Redefinition

I was fired. Not “let go”or “laid off.” I was fired without cause. I was never written up or reprimanded. I’ve run a million scenarios and… still stunned. I love working hard and striving toward perfection. Working hard defined who I am. Who am I without killing myself for my job?

This is the greatest gift I could have ever received. I started to scale back over the last few months due to my illness. I felt guilty despite putting in more than any other employee- even though I could hardly move. I have always told myself- no excuses, work hard because that is who you are. Now, you’ll put in slightly less and it’ll take ten times longer. But, it’s okay because you’ll work hard still.

Other people, who have RA, do triathlons! Although everything felt like a triathlon- waking up throughout the night, fevers, counting the hours and minutes until the alarm would sound, making the trek out of bed, to the bathroom, then to the shower, ugh and then ah screw it I can’t do it! My husband would take over with the washing and dressing. I’m done. Thankfully, I have a wonderful and supportive husband.

I would stay up all hours of the night planning, brainstorming, and thinking of how I could work more. How absurd! It’s time to let it all go…

Working hard will no longer define me and perfection is not real. Rad!

Advertisements

Falling Flat from Heels

Heels are evil and not to mention fail in in all aspects of women’s rights. Elongating legs, how ridiculous. My feet are in agony. My toes actually feel broken. What the hell is wrong with women putting up with this awful pain? Why do they lie and say you get used to it? How could you ever get used to it? It must be desperation and stupidity. Flats are for feminists.

My thumbs locked up in early April. I woke up in the middle of the night wondering how I dislocated my thumbs- both of them. I had to pull them to properly align them. It was agonizing. I googled it. What the hell is trigger finger? I’m not sure, but I have it. Am I diabetic? Nope. Oh well, not all things in life make sense.

Washing and brushing my long brown hair, pulling up my dark denim jeans, putting the pockets in place, buttoning, zipping, scratching, and pulling a shirt over my head became impossible without tears. Really trigger thumbs? I must be insane. Thankfully, my husband is my superhero.

My husband and I sat in a small cold room while babies cried in rooms next to us. All became quiet. “When I heard your pain level was a ten, I thought either you were exaggerating or you had rheumatoid arthritis,” my doctor told me. Rheumatoid arthritis? My dad has that and moved to a third world tropical country.

RA Factor, CCP, rheumatologist, toes, feet, knees, hips, shoulders, elbows, wrists, hands, neck, sleepless nights, and lethargy confirmed, I have rheumatoid arthritis. So it wasn’t the heels? My friends and acquaintances did not deceive me, my body did. What we have here is a failure to communicate. I was 23 when symptoms started- that was nearly 8 years ago.

I played ball with my two golden retrievers 3 nights ago. We had a blast and were all exhausted. Oddly, my wrists, knees, and feet are in agony. It’s been two days now. What could it be?

One day my brain will comprehend this all. Right?