Tag Archives: chronic pain

2012 So Far: It’s All Coming Together

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I’ve been horribly lacking in the blogging department lately. I’d apologize, but I’ve been accomplishing a lot. As some of you know, my parents, sister, and I moved in with my grandparents about six years ago. The house is a three-family home, and each apartment is a one-bedroom. Originally, my great-grandmother lived on the first floor and my grandparents lived on the third floor. My great aunt lives on the second floor. When we moved in, my sister and I moved in with my grandparents on the third floor, and my parents moved in with my great-grandmother on the first floor. It was supposed to be temporary, so we literally slapped down mattresses in the middle of each apartment. When Popi got sick, he and Noni moved downstairs and my parents came upstairs. Mike moved in with us on the third floor. Popi passed away. Our apartment continued to look like a hostel rather than a home.

For years, we planned on moving things around, making it look better, but for one reason or another (conflicting schedules, procrastination, etc), it never quite happened. We did finally empty out our storage unit and move everything into the cellar. Mom rearranged the bedroom. I decided to stop waiting for any kind of collaborative effort and took it upon myself to rearrange my sister’s and my room, what was originally our grandparents’ dining room.

For the past six years, our mattresses sat on an angle in the middle of the room, leaving only a slim pathway between the living room and kitchen. It’s still not done, but I moved a lot of furniture around, went through all of my things and took out several garbage bags, vacuumed, dusted… and ended up with this:

Coming together...

Coming together...

There’s still a huge walnut desk and dry sink that need to be moved downstairs so that Noni can use them again (the dry sink is just for decoration), but it’s coming together nicely. Mostly, I’m proud of myself because I thought I couldn’t do anything like this anymore (moving furniture around). I thought it’d be too much on my body… which it was, but I did it anyway. And you know what? Every day after I moved furniture, I felt a little better. Sure, I popped a lot of Tylenol and Tramadol at night after lifting, heaving, and tugging all day, but the sense of pride I felt way outweighed the pain.

I’ve lost a little momentum now, but can’t do much more anyway until the desk and dry sink come out. I have “before” pictures and I can’t wait to show you them with the “after” pictures I’m going to take. I know it’s probably not such a big deal, but knowing I did this all by myself is a big deal to me. Take that, joint pain! Plus, getting anything done around here is a big deal anyway. We’ve all been sardined in here for so long that everyone’s sort of gotten comfortable with it, even though we all complain about the lack of space.

I printed out the first draft of Secondhand Mom, and as I put the pages into plastic page protectors in a binder, I noticed a lot of continuity errors just from speed reading as I went through the stack. I sort of want to edit Secondhand Mom before I work on Sade On the Wall, but I’m not sure yet. I think SOTW will be easier to turn into a second draft, because there aren’t any continuity errors, just some style issues, accuracy with some description, and maybe pace. The more editing and revising I do, the more I love it.

Speaking of which, I’ve edited and revised another short story to be published as an ebook soon. I just need to format the manuscript and haven’t had the chance to do it. I did design a cover, though, and after sleeping on it for a few days, I’m really happy with it and won’t be making any changes. At some point, I’m going to write up a quick post about designing covers.

And continuing with the writing theme… I found a website that has tons of freelance copywriting jobs, and was thinking about trying to make that into my part-time income, but then decided I’d rather spend that time working on my fiction. So, one of my goals for this year have changed, just a little.

I’m really anxious to get this room finished, though, because my whole reason for rearranging it was to create a more organized and comfortable work space for myself. I have a hard time doing any writing when I feel cluttered.

I’ve also been thinking about going back to Facebook. Hear me out. I know I said I wouldn’t, but it’s becoming more and more clear to me that, for marketing purposes, I do probably need to be there, to some extent. I want to get my hands dirtier with self-publishing and submitting stories to markets so that when I start querying Sade On the Wall, I have somewhat of a name and readership built up for myself. I was talking with a friend one night over dinner about self-publishing and she asked me if she could do it, too. “Sure,” I said. “You’d even have a leg up on me, because you still have a Facebook, with friends and family on it who’d support your work.” And it’s true. I gained a lot of readers through Facebook. Half the time, I didn’t even know people were reading until it was casually mentioned, or someone emailed me about a blog post I’d written. I’ve decided that, if I do go back, my personal profile will be completely locked down, and I’ll use it only to run a page focused on my writing. That way, I won’t have to deal with most of the things I hated about Facebook. I haven’t completely decided yet, though.

