Introversion

I've never been terribly fond of most other people. I really like myself, and wish more people were like me (this is a joke.. I couldn't stand being around me.. I'm obnoxious! ^_^).

For me, other people tend to get in the way of what I'm doing.

I am a hardcore introvert, which means I not only find interaction stressful, I could honestly do without the vast majority of it. Society is structured for extroverts, and that's fine, but us poor introverts, we have to make due in a world that relies far too much on interaction with other people.

For your average extrovert, social interaction is what keeps them going; it recharges their battery. These are people who enjoy meeting new people, who enjoy being in a crowd, and who enjoy the dynamic of an ever-changing social setting. Your average introvert tends to like the opposite; they become quiet and withdrawn in large groups, prefer the company of known entities, and their social battery is recharged by spending time alone on activities they enjoy.

I am so much the introvert that I rarely leave the house if I don't need to. My former counselor thought this was a sign of trauma (she was a VA counselor who dealt mostly with PTSD patients), and that a lack of social interaction was harmful for me, but I get more than enough interaction from my partner, my cats, the few people I call friends, and the internet. I completely close up in a crowd, even when I know all the people in the crowd, and it frequently takes me long stretches to think of something to add.

I've never really understood the social cues for conversation.. I can never find time to interject in a multi-person conversation, and I process the input slowly enough to miss what chance I may get. It's not that I don't follow the conversation, but that's all my brain can do at that point; process input. I now, honestly and seriously, raise my hand when I have something to add. People find it very strange, based on the looks they give me, but it's the only method I've found that works both for me, and for those I'm talking to, and as yet, nobody has commented on how absolutely bizarre it is to do. (It also, apparently, is a boon for my education; my professors are thrilled as can be that I have no problem raising my hand to ask questions or add to the discussion.)

For the ~80% of the population that function as extroverts, this IS totally bizarre, but for the ~20% who share my introversion, perhaps less so. Some of my friends who share my mindset have commented on the hand-raising, but I think they mostly understand the purpose, and I rarely need to use it around them anyway.

I have people express pity and sorrow over my lack of social circle, but I have chosen those people very carefully, and they mean the world to me; I don't want to dilute my relationships by having more of them. For most people, more relationships doesn't mean neglecting existing relationships, but when you have a limited storage tank for social interaction goo, relationships are a finite quantity. I have 5 friends. Yes, I can count them, and yes, I'm certain these people feel the same way; I remain friends with them because this is known. I don't like unknown. I am obviously friends with them for reasons other than that they are friends with me, but were they not quite obviously at least fond of me, well let's just say I've been known to cut people lose when I don't feel it anymore. Cold? Maybe, but life's too short to talk to people you don't like, especially if the interactions end up being stressful more often than not.

I don't want or need the clutter of acquaintanceship, I don't have the capacity to deal with flaky friends. If I feel an actual need for social interaction, it's usually somewhat pressing, and flaky people aren't reliable enough to satiate. I don't keep friends just to have them, and I don't keep family just because they share blood; that's silly! And yes, I did stop talking to my family because I didn't like them; no other reason, I just don't like them, as people, and don't really care to have them in my life just because we happen to be slightly more genetically related than any two random people on the street (99.5% of our DNA is shared between all humans, and 100% would be an identical twin, so there is 0.4% margin between the closest relatives and the furthest stranger).

So I keep a few friends who get my introversion. Most of said friends are also introverts, and I think that's primarily because they understand the drive to communicate via less social channels, as well as understanding that long periods of silence aren't necessarily a problem. My partner and a couple of my friends, however, are extroverts, and that's totally fine, as well!

My partner wants me to do things with him, and knows that my lack of contribution doesn't mean lack of interest; he understands that groups of people are a source of stress and discomfort for me, and has my back when people ask why I've gone off to be alone for a while. For my part, I appreciate that I can have social encounters without having to do all the work to have them. Conversation is difficult for me, and I usually revert to sharing interesting information... because that's what my life is; a series of interesting facts that I accumulate and spread when the opportunity presents itself. That's not much upon which to base an entire conversation, unless the other party shares the inclination for information... Which turns out to be pretty damned rare..

Basically, what I'm getting at here is that everyone is perfect, regardless what they do or do not, regardless how they feel about things, and regardless what anyone thinks of their behaviors. Each and every person does what they feel they need to do to be the happiest them they can be. And with very few exceptions (mostly those involving harm to another or object), they are right to do it, if it prompts feelings of fulfillment.

I'm strange, you are strange, everyone we know is strange, and we are all, every single one of us, perfectly us, and that is wonderful.

Back to life

I'm not a very patient person.

Now that that is out of the way, let's just say I'm not actually thrilled by having my activities limited by this whole surgery recovery thing..

Cleaning cat boxes this morning caused wound oozing, sneezing hurts like shit, and I can't even get my normal exercise in because I can't run full-tilt up and down the stairs 20-50 times a day (I do this to avoid needing to go out of my way for exercise, because exercise is boring and super tedious).

I have similar problems with other injuries, and frankly, I blame it on my incessant need to cope with discomfort. Were I not skilled at ignoring discomfort, recovering from things would probably take less time, since I wouldn't keep injuring the area, but at the same time, it could be said that being uncomfortable, even aggravating painful stimulus, helps with not just healing, but coping.

What?

Pain is an indication that something is wrong. Usually. But if you know what's wrong, an ache can be good. Like rubbing a bruise to increase blood flow, or stretching sore muscles. Pain also triggers the release of the body's own painkillers and neurotransmitters.

