Word Vomit Wednesday - 1 is Not the Loneliest Number

 Welcome to Word Vomit Wednesday! A series of blog posts about random thoughts or a specific topic from current events that I, and sometimes the rest of the Internet, ruminate obsessively about. All thoughts/opinions/experiences are my own (unless otherwise indicated); I don’t claim anything that I write to represent anyone other than myself.






About three weeks ago my brother got married (woo!). This event also marked the 8th time I’ve been a bridesmaid. I am always honored when I’m asked to be a part of someone’s bridal party. It really means a lot to me to know how much our relationship matters to the soon-to-be-wed person that they would want me in that kind of a supportive and active role in a ceremony that has great significance for them. What it doesn’t mean though, is that I’m the 30-year-old spinster who can’t get my life together (ie: find a husband and “settle down”) who settles for being in a perpetual “always a bridesmaid, never a bride” scenario. This apparently confuses and concerns many people. Especially when I exhibit emotions at aforementioned weddings. I often become emotional at weddings and that’s usually because of two things: 1. Empathy and 2. Being present.

I am an extremely empathic person, sometimes disablingly so. I pick up other people’s vibes and feelings so often and often so unconsciously it can feel like I’m a human Dyson that hasn’t been turned off and has all this shit swirling around inside. Being an empath has made me a more compassionate person and critical thinker. It has also given me a lot of problems with really knowing myself when I so seamlessly internalize other’s thoughts, feelings and beliefs as they typically become so entangled with my own. Additionally, setting boundaries has been a major struggle for me. If I can’t figure out if my feelings are mine or not, how and where do I need to draw the line with myself and others? Fortunately, I’ve been doing a tremendous amount of work on that and that’s where being present comes in. Learning how to be present has been imperative to my emotional and psychological survival because it allows me the time and space to not only know that I have the ability to turn the empathy vacuum on or off, but to determine when, how much and with whom. When it comes to my experience as a bridesmaid I’ve been able to tap into those to things and allow the timbre of the occasion, the joy, and the heartfelt moments to affect me in a moving way. Also, if I see someone cry you can bet I will start tearing up.

Does all this make sense or are you still waiting for me to start sobbing about the sad state of ruin that is my love life? Hate to disappoint, but I’m really happy with where I’m at. Which is single. What really gets me, though, is people not hearing me when I say that and not believing me when I say that. Whether my expression of emotions is even registered for some people or not, they don’t believe me when I say I’m not interested in marriage. Frankly, it’s offensive. I understand that that may not be the other person’s intention, but impact matters more than intention. In fact, the only time intention is really worth consideration is when it is in alignment with impact. Otherwise, I highly suggest learning how to be accountable for your shit instead of putting it on the person you’re having a negative impact on. When people have pressed me about this topic and not taken themselves accountable, I’m left with so much emotional labor. I usually have to steer the conversation to some bullshit like, “maybe I just haven’t found the right person yet” just to get them off my fucking back because, for whatever reason, they can’t grasp the idea that marriage is not the end-all-be-all for some people.

When I was in second grade, I remember overhearing some of my classmates talking about their weddings and who they wanted to marry. All I remember thinking is, “What am I going to do with my life? How will I make an impact on the world?” There is nothing wrong with wanting to get married and have a family. There is nothing wrong with wanting to find your life’s purpose through work and career. There’s nothing wrong with being single and starting a family. There’s nothing wrong with being in a committed monogamous relationship and never getting married. The list goes on and on. There are so many valid and varied ways to live a fulfilling life… and yet. That first path I mentioned still seems to be deemed the only meaningful one. And that sucks. It sucks for someone like me who has really tried with this dating and romantic relationship thing and it all just feels wrong and like a nuisance. I have never not been miserable in a romantic relationship. It’s taken me a long time to realize that it’s not because there’s something wrong with me, though.

