Tag: routine

We all march on…

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I’m just going to slide into this blog post acting as if it’s only been a blip in time since I’ve last posted. It’s okay to start this one out on a lie, yeah? Great, glad we’re in agreement there. Moving swiftly along…

Hi buds! Can you believe it’s 2019 already? I can’t! OK, great. Chit chat – done!

Life sucks. Pardon the melodrama here, but honestly it’s become such a drag lately I genuinely feel like all I ever do is whine and complain and I hate it. I’ve wanted to write about it for so long, but I felt like if I did, I’m just painting myself as this world-class complainer who can never see the good side in life. I don’t want to be that person in the slightest, so instead, I just shut up. But that doesn’t help me emotionally, and it certainly doesn’t help anyone else who cares about me and wants to help. So despite still having reservations about writing this post, here I am. Doing it anyway! *insert awkward grimacing face here*

The last you heard from me, I was talking about my husband’s vitamin deficiency. Plot twist! Turns out, that was never the problem. Also turns out, nobody knows what is the problem. Sound familiar? We’ve done this song and dance so many times, it’s almost weirdly expected now. We’ve been in and out of the hospital the last six months – the emergency department a few times – test after test, waiting for someone to find a lead and bring us closer to an answer to the problem. I’ve been having flashbacks to the time we had to do all this before his CRPS diagnosis, and it is honestly heart-wrenching (and unbearable) remembering it took years of suffering before a doctor diagnosed him. Can I handle that again? Can he? And even now, not all doctors agree that he does, in fact, have CRPS. Every doctor seems to have a differing opinion, but I guess that’s just the nature of a syndrome, eh? In any case, this was never a place I expected us to be back in… ever, let alone this soon after having just rode this crazy train to CRPS land. I want off the damn train.

Every day at work, someone asks me how I’m doing. It’s a natural, casual question, not intended to be loaded in any way. For the last six months, my answer has literally been the same no matter who asks: I’m tired. I keep joking that exhaustion is now just a part of my overall personality, but in my head I do kind of feel like it has overcome me as a person and I’m incapable of being or acting any other way. It’s exhausting being this exhausted! I find myself digging back through my photo archives, reminiscing about years before, wishing I hadn’t taken such a carefree life for granted now that I’ve learned how overwhelming it’d all become. Then the guilt strikes, hard, in waves, and I’m chastising myself for being so negative. My thought patterns are wildly unpredictable, and I can’t even keep up with myself most days. So, I keep it simple when people ask. I’m just tired, and leave it at that.

I’ve mentioned before that I often approach a new year by reflecting on the one that’s just gone, to shed myself of those feelings to begin anew each year. Most of 2018 wasn’t all too bad. Health-wise, my husband wasn’t great the majority of the year, but it had become our new normal and we were just living with it. I felt lonely and isolated a lot, but lacked the motivation to do anything about it. But toward the end of the year, the feelings of pride I had for handling the difficult life the universe crafted for me with grace were quickly replaced with intense fear, uncertainty and crippling anxiety. As his health degraded and new symptoms were emerging, we were absolutely gripped by what was happening. I more or less blacked out from September onward, unable to think of much else apart from his health and what I could or should do to help fix it. Every moment of my time was spent worrying about him, whether he was around me or not. Not only did the new symptoms present more problems going about our ‘normal’ lives, but they seemingly made previous, regular symptoms worse.

But when Christmas finally rolled around, he was starting to feel a little better, and since medical tests hadn’t found anything still, we thought maybe we were in the clear. A fluke, surely. He got back to feeling more positive, laced up his running shoes and stared his pain condition directly in its non-existent face; running each weekend brought him pain, but also joy. The thing that he loved most before the nerve condition turned up uninvited. He was doing it again (!!), slowly and very carefully, but I could see his pure joy and god, how fulfilling that is to witness. Short lived, of course. Isn’t it always?

A few months later, the symptoms were back: extreme dizziness, blurry and/or double vision, intensified pain, localised unintentional muscle contractions, insomnia. A change in diet had improved his gastro symptoms, but nothing else. Blood tests still revealed no abnormalities. I think I took it hardest at first. I felt foolish and naive – how dare I think the issue resolved itself overnight? Haven’t I learned anything in this journey so far? How could I let him down by not being the pragmatic one? I was livid. At myself, at this mystery illness, at the universe. Why couldn’t I help him? It all feels so unfair and I can’t understand why we don’t deserve a break. It’s hard. Every day I’m fighting my own emotions, it’s no wonder I’m this exhausted.