Other than sneezing, coughing, and the occasional shifting in such a way as to hurt myself, these incisions aren't really all that painful, and perhaps only partially because they are in an area I am already quite skilled at avoiding. The 5-year-healtime of my dermals taught me to avoid my belly with anything that could knock into it, snag a piercing, or generally cause irritation. I haven't had a strong urge to sleep on my stomach, nothing has bumped it, and I haven't done too much painful twisting, outside of trying to do my normal activities.

Most of my discomfort from my incisions is actually a result of intentionally stimulating the pain, both to judge the severity (I know what infection/inflammation feels like, and I can usually tell the difference between the two) and to stimulate blood flow to help the healing. It doesn't feel spectacular, but it also doesn't... hurt.. sore and sensitive, yes, painful.. not so much, though the incisions are starting to itch.. like mad...

My headaches are starting to come back full-force as my body adjusts to the new sensory input. I had some mild relief for a couple of days while my brain was busy processing the new pain, and had limited resources for the normal pain. I find this to be what happens when I get new piercings, as well, and the effect lasts about a week, on average, but can be brought back by intentionally bothering the wound. As the swelling and CO2 dissipate, my organs are readjusting, as well, which turns out to be pretty uncomfortable. I've had a lot of chest pains and major back/shoulder pain, but I've been a good little monkey, and haven't been taking my painkillers.

I also have a lot of cramping. That's the worst of it for me. I've been on long-term birth control since I hit puberty, more or less, so I've really never had to deal with -ahem- ladytime. I like it that way, and having to deal with it now really blows. I need to get in contact with my GP and get my depo started, but I haven't gotten around to it, yet, and it's not immediately effective anyway; it can wait.

I did reward myself yesterday with a small glass of wine (mixed with soda and water kefir to make, basically, a wine cooler) and I actually ended up tipsy.. I don't drink much anymore because my body doesn't tend to process alcohol very well, but usually that isn't enough for such effects. I think heat + compromised system + inability to process normally all combined for a very very quick buzz. I'm a cheap date, now!

Tonight, I think I'll try to reward myself with an intense kitty cuddle session; I have four to choose from, although three of them aren't really ready/interested in that sort of affection just yet; one of my established cats is pretty upset about the new kitties, and the two new kitties are still a bit too skittish to cuddle, though one will lay in the space next to my stomach if I curl up on the floor with him and don't try to touch him.

As with everything in a life, especially life with pain, it will just take time.

Time is something I'm fairly certain I have.

It's not even the incisions...

So I had the surgery yesterday, and my babymaker no longer functions as-intended. Win.

It was surprisingly low-key, considering my anxiety.

I did find out I've lost even more weight, though.. I'm down to 108# from my usually-consistent 123#, a situation which I find quite upsetting; eating more means more pain due to my ongoing tummy problems, and not eating more means I could easily become even less healthy.. I'll have to talk to my primary care doctor about it when I call regarding depo, especially since I think I may have pinned down the cause. On the plus side, my distress over actually losing weight seems to have convinced my partner that, no, despite my jokes about "working off that meal", I'm not actually interested in losing weight, just maintaining the same size I've been since middle school (which I do usually without conscious thought. I don't go out of my way to stay the same size; I don't weigh myself or measure or anything, and most of my waistbands are elastic so I have no reference other than visual).

Anyway..

My attending nurse was also childless and had a hysterectomy, and totally understood when I said I was only getting my tubes tied because they wouldn't let me have my uterus removed. She had hers done by laproscope, just like mine, so although it was a bigger surgery, she knew what I could expect, more or less.

She was super good about my intense sarcasm, and was surprised by my unwavering bluntness (it's just who I am, and I rather like it, because nobody ever has to guess about me, and get it wrong).

She commented positively on my lack of moving even slightly, despite watching what she was doing, when she attempted the IV in my right hand, and wrist, and when I told her she was better off, despite appearances to the contrary, using my left, I didn't flinch for that, either, and she got it on the first go. My viens are strange; on the right, they are very visible and look perfect for tapping, but can almost never be hit.. On my left, they look less amazing, and are harder to see, but can be hit on the first go just about every single time (as in.. I've yet to have even folks in training miss on that side)

Then I explained that I was keeping track of my age with piercings, and had gotten a bunch through the years that I didn't keep. It all made sense. She was super apologetic about missing twice, and my response was merely "eh, I figured it would happen, but it doesn't bother me much at all".

My partner sat with me while we waited, and we watched one of the new spiderman movies from start to finish, so that was a really good way of keeping my mind off what was to come, but honestly, the IV was the worst bit of pre-surgery.

One of the other nurses gave me a hard time about my dermal anchors, even with the tops removed, and finally I was like "well, for what it's worth, I regret them, and I would take them out if that didn't require a surgery all on it's own.." She then demanded to know how they got them in, and I told her the rather unpleasant process of making 3 piercings to make a pocket, and slipping the jewelry in, letting the skin grow through the back of the anchor. I told her how long ago I got them, and that they had finally stopped, for the most part, giving me major problems, and she cooled down a bit and explained how cauterizing can lead to burns, especially with a surgery so close to them. I told her I appreciated the info, and that it was a risk I simply had to be willing to take, at this point. That seemed to be enough. There's not much I can do about something I did 5 years ago, short of, as mentioned, surgery.. the anchors need to be cut out, and the process is much worse than implanting them (that process, by the by... sucks..)

They wheeled me into the OR, and I was still awake so I was asking all sorts of questions about the equipment. They showed me a few devices that they were going to use on me, and I told them I liked that they were willing to share and explain. They responded that it's not all that often someone wants to know, beforehand, what's going on for surgery. They have this cool reflex tester deal that they put on your hand to send shocks through to make sure everything is working. They wouldn't hook it up while I was awake, which is a shame, because now I'm super curious how it feels.