Speaking of social media, I now have an author profile on Goodreads. This isn’t nearly as cool as it sounds. It’s still the same profile I had before, just more writerly. I’m still relatively unknown… but I’m hoping this will give me a leg up. Maybe I won’t have to return to the devil Facebook. ;)

However — and this is cool — I discovered that Goodreads authors can put their ebooks up for sale there… so “Moon Prayer” is now available on Goodreads. “Moon Prayer” is still not available on Amazon… but De told me it’s because Smashwords and Amazon are at some kind of standstill for negotiations, so I need to upload it to Amazon myself. This is on my mile-long To Do list… which is only getting longer, but I love every minute of this.

I’ve been following De’s successes closely for a long time now, but recently started following the success story of Amanda Hocking as well, and the more I read about either of them, the more possible this all seems. I’m going to be an author. It doesn’t feel far-fetched, like some kind of pipe dream. It feels like a real dream. It still scares me, but in a good way.

If your dreams don't scare you, they're not big enough.

via Pinterest

It’s freeing.

Aside from all that, I’ve been reading, experimenting with clothing and makeup, contemplating cutting my hair, spending time with friends and family, saving my ass off for a Mac and an apartment, snuggling with my cat, loving Mike and falling in love with him over and over, and just enjoying life in general.

It’s all coming together.

What This Blog Is, What This Blog Isn’t

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I used to struggle with having a “point” for my blog. Okay, so I didn’t struggle with that when I was on LiveJournal or when I moved to my first domain (perpetualsmile.net), but as I started to mature as a person and as a writer, I began to wonder: Should I blog about my life? Should I just stick to the “professional” stuff? And then, a couple of weeks ago, De said to me:

I don’t advise separating your life from your writing. Aches and pains aren’t thrilling, but they are human, and humanity in a writer is never a bad thing.

It changed how I looked at my little corner of the web, and also how I looked at myself, my life, and my writing. I’ve been on this quite extraordinary journey throughout the last six months or maybe even year, and I have this awareness of myself that I’ve never had before now. It’s freeing and empowering. It’s also, however, changed this blog (among other things in my life, but that’s another post for another day).

At first, the change in this blog scared me. I wondered if any of the people I’d met through blogging would continue to read it. It terrified me that maybe they wouldn’t like the new stories I wanted to tell. I decided I want to help other creatives — writers, artists, musicians, etc — market themselves, as well as continue to tell my own stories about my life. I worried about how the two would blend… and then I started thinking about De’s words. “Aches and pains [...] are human.” That’s what really stuck with me. Aches and pains are what get us from Point A to Point B in our own personal journeys through life. We might not see it at the time, but when we look back, it’s amazing. Or at least, it is for me.

I want to share my aches and pains with you, in the hopes that my experiences will help you get through your own aches and pains. This includes my chronic illness, my depression, trial and error with digital marketing, and everything related to writing. See, these things are all a huge part of me, and I have learned that I can’t hide the ugly if I want to show the beauty.

At some point, you have to make a decision. Boundaries don’t keep other people out. They fence you in. Life is messy. That’s how we’re made. So, you can waste your life drawing lines. Or you can live your life crossing them.

–Meredith Grey, Grey’s Anatomy

My best friend has this tattooed on her back, and what I love about it most is that it can be interpreted in so many ways, and the more I grow, the more interpretations I see. This is an important lesson in writing, too; Robert Kirkman frequently tells impatient readers of The Walking Dead that the highs wouldn’t seem so high if there weren’t any lows in the story.

What This Blog Is

  • A chronicle of my journey from writer to author
  • A chronicle of my life with chronic illness
  • A chronicle of my struggle with depression
  • A chronicle of my marketing lessons learned

What This Blog Isn’t

  • A dumping ground for negativity; there is always negativity, but I will not share it just for the sake of being negative, no matter how tempting it may seem.

I share other things here, too, like book reviews and music I’m currently digging. (Speaking of, you should check out Washington. She’s a solo act from Australia, and I’m a little in love. She’s a little jazzy, a little ska, a little alternative, and her song “Holy Moses” hooked me from the first time I heard it.) My main goal here, however, is to chronicle my journey from writer to author, and to help other creatives market themselves online.

What’s the “point” of your blog? Is it just for fun? Is it for business? Is it a chronicle of something? Is it a mix?

Holding My Head Above the Water

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It has come to my attention that I’m not happy. I want my life to be a certain way and, rather than feeling bad that it isn’t that way, it’s time to sit down and decide A) how I want my life to be, and B) how I’m going to make that happen.

How I Want My Life to Be

I want to spend most of my time writing, and I want to get paid to do so. I want to have my books published and then write more books. I want to write articles for other creatives to help them market themselves.

I want to get married and have babies, but I don’t want to have any babies until I publish at least one novