain relief. On Thursday I walk free & consider my ordeal over.

I spent the rest of the week pacing around as kidney pain is worse at rest. I tried my best to rest & even ventured out with my sis at the weekend. We were treated to perfect spring weather. It felt good to be out in the fresh air surrounded by new blooms. 

  

  
As this week began all felt well. I was still a little tender, but otherwise much better. I probably over did it catching up with house work & errands on Monday. Meaning that by dinner time I was exhausted & needed to have a nap. And, that’s the last thing I remember until I came round on the hall floor in dark. My face hurt & I was very confused, but otherwise unharmed. My first instinct was just to go to bed, but after consultation with my sister I realised I had to return to hospital. Que scans, X-rays & a night of observation. Luckily I only have a mild concussion and a bashed up nose. I had no encounters with long lost lovers and I pray I have reached my hospital limit for quite a while. 

  
Oh & my squinty nose is real sexy. 

I go a walking…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 4 Comments

My body has been up to mischief again this week. My kidneys decided that what I really needed was another infection. So, it was more hospital antics & anti biotics for me. 

Somewhere around the 2nd kidney infection I discovered that pacing was by far the most comfortable stance. Having thoroughly scunnered myself with traipsing up & down my hall I thought perhaps I should take my restless body outside. My trusty sister & Seb came to the rescue with a slow walk around the park. 

  

Spring is putting on a fine show & getting out was a good call. Seb had a rare time sniffing, whilst Lauren & I talked about the mens. 

  

I was aiming for heavy on comfort, easy on frump outfit wise. With that in mind I teamed my favourite flowing maxi with waist cinching belt. I also turned to some red lippy to further perk me up. I don’t know why it helps when I feel dreadful, but it sometimes does. 

  
  
Dress – Primark

Belt – AsosCurve

  
  
  
Lippy -Barry M

Fat Feminist

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 2 Comments

I have been neglecting my nails of late. Mostly because spoons have been in short supply. I don’t really feel myself with naked nails, so was relieved to carve out some manicure time on Sunday evening. 

I really wanted something vibrant & feisty. I think I achieved the desired look. 

  
  

I’m now in love with my fingers. 

My week (ish) in pictures…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 3 Comments

I have been having a lazy, slouchy time of it clothes wise. As such I haven’t snapped too many outfit pics. That doesn’t mean I haven’t been galavanting. It seems a shame not to share some of the moments I’ve captured solely because I didn’t look glam that day. So, here we are, embarking on another week in pictures post. I hope you enjoy a wee nosey into my going ons.

I know a lot of folk find them tacky, but I loves me a mirror selfie. I snap one any time I feel cute or sometimes even when I look amusingly rough. Sushi & Ringo are also always wins.

  
  
I can’t recommend Jonathann Coe enough. If you are new to him I’d start with The Rotters Club & it’s follow up The Closed Circle. Once you have digested those melancholy triumphs, mosey on to this mysterious tale.

  
Drinks with Aidan, hotels with neon stags & my amazing little crazy face pulling niece are all things that bring me glee. 

   
If you haven’t tried Lush’s Intergalactic bath bomb, you need to. Not only does it turn your bath into a blue bliss, but your skin continues to sparkle for hours. Strawberry gloss at Krispy Kreme are also a big hit. 

   
Sometime’s you have to be prepared to do battle. Sabre tooth Tigers will step right out of line if you don’t show them who’s boss. 

  

You should see my scars… 

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 11 Comments

Today is self injury awareness day. I’ll be honest I’m fairly jaded about awareness days. Especially those of the mental health variety. Too often they seem to me to be highlighting the wrong things. Today hasn’t broken the mold. Almost everything I have read in relation to self injury awareness day (SIAD) has focused on the usual stereotypes. Some have just missed the point entirely. So, I have decided to share a little of what goes on in the head of a person who is hurting themselves Specifically, this person. 

I don’t fit the stereotypes. I didn’t hurt myself as a teen. I wasn’t bullied & had a picture perfect childhood. I was never desirous of attention or seeking care in the form of dressings & kind medical professionals (ha!). I’m not stupid or dangerous or crazy. I have fought this battle as an articulate, independent adult. I’ve hidden wounds & scars through university & work alike. I kept a secret shrouded in stigma. Constantly confronted with the idea that my problem was one that should only face little girls. Shamed by the opinion that I am an incompetent drama queen. 

I am none of the above. Rather, I am woman who suffered trauma that altered my life. In the depths of anguish I stumbled upon a solution; a maladaptive survival technique. An act sought out to gain control when I felt powerless. Lamentably, my source of control rapidly overtook me & established dominion. Self harm is so complicated. It’s scope is different for each individual. For me, it become all encompassing. My daily thoughts circled around if/when I would cut. Being proficient was paramount. Every cut had to be ‘better’ than the last; I sought deeper wounds, more blood, more damage, more more. Self harm entangled itself into my identity. 