Nobody got my joke about the machine that goes "BING!" from Monty Python, which was disappointing, but I asked if they were going to be rocking out to any awesome jams, and the guy in charge of the OR laughed and said "not in my OR", to which the nurses laughed and said "but as soon as he leaves the room!!!"

My mom was an RN, and worked in nearly ever field an RN can; OR, ER, prenatal, maternity, pre-op, assisted living, nursing home, the lot. She used to tell me about how they worked, and how they rocked out to music while the patient was under. She also used to comment about how much she hated the rude people, so I did my best to be entirely accommodating, even a bit helpful.

I don't really recall them injecting the anesthetic, but I recall asking what specific drug it was (as I did with everything else they put in it, because I'm curious) and we got to skip right over that boring counting stuff, because they had the perfect stuff (medical equipment and knowledge) to keep me happy and non-stressed.

I woke up in agony. They gave me a few shots of painkillers, but it didn't come close to going away.. it got better, for sure, but nothing near relief.

It was very unpleasant. The gasses they used to blow up my abdomen lingered like crazy. I still have some huge major bubbles and a ton of subsurface tiny bubbles, and they still hurt. Because of the added pressure in strange places, my back and shoulders also hurt.

When the pain subsided somewhat, they wheeled me into my recovery room where my partner was waiting for me. Then there was a boring bit while I just laid there and made him give me water every few minutes, between conversation and a lot of complaining.

While I was in recovery, my surgeon came by to check on me, let me know that the surgery went well, and said he thought I might be interested to see my clips, since I'm a strange patient. Turns out, he made me a nice, glossy, full-color copy of the pictures, and presented them to me with a flourish. I, being the strange duck that I am, was thrilled. I asked all about what I was seeing, and now I have a picture of each ovary, my Fallopian tubes, and both clips. You can't ask for more! I might frame them. Proof that I'm sterile.

They wanted me to stick around until I could use the bathroom (they apparently used a catheter), and I wanted to leave because we still had a 2.5 hour drive home, so I managed well before I needed or wanted to go, and that, too, was highly unpleasant.

The drive home sort of sucked, although I think I passed out for an hour or so, because when we got to what I thought was Fond Du Lac, we were actually in Oshkosh (30-45 min difference). Bumpy roads were painful, and I curled up in the back seat for a while trying to relocate some of the gas bubbles (something I'm very accustomed to doing with intestinal gas).

The only bad thing, so far, other than the pain.. was the bleeding. They used some sort of liquid bandage sealant stuff rather than bandages, but one of the incisions didn't close up completely, so in the car, it started oozing blood. Unpleasant. We had to stop and look for paper towel, but there wasn't any at the rest stop, so I fished an old but clean shirt out of my trunk and used that. Not ideal, but workable.

The gas pain has been bothering me since I woke up from surgery, but I found that increasing blood flow increases absorption rate of CO2 gas (the same way as muscle fatigue) so I did some exercises that didn't hurt, but would increase my heart rate slightly, as well as increase the blood flow to abdominal muscles. It seemed to help with some of it, but there's enough left that I think it will be another day or two yet, at least. I'm trying not to limit my normal activities too much, since couch-potato-ing decreases blood flow and thus increases recovery time.

I'm also trying to find a cat to sit on my lap and purr, but none of them seem to want to be that close to my blood. (I'm not forcing the matter, of course, but my invitations have been ignored thusfar)
Why would I want a cat so close? Simply, the cat's purr is special; it vibrates at a frequency that can speed up healing, which is why cats seem to survive things you'd think would kill them. The frequencies (~25 htz for the base frequency and ~50 for the first harmonic frequency) have been shown in lab settings to promote healing of bones, reduce inflammation and swelling, and reduce pain, to say nothing of the illness rates in cats being significantly lower than would be expected. It works so well that devices are being made based on the cat purr frequencies for healing bones that are having problems doing so naturally (such as old or compromised patients)

All told, I'm still glad I did it. This is a reasonably small price to pay for peace of mind. I now know, almost for certain, that I will never need to have an abortion.

And such excellent timing, too; if my partner wants to be around babies, especially now that he knows for sure we aren't having any, his niece just found out she was about 5 weeks pregnant, so that need, if it becomes a need, has an outlet. I even told him he's welcome to babysit if he wants to, which was met by the most vigorous head shake of no I've ever seen from him. It was magical.

Sorry for rambling; I'm a bit drugged  up for this post. They offered me vicodin and codine, and I declined both because they never work for me (I literally cannot tell when I've taken them or haven't, and I have some skill in those matters), so they sent me home with 600MG ibuprofin and 5mg oxy/35mg acetaminophen. Today is an oxy day.

Perhaps I'll have something more to write when I'm a bit more sober. Perhaps I'll sleep all day. :p

Getting sterilized

So I'm finally taking the plunge. Not the same plunge most people are talking about when they use that line, but something no less important.

I'm on step 2 in the process of getting a tubal ligation. Step one was getting a recommendation from my PC doctor, step 2 is the consultation I have scheduled for the 14th.

The whole thing is apparently much easier if 1. There is something wrong with your reproductive organs. 2. You have had an abortion. 3. You have already made your family.

That's not horrible, that the process is harder for someone without those qualifiers.. but it does suck having to explain over and over that yes, yes I have thought about this, and yes, even though I'm under 30 and childless, this is what I want.

I'm trying to give my doctors an honest impression of my situation, and to that end, when asked (screening question) if I'd ever had an abortion, I said "quite honestly, that's exactly what I'm trying to avoid".

Now, I realize how horrible it is to say that my options are sterilization or abortion, especially since I personally know other women who want and cannot have kids, but for me, that's reality. I made the decision a long time ago that, given the state of my life, if I found myself pregnant despite my best efforts to prevent it, the quality of life of the child was more important than any guilt I may feel about the process. Since I don't feel I could give a child what it deserves, abortion is my best option -mind, I do use birth control, and always have. Abortion is not an option I wish to exercise if it can be avoided. If you don't agree with that decision, that's your right, but this is the choice that's right for me, for my life.

