I miss having the security of a steady liveable income

March 10, 2015

Sometimes I forget what it was like to have a steady liveable income. My new “normal” has become so ingrained, it’s easy to think that’s how it always was. Then I’ll wish I could buy a new sweater, for example, and I’ll remember there was a time when I really could buy a new sweater any time I wanted to.

This is one of those things that can be hard to understand until you live it. Politicians talk about cutting social security disability payments because they see the huge amount the program costs overall. They don’t consider what it’s like for an individual to have to actually live on the average payment of less than $1200 per month. (Full disclosure: my payments are above average. Of course, the cost of living in my city is also above average. I haven’t done the math to figure out if the ratios are the same or not.)

Of course, it’s all relative. There are people who aren’t on SSDI who only earn that much. There are people who earn $150,000 per year and are in debt. The former has their own set of issues that need addressing on a federal and state level. The latter has options, though. I miss having options.

Once upon a time I earned around the average national income of $50,000. Even in one of the most expensive cities in the country, I had no problem living on that salary. I just avoided spending money on certain things. I saved money every month. So while I couldn’t shop endlessly or at high-end stores, I could definitely afford to replace worn out clothes. That was my “normal” for many years.

It’s been a cold winter and that’s fine by me! The cold is much better for my body than the heat, so I’m happy about it. But unfortunately, my wardrobe is not. I have many t-shirts, but not many sweaters. The ones I have are old and out of style. Some are falling apart. They are pilling and developing holes. But I keep wearing them because I don’t have a lot of options. Sure, I have some savings, but SSDI only covers about half of my expenses each month and I need my savings for that other half. I can’t go throwing it around on clothes that I don’t really have to have.

It’s not the clothes that I miss, it’s the ease of of those purchases. It’s knowing that any money I spent would come back into my bank account and then some. It’s knowing there was always more where that came from. It was knowing that I had years, decades, to keep earning and saving.

And that security is what’s really been taken away.

Despite what certain politicians think, I would rather be working if it meant getting that security back. But the truth is, that’s just not an option for me right now.


On not noticing the pain

March 2, 2015

The point of pain is to make you aware that something is wrong with your body. At least, that’s supposed to be how it works. Unfortunately, for some of us that system is malfunctioning.

In theory, you feel pain, you pay attention to it, you try to fix the source of it. But when your pain is constant, that’s not how it works.

My pain started more than 22 years ago. I’d have it for days, weeks, or months at a time. It would randomly go away, only to return at some unexpected time. Then about 19 years ago, it changed: it got worse and it became a 24/7 presence in my life.

Most people would expect me to have been thinking about my pain every day then and now. And in a way I did and do, but not in a focused or conscious way.

After all these years, I know what movements and actions will trigger pain and I avoid those. If I absolutely had to pick up something heavy or move in certain ways, I literally wouldn’t know how to do those things now. It’s been so many years, that I don’t remember how. Like riding a bike. I stopped riding a bike due to the pain and I’m pretty sure that if I tried now, despite the well-known saying, I’d fall over (at least in part because my center of gravity has shifted quite a bit since I was 16.) So I suppose that in avoiding those triggering actions the pain is on my mind, but only in the background.

These days, I only pay attention to the pain in two situations:

  1. When it spikes. I can’t ignore those sudden increases.
  2. When it’s consistently severe. I can ignore pain up to a 6 on my pain scale (with a range of 1-10) fairly well, and a 7 if I need to, but above that I can’t ignore it. When it hits 8.5 I start considering taking pain meds, even though they have side effects that I hate.

So what about the rest of the time? Well, I notice it sometimes, but it doesn’t take up a lot of room in my brain. Other times I forget that I’m even in pain. When the doctor asks if I’m in pain, I sometimes have to stop and take inventory of my body. Because otherwise I’m not sure. Other times I’m in a lot of pain and it’s obvious even to me.

I’m not saying it’s easy to ignore pain or even that it’s natural. For me, it was a matter of self-preservation. When I was 17 I reached a point of exhaustion and I just had to learn to sleep through the pain. There was no other way to function. So first I began to sleep through the pain, then I pushed it farther and farther back in my mind as it became my new normal. And there were other things on my mind. I was applying to colleges, going out with friends, dating for the first time, fighting with my sister, thinking my parents were unfair (hey, give me a break, I was a teenager!) and spending many hours on homework. I had, you know, a life.

In other words, there was more to my life than just the pain.

Even now, when my life is more taken up by my health problems than it was in those early days and I can’t work at a job, I have non-health things going on, too. I date a bit, I spend time with friends, I volunteer. And, yes, I take care of my health constantly. In an odd way, that’s also a distraction from the pain.

