How I Deal With Chronic Pain

Hello, lovelies!

If you've been reading my blog recently, you'll know I suffer with a great deal of Chronic pain, from lots of different sources. The main being Fibromyalgia, a rheumatic muscle condition that causes pain, tenderness and fatigue. Or, in simpler terms, it's like having arthritis in my muscles.

It's a constant ache, sometimes only a dull ache I can push to the back of my mind and ignore while I try to get on with life, other-times it is completely debilitating, stopping me from getting out of bed for days. It's obviously different for every one, but for me, the pain comes in the form of stabbing in my joints, stiff muscles, constant migraine-like headaches, being forever itchy, and, weirdly, being freezing cold. All. The. Time.

There's loads of different ways people have suggested to me for helping ease the pain to help me deal with it, but these are the ones I have found the most effective. Although they may be disputed, and people who suffer the same as me might read this list and think "pfft, that won't help at all," these are what helps my body.

1. Hot Baths

This is one of those things that lots of other people suffering with Fibro don't find helpful, because in the long rung, it isn't. But in the short term? It's blissful. It's peace and quiet, it's warm, it's letting my body float in water and not having to put pressure on any of my muscles. Sure, actually getting in and out of the bath can be a whole different pain in itself (I have actually had to have friends lift me out,) the smells of lavender bubbles/bath bombs and the heat FINALLY getting into my body and warming me up for the first time that day. It's definitely only a short term relief, but it's one of my favourites, and the best. 

2. Yoga

I can literally hear other Fibro suffers groaning, but hear me out. On the days when my pain isn't as bad, having a good yoga session really helps me connect with my body. It helps me spend time focusing on the muscles that have been bringing me the most pain, and giving them the time and attention they need. Small stretches work just as well if you can't commit to a full yoga session.

3. Aloe Vera

Aloe Vera is my saviour. I suffer most of my itching in my legs, and it drives me crazy. I use Vaseline's "Aloe Soothe Lotion" and it is like Heaven in a bottle. For only £3 it's an absolute steal, and soothes the itching pretty much instantly. There isn't much else to say, but please, if itching is something you suffer with, at least try this. 

4. Sleeping

Really. Sleeping. Sure, finding a comfortable position is tough, but once/if you do manage, a nap is pretty much the best escape from the pains, both physically and mentally. 

I'm sorry this post is so short - I had a very busy Easter weekend and now I'm paying for it! I couldn't get out of bed until 5pm today, my body was just too exhausted. 

Thank you for reading, and as always -

I'll see you next time, then. 

Ree xo

Serious Sunday - How I Beat Anorexia

Hello, lovelies!

I warn you now, this post could be potentially triggering to anyone who has suffered or is still suffering from this awful illness, I feel in my heart everything you are struggling with, and I pray this post will help you to realise that it is possible to strive, recover, and live again.

When I was 8, I was shopping with my auntie. I tried on a skirt I loved, and came out of the changing room thinking it looked awesome. My aunt took one look and said; "Have you ever heard 'does my bum look big in this?'" This was the first day I thought of my weight as a bad thing.

When I was 12, I was taking our mandatory swimming class in P.E, and sitting on the edge of the pool a classmate of mine turned to me and whispered; "Your fatty bits are hanging out of your bikini." Every swimming lesson thereafter I skipped, never setting foot in a swimming pool, or even a bikini, ever again.

When I was 14, I threw up every day before school. I emptied full plates of food into the bin and claimed I had eaten it all. I would stand naked in front of the mirror and punch myself in the stomach, willing it to just go away.

When I was 15, I walked into my drama class, took off my cardigan, and heard people behind me whispering about how they could see my spine through my shirt. I felt a sick pride.

Between 16 and 17 I lived mostly on one plate of pasta a day, and the occasional treat of french toast, or chicken nuggets. Some days, though, I would binge. God, would I binge. Until my stomach was swollen and I was crying on the bathroom floor with pain. I weighed little more than 6 stone, or 84 lbs.