What it boils down to, at the end of the day, is that I realized that I don't have much capacity for nurturing. Sure I can manage pets, and sure, I look fine with kids, but I'm not. They make me uncomfortable until they hit double digits, because they aren't capable of having much in the way of a real conversation. I don't have the patience to deal with kid-noise, and I can barely keep my house clean as it is. Very simply, I know I'm not responsible enough to trust myself with a child.

Let me rephrase that; I might be great with kids, and that's awesome, but I'm not cut out for parenting. I highly respect people who can do the whole reproducing thing, especially if they thought about it beforehand. I want to be very clear that I'm not judging others because they've made a different choice than have I. I try to ask for the same consideration.

Someone who doesn't want to get married or have kids doesn't get that sort of respect from society. I've heard it all. "It'll be different once you have them." "You are too young to make that sort of choice." "You'll regret it if you don't do it." "You are being selfish, what if your partner wants kids?" "everyone thinks they don't want them until they have them." "Once you have the first one, you'll want a whole bunch more" and other various statements of the like. I hear the same sorts of things about marriage. "Don't you love him?" "what if he leaves you because you aren't married?" "What if you have kids?" "what about buying a house and having a life?"

Some of these statements, I've recently learned, are technically true. It is different when you have your own kids, but only because of the intense hormone cocktail that hijacks your system and more or less forces you to be nurturing and caring. The brain gets rewired, thanks to that baby. I'm sorry, but I really don't want that. I want to keep my brain working as-is, if only because I have no say in the hormone overdose, and I think that's crap. Just because it's in our nature, and we've evolved to want it, doesn't mean that clear heads should not prevail. I can barely manage to take care of myself, the last thing I need is a biological drive to sacrifice what little good I have in my life for the wellbeing of something I don't want in the first place. Pets don't cause this problem, and I have many.

Some of those statements are just plain hurtful. Telling me that I haven't thought enough about it, or that I'll change my mind (implying that I haven't thought about it at all) leads me to believe that people saying those things don't think I'm capable of weighing the pros and cons. The sick reality is that I've probably put more thought into not having kids than most people do into having them; after all, all you need to have a baby is an accident. You don't need to think about whether or not it's a good choice for you, since it's assumed that it is. You don't need to consider if you are fit to be a parent, because if you weren't fit, you wouldn't be having one, right?

Conversely, I've spent the better part of a decade weighing the pros and cons, thinking over every possibility, both good and bad. I did not reach my decision lightly, and in fact, I used to think I wanted kids, because that's what I was told was what life was about; husband, house, family. I spent years trying to work out how I could achieve my life goals and still have a family, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized that kids just aren't a good fit. I want to travel the world, visit every country, never stay put. The world is a big place, and not experiencing it is a waste of life as far as my own personal view is concerned. (Again, if job, house, family is all you want in life, that's great!I'm not judging. It's just not what I want.) I realized that these ambitions would be nearly impossible if I had a family tying me down. Still, I thought long and hard about what giving up one or the other would mean, and I realized that I would miss a lot more by having a family than I would by making my life complete. The plans I came up with to zip these two lives together were ridiculous and convoluted, and never would have worked out.

By far, the most common and most obnoxious question I get is "what if you regret it?" nobody ever thinks about the flip-side of that question; what if I have the kids, and regret THAT choice? One regret can be fixed through adoption -there are more than enough babies in the world, and I don't need mine to share genetics with me- the other is an 18+ year commitment, regret or no. I've read forums filled with women who regret starting a family. They love their children, but they hate the life that comes with it. That regret doesn't go away just because we wish it would, or try to ignore it. Some people aren't cut out for it, just like some people aren't cut out to be surgeons because they can't stand the sight of blood, or pilots because they fear heights. You can't convince your way out of that; if it's not right, it's not right.

The honest reality is that, commitment issues aside, I just really don't like kids, and trying to convince me otherwise is not going to work. They are loud, which I can't stand both due to preference and due to headaches, they are messy, and I can barely clean up after myself, they are expensive, and I hate spending money and being broke, and they need a LOT of interaction from their parents. I have a hard time setting aside time to train the parrots I inherited, and I think they are neat; I enjoy working with them, and I still can't get myself to do it consistently. That's no situation to bring a child in to.

My partner is on board with my decision, and even his mom is perfectly OK with it (she's also supportive of us not getting married, which is a relief. She told me that, were it not nearly 40 years too late, she wouldn't marry, either) though being that he's his father's only child, his dad's not the happiest. He hasn't said anything about it, though, so he can go right ahead and feel however he wants about it. My partner said that he's getting a bit old to be starting a family, anyway (he's 9 years my senior, which makes him 37, presently) and that he doesn't want to be old and useless when his kids are just hitting the point in life when they are fun to be around. He also seems to realize that, since most of his sibling's kids are my age (talk about awkward... The oldest is 2 years younger than I am, and out of nearly 10 kids, only 2 are under 18 ) he can enjoy them having families, and he can be the awesome great uncle, without having to change his own life significantly to do so. That seems like a pretty awesome compromise for all involved.

Even so, I've been called selfish for not wanting kids, because everyone assumes my partner had no say in my decision. To be sure, if he had said "no, I definitely want kids" we certainly would not still be together, but only because we would want different things from life, and it never would have worked. A relationship, no matter how good, is never NEVER worth sacrificing your happiness. Nobody in that situation ends life content. But that's not what happened at all. I feel my decision is the opposite of selfish. More selfish would be to have them anyway, just because that's what I think I should do, knowing full well it's not a good fit. Children can tell when they aren't wanted, or when they are a burden. I could never do that to a sentient being.

