chronic illness

I’ll be there for you…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves

I’ve had a hard week. Pain is hitting a consistent 7/10, I’m getting hardly any sleep & of course I have tonnes of stuff to do. So, when I had a free afternoon I really wanted to be still & rest. Alas, my pesky little sister really wanted to go to FriendsFest. She was so right, it was awesome.

The 90’s was my decade & Friends was the ultimate must see tv in those days. Stepping onto the actual sets of the famous apartments was really cool. All the other Friends themed attractions were spot on & tonnes of fun.

ly h Kerr FriendsFest

All the details were perfect & messing around with the interactive scenes was amazing.

Friends set

My sis was the perfect person to visit with as we spent a lot time watching Friends together when we both still living at home. We used to play a game where we’d give each other a random topic & we had to come up with a Friends related quote. Now that I’ve written it down that story looks kind of tragic, but we did cool stuff too.

Pivot, Vegas wedding, meat trifle

You probably shouldn’t marry your sister, but if you do try to have a sister who makes the ugly wedding dresses look cute.

FriendsFest was a blast. I felt like I was half dead & I managed to have great time. If that’s not a rave review then I don’t know what it. Oh & yes, I did look cute. A swing dress plus red lippy is the quickest way I know to take yourself from drab to fancy.

ly h Kerr, Lindy Boply h Kerr rainbow petticoat

Dress – Lindy Bop

Rainbow Petticoat – Lindy Bop

Necklace – Fuck the Tories.

Don’t even try to tell me you wouldn’t watch this show.

ly h Kerr, opening credits

You make me sick..

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 4 Comments

Chronic illness is a shit show. Sometimes literally. Which is thing a that often goes unmentioned. Beyond the pain, being incapacitated & generally hindered in life there is the embarrassment factor. Believe me, that’s no small thing.

Disability brings many embarrassments. Perhaps most notably, for me, is the discarding of a layer of delicacy that I cherished. I am not by nature a person who cares to discuss certain bodily functions. I don’t find toilet humour funny. I don’t need the details of your bathroom trip. I have weird anxieties about toilets/bathrooms that are not my own. I’ll hold a pee for ten hours because the toilets in the bar aren’t spotless or because I saw a hair in your bathroom. A pee used to be the absolute limit of what I would even consider doing in toilet outside my own house. Now, I long for the time when I could reject toilets willy nilly & only go in the privacy of my home. Those were the days.

These days I always need to know where the nearest ladies is. Often I can’t leave the house because I cannot be more than a few feet from my bathroom. If I go out the choice of where & when I deign to use the facilities is no longer mine. My stomach now reigns supreme. It’s not a benevolent ruler. IBD has put paid to any friendly relations between myself & my digestive system. Throw in a hiatal hernia, GERD, anxiety & fibromyalgia and you have the making of all out war. In short, my digestive tract rarely behaves. Whether it’s vomiting, diarrhoea or constipation it’s always up to no good.

Sick emoji

Now, along with cramps & heartburn & nausea & wind & reflux & horrible, horrible pain I get to deal with the crippling embarrassment. I have to worry that the public toilet will be packed when my stomach is in distress. I panic that I won’t get off the bus in time to not ruin everyone’s day with the smell of my vomit. I have to use friend’s bathrooms & worry if I’m taking too long. My boyfriend gets to listen to me throwing my guts up whilst he lies in bed; trust me, it’s not sexy.

I am constantly trying to manage these symptoms in ways that allow me to avoid talking about them. I time eating around when I will be in locations that I can easily to escape to the facilities without drawing too much attention. I’ll avoid eating before car or public transport journeys. Often, I’ll just stay home. At heart I’m still a person who doesn’t want to even allude to any of this stuff. I’ll say I don’t feel great when what I mean is one way or another the contents of my stomach are going explode. I’m embarrassed to talk about it. I’m embarrassed for other people to know much about it. I’m mortified at the thought of it getting worse.

Embarrassed chimpanzee

As hard as I find it I’m now a person who has to do these cringe inducing things ALL THE TIME. I find myself having a near panic attack in a cubicle because maybe people can hear my insides trying to get out. I’m quietly dying whilst Drs question me about my bowels. I am rushing into pubs you usually couldn’t pay me to step into to use toilets worse than the one in trainspotting. It’s awful. I hate every twinge & cramp & wave of nausea; partly because they feel rotten, but mostly because I’m embarrassed.

So, here I am talking about it. I’m hoping if I just put it out there for all to see I can stop freaking out. I know other people experience this stuff & I’d hate to be part of the silence that makes anyone else feel this rubbish. If nothing else perhaps being a bit more open will alleviate some stress, which can only be good for my tum.

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Most of the time…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 4 Comments

I haven’t cut myself in a very long time. Realistically speaking, I cannot ever cut myself again. They call this recovery. Apparently, I’m recovered. I just don’t always feel it.

