Introducing the free mental health resource 7 Cups of Tea to anyone who hasn’t heard of them before.
If you need someone to talk to, any time, this is a great website to save in your favorites. All chats are anonymous, and you can either connect to the first available listener or find someone who fits your needs from their list of therapists and listeners.
7 Cups of Tea is a safe, non-judgmental online space to talk it out with trained active listeners. You can even connect with a therapist or active listener whose specialties are of interest to you or your particular situation. There is also group support if that is more your style.
7 Cups also offers a set of thorough self help guides to consult, including self-help for chronic pain, as well as for anxiety, college life, and even one for entrepreneurs who are struggling with their start up companies. There are a wide variety of topics covered, you may be surprised to see a self-help guide for something you thought not that many people struggled with. They keep an expanding library of articles about specific mental health topics, such as this post on Mindfulness.
There is a lot to see on this website, and a lot to remind us about basic self-care during the tougher times in our lives. The self-help guides might seem repetitious for spoonies and those living with chronic pain, but our mind plays tricks on us when we are at our lowest, and the simplest of ways to practice self-compassion and healing slip through our fingers. That’s why it’s a useful website to bookmark and visit often, even when you’re not planning to chat with an active listener. I have added 7 Cups of Tea to my Chronic Illness Resources Page. Any online resource like this is just fabulous, and this is one of the best I have found. Plus, it’s FREE, and free is an awesome price. Especially for those of us who are prohibited from working by our illness or pain.
Volunteer Opportunity Alert:
If you’re looking for a volunteer opportunity that you can do any time from home, this may be perfect for you! They are always looking for new Active Listeners to train so that more people can receive one on one attention.
If anyone has any suggestions for self-help websites or free online therapy, please leave the URL below in a comment and it will be added to my Chronic Illness Resources Page.
That feeling when you pour your heart out and the other person says not one single word the entire time, during or after. Yes. That.
Exhausted from wanting to hear something, anything when I am done talking, or while I am talking, or even two hours or two days later, but I have to accept that it’s not coming. There is no apology. There is no reassurance. There is no “I’m proud of how far you’ve come” or anything else that would let me know that “I’m ready to wash my hands of you” is not still the underlying truth here.
Us spoonies are tough stuff. We deserve more recognition for how great we are doing when we undertake a task that is dreadfully painful and will probably cause later repercussions. Having the courage to do small amounts of work that healthy folks take for-granted; experiencing pain and fatigue at unimaginable levels, and persisting anyway, time and time again. Everyday with chronic illness is someone else’s nightmare, and still spoonies find a way to cope. That is bravery. When one of those magical, unscripted moments where we take our illness by the throat and tell it who’s boss finally does happen, we don’t want to be afraid that pushing ourselves will lead to someone using “well, you did it yesterday!” against us later. Just because we did something one day does not mean we are at all better. It could have even set us back a week or two, no matter how small the action.
For instance, I drove my boyfriend to the hospital last month for severe hip and back pain. It was horrible. First time I had driven in over a year. I sat in the hospital sobbing like I was the patient that needed assistance. When we got to the ER, they immediately took my boyfriend and I back to a room, he talked to a doctor for a second, and then they gave him IV valium and dilaudid without so much as making him feel like a drug seeker, not one time. My boyfriend’s doctors kept coming in with boxes of tissues for me and judgmental faces, like I didn’t have a right to be in so much pain. I pushed myself way farther than normal taking him to the ER that day, and I was hurting, but pain alone doesn’t usually make me cry in public. Truthfully, I was also crying about the fact that I will never be treated that well in a hospital, I will always be treated like an addict when I am in the most need. I have been turned away from ER’s and Urgent Care many times because “they don’t manage chronic conditions, that’s what your primary care is for.” OMFG, REALLY?!
Just like with me driving my boyfriend to the hospital, doing something once does not mean I can do it again tomorrow. The next day I was almost unable to get out of bed, and by “almost unable” I mean it took two hours and a handful of pills and I’d rather not talk about it. Pushing through the pain is not always the best choice for those of us with chronic pain, it can and will cause flare ups that are disproportionate to the thing that set them off. One less painful day or one easier week does not mean I am cured (but they are really, really, really nice!). Going outside will not cure my illnesses. Trying harder isn’t really an option since every single day I am trying with all my ability to not let this illness get the best of me. I am not a mooch, I am not lazy, I do not enjoy depending on others for help. I did not ask to be in this much pain or to burden the love of my life with my conditions. All I can do is keep putting one foot in front of the other, like so many others dealing with chronic illness and chronic pain. We are tough because we have to be. It’s not an optional character trait.
When I have these conditions in remission enough to drive, I will get us in the car and head straight for the coast or the mountains. I know my boyfriend wants me to be able to drive again. I do too, so much! But wanting is not the same thing as being able to make it happen. It’s beyond frustrating… it’s a kind of frustration and desperation that try to drag me deep down into depression. I want to be able to assume these responsibilities again, I really do, because emotionally it felt great to drive him somewhere when he needed me, but the way my body reacted to all the movement, walking, sitting, twisting, was enough to convince me that my driving days are on hold again for now.
Despite the pain and restrictions of having several chronic pain conditions, my favorite phrase is still “I can do it” even when I really can’t. It might have taken me an hour to get that glass of water, but damn it, I did it myself. I try to push my limitations as often as I get a chance, in order to feel human.