I have deleted all pictures of me from before I was 18, but I have found one from the summer of  2013 that appears to have slipped through my cleansing. I was 17 here, had ratty extensions because I believed they made me look less ill, and I had cut all my hair off the year before to hide the fact it was falling out, and I was wearing caked on makeup to hide the fact I hadn't slept in four days. I was about 90 lbs here.

I bruised easily, I was exhausted just spending time in my living room with my friends, I wouldn't leave the house, and I didn't eat in a restaurant until I was 18. But, I felt pretty. I felt like this is what people wanted me to look like. THIS was the idea of beauty I had in my head.

This was not beautiful. This was my hair falling out, my nails were brittle, my skin was grey and almost translucent, my teeth were weak and yellowing, this was not having a period for a year. This was not beauty, this was my body fighting to keep itself alive, when all my mind wanted was to keep losing weight until, eventually, I would just disappear. I started therapy this year after a brief hospital stay.

Christmas of 2014, and I was a year into therapy that I loved. My therapist was a dear, dear friend of mine, and sadly he passed away in October 2016. I am still very close friends with his daughter, who he brought over one session to get me out of the house and go on a walk with. I miss him dearly. He is the reason I started getting better. He suggested the medications I'm still on. I remember taking this selfie and thinking "Damn, I look good." I was just hitting 7 stone, 98 lbs.

It's ridiculous how much better I felt when I took this photo of myself. My body looked feminine, I had a hint of a figure, and I. Felt. Amazing. 

2015 came around, and right from the start things got better. Starting with a trip to New York where I tried food I would never have dreamt of eating had I been at home. Sugar! Carbs! Who cared! I ate it all. I tried greek food, I tried sushi, I tried crepes! I came home with a new sense of life, of who I wanted to be, of who I was. I felt honestly, truly happy for the first time in years.

By September 2015, I looked like a real woman. I felt like a real woman. I had started eating full, proper meals. I hadn't made myself sick in over a year. I had started getting regular periods again, and while my doctors still classed me as underweight, I wasn't in danger anymore, and I was learning how to appreciate my body for what it was. Beautiful.

2016 was a year of struggle. My mental health declined again, therefore my weight dropped again. I instinctively link my eating habits to my mental health, so when I start to feel like things are getting out of control, I would control my eating. I would restrict myself when I felt bad, which was a lot of the time, to make myself feel like I had some kind of hint of control. I didn't take a lot of full body photos, because the trauma I had put my body through in the past was catching up to me, and all the illnesses I had been hiding were finally diagnosed. The aches and pains I had been feeling since I was 15 were finally put down to fibromyalgia, and once I had an idea of what my body was doing, I learned how to deal with it, and things got better.

Now, it's 2017, I'm 21, and I am a woman. A real, curvy, working, somewhat mentally sound, woman.

There were times over the last 7 years when I tried to end things, when I felt like I couldn't do it anymore, like I was finished. I spent weeks upon weeks in my bed. Hours and hours, perhaps even days, spent crying on the floor of a bathroom.

Now? I look like this;

And I have never felt happier, healthier, or more beautiful.

Thank you for reading, I hope this gives you some hope that if you are suffering, things get better.

As always... I'll see you next time, then.

Ree xo

Serious Sunday - How Working Out Helped My Mental Health

Hello, lovelies!

I figured I would start a new series on this blog - Serious Sunday. Above all things I want to keep this blog true to what it started as... An honest, open insight into my life.

If you've been reading for a while you'll know I suffer from a wide variety of issues. Both mental and physical. From anxiety, to depression, to BPD, to OCD, there isn't a place in my head that feels like a "safe" place some days. That is where the gym has come in. In the last six months I have seen improvements in my mental health, as well as physically, just from going to the gym three to four times a week.