Tonight I looked through my old self harm pictures. Yes, I have pictures. When I was in the thick of it I always took photographs. Firstly because I felt compelled to, it was part of my ritual. Also, because I couldn’t trust myself to judge the severity of my wounds. Those pictures gave me the tiny bit of distance required to see what level of medical intervention I could get away with. Now, they’re a stop gap.

They’re the thing I do when I want to cut so badly it hurts not to. I look at those images of gore & miss it.

I miss the blood. The hot, flowing, staining everything I own blood.

I miss the smell & that crackling sound my skin makes when I slice into scar tissue.

I want the pain. I want the deep, sharp trauma my blade inflicts & the hot throb of infected tissue. I long for the ache of putting a butchered arm into a sleeve.

I know that doesn’t make any sense. I know it’s sick & crazy. It is still true. There’s a reason I yearn for the carnage; it works. Only briefly and, sure, it also fucks up your life, but those moments of respite are everything. Physical pain is nothing compared to the relentless agony that can exist in my head. Most of the time it’s manageable. Most of the time I can make it sleep. Most of the time I’m in control. Control isn’t easy. It is work. Exhausting, consuming labour.

The blade is easier. In the short term it’s beautiful relief. All those horrific feelings pour out with the blood. I can slash through my anguish just as easy I hack through my flesh. That’s why we do it. In case you were wondering. The reason some us do insane things to ourselves is because it’s effective. We hurt ourselves to heal ourselves.

The calm just doesn’t last very long. The sickness comes back. It returns stronger every time. The crazy grows. You need bigger, deeper, scarier cuts to keep it quiet. Then the self harm becomes a crazy of its own. You need it. You find yourself listening to drs who say you’re going to die. And even though you really don’t want to die. It’s hard to care. Now the crazy is trying to destroy you & the cutting is competing to do you in first.

So, I don’t cut anymore. I can’t cut anymore because I cannot control it.

If I want to be in charge,

If I want a chance at living a life I love,

If I don’t want to not hurt everyone who cares about me,

I can’t cut.

Sometimes, though, I desperately want to. The easy way out looks good. The horror movie in my head wants to come to life, but I can’t let it. I don’t cut.

I just look at old pictures

And

Write all the things I can’t bring myself to say out loud.

I don’t cut anymore & most of the time I’m glad.

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Drink to that…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 2 Comments

On Saturday I hit the Eaglesham Beer Festival with the Toyboy. The weather forecast was hot with thunder storms in the late afternoon. Not exactly the easiest weather to dress for, but I pulled it off.

Once the temperature rises above 18 degrees I start melting, so I needed something that I wouldn’t expire in. Luckily for me I stumbled upon this cotton beauty on Friday. If you feel like you’ve seen it before, you have. I already fell in love with it’s red counterpart; it looked so cute in stripes that I couldn’t resist it. They have a few other colour ways, so don’t be surprised if it pops up again.

ly h Kerr

Dress – Primark

Kimono – Asos Curve

Jellies – Forever21

Anyway, it was perfect. Breathable, comfortable & adorable. That still left those pesky rain storms to cater for. Again I had just the thing, my hot pink super Mac. This was a rush, panic buy for my weekend away, but turns out I love it. In the end it only rained half heartedly for 10mins. I was more than prepared.

ly h Kerr

Rain Mac – Asos

I completed my outfit with jellies (the perfect wipe clean shoe) & my brand new necklace. I’m not even going to bother saying a single about it because it speak loudly for itself.

ly h Kerr

Necklace – Fuck the Tories

So, the sun shone & the Toyboy enjoyed his beer. I mostly lounged on bales of hay enjoying the music. Thumbs up to Street Food Putter Club for the tasty falafel burger & Let’s Get Eclectic for the tunes.

Why don’t you mind your own business?

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 8 Comments

I had an interesting twitter conversation this week. Some people wanted to know how I deal with strangers asking questions about my scars. Unfortunately this is a thing that happens & one of the reasons many people feel they must conceal their scars. Fortunately it is not an everyday occurrence & you can learn to handle it. I wanted to quickly share some tips that I hope will help you do just that.

First of all I feel it’s essential that you realise that no one has the right to ask you these questions. It is rude & intrusive. You do not owe these people answers, you don’t even owe them a polite response.

I totally understand that depending on a variety of factors unexpected questions about your scars can strike different chords. Sometimes I feel enraged, other days I panic & sometimes I’m just over it. Thus, my responses can differ. That’s ok. You are entitled to feel however you feel. You are not obligated to be nice or to hide those emotions from ill mannered strangers.

I tend to have ready made responses for the most common comments. They range from just shutting someone down to embarrassing them the way they tried to embarrass me. (Note : most people who ask already know what your scars are. They know their questions are akward & unkind).