My resolution this year was to be more sociable and make more friends. One thing that makes dealing with my life so difficult lately is that I genuinely do not have friends to help me escape – my mind, the situation, my life (sometimes). Especially in my new country. I don’t mean that to be cruel or dramatic or insensitive to the people who are in my life, but to be completely honest, I do not have anyone who regularly checks in on me without me having to prompt it first. Maybe this is my fault. I can be very closed off and I’ve often backed out of plans with others (because, this life), so I can totally see how I’ve made myself unapproachable in general. Nevertheless, it is hard seeing my husband’s phone light up with messages from friends and colleagues simply checking in, asking if he wants to grab a drink, shoot the breeze – all because they want to. He’s got friends fairly regularly asking him to do things and he’s the one with the disability, but I’ve often been sat at home alone waiting for him to return (and worrying if he’s okay). Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled my husband has people in his life like this. It relieves some of the burden and guilt I feel when I think I’m not being or doing enough for him. But still, I’m jealous. I wish I had people who wanted to take my mind off the things troubling me most! And boy, is it hard to make friends as an adult. In any case, I decided I didn’t like feeling so lonely and pathetic, so that’s why I endeavoured to put myself out there more often – social anxiety be damned!

It’s slow going, I’ll admit. I’m still resentful that I’ve seemingly been unable to pick people to stay in my life of their own volition. I can’t help but feel like there must be something wrong with me for people to forget about me so easily or treat me unkindly. I still struggle to shake this ‘woe is me’ feeling I have so often. But! I’ve started to make new friends. People who have so far been kind enough to reach out on their own accord and invite me to do things, ask me how things are, assure me they’re there to talk or not talk – whatever I want or need at any time. I am apprehensive, at best. I want to trust that opening up to new people will bring in new friendships I crave, but I’m also afraid I’ll lose them just as quickly. My life is so unique to the average 20-something, and I’m hyper aware that none of these people may understand the life of a caregiver. Because that’s what I am, really. But I am still trying and being more social and slowly opening up to new people. It is likely I’ll get hurt. I know this – such is life. But if there’s even a small chance that one of these wonderful new people in my life will stick around, then it makes it all worth it. We need people. And I need people to help remind me that I’m still young and have a whole, exciting life ahead of me. To remind me that I am more than this situation. That my personality isn’t ‘tired’. That I’m someone who needs care and attention too, sometimes. I very often forget this down in the muck that is this medical nightmare. So to those of you reading this who’ve been so kind and understanding toward me – even without knowing my whole story yet – I thank you. You have no idea how huge of an impact you’ve already had on my life, and moreover, I hope you stay.

This isn’t an easy life. I’ve never foolishly believed it would be, but I never could’ve guessed I would experience such trauma in such a short span of time. Word on the street is that I’m strong and resilient, but I almost never feel this way. I’m proud of myself for sticking my neck out when I’ve been in need, though. This is something I’ve never been known to do or particularly good at, but I’m finding life a little easier to handle knowing I’ve got a bit of extra help on the outside. Even if that help simply comes in the form of a smiling face willing to take me away from my own thoughts for a bit. Every little bit helps.

So I end this post with one request: always be kind. And when you’re feeling least like wanting to be kind, be even kinder. You never know who is so desperately relying on your kindness just to get through the day.

Go as long as you can, and then take another step.

(From) Whence I came.

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As time ticks along, I find myself constantly thinking what I may be doing if I weren’t where I am now. And mostly, I guess I’m just trying to figure out if I miss my American life. Not to say I’m not happy with the choices I’ve made to lead me to this day, but I think it may be human nature to simply wonder “what if?”

As news kicks up in Cleveland, putting my beloved city back in the spotlight for positive reasons, I can’t help but wish I were still around to experience some of it first-hand. Maybe not so much the upcoming RNC, as it certainly poses a lot of logistical obstacles downtown that I’m quite happy to be away from, but I wish I could be in the thick of the atmosphere in general. I desperately miss watching Cavs games, especially now that they’re in the finals and I can’t follow along at 2am on work nights. I also miss having people around to talk about the games because, annoyingly, the NBA isn’t a hot topic over here! I miss wandering the streets downtown, going out with the masses on the weekends and I miss the greenery in the surrounding suburbs. And the lake. Boy do I miss seeing that beaut. Don’t get me wrong – I love London and all it has to offer, but it’s lacking that familiarity and comfort I think I had in Ohio. Perhaps that’s something that will come to me in time.

In work, I surprisingly find myself jealous of my ex-co-workers back at the TV station. When I first left, I was happy to dive into a new industry and try something else out. The depressing side of news photography was heavily weighing on me, and I didn’t want a jaded worldview so young. But now that I’m on the outside looking in, I actually wish I had that seriously heavy camera and tripod to carry around with me every day again. I loved being the first to learn about things, and I got to meet some really awesome people in my short time in news. I can’t help but wonder if I had stuck with it, what else could I have experienced? But such is life, right?

My new job is equally fun, but in different ways. I’ve been given my creativity back in this job. I get to come up with fun story ideas circulating around a topic I’m passionate about: travel. And while some days I wish I weren’t desk-bound, I remind myself on crappy weather days how I used to hate having to work outside in the elements. No more wearing 7 layers of clothing to prevent frostbite and struggling to hit the buttons on the camera with my semi-frozen hands. Or walking around in torrential downpours, frantically trying to keep my camera equipment dry. I’ve got a desk to call my own, which is strangely empowering considering how inconsequential it may seem to others. And with everything I may miss about my old job, there’s an equally long list of aspects I certainly do not. So I try to remind myself that I chose to redirect my career trajectory on purpose, and that that choice was the correct one. Will that change again? Possibly. And I think it’s my prerogative to do so as often as I want!

I’m happy here, more so now that I’ve had time to settle in, meet new people and have a routine. But I also think now that I’m finding London ‘home,’ it makes me feel nostalgic about what I’ve left behind. I’m sure all of this is normal, but for me, it’s the first time I’ve ever actually missed my hometown, so it’s a new emotion to face. And maybe, eventually, some of my friends from back home will be able to visit and bring a taste of the CLE with them. Until then, know I’m thinking about you all and miss you dearly! And London is still fabulous and exciting, but hasn’t changed my Northeast Ohio soul one bit. Cleveland strong, baby!

Wants, needs and the struggle of choice

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“One of the most troublesome things in life is that what you do or do not want has very little to do with what does or does not happen”

We are creatures of habit. We like routines and plans and knowing what’s in store. Let’s face it – most of what we choose to do is chosen merely to try to force a particular, desired outcome later down the line. Those of us who claim to be spontaneous and adventurous aren’t 100 percent honest because even then, we are making a choice to obtain a specific result. The difference is we do so suddenly and very quickly, right? Personally, I’ve always been the type of person to prepare and plan well in advance to avoid any surprises popping up in the future. Realistically, this is an absolute ridiculous mindset because it’s impossible to deter all surprises, but I did my best to mitigate as much as I could. I always had a plan and a pocket calendar to write it all down in pen – never pencil. There’s no room for uncertainty like that in my planner! But my problem was that although I felt prepared for the things I had control over, this didn’t equip me to deal with changes to my plans gracefully. So while 21-year-old Tanya would’ve insisted that I would be out of the country by the summer after graduation and writing for some great foreign company, she was blindsided by what the universe actually threw at her. So while my plan was and still is to get out and live elsewhere, the timing has changed drastically and I was forced to readjust. And that, as some of you may know, is not an easy thing to do.

Hunter S. Thompson said, “On some days, you get what you want and on others, you get what you need.” What tends to be tough to swallow is that what you want may not be what you need… and vice versa. They don’t always go hand in hand, so how do we prioritize between the two? To put it more simply: which matters more? Obviously, this is completely up to your own interpretation, but I think it comes down to specific scenarios. For example, I want out of my hometown, but I need to feel secure enough to move far away. My desire to move is completely reliant on being properly prepared to actually follow through. So in my mind, this means many things: secure finances, sufficient work experience and timing. However, I always struggle with that last condition because that falls outside the realm of my control and sometimes my understanding. How will I know if the timing is right or not? Is the timing a direct result of whether or not I have the other two conditions fulfilled? And when you spend so much time trying to figure this all out in your own head, it tends to end with you throwing your hands up in the air and sighing, “Well, hopefully I’ll just know,” as if we think our intuition will guide us the right way. But our gut’s been wrong before, remember? Oh, great. Now what?!

In my personal example, I chose to go with what I needed more so than what I wanted at that moment in time. It was a painfully hard decision to make that was met with many tears and empty demands to know why (Oh, why!!) I had to make such a choice. I had a limited amount of time to decide, for myself, what mattered most. That’s an immense amount of pressure to deal with without knowing what, exactly, would follow. So did I make the right choice? I have no idea. Ask me in 20 years. For now, I think it’s best to just hunker down and stick to what I chose. Ride it out to the fullest and revel in it. I didn’t throw my fate up in the air to chance, so I have to be content with my decision.

“I’ve been doing this a long time, and I’ve come to learn that predictions don’t mean much. Too much lies outside the realm of medical knowledge. A lot of what happens next comes down to you and your specific genetics, your attitude. No, there’s nothing we can do to stop the inevitable, but that’s not the point. The point is that you should try to make the most of the time you have left.”

I know that even more changes will spring up down the road and I will have to face them without having prepared for them. That’s the way life goes, right? Sometimes I’ll have to deal with things one-by-one, other times everything will barrel toward me at full speed all at once. I will continue to try to plan for a future the best I can, but I have to allow myself some wiggle room for when the plan has to change. It’s all about attitude and how we act when things don’t go our way. As I said, we can’t control time but we can control how we spend it. So make the tough choices not because you have to, but because you want to keep going and living and growing. And when things don’t exactly go to plan, don’t take it personally. Adjust. “‘It’s not a personal world,’ he told me, ‘no matter how much of it recognizes you on the street.'”