The brutal reality is that my partner is so on-board with my decision that he volunteered to take a day off work to take me to the hospital 2.5 hours away (VA hospital; free healthcare for vets, but lots of driving to get it) and said "don't worry about when, just make the appointment, and I'll take off work." and THEN he's willing to sacrifice sex for an indeterminate amount of time after, until I feel better. If that isn't support, I don't know what is. It probably helps that I played nursemaid when he had hernia surgery.. even removed the bandages and redressed them, because he couldn't stomach the sight. Thank you, mom, for watching graphic surgical shows with dinner while I was growing up; a strong stomach has served me well. He seems excited that I'll be 99.9999999999999999% protected, since I'll still be getting depo injections (hormone control for headache control, and also I don't like the baggage Aunt Flo brings with) even though that's basically the same level of protection I have now, with my IUD.

We both enjoy the DINK life we have now (Dual Income, No Kids); we have the freedom to enjoy our time on earth, sans major responsibility. We can afford to do things that couples with kids can't, normally. We don't have to worry about what to do with the kids when we want to do something, or go somewhere, and making arrangements for someone to come take care of animals is much easier. Does it matter if our goals in life are different from yours or anyone else's? I don't think so..

A couple of pointers for those of you who with kids or who plan to have kids;

It's great that you are doing that, and have thought about it; we need a minimum number of babies every year to maintain the population, and we all appreciate the sacrifices you make to promote the species. But we do have quite a lot of babies, and we certainly don't need more from people who don't really want them. Please respect that just the way we respect you for the choice you've made.

Please don't try to convince people that your answer is the right one for them, too. Most people who have decided not to have kids have given it a great deal of thought. Our society is so focused on reproduction and centers so much around children that it's impossible not to think about. Please don't talk to us as though you know better; you don't. You only know what works for you.

We don't judge your decision, please don't judge ours, even if you don't agree with it. It doesn't matter, ultimately, what you think about our decision, you'll just be burning bridges. You will burn them, not us.

When you discuss reproduction with friends, ask them if they are PLANNING to reproduce, don't ask them WHEN they will reproduce. It seems like such a small thing, but it emphasizes to the person with whom you are speaking that you understand that it's their decision, and that you respect it either way. It also opens up a dialogue. The planning question not only leaves room to change the mind if necessary, but also discourages a lot of defensiveness. It's difficult not to be defensive when everyone is trying to convince you that you are making the wrong choice.

Don't assume that what worked for you, and what you experienced, will be the same for everyone. Keep in mind that many women, and sometimes even men, experience major life changes such as depression and stress with the birth of children, and some people aren't as well suited to deal with these complications as others. Also be aware that this is a major life change, complete with new hormone levels, new responsibilities, new commitments, and new expectations, and the end result is not the same for two people. We each are the sum of our experiences, and you never know what came before now that could change the way someone sees an event.

Keep in mind that what was a wonderful experience for you might be a living nightmare for someone else. If you don't believe me, do a google search for "I hate being a mother"; the stories are heartbreaking. You can judge those people, if you must, but remember; they were, by and large, pressured into changing their minds about having them.

At the end of the day, it's a personal decision. Feel free to discuss it, but understand that the decision was made with great care in nearly every case. If someone doesn't want kids, for whatever reason, great! They shouldn't have them if they don't want them. Everyone is happier that way.

Honesty is always the best policy.

I live my life honestly. I don't mean I'm not a cheat, although I'm not. What I mean is that.. I really have great difficulty being dishonest with people, and whenever possible, I just give the full, blunt, brutal truth. Yes, it causes a lot of problems sometimes, but I've found that the result of not being completely honest is much worse. The following is just one example, a situation which just transpired, of why honesty is my go-to policy for interpersonal contact.

I have the weekend to myself, even though it's a holiday weekend and we had plans; the VA screwed up and didn't set my appointment, so my suppression treatment was interrupted, and I'm about a month, plus or minus a few days, overdue for my injections. Resulting, of course, in miserablemonkey. I had a headache for almost 2 weeks straight (thankfully it has stopped being a constant wake-to-sleep pain) and I've been so edgy that, frankly, it's a wonder I haven't pushed everyone away. Let's just say it got to the point where I started thinking about just how poorly suited campering with a huge family (the BF's, not my own) really was to having a constant headache and needing dark, quiet, and alone-ness. And let's just say I nearly had a panic attack from dread of the situation I was about to be stuck in.

I had an honest chat with the BF, which made me feel even more like crap, when I told him that this just really wasn't a good time. He didn't take it entirely well. The next day I wrote out the letter to loved ones (post before this one) primarily for my own benefit, but also for his, and for anyone else who's life intersects my own. I convinced him to read it, which may have been easier than I thought, because my anxiety flared up, but I told him that my very good friend felt like he understood my situation better after he read it, and I think that was enough convincing.

I sat with him while he read the 5-page document right off my blog, just like you can. I would give him special treatment, but I feel that would be singling him out, and I don't want to do that; I don't blame anyone for how they respond to my conditions, it's just a shit situation for all involved. I think presenting it as "I wrote this thing that might help people understand my pain and what helps and doesn't, and I'd really appreciate it you'd take the time to have a look" did the trick. There were a few parts I think he skipped, but for the most part, he sat and read it like a good, supportive, partner, and afterward said "a lot of those things... I guess.. I really had no idea..." He looked about ready to cry.