Let’s get to it. I’m going to give my to go to answer to my most often asked questions.

Q/ What happened to your arms/legs/body part?

A/ What happened to your manners?

A/ Shark attack.

A/ Me.

A/ Exactly what you think.

Q/ Why did you do that?

A/ Why do you think it’s your business?

A/ Why are you a nosey bitch?

Q/ Why don’t you cover those up?

A/ Why don’t you mind your own business?

A/ Why don’t you cover up your horrible personality?

A/ Why don’t you fuck off?

All of these responses are blunt & let nosey people know you are not all impressed with their questions. I refuse to pander to other people’s rudeness, but I know there are times when you don’t feel confident or just want to avoid a possible confrontation. I find the perfect answer in those instances is ‘it’s a long story’. It’s vague, but it is also obvious that you have no interest in pursuing the topic.

Whatever you say the important thing to remember is that you don’t need to reveal details to anyone unless you want to. It’s not your responsibility to make strangers feel comfortable. It’s certainly not your job to safeguard the feelings of people who don’t care about hurting yours. Shut them down & live your life.

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The future’s bright, the future’s orange…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 2 Comments

The sun is not messing around. This past couple of weeks we have had all the sun all the time. So much so that I’ve basically had to start buying beach wear. I’m not complaining, (well not much, I am too hot & fainty) it is nice to feel sun on my peely wally skin. It won’t tan, but my freckles will go mental.

On Friday I took a wee drive to Balloch National Park with my Sister, Dad & baby nephew. It was proper hot (26 degrees, in Scotland this is a heat wave), so I opted for my super summer dress. It’s light & bright and I love it. I picked it up on a whim whilst buying broccoli & cat food in tesco. I also ended up buying 3 nail polishes & flamingo pen, which is exactly why I need to do my food shopping online.

Anyway, we had a lovely walk & lunch by Loch Lomond. My dress kept me fresh & funky throughout. I think my yellow kick is over because lately everything that catches my eye is orange. I’m juicy, so it suits me.

ly h Kerr

Dress – Florence & Fred (Tesco)

Kimono – Asos Curve

Sandals – Hotter

Unfortunately I didn’t realise you could see my black knickers until I looked at these pictures. Hey ho, I’ll wear orange pants next time.

Loch Lomond, Balloch

Oh & yes that is a Pro Choice badge. On Friday Ireland voted to repeal the 8th & I could not be happier. Another stride for women’s (& everyone with a uterus) rights facilitated by courageous women who would not give up.

Pro Choice badge

I feel pretty…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 9 Comments

On Friday night I met the Toyboy for a super quick dinner & a terrible movie. I say dinner, I only ended up with sweet potato fries. Plus the film starred Amy Schumer. If I’m honest, it was a poor attempt at Friday nighting. I did manage to get some outfit photos, so all was was not not lost.

It does have to be said, it was good outfit & we did rectify things by watching a bloody good film (anon) when we got home. I picked this retro beauty up on Thursday & could not wait get it on my body. I love that it had a 50’s feel, is my favourite colour & has rare, but beloved pockets. Really big ones, too!

ly h Kerr

Dress – Primark

Cardi – Monsoon

Harness Bra – Pour Moi

I think the harness bra sexes it up just enough for a night time excursion. I also went big on accessories, overall, I felt banging.

Cinema selfie

The film we saw was of course, I Feel Pretty. It is awful as the reviews claimed. Its feminism & body positivity are flawed in all the ways you’ve been reading about. It is also just a bad film. So stupid in places that I actually felt insulted. It is filled with nonsense, dated sexist tropes & a terrible imagining of what could have been (in other hands) an interesting concept. Also, Amy Schumer is trash. Give it a miss.

Ticket stub, nail art, red dress

My week in pictures…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 2 Comments

I had a few rough weeks, but I’m slowly getting back into the whole life thing. I have done some pretty cool things & knocked out some damn fine outfits this past week. Unfortunately I’ve entirely failed to get any photos worthy of an actual outfit post, so I’m giving you a mish mash medley of my doings.

Last weekend was a bank holiday & the sun decided to show up. Of course the entire of population of Glasgow rushed outside to soak up the vitamin d & shed their clothes. I happily joined them. On Sunday the Toyboy & I headed west to check out another Overheard in the Westend. Before enjoying the spoken word & music in the cavernous Inn Deep we had a drink by the river. All in all a perfect holiday Sunday in the sun.

ly h Kerr

Pinafore & Kimono – Asos Curve

West End, Glasgow

On Tuesday we ventured out to see my all time favourite comedian Luisa Omielan. Her feminist, body positive routines are both inspiring & hilarious. Her latest show Politics for Bitches (for BBC3) goes even further. She’s taking comedy to new places by talking about our political landscape, the inequalities that created it & what we can do to grab back some power. The show in classic Luisa style is empowering, but with poignant moments as she shares her experiences of her mother’s brutal cancer journey & tragic death. She is filming in various locations, check her out if she hits your city.

ly h Kerr

Dress – Forever 21

Luisa Omielan, politics for bitches in Glasgow

I had to squeeze in a little medical treatment this week too, which left me tired & my body very tender. The rain arrived along with my fatigue meaning it was time for a cinema day. So, I ditched my underwire, slipped into a soft dress & met my fav Mummy & son pair at Cineworld. We saw The Guersney Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. The film was good; made me blub a little, but ultimately a happy ending. However, the best moment was definitely my nephew loudly filling his nappy during the big romantic scene. I love that boy. The film is worth a watch if you like a bit of period romance with stunning scenery & excellent retro fashions.

ly h Kerr

Dress – Primark

Cineworld, silverburn

Now for the random likely section. I did a little thrifting this. Also a wee bit of bargain shopping. My bigger nephew turned 2, but is on holiday, so I prepped for his return. I obviously painted my nails, made some faces with my niece & clicked pics of generally pleasing things. I hope you likey too.

Project post it, Glasgow Nail Art by ly h Kerr

Ring – Glad Rags

Bronan Kerr

Something to talk about…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 4 Comments

A couple of weeks ago I got in a taxi (not an unusual occurrence) & engaged in the usual polite conversation with the driver. The weather, had I had a nice day & so on. Then he went quiet for a minute & said ‘can I ask your advice on something?’

This is the kind of question that usually rings alarms bells, but for some reason I decided to give this guy a chance. He had talked about his children in our short conversation & came across as a decent person. I’m glad I trusted my gut. He wanted advice on how to help his son, who had been self harming.

The taxi driver never alluded to my scars, but I presume that’s why he thought I might have advice to offer. He explained a bit about his son. How he had changed schools after a move, found it hard to make new friends, become more insular. Then how his wife had discovered their son had been injuring himself & how they were both lost. They’re son didn’t want to speak to anyone about it, they didn’t know if they should force the issue. He was increasingly unhappy, so far their attempts to help had been unsuccessful. It broke my heart. This man clearly loved his child. It was just as clear that he was utterly out of his depth.

So, I told him I had experience with self harm. Explained that it could serve a few functions. That is was habit forming & yes, it was a sign that his son was really struggling. I stressed that I wasn’t a professional mental health worker & that everyone was different, but in my experience it was best to get help as soon as possible. It was also important not to make his son feel forced into anything. Research some options & present them to his son, try to let him make choices. I suggested he make it clear that he & his wife were always available to talk about anything & offered some organisations he could contact for more advice. That was about as much as I felt able to say to a stranger during a taxi ride. I didn’t know any details of what was going on for his son, so I didn’t know what would be best for him. It felt insufficient, but when we arrived at my destination he refused to take payment. He said my words had lifted a load because now he felt like there was help for his son & he had an idea of how to find it. I got emotional, wished him the very best & thanked him for my free lift home. We parted & are unlikely to meet again.

So, why am I telling you this? I’m sharing because the more I think about it the surer I am that this kind of thing should happen more often. I think the reason it doesn’t is stigma. That taxi driver took a chance; he shared sensitive information & asked me to do the same. He dared to break a taboo & admit that he needed help. The result, hopefully is that his family will find that help. How many people struggle with mental health problems and never find the courage to ask for help? How many people just never know who they can turn to?

I’d love to live in a world where it didn’t even take courage to tell someone you’re hurting. It shouldn’t be so hard or so hidden.

If you are experiencing mental health difficulties it is imperative that you seek help right away. Mental Illness almost always get worse & harder to treat when left to fester. There is no shame in not being ok. You deserve any & all hell to feel as good as you can.

Your GP is always a good first step. Take someone you trust to advocate for you if you can.

MIND offer a variety of local services. You can find the in your area here.

SANE offer specialised mental health support. You can contact them on 0300 304 7000.

You can also call The Samaritans 24/7, 365 days a year on 116 123 or email jo@samaritans.org

Friday quickie…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 5 Comments

It’s been a tricky week mostly taken up with hospital adventures. Thus most of my plans were scuppered. In amongst all my stomach misery a gem arrived; my new specs!

I ordered them a few weeks ago & had honestly forgotten just how fabulous they were. I stuck with my favourite cat eye shape, but amped up the embellishments. Man alive, do I love them.

These beauties are from where.light. They have an incredible range of styles at very reasonable prices. Delivery takes a few weeks, but they are really worth the wait. I haven’t found anything of a similar quality & WOW factor in this price range. I’m already trying to work out which frames to order next.