Admitting that & asking for help felt like relinquishing part of my self. Not only was I facing the loss of self harm, but also the strong, capable parts of myself that made me feel worthy. Admitting that I could no longer cope was the most vulnerable I have ever been. Believe me when I say that to face stigma & prejudice in that state is crushing. To gather all your courage to tell a therapist the ugly truth & be faced with a ‘just stop’ attitude is soul destroying. Equally dragging your blood soaked self to a&e only to be treated with disgust can break a person. That the is the problem I & many others most need addressed. 

I believe SIAD should be about acknowledging the complexity of the issue. We should be focusing on changing the attitudes within the medical profession. Yes, let’s educate our communities about mental illness, but let’s also change the entrenched attitudes within the institutions that have the power to destroy lives. The worst stigma I have faced has been from dr’s & nurses who ought to have known better. Stigma is never positive, but I’ll take a hundred ignorant strangers over one cruel dr. Being unable to safely access treatment can kill. We need to take the fight to that front line. 

  

If you like what I do you can support me here or on Patreon.

This week I have been mostly…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 2 Comments

recovering from surprise surgery. So, what do you listen to keep calm when the dr in a&e says ‘we’re going to operate right away’?

  
First stop was a little John Lennon introspection via The Beatles with Across the universe. This song has always held a calming magic for me. I completely identify with the notion of words ‘possessing & caressesing’ . In times of crisis I often turn to words, be it writing, reading or soothing lyrics. Naturally I got a bit scared when the dr’s started making rapid decisions & letting Lennon’s words drift over me really helped. 

You can always rely on Massive Attack for an epic chill out tune. My favourite take a deep breath song of theirs is Teardrop. I love the repetitive, grounding percussion that runs throughout. Repitition is mirrored in the lyrics which further offers a steadying hand. The rest of the musical arrangement feels like being emerged in a hot bath. 

Suzanne by Leonard Cohen was the next call up for operation no panic attack. Cohen’s steadfast vocals slowly unraveling a story captures my thoughts & prevents them from wandering into worry. The imagery of the river in the song also lulls me into a gentle place. Suzanne allows me let my breath ebb & flow like a peaceful stream. 

Hysteria averted & procedure complete I woke up feeling in need of a boost. Being stuck in a hospital bed, music once again came to my rescue. 

  
In search of a defiant sounds, I of course turned to Robyn. Dancing on my own  has long been my just do you jam. When confronted with yet another hospital room, you need a little mental boogie. The song isn’t actually particularly upbeat, but I like the concept of just saying ‘fuck it’ & rocking the dance floor all by myself. 

What better way to convince yourself that your emergency procedure was no big deal than singing along to Bobby mcferrin? Any reggae style tune has a sunny bounce, but come one, ‘don’t worry, be happy’ is right there in the lyrics. I have been telling myself everything was ok with the aid of this song since I was kid. It still works. 

  

In every life you have some trouble…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 4 Comments

  
The first thing I saw when I checked Facebook today was this delightful message. A friend had liked it, which hit a sore spot. Of course I have seen this sort of thing before. The rise of ‘inspiration porn’ is oft discussed amongst disabled & chronically ill folk. We find this trend of objectification disturbing & frustrating & rage inducing & a million other things, none of them positive. We are told in patronising tones that we are amazing for simply existing with a disability whilst simultaneously being bombarded with the message that we must be stoic. Through our pain & struggle we must remain uncomplaining. Take it all with a smile, so healthy, able bodied folk can pat us on the back & declare us inspirational. 

So, yes i’ve seen this crap before. Tried to educate people, been offended & grown just plain tired of it. I think it was such a kick in balls today as I was waking up in a hospital bed. Within the space of a few hours I went from a cinema trip with my sister to emergency surgery in the middle of the night. That is the truth of chronic illness; never knowing what will attack next. 

  
Understandably when I see healthy people declaring the only disability to be a bad attitude I don’t feel good. In a matter of weeks I’ve endured a chest infection & accompanying hacking cough, vomiting, cramping, panic attacks, a weekend of so much pain I barely got out of bed & finally for extra fun an inuigal hernia. That’s without even mentioning the constant chronic symptoms I live with day in, day out. 

I live alone, meaning there is no one to run after me. Sure, I have loved ones to help out with some heavy lifting, but the daily grind of running a house & a life is my responsibility. Cast your mind back to the last time you were really sick. Now imagine feeling that way & having to carry on regardless. Add to that not knowing when the illness will stop or if it may suddenly get worse. Factor in having to carefully calculate how much you can do each day, get it wrong & you could end up passed out in the street. That’s my life and believe me when I say there are times when I feel really quite disabled. 

I’m not writing this for pity or admiration. I merely want acknowledgement. I want it accepted that disabilities are real & varied. I want society to allow those of us dealing with impairments to be pissed off. Our lives can get pretty fucking hard & it’s not always possible deal with that in good grace.

I’m not your poster girl. I’m not your uplifting story. I’m not brave or noble or a motivational tool. I’m just a person playing the game with the hand I’ve been dealt. Stop stealing my bloody aces.