We then revisited the conversation regarding the family trip for July 4th. I explained, honestly, that being off of my treatment really screwed my world up, even though my treatment is suppression and reduction, not a complete symptom negation. I explained that, even if I did go, I would just end up spending the time alone, resentful, and in agony, with no hope for escape if necessary from the noise, the smoke smell, the lot of it, with the nice bonus of a couple dozen people being unnecessarily concerned about me. I explained that it was just really bad timing, and that although I want to go, it's just not a good idea, and I have to accept that that's going to happen sometimes, even though I don't like it.

He took it a lot better this time around, and we even managed to have a frank and honest discussion about which of my failings were most annoying. I want to do what I can to make everything as easy for my loved ones as possible, so I'm really open to criticism of that sort, as long as it's not phrased as an insult or complaint; I'm still human.. I get defensive. It happens.

We've now set tentative plans for after my treatment has resumed, and I feel like he understands a bit better that, when I say I -can't- do something, it's not an exaggeration or excuse, but a fact. I think he also understands a bit more, now, that I can't control or predict when it will be bad. The best I can do is deal with the symptoms when they flare up, and sometimes that means being a flake.

He also seems a bit more forgiving about my level of productivity (or more specifically, the level of my non-productivity..) and motivation, and I think it might be a bit clearer that I really do make an effort. As a bonus, my habit of listing my daily accomplishments makes a lot more sense, now, with the understanding that I'm sharing to be clear that I did what I could.

We've been together long enough that this should have been discussed a long time ago in this way, but... neither of us is really all that great at talking.. My anxiety flares up, and I can't get the right words to come out, and he just tends to be non-responsive (I think that sort of conversation just makes him really uncomfortable). We should have covered this stuff a long time ago, and perhaps we wouldn't have had the friction we have had.

Either way, regrets are useless; we have addressed it, and perhaps the results will be long-lived. Perhaps not.

If you haven't yet, I definitely recommend having this sort of conversation with your partner(s). It's really amazingly hard to do, until you've done it... then you just wonder why it took you so long.

The things that need to be said the most tend to be those most difficult to discuss.

A letter to loved ones

This will be very long. It needs to be long. This is an open letter to everyone in my life, both those with and those without chronic pain. There is just so much that sufferers don't want to or cannot put to words. We cope largely in silence, sometimes because we don't have the words to say what needs to be said, sometimes because we realize that our needs are enough to discourage connections with those we care about. Whatever the reasoning, there are things that need to be said, and this is to address some of those issues in my life.

Dear Loved Ones,

Most people, whether they are aware of it or not, know someone who suffers with chronic pain. Despite this, most people don't have any idea what that means, because unlike obvious illnesses or injuries, chronic pain tends to be invisible. Facial expression and body language aren't always reliable indicators, because many with chronic pain don't want their suffering to be visible, and work hard to suppress those signs. You can't see a headache, you can't see back pain, you can't see what we feel, and that sucks. It sucks because it's easy to ignore or dismiss something you can't see, but we still feel it. It sucks because you never know when we hurt unless we tell you or let you see our pain, and we don't always want to be seen as complainers.

So perhaps it would be helpful to share some information with you, the people who might care about me. I hope this will be as useful to you as to me, since that's the whole point. It can be difficult figuring out how to deal with someone like me, who has chronic pain, just as it can be difficult to admit extensive needs. I share this out of love and care, not to induce shame or guilt; I want this to make our interactions more peaceful and pleasant for both of us.

First, and perhaps most importantly, please understand that I don't mean to be negative. I don't mean to be short with you, or seem frustrated or angry, and I do my best to avoid taking anything out on you when it's not your fault. When I'm in pain, though, it's very difficult to be the person I want to be. I try very hard to give you the respect and appreciation you deserve, but sometimes it's just difficult for me to be as patient as I'd like, sometimes it's tough for me to see the silver lining, and it's sometimes very difficult to ignore the frustrations in life. Think of the last time you had a really bad headache. Now imagine it hasn't gone away in years. That's really frustrating, and that's my life, in addition to all the normal stresses like school, relationships, and money. I'm just like you, just with pain.

Repeat the above with back pain, leg pain, arm pain, stomach pain; any kind of pain. This applies to all chronic hurt. Many sufferers, myself included, have more than one kind of pain.

I have bad days, just like you do, it just might happen a bit more often for me. My body is a prison, and I'm serving a life sentence for a crime I don't remember committing. I deal with it as best I can, and I cope, but it's a struggle to stay positive, knowing that this will probably never change; most chronic pain is never cured, the best we can usually hope for is symptom reduction, and even that is a dream to many. This is my life, and I make as much of it as I can, but I can't do all the things you take for granted, and that fact is painfully obvious to me. Once in a while, I like to feel sorry for myself, and wallow in self-pity for a time. I think I've earned that, so if I seem resistant to cheering, leave me be.

Depression is a common side-effect of chronic pain. Think about it for a second, it makes complete sense; you'd be depressed too, if you were stuck in a body that didn't work properly and constantly overloaded your senses with painful stimuli. But please, don't mistake stress or depression as the cause of my problems; my doctors and I have already explored that possibility ad nauseam. It's not about not trying hard enough, it's not because I'm unhappy, and my pain is not psychosomatic. I don't know why I have this pain, but I do know it's not something I can just cheer myself out of. I've tried. A lot.

I know I seem unreliable. I am unreliable. Even to myself. I can't count on my body to be able to do things when I want or need to, and that translates to you not being able to count on me. I'm sorry; I don't want it to be like that, and I try really hard to ignore my limitations whenever I can. I don't want to be flaky. I make commitments because I really want to be able to keep them, and I frequently disappoint myself when I can't. If you think my behavior is frustrating, try being me. It's so much worse from the inside. I'm not offering this as an excuse, I just want you to know that I hate it, too.