When I'm stressed - gym. When I'm angry - gym. When I'm happy - you bet I'm at the freaking gym. Spending that hour, two hours, three hours, on my body and focusing my mind on nothing else is incredibly therapeutic. I sleep better, I pay more attention to what goes into my body, I feel like I can breathe better. It doesn't matter if all I do is run on the treadmill for 45 minutes, and then picture who ever has pissed me off's face on the matt while I medicine ball slam out all my anger.

Working out, for me, is a way of clearing my mind. The thoughts that spend so long every day trying to pull me apart are the last thing on my mind, because I'm too busy focusing my mind on the muscles I'm working. On the same note - clearing my mind helps distract me from my physical aches and pains brought on by my Fibromyalgia. Of course there are still days when I physically can't go to the gym because my body needs to rest, but they are a lot fewer and far between than they were before, which is strange considering I've been working my body more, right?

My muscles are getting more used to being worked in such a way that Fibro pains, whilst still constant and always present, aren't as debilitating as they were before.

Basically, the point of this post, working out has changed that way I look at life, the way I look at my body, and the way I look at myself. I have a much healthier relationship with my body, and a much more positive outlook on life. It's true what Elle Woods says: "Exercise gives you endorphin's, endorphin's make you happy, happy people don't just shoot their husbands."

I hope you guys don't mind the addition of these more serious posts!

I'll see you next time, then.

Ree xo

12 Days of Blogmas: Day 5 - Chronic Illness Doesn't Take a Break For The Holidays

Hello, lovelies!

I'm not one to really complain about things, but today's post is going to be complaining. I hope you don't mind.

I suffer from Fibromyalgia. "But Ree, what even is that?" I hear you ask, well, it's a rheumatic muscle medical condition that is characterised by wide spread pain and increased pain response to pressure on the body. Also can cause migraines, insomnia, depression, memory problems, sensitivity to noise and light, and in my case - IBS. Fun, right?

I wish I could say it takes a break for the holidays, and everything is fun and merry and I can go shopping and visit family without being in pain, but it doesn't, and I can't. My day shopping on Thursday (two days ago) is the reason why I'm on the sofa today, with a V-shaped pillow helping me sit up right, having to have everything I need within arms reach, and wishing I hadn't fallen up the stairs on my way to the bathroom.

While diet changes and life style changes have helped in the way I deal with certain aspects of this, it doesn't make it go away. Pain killers don't make it go away, anti-depressants don't make it go away, and lying in bed all day feeling sorry for myself certainly doesn't make it go away - however the latter is sometimes necessary. My legs just don't like working sometimes.

Of course there are days where it's not as bad, and those are the days I try to get most things done. Clean, work-out, shop, write, see family and friends - everything. Sometimes if I'm lucky I get two of those days in a row, and then I really go crazy, but once those days are done and dusted, it can take me a week, or longer, to recover. There are days where I don't feel like throwing all my clothes in the bin because even just wearing a tshirt makes me upper body feel like there's an elephant sitting on it. There are days when I can give my mum a proper hug because having someone else touch me doesn't send firey sparks right through me. There are days, but those days are few and far in between.

You learn to live with it, but at 20 years old I do get upset with the fact that, well, I do just have to live with it. I'd love to be able to not cancel plans, not have to message my friends saying "I'm so sorry but I can't walk", "I know you wanted to go out, but can we just watch movies at mine instead?", I wish I didn't have to have a wheelchair card for if I'm in town and start to struggle walking.

I don't want to make this post too long, because I know people can only read "woe is me" type posts for so long, but getting this off my chest is incredibly therapeutic for me.

So, I'll leave this here, in hopes that if you have friends, family, or even just acquaintances with a chronic illness, you don't get annoyed with them during the holiday's. They would love to come see you, come Christmas shopping with you, come on a night out with you, but sometimes, we just can't.

I'll see you all tomorrow for Blogmas Day 6!

Ree xo