So now, like then, sometimes I’m too busy to think about the pain. Sure, a 5 on the pain scale would upset most people. And I admit, if I suddenly feel a 5 in a new place, I can’t ignore it. But if I feel a 5 in an area where I’ve had daily pain for years then sure, it might not get my full attention. A part of my brain picks up on the pain signals, decides it’s not worth addressing, and relegates it to the back row of my attention theater.

A little while ago, in the middle of typing an earlier paragraph, the pain got bad enough that I could no longer sit up in a chair. I noticed the pain. I had been ignoring it for most of the last week and my body finally gave me some clues that if I kept ignoring it, I’d be paying a steep price later. And that’s why I’m now typing to you from my couch. But while I was busy continuing this post, I forgot about the pain completely. I wasn’t aware that I was even in any pain at all. Now that I think about it, yes, it’s still there. It’s significantly better than it was when I was in the chair. No doubt that it’s better. But it’s there. And if I wasn’t so used to it I’d probably be worried that something was wrong with my body.

But I know better than that. And that’s why I’ll keep going about my day, doing as much as I can so I can cross things off my “to do” list for the day, and only noticing the pain if it gets worse again. Until then, it won’t even cross my mind.

And if it does, I’ll shove it away.


6 great things about not working

February 25, 2015

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about how much I wish I could work.* I want to get off benefits and be independent. I want to be able to buy a new sweater. I want to move to a new apartment and afford the neighborhood I like.

Those desires are all well and good, but they don’t change the reality. The reality is that I’m not ready to work yet. The 2015-01-28 08.31.11reality is that when I do return to work, it will probably be for about 5 hours per week at a low wage. I still won’t be able to afford my current expenses, never mind adding any to the list. And I can’t change that right now.

So as long as I can’t work anyway, I might as well focus on the good things about not working. Here are just a few:

  1. No commute! Not having to deal with traffic and/or crowded trains is fantastic at any time of year, but Boston has been buried under snow recently. Streets are narrow, parking is impossible, trains are breaking down, and commuters are miserable. Then there’s the ridiculous amount of time spent commuting each week. I’m glad to avoid that mess!
  2. Avoiding crowds and long lines! When I worked, it was always at a 9-5 kind of job. That means I did errands when most people did them: in the evenings and on the weekends. Since I’m not working, I make sure to only do errands on weekdays, and it’s great! There’s little traffic and few lines. Things like grocery shopping are so much easier when the roads and stores are mostly empty!
  3. Lounging in bed! Sometimes I have plans of some sort, but most mornings I have nowhere to be. I wake up to an alarm to keep myself on a certain sleep schedule, but then I lay around reading until I feel like getting up. This morning I spent 1/2 hour in bed fantasizing about what I’d do if I won the lottery. Because why not? I get up when I feel like it and not a moment before.
  4. No bad bosses! I’ve had my fair share of lousy bosses over the years. There was one good boss, and I loved that job. The others were horrible. It’s easy to forget about those crappy bosses sometimes, but when friends complain about their bosses, I remember how miserable it was. And I’m thrilled that I don’t have to do deal with their bullshit anymore!
  5. Skipping lousy weather! Sure, sometimes I’m seeing a friend or going to the doctor, but most days I have a lot of flexibility in whether or not I leave the house, or I can change things. I watch friends complain about going to work in downpours, blizzards, blistering heat, and arctic cold, while I enjoy my cozy apartment. If I have plans with friends and we see bad weather in the forecast, we just move things to a different day. Easy! I rarely go out in bad weather if I don’t want to.
  6. My time is mine! I remember those bullshit meetings where we all sat around talking and nothing useful got done. I remember sitting at my desk with nothing to do, but not being allowed to leave. I remember having to schedule time to use the bathroom. I remember getting chewed out for being 5 minutes coming back from my lunch break. And I don’t miss any of it. Now I spend my time how I want to. Ok, I can’t always do the things I want to do, but at least those limitations are set by my body (or some other reasonable source) and not by some boss or company. I do what I want to do when I want to do it and I don’t need to get permission from anyone. I feel free!

I can think of so many other great things** about not working, but these are definitely some of the best. When I think about these, I’m glad not to be going in to an office every day. Sure, a salary would be nice, but since I don’t have that option, these reminders sure help to lessen the sting!

What about you? What are some things you don’t miss at all about working at a job? Let’s get a list going in the comments!

*Note: When I talk about “work” I mean at a paid job. Obviously we all work a lot on maintaining our health, managing our households, navigating doctors and insurance companies, and so much more. Unfortunately, we don’t get paid for that kind of work.

**Note 2: I intentionally didn’t mention how great it is to have the time and flexibility to take care of my health. I think that for a lot of us, that’s a given. Trying to get time off for doctor appointments, ducking out of meetings to take medications, not being able to each the provided food at a lunch meeting and all the rest was frustrating, stressful, and detrimental to my own self-care. I could write an entire post just on that. Maybe one of these days I will. For now, I decided not to get distracted with this, but feel free to mention it in the comments if it’s what comes to mind for you!