Healthy or chronically ill or somewhere in between, we all push our boundaries to feel alive. It’s the difference between existing and really living. I’m going to keep pushing myself as so many other spoonies do on a daily basis, and if that allows me to get back to driving eventually, even better! I’m tired of hearing what I “should” be doing… instead I’m just going to do what I can and be happy about it, every day. To everyone else out there struggling with what others think you should be able to do, it gets easier to stand up for yourself every time! No guilt, we didn’t ask to be sick!
This is a post about me, but I hope it touches someone else as well.
I realized today that for the last three years I haven’t had a day off, because although I’m not able to work, I also am not able to relax. This upset me. I haven’t had fun in so long I don’t know what it is anymore.
I used to be a fun person, didn’t I?
It wasn’t even that long ago.
Why can’t I relax? I do all these relaxation rituals every day like they’re going to save me, and I even get some benefit out of them. How come I can’t get where I need to be? I’m usually good at doing anything I really set my mind to, even with all the glitches my mind has nowadays. I have dedicated the last three years to healing myself, so why is relaxing so unbelievably hard? I’m sure most of the people around me think that’s all I do in a day; relax. It must look like it from the outside in, when I’m mostly in one place all day long, and I don’t work, and I don’t contribute to our bottom line. I’m sure there are a couple people out there who think I’m doing it for attention or for some other sneaky reason. Let me assure everyone, the only reason it looks like I’m okay is because I worked really hard to not spend the entire day crying, freaking out, and catastrophizing my painful and scary symptoms. Believe me, faking chronic pain isn’t easy or common, in fact, only about 1% of chronic pain patients have been found to be malingering or milking the system. That’s a stereotype for a differing blog post, though!
Then it hit me: I’ve been a patient for the last three years, but that’s not the only role I have been filling by any means. I have also had to be my own researcher and doctor for most of that time. When I stopped working a little over a year ago, I filled those hours immediately with my other duties (which were being completely neglected at that time because I was too sick to do both). I never really slowed down, because I felt so much guilt over not continuing the agony of trying to work a few hours here and there, when I could even get out of bed / stop vomiting / not have fiery and ugly hotflashes all day long. My first unemployed days overflowed with housekeeping, baking, doctor appointments, tests and imaging, canning produce, tending the garden that we depend on for subsistence each season, helping my boyfriend with his massive amounts of homework, keeping my houseplants alive, writing budgets and grocery lists, self-care routines, research my illnesses and symptoms, teaching myself ACT (Acceptance and Commitment Therapy), keeping track of my friends who are struggling with life-altering or life-ending illnesses while trying to help them emotionally whenever the opportunity arises, and acting as a caretaker for my boyfriend after his three hip surgeries.
None of these things are things I dislike or don’t want to do. In fact, I can’t imagine giving up any of these things any more than I imagined I would ever be forced to give up my job and driving. Giving tasks up means that someone else has to do them or they will go undone (like my make up and hair, for instance!). All the responsibilities that I am no longer administering to, such as driving, they mostly fall on my poor boyfriend, who is himself a chronic pain warrior.
I’m not happy with this situation. But I am learning to accept that I am not a burden simply because I can’t do all of the things I used to be able to do. The next step, the step I haven’t quite been able to take yet, but my toes are over the edge at least! I’m getting closer to being able to make this leap: at some point in the future I have to start doing the things I want in spite of not having enough energy to do the things I need to do afterwards, I have to start wearing less hats. It will mean downsizing my life again, which is yes, totally terrifying.
Most importantly, I am in control of what goes and what stays, this time. I know that getting any of my conditions into remission will be a process that requires me to reclaim my emotional well-being as much as my physical, if not more.
I have been afraid to step into the roles I really want to take on because I’m not doing a great job right now, trying to wear all these different hats for different people.
From now on, I’m making a pledge to myself, but also for all the other over-worked & underpaid spoonies out there, that I will not beat myself up for what I cannot do. I will be more gentle with myself when deciding whether to push through a painful task or take a short break. I promise to feel less like a burden and more like myself. No more guilt for trying to be a happier person, whatever it takes!
It’s a whole shift of mind, but I’m finally getting there. Closer, but the damn guilt still won’t let me paint like I used to, even on a better day.
I will get there soon, though. I can feel it.
If anyone has any advice on how to accomplish this new quest for self-love and self-worth, I would love to hear your input!
To all spoonies: You are good enough. You are not a burden. Be gentle with yourself when things are too overwhelming or too difficult to accomplish alone. You are worth loving and lending a hand to, no matter what. ❤
How are people even supposed to know I appreciate and need physical affection if I can’t tolerate it sometimes?
It’s what I get for sleeping a full straight 8 hours. I actually woke up thinking about pain before I could even open my eyelids, I could tell within seconds of regaining consciousness that it was a flare day. My partner rolled over and tried to spoon with me this morning and I did not want to get out of bed; all I wanted to do was keep cuddling and relaxing like Sunday morning should be, except I HURT EVERYWHERE and I had to be rude and crawl my way slowly off the bed so I could limp in a circle around the house. I really did not want to get up yet, but the springs were digging into my hip and radiating pain down my leg, my other calf was cramping up, my low back screamed at me, my neck felt like someone was trying to rip my head off my shoulders, and that’s the short list, as I know many of you understand so well!
I get so damn guilty about stuff like that, though.
I mean, it’s not his fault, he shouldn’t have to suffer. But then I have to gently remind myself that it’s not my fault either. It just is, there is no one to blame.