We’re conditioned to this very limiting hetero-normative narrative about what dating and romantic love and marriage is all supposed to be and mean to us. And none of it is particularly realistic and it hasn’t jived with me. So, why am I going to keep engaging in something that I know for a fact doesn’t make me feel good? Why would I spend so much time and energy on that when I can invest in myself and the things that make me feel joy? When I can put love and energy into relationships that already add so much to my life, like my friends, family, and mentors. Those relationships are just as valuable as romantic partnerships. We have to let go of the stereotypes and we have to stop jumping to conclusions about people when they’ve made deliberate life choices. We also really need to stop trying to be “right” about other people’s lives. Seriously, get a fucking hobby and let people be. And if you’re curious because you genuinely don’t understand, ASK THEM. If they agree to talk to you about it, something no one is required to do, LISTEN TO THEM. Don’t try to force your perspective on their experiences. You’re not gonna change their minds and it’s just rude. And if no one wants to talk to you about it, whether you’re rude or not nobody owes you anything, GOOGLE IT. People word vomit their life experiences on the internet all the time (hello and welcome to this very meta episode of WVW) and you’re likely to come across many stories of why people live the lives that they do. Newsflash: it’s not always an indication of being sad and lonely. People’s lives are interesting if you keep an open mind to them!

I could continue on and on about societal expectations on women (they’re fucked up and completely unrealistic so stop it) and talk about all the statistics of heterosexual-identifying people that state that single women are the happiest demographic just behind married men while single men and married women were reported as being most unhappy with married women being the unhappier demo. While this doesn’t represent every single person’s individual marriage, it does make it clear that marriage is an institution that generally only favors men. Because patriarchy. But, I’m not going to go into more of that because I’m not being paid to educate people and it's a great example of a topic you can practice your Google skills on. Try it out!

Anyway, I’m happy where I’m at in my life right now and I’m going to keep living my life based on my values and my intuition whether anybody else likes it or not.

Katie Louchheim hates vacuuming.

Word Vomit Wednesday - Simulacrum

 Welcome to Word Vomit Wednesday! A series of blog posts about random thoughts or a specific topic from current events that I, and sometimes the rest of the Internet, ruminate obsessively about. All thoughts/opinions/experiences are my own (unless otherwise indicated); I don’t claim anything that I write to represent anyone other than myself.




I’m sitting on my parent’s couch with a heating pad hugging my left shoulder blade because I apparently strained it while trying to see around the very tall woman seated in front of me at Centennial Hall. And while Finding Neverland was a very cute and harmless production, it was definitely not worth this misery and I think I’m feeling more sore about that than I am about the pain itself. Couchella 2018 is about as big of a bummer as every Coachella that doesn’t have Beyoncé performing. It’s also forcing me to literally sit and reflect on this past week in Tucson. This trip has neither been all fibro flare-ups nor without stress entirely, but what it has been is bizarre. I’m coming back to a place that I consciously ran away from partly because I didn’t feel like I could be myself there. Or even find out who that was. It was a place where I felt so trapped and afraid of and frustrated by everything. As the cosmic joke that life can be would have it, my healing journey indicated that it was time to go back and dig into the shit I thought I left behind. As I now know, no one ever leaves anything behind. Wherever you go, there you are and sometimes in order to move forward you need to take a few steps back.

Random Kanye West-style philosophical rambling aside, it is weird being back and knowing that I’m not just heading to New York for good at the end of the week. I’m here seeing my family, family friends, and even some friends I haven’t seen since high school and so much feels unnervingly unchanged. Except for me. Every day I have had a sense of anxiety and unease and it’s not about moving back for this sabbatical. It’s more this jarring out-of-body sensation of recognizing a schema, situation, or dynamic and just feeling slightly off within it. I’m taking that as a positive thing. Because while I am not totally at ease I’m also not totally off-kilter either. I feel more grounded in myself and less like I’m compromising my authenticity like I was when I left almost 11 years ago. It indicates growth and a realization that I have more power in situations. But, it’s also a very naked and vulnerable feeling. Feeling those feelings in these situations that recall seventeen years of previous experience in living here is incredibly confusing. Almost every day I’ve been texting friends telling them how anxious I am, how I can’t just sit still and relax, how I’m constantly looking over my shoulder when I’m out in public, how I’m having such trouble sleeping and I just don’t know why. You would think I was under Witness Protection or something.

No matter where I go I sense this essence of a Katie that no longer exists and it’s obstructing my view of the situation. Like the town is haunted by this emotionally wounded child that just doesn’t have the skills or knowledge to pass on. I don’t know if it’s just my memories coming into sharp focus and confusing the past for present reality, but every day there’s been a moment of haziness where the next thing to do, say, or go is either muddled or doesn’t exist at all. So, maybe that’s the job I’m supposed to do here. Picking up my life one place and putting in another is not the challenge. I’ve done that quite a few times already. And I don’t think exorcising or slaying the demons is what’s called for either because, as I am painfully aware of right now, that will probably just cause strain that cannot be helped by a few hours snuggled up with a heating pad. But maybe learning to face them and help them across the vale will help me actually move on too.

