Stress. I feel like everyone can relate to being overwhelmed. How can life not be overwhelming at one point or another, right? Throughout my childhood and young adulthood, I had always considered the idea of being overwhelmed as something that meant you just had too many things to do and not enough time to get it all done before another task or responsibility got added to your pile. As I have matured and entered into what science deems “middle adulthood”, and even though that makes me feel old, lol, I reflect on the times and my life’s current situations and realize that during most of it, I was more emotionally than physically overwhelmed.
Chaos
Yes, the demands of being a young mother at 18 were challenging. Couple that with being the primary caregiver for my dad while also going to college/nursing school, I had a lot on my plate. But growing up in a house that was in a constant state of chaos for one reason or another, left me feeling like the amount of physical and emotional tasks and challenges were normal. Living in a constant state of high stress was the only way I knew how to survive. I was so accustomed to chaos, that when there was none, I would seek it or create it.
I knew no other way to function if life wasn’t constantly trying to take me down. I even jokingly reflect that my teenage years in our childhood home could have been easily upgraded from chaos to mayhem.
Physical Impact
After many…. many… years of therapy, I learned how to stop looking for chaos. By finding or creating my own peace, I was able to manage my stress levels…. or so I thought.
This constant stress always created some underlying health issue or challenge at one point or another in my life. My mother would say that I wasn’t a hard child, just the one who was constantly presenting new challenges on the family health front. (If no one has heard of it, then Casey must have it. )While that can be a post all on its own, the one that truly stuck out and I think it relevant to this posting, is my skin condition (again, could be a post on its own).
An Allergy to Water
The shortened version is that after the birth of my oldest son, I developed a skin condition that no dermatologist could identify. After many dermatologists and 12 years later, I was told that I had an allergy to water. Yes, you read that correctly. And the reason my body was having this issue, was initially triggered by the overwhelming amount of stress and emotional trauma I endured during that time.
And since I didn’t realize that stress and unresolved family issues were causing so many physical flare ups, I was placed on disability for almost 9 months, removed from work that I truly loved, so I could go on immunosuppressants, coupled with anti-anxiety medication and a heavy dose of antihistamines. This medication regimen had helped get my body to stop attacking itself, allowing me some time to get my stress levels under control. But more on that later.
After some big personal losses in my late 20’s and lots of consideration, my husband and I decided to move our life in New Jersey to Georgia to start fresh. Even though we absolutely loved our home state, to say that the stress and emotional triggers in our lives were overwhelming would be a complete understatement.
The Big Move, Big Relief, Surprise News
Once we settled into a routine, our lives in Georgia became simple and surprisingly, significantly less stressful. Yes, we had stress, but it was a different stress. I had stopped seeking chaos, avoiding it at all costs. And an added bonus…. my skin calmed down! The emotional turmoil that I was enduring all those years, slowly started to melt away.
Yes, I still have sensitive skin but I no longer need any of those meds for my skin! Rebuilding our lives in Georgia gave us a feeling and sense of happiness and peace that we had truly never experienced. And along comes fate, with its news of my diagnosis… laughing at our idea of a plan… throwing our lives once again into complete emotional upheaval.
The Diagnosis
We struggled to understand what the future held when no one could even tell me what was going to happen or when it was going to happen. The idea of a prognosis was an absolute joke. Our stress levels were once again taking one giant leap at a time with the jumps coming closer and closer together.
We had decided not to tell our boys because quite frankly, what were we going to tell them? We didn’t have any answers, so how were we going to answer any they had? We kept my diagnosis from them for almost a year before my knee problems and endurance became more prominent.
My oldest had more questions and my husband was protective, sometimes overprotective. We were both on a short fuse. (Telling my sons was another hurdle… I just keep adding post ideas, don’t I?)
I had sought out a therapist again, knowing that all of the coping skills and mental health intelligence I had learned weren’t enough… I wasn’t prepared for this. I wasn’t prepared for muscular dystrophy.
Disease Progression, More Unknowns
As the disease has progressed and remained an unknown, I have tried to find different ways to cope with the ever growing demands that our ever evolving, forever changing lives brings us. I am not sure how other people choose to handle their stress.
But since I am unable to do any physical exercise that would bring endorphins that create more muscle damage, and I am told that yelling at everyone is not a true coping method, regardless of how much better I feel in the moment….I’ve had to choose a new strategy.
Moving Toward Goals, A Game Changer
Instead, I have embraced setting long term goals. A few months of therapy taught me that I was living in fear of things I had no control over. And that I could remove some of that stress by finding something to look forward to.
Working toward a goal that would make me feel productive in my own life- – not feeling like such a potential burden was a game changer. Another game changer was embracing living in my emotions but not moving them in permanently. For example, when I am frustrated or upset, I can be in that emotion for a certain time frame, but it isn’t allowed to consume my life. My mother always referenced it as having a pity party when needed, but at some point, the party needs to end.
In the last few years, especially since Covid, I resumed my love for reading. It allows me a space to be out of my own head for a while, regain some emotional control and find my center.
My hope..
I hope that at some point the stress of the unknown will go away and be replaced with scientific answers and standards of care. I hope that you, the readers of these posts, find some sense of solace with the knowledge that you aren’t alone in struggling to handle those hurdles that leave you feeling unprepared.
Your emotions are just as challenging and just as valid as everyone elses.
And lastly, no one has their shit together. Everyone handles their shit differently. As long as you aren’t hurting yourself or anyone else, then continue to do your best each day, because that is all the rest of us are ultimately trying to do, too.