Please try not to get discouraged when I have to cancel a previous commitment at the last second; believe me, I want to go more than you can imagine, and there have been many times I've gone knowing full well I shouldn't. Instead, I would really appreciate it if you would try to work with me to find a compromise that gets me out and in your company, but still doesn't force me to spend that time completely miserable. If it's something that can be rescheduled, let's do that! If it can't be rescheduled, perhaps I just need to know that I can get a ride to a safe and quiet place if I need one, judgment-free. Maybe all I need is a place I can retreat and recuperate while I'm there, where I know I will be left alone. If I still say no, please don't take it personally. If you want to be angry, please don't be angry with me, be angry at my pain; it showed up unbidden, I did not ask for it. You can hate my pain -I certainly do. You can hate it, you can be angry with it, you can want to stab it in the face and rip off it's gonads, but remember; my pain is not ME, I am not my pain. I'm still the same me, stuck inside a failing body, and it's not my fault. I wouldn't have chosen this, so please, I beg you, remember that.

If I tell you I can't do something, and I've still said no after you've offered to reschedule or accommodate me, it might be because it's an activity that makes my condition worse. There are many days when I can't bring myself to interact with people, because I have a short fuse and a lot of pain. There are many days when getting out of bed isn't an option, even though I look fine from where you are. Getting out, getting my mind off my troubles, these things don't make me feel better, and sometimes they make me feel worse. I know it's hard to understand, but I've lived with this pain long enough to know which activities I can or cannot do at certain times. Sometimes I do them anyway, because losing out on my life really sucks, but that doesn't mean I'm always up for putting myself through that. When you do too much activity, you might get sore muscles, or be tired from exertion. When I do too much activity, it can really aggravate my pain. Increasing my heart rate sometimes makes my head pound, including a slow climb of a flight of stairs, an activity you probably take completely for granted. I usually know what type of pain I have on a given day, and what helps or makes it worse.

I can't predict from day to day how I will feel. Usually I have a good idea on the minute-to-minute, but pain can rear it's head any time, any place, with no warning. The intensity also varies considerably, and although I might be able to do something one day, that doesn't mean I'll be able to do it today. Just because I did something earlier in the day doesn't mean I can right now. Saying something like "but you did it before" or "you do -something similar- all the time!" hurts me. I wouldn't say no if I could do it. Some activities make my pain considerably worse, even if it doesn't start right away. I might be good for a hike, but hurt for a week afterwards. I might go to a bar for an hour, and have a headache for 2 days because of the noise. Delayed pain is part of my life, and sometimes, doing something I really want to do means I can't do anything else for a while.

Many people with chronic pain experience variations in the quality and location of pain. I know quality of pain seems like a ridiculous concept, but the truth is, our pain isn't just pain. Many of us don't know what kind of pain we will have from one day to the next; shooting, burning, aching, throbbing. We don't always know where we will find our pain from one day to the next. If we've been afflicted long enough, we know how to identify the types of pain we experience, what causes them, and what relieves them, if anything. We've learned to identify our symptoms so that we can cope with them. Sometimes the explanations for behavior will include symptoms you've never heard of before from the sufferer; this doesn't mean it's not true. Just keep in mind that we are completely unpredictable, even to ourselves. We don't know how this is going to play out any more than you do, but we need to be taken seriously. We don't have great words to describe this experience, so we do the best we can with limited vocabulary.

So all that said, I'd like to ask you a favor; rather than ask me if I -want- to do something (I desperately do want to, honestly), ask me if I am able. Even if I look totally fine, please ask if I'm able. I would happily field that question a million times when I feel perfectly OK, just to make sure you also ask it when I'm not feeling well. I know you can't really tell when I'm hurting, so don't worry about offending me -In fact, I've been working for years on not showing my pain to the public; that you can't usually tell means I've succeeded in looking normal. The reason I want you to ask is that, if you ask every time, instead of saying “let's go do ---”, I get to actually say yes, I am able to do that today. If you don't ask if I'm able, but only if I'm interested, saying no means I don't -want- to do things with you, which is not at all the case. I hate saying no to activities, I just don't get enough opportunity to say yes. Help me say yes to you; I promise it will make us both feel better.

I want to spend time with the people I care about, just like you do, and I get lonely, too. I get lonely when my pain keeps me home, and everyone else is out having a good time. I put on a brave face, sometimes, and deal with my condition, just to be around you. I may appear to come and go, I might lose track of conversation, and I might not have much to say, but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate your company, and it certainly doesn't mean I don't want to listen. Because of my limitations, I don't have an expansive social circle, but I deeply value everyone I've chosen to share my life with, and I miss you when my condition keeps me from being in contact.

Having limitations doesn't necessarily mean that I can't do anything at all, and I really take pride in the things that I can still do without help. Certainly, it might take more time for me to do things, and I might have issues finding motivation sometimes, but I am very proud that I can still take care of some things myself. I appreciate you asking me if I would like help, but please do not simply do things for me if I have mentioned wanting to do them. I select projects for myself based on my own capabilities, and doing them for me denies me that satisfaction. If you would like to help, ask me what you can do, I'd usually be glad to have the help. I may say no, and that's OK, too, it just means I'd rather do it myself, because I have it all planned out already.

Please understand that being happy doesn't mean I'm healthy or pain-free. I work very hard to keep myself happy despite my condition, even when it's at it's worst. I smile and laugh even when I'm in agony. When you get sick, or hurt yourself, it might be all you can think about, and you might feel miserable. I've felt like this for so long that I just can't be down about it all the time. If I seem happy, I am. Please remember that these two facets of my life are not connected anymore. Pain is my constant companion, but that doesn't mean it gets to decide how I live my life. I ask that you not assume that being in good spirits means I feel fine. It doesn't, I still hurt, even when I'm in a good mood.