 

 

Katie Louchheim is looking into a career in supernatural diplomacy.

Word Vomit Wednesday - Traveling While Healing

CW: Sexual Assault

 

A little over a year ago I realized I needed to change my life. I had been living and bumbling around New York City for nearly a decade and was finally receiving some great career opportunities and a sense that my life was coming together. This “sense,” of course, was something I was just trying desperately to convince myself of. The fact is, I was constantly getting sick and was consistently in a huge amount of pain. Which wasn’t new to me. I’ve been in physical pain since I was, at least, eleven or twelve years old and just coped with it because it was my “normal.”

Jump back to June 2016. I’ve been to an allergist, ENT, had a CT scan of my sinuses, given so much blood to labs for testing I might as well have been at a blood drive, and I’m sitting in my PCP’s office as she’s going over results. I know exactly what those results say before she opens her mouth. I’ve been in this scenario over and over and over again in the course of my 29 years on this earth. The verdict: I’m healthy. Or, as the lab results put it, “unremarkable.” Oof. (My whole body is one giant flaming knot and the medical establishment has to then go ahead and bruise my ego too? That’s low). Given that all the labs came back fine but I was still in so much pain and had so little energy, my doctor diagnosed me with fibromyalgia.

What is fibromyalgia, you ask? In a nutshell: no one f*cking knows. Is it an autoimmune disease? Maybe. Are there genetic components that would make a person more likely to develop it? Perhaps…? What are the best ways to treat it?? *Shrug*. Essentially, it’s a diagnosis that doctors of the western persuasion give to people who they just don’t really know what to do with and don’t really have the growth mindset to figure out. *Side note: fibromyalgia has been strongly linked to trauma, which does make sense in my particular case, and I will come back to this later. So, one of the ways in which I began to make changes to my life in order to heal was making more time to travel.

It started off small, taking the Amtrak to visit friends in Vermont in August, heading out West to visit family in Washington, California, and Arizona in September, hopping on a quick flight to Montreal for my birthday in November. It felt so good to get away. I was all of a sudden having new experiences while also spending time with people I care about. Every time I left it felt like the “refresh” button was being pushed on my life. I began to feel like I was living my life instead of watching it pass me by and I began to be excited about the future even though I was still hazy about what it looked like. One thing that I knew for certain was that I needed to put myself first in ways that I had never been able to before (i.e. not feeling bad about having needs and getting them met). Which, let’s be honest, can be truly terrifying in and of itself.  On top of that, I still needed to contend with many American medical institutions. If you don’t know anything about the healthcare system in America, here’s the Cliffs Notes synopsis: It’s a shit show and everyone is screwed except for super wealthy people. Fun!

I literally didn’t go to the doctor, any doctor, for years because it can be such a nightmare and it overwhelmed me to the point of defeat. I didn’t see the point in fighting if I was never going to get the help I needed so I continued to ignore all the messages my body gave me because that’s what I knew how to do. The difference between late-twenties Katie and early-twenties and child Katie though, is that late-twenties Katie knows that she is worth fighting for and deserves better. She deserves better treatment, she deserves respect, she deserves getting what she needs come hell or high water. I (thank you third person, your services are no longer needed) am only one person and, chronic illness or not, need help and shouldn’t be shamed or ignored for asking for it.

Here’s what I know about traveling with chronic conditions. When traveling, medical issues don’t just go on vacation from you. And it’s imperative that you have a doctor you trust to communicate with you if something happens while you’re away. This was not the case for me. On the aforementioned trip in September, I was just coming out of severe withdrawal from a drug my doctor (who is no longer my doctor) had put me on to treat the fibro, which my insurance (which is no longer my insurance) decided to, out of the blue, no longer cover. Not even the amount to wean me off (it was some serious shit). It was one of the most frightening experiences of my life. So frightening that I was afraid to go to sleep in case I died. Not a trip that I was planning or am planning to take any time soon. By the time I got to Washington most of my withdrawal symptoms had gone. Except on the second day there. My right leg seized up and I was unable to walk for the rest of my stay in Seattle with my brother and his wife. Oh and I was in an excruciating amount of pain. So, what did I do? I called my doctor. For three. Straight. Days. I left so many messages that one time I got a recorded voice saying that the health clinic’s mailbox was full.

