About

I’m a mother. I’m a wife. I’m a woman. And if you had already read my first post, you might have guessed I have Fibromyalgia.

As if it wasn’t enough, here comes another slap in a face and you find out you have a Celiac Disease. WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot?! You’ve heard about, you know a lot about it actually, just because so many people suffer from it nowadays and you’ve started educating yourself just to not be ignorant and know your shit. And even though, considering how you’ve been feeling for half of your life, you had long ago started suspecting you might have it too. You might have mentioned it to one of your doctors few years ago, but they didn’t think it was necessary to have you tested. So, years and an ocean of tears later, you finally take matters into your own hands and face it, or stomach it more likely. You get a pipe stuck down your throat, luckily this time you’re completely sedated (oh yes, I’ve had an upper endoscopy done previously, with not even a numbing spray applied to my throat) and few days later the biopsy results tell you to empty your entire pantry and replace everything with gluten free food. Are you serious???

Well, that’s not all folks. Raise your hands, how many of you are dealing with depression at the same time? Yup. It’s what I have recently started calling The Unholy Trinity: Fibromyalgia, Celiac Disease and Depression. They all go together like cheese and wine, like Bugs and Elmer, like Sheldon and Bazinga.

5475 days – it’s approximately how long I’ve been dealing with fibro. It’s an easy math – about 15 years of feeling like crap and waking up every day thinking – has a truck run me over while I was sleeping? Only to be diagnosed 3 years ago. Only to have a successful treatment with a medication that you’ve turned out to be allergic to and had to quit cold turkey. Only to experience yourself how other medications after that one made you feel even worse.

And then you get pregnant, as you and your husband had planned, so you quit all the meds. While pregnancy hormones are having a party inside of you, they’re taking care of the fibro issues and for a while you forget you have it.

And then you lose the pregnancy. And then you lose yourself.

You get pregnant again soon (first try, go us!), this time you have a beautiful son and he’s your entire world. But you’re already lost and even the most beautiful baby in the world cannot help you deal with what’s happening to you. You don’t’ want to admit it at first, you’re not a wuss. But your husband working 7 days a week, in order to provide for all of you, cannot be home with you at the same time and help you around the messy house, or with the constantly crying and farting himself to cry newborn. You don’t really have anyone to ask for that kind of help, so you suck it up and deal with it. You get to spend 15 wonderful months at home with your little one and then you get a new job. You’re excited. At first. But the hours are killing you and you hardly ever see your baby anymore. And even though people at work are great, the whole surroundings there are less than friendly and humane. And that’s the drop that tips the vase. And one day you just snap. Because of whatever reason. Because you just can’t deal with how you feel every day anymore. Because you’re freaking exhausted like a horse after shooting a western movie. Because you have no energy left in you to play with your child and be the mother to him. Because you’re weak like shit. Because you cannot get out of bed. Because you’d rather die than feel like that any longer.

Here’s my trip through oceans of despair and mountains of pain. Or, to keep it more simple – through being sick of my sicknesses and how I’ve decided it’s time to change it.

Join me, email me, send me a postal pigeon, let me know how you’re feeling. Life is a bi-atch but it’s also wonderful and we need to live it again.

Here’s to us, cheers! – said me, toasting with earl grey with honey and lemon. No alcohol while on antidepressants, remember that!