I know that you want to help me feel better, but please don't suggest a treatment or cure to me, unless you already know what I've tried. I know you mean well, and I do so want to recover, but I hear about "cures" and pain relief techniques all the time from other people who also want to help me feel better. Not only that, but I spend a considerable amount of time researching my conditions, looking for anything that has promise of helping. If you've heard of it, I probably have, too, and chances are, I've also tried it. I'm desperate for relief. There is a huge network, both on and offline, of people just like me, with conditions just like mine, and we share our treatment information with others. If that "cure" you saw on Facebook, yahoo answers, or some blog was really a cure, we would know about it by now.

Some of the suggestions I've gotten from people have actually made my pain worse; some of the medications I've been recommended have caused side effects that threaten my quality of life; some of the treatments I've learned about seem promising, but they aren't covered by insurance. These factors all lead to my condition being worse, not better. Obviously, if you've come across some new research about my conditions, and you think I may not have seen it, by all means, pass it on to me, just please don't get my hopes up with an overly-optimistic title for your message. Cure is a very strong word, and my conditions currently don't have one, despite oodles of research into the mechanisms. "Cure" gets my hopes up, and the letdown is really harsh. My doctors and I have a treatment plan, but I may talk to them about what you share with me, just the way I talk to them about research I find on my own.

Please don't ask me how I'm feeling, unless you really want to know. If I miss a commitment one day, don't ask me the next if I'm feeling better, because the answer is always going to be “no”. That's just how it works for me. Even if I feel better, I still hurt, and I don't like lying to you so that you don't feel sorry for me. I know it's hard for you not to ask, and I appreciate that you care enough to want to know, but it just puts us both in an uncomfortable position, and I'd like to avoid that. Just know that if I'm there, I'm well enough, and leave it at that.

I want you to know that I'm not distant because I want to be; a lot of times, I can feel the cognitive changes that take place when my pain sets in. I can feel my brain slow down. I can feel my motor control deteriorate. I can feel my distance, and I hate it. I forget things, even mid-conversation, I lose words, whole segments of what was just discussed, and I even, frequently, experience a delayed self-awareness (as in, I don't always realize what I've done or said until after it's been done or said). This whole thing is really scary for me, so sometimes I just keep quiet and listen. This is especially true when there is a lot of input to keep track of, such as with a large number of people. My pain slows down my processing of what's going on around me, often to the point where I couldn't contribute if I wanted to.

I also want you to know that I don't distance myself physically because I want to. I frequently spend half or more of the day alone, just so that I can get things done. I forget what I'm doing halfway through a task, or something distracts me, and whatever I was doing vanishes from my consciousness. If I've chosen to be alone, please just leave me alone. Please don't pop your head in to ask if I need anything, or want anything, or want to do anything. I know you mean well, I really do, but it's aggravating, sometimes quite startling, and frequently makes me lose track. Please rest assured that if I need anything, I will ask. If I spend 12 hours holed up by myself, it's because that's what I need to do. I may seem fine when you come to check on me, I may even be reading or playing a game, but I'm not fine, or I wouldn't be alone. When my pain is bad, I can deal with solo activities like movies, books, or games, because I can put them down when I need a break or start to hurt too much; doing these activities does not mean I'm fine. I would never get to do anything if that was the case. Having to explain my actions all the time is -humiliating-. I don't want to have to defend my coping strategies, so please don't make me.

I don't distance myself physically because I'm a china doll, but sometimes I do get sensitive to touch, just like I get sensitive to light, sound, motion, and smells. If you'd like a hug, or think I would, just ask, or do the arms-out thing, and just don't be too terribly offended if I don't accept it, or say no. I may go through spans where I'm not terribly interested in much physical contact with anyone, and that may be because of my mood, my pain, or any number of other factors, and that's just part of who I am. It has nothing to do with a desire to be loved or appreciated, it has nothing to do with my love or appreciation for you, it's just how I am.

If I don't get anything productive accomplished, such is life. Have you ever looked at a sink full of dirty dishes, knowing they need to be done, and just cried because you couldn't get yourself do it? I have, both due to pain and to depression on bad days, and it sucks. I'm not trying to be lazy, and I'm not trying to have no responsibility, there are just days, even times of day, when getting anything accomplished is pure fantasy. I feel guilty as hell about this, because I have all of my appendages and I'm not paralyzed; there's no outward reason to be unproductive. I'm trying to accept that I can't do everything I think I should, at least not on a schedule, but it's really hard to avoid feeling guilty. Just know that I do what I can, when I can; not being able to do things when others want them done drives me to do things when I have the ability.

I know this is a rough situation, and I know I'm asking you for a lot, but I count on the people in my life who are able, and I do my best to reciprocate any way I can. It's far from ideal, but this is the best I can do, even though I want to do so much more. I appreciate everything you do for me, even when I find it upsetting, because I know you can't possibly understand what I need if I don't tell you.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I appreciate it more than you know. I hope this will help resolve some of the issues we may have, and strengthen our relationship even if we have no issues.

--------------------------A note on use of this letter--------------------------

If you would like to reproduce this letter in a publicly available location (facebook, your blog or website, forums, etc.), please do not alter it in any way, and acknowledge the source (I cope, therefore I am) with a link. I spent a lot of time writing this out and editing it for people like me who just need to share through writing, and the content of it was specifically selected to be some of the harder things to discuss honestly and bluntly with loved ones. I know my views may not be entirely applicable to everyone's situation, however as a base for those people who need it, the difficult topics are intended as an edit-able starting point.

If you would like to adapt this letter for personal use, without the intention of posting anywhere public, feel free to do so without acknowledgment. I want this document to help make life better for someone out there who, like me, just can't say the things that need to be said to have a good life.