Thank goddess I was with family and that they didn’t mind pushing me around in a wheelchair or switching around plans so I would be in the least amount of discomfort before heading to California. Thankfully, by that time the pain had let up and of course that’s when my doctor #nolongermydoctor decided to call, chastise me for not going to an ER (FYI: unless I am bleeding out of all of my orifices I refuse to enter those rings of hell and that’s a whole other article in itself), and ultimately offer nothing useful in trying to help me in case it happened again. This should have been my first big tip-off that I needed to find another doctor. Instead, I convinced myself it was a fluke until she and her office pulled similar shit with me right before I was leaving on a two-month trip that would take me from New York to Hawaii, New Zealand, Australia, back across the United States to The Bahamas, then finally back to New York. Once again, thank goddess for my uncle who is a retired doctor and was able to call in my medications for me the night before I was leaving and with a half an hour before the pharmacy closed.

For people who have chronic illnesses, or any illness that requires medication and who plan to travel, one thing to find out about from your insurance company is a “vacation waiver.” Because I was traveling extensively for the first time and out of the country, I needed to have extra refills of my prescriptions so I didn’t run out and burst into flames (*not necessarily a side-effect of stopping medications early, but you never know). I was surprised and relieved that my insurance actually offered a waiver specifically for that purpose. So make sure to give your company a call and find out what the waiver is, how long it’s effective for and how many times a year you’re able to access it. This was probably one of the only times where my insurance was actually helpful.

So, what have we learned so far? Living with chronic illness means needing to be on top of every medical issue to make sure that it helps you live your life rather than keep you stuck and in pain. It is no easy task. Some medical professionals will not help you. On the flip side, vacation waivers! Besides keeping in order all of the things meant to keep a person with chronic illness functioning, there is still needing to deal with symptoms. Chronic illness is exactly what it sounds like. Chronic, consistent, every moment of every day. Some days are better than others. People can also be happy and chronically ill at the same time. Around the time that I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia I was also diagnosed with PTSD (told ya I’d get back to trauma!). It is very common for people who have been diagnosed with fibro to also have a history of and are survivors of trauma including sexual assault/abuse, which is the case for me.  It’s kind of a chicken and egg conundrum which is also why treating fibromyalgia is so difficult. Not only do scientific and medical institutions know very little about our nervous systems, they also can’t treat the things that can trigger us.

I could be anywhere in the world and if my brain senses anything resembling my traumatic experiences, my nervous system goes haywire and I’m stuck in our very primal fight, flight, or freeze mode. And it did happen. Here are examples of the most extreme experiences from my New Zealand/Australia trip. One time was walking around in Melbourne with my mom. I felt so overwhelmed from the moment we got there and once that feeling set in it did not go away. Even eating didn’t help. My body felt like it was on fire, I had no patience for anything, I didn’t feel safe, I just needed to get back to my room and my stuff as soon as possible. The other time we were heading to Dunedin, New Zealand. The night before we got there, I woke up super early in the morning because I started having flashbacks of my assault. I don’t know what triggered them, it just sucked and it took me forever to get back to sleep. When I woke up to get ready for the day I realized I couldn’t move. My hips felt like they were locked and it was extremely painful to do a few things. Things like: lie down, sit, modify my position to get from lying down to sitting, standing, and any movement in general.

Being a person with chronic illness who also wants to function in society and explore the world is really hard. You can’t leave your disease in your desk at work to take care of when you get back. You can’t leave your symptoms with the cat-sitter. You can’t even put your baggage in your baggage to whip out just in case you have a day where you’re not doing anything. It’s just going to be your travel companion no matter what, and it will pop up when it gets the message to. The way society is set up does not make it easy for those of us living with chronic illnesses and even the most well-intentioned people don’t understand or know what we really need. That also doesn't mean that you're going to ruin any travel experience because you have particular needs that you need to put first. At this point, my healing journey is tied into all of the other journeys I’ve taken and will continue to take. Right now my takeaway is learning to accept myself no matter where I am and what I’m feeling. And have better doctors because ain’t nobody got time for that bullshit.

Katie Louchheim is a wide-eyed wanderer who takes a lot of pics of where she goes and is not opposed to a shameless plug! Follow @ktjlouch on Instagram for awesome travel pics, blurbs about living with chronic illness and more.