My improved health: how I got here

February 16, 2015

A friend recently asked me what has helped me the most. I’ve thought about that vaguely from time to time, but this time I really considered what got me to where I am.

Three years ago I had left my job hoping to go back soon, and instead I found myself feeling steadily worse. I was house bound 3-5 days per week, on average. An afternoon with a friend would leave me barely functioning that evening and all of the next day. My memory was lousy, I was nauseated all the time, the fatigue was debilitating, and the pain was getting even worse.

Now, I only spend 1-2 days at home each week, and when I go out, it’s for longer stretches of time. I do more each day. When I’m home, I don’t feel as bad. The GI symptoms are almost entirely gone, the pain is mostly stable and an acceptable (for me) level, my memory is better (but not great yet), the fatigue has improved so much, and I can recover from an afternoon out pretty quickly. It feels like a miracle! But it wasn’t a miracle, it was a lot of hard work and a bit of luck.

I think what helped me was a bit of an insurance doctor, a lot of my naturopath, and a huge amount of me.

The doctor that the disability insurance company made me see encouraged me to see a sleep doctor. I had been thinking about it, but he nudged me more in that direction. I did sleep studies and started using a cpap machine, and it made a huge difference. For the first time in ages I was waking up feeling slightly better than I had when I went to sleep!

My naturopath did a lot for me. I was already gluten free, but she got me off dairy and helped me figure out the other foods I should avoid. She got me on various supplements that have been helpful (and some that weren’t, but that’s ok – it’s all trial and error, right?) She got my vitamin D levels up, improved my zinc levels, and found a multivitamin that didn’t make me feel ill (something have had problems with for many years.) She tested my adrenals and got me on supplements to help them. She guided me through every step of the process.

The luck was that I had medical conditions that could be improved. Not everyone is so fortunate, and I am grateful every single day that I had options, even thought I had to work incredibly hard to find them.

And then there’s me. When I was barely functioning 3 years ago, and the doctors were all telling me there was nothing they could do, I decided to at least learn a bit more about my situation. I picked up a book at the library, and that led to more books, blogs, and online support groups. Reading was slow thanks to the brain fog and fatigue, but I eventually learned that my hypothyroid treatment wasn’t the only option, despite what my doctor had said. I did more research. I learned which kinds of doctors I should see. I made many phone calls. I learned about naturopathy and researched naturopaths, eventually choosing the one that I see now. I went on a gluten-free diet. Later, I stuck to the more restrictive diet that my naturopath recommended. It wasn’t easy, but I did it. More recently, I cut out all trace amounts of gluten, like from lotions and from kissing someone who’s eaten gluten. Again, it isn’t easy, but I’m doing it. I’ve swallowed more pills per day than I’d like to think about. I’ve stressed about the financial cost of it all. I’ve fought with insurance companies and with doctors. When a doctor I’d waited months to see was unexpectedly out of the office and I was given a substitute (who was useless, by the way) I complained to the head of the office and got an immediate appointment with the doctor I wanted (who was incredible!) I pushed myself to do more than I wanted to do. When a doctor didn’t want to give me the hypothyroid treatment I wanted, I found someone new (and the treatment change was a good move!) I found a new podiatrist when I felt my orthodics weren’t right, I restarted physical thearpy, and I learned about trigger points. As I felt better, I moved on to new lines of research. I followed up every lead from books I read and from patients I spoke to. I like to knit, and sometimes, as you’re knitting along, pulling at the yarn, you’ll encounter a knot, and it’s hard to untangle it. I’ve been untangling the knot of my health conditions for the last few years.

The main thing I did was I ignored all of the naysayers. The doctors told me I couldn’t get any better. Friends and family thought I should stick with “traditional” medicine. But I stuck at it. I didn’t do anything that didn’t seem to have some solid research behind it. I listened to patient experience, but I didn’t follow up on anything unless multiple people had had good results, and then I was still careful. And all along, I knew it might be for nothing. I knew the doctors might be right and I might not get any better, but I held out a glimmer of hope, too.

I won’t pretend I’m perfectly healthy now. Or that I ever will be. I know that my health conditions are permanent. The best I can hope for is to go into remission, and even that is a long shot. But I’m trying.

Because I could have given up. I could have accepted what the doctors told me. I would now be bedridden, with no hope of any improvement. That could still happen some day. I know that. But I’m focusing on one thing: today is not that day.

I’m not suggesting that my story is one that can be replicated. I’m not trying to be inspirational or any of that other bullshit. I’m not pushing anyone to do what I did if they don’t want to. I’m simply trying to answer the question I hear over and over from friends and from readers: “How did you manage to improve?” I’ll gladly give more details if anyone wants them, but for now I’ll just say, it was a bit of luck, a fair amount of searching for the right medical providers, and a whole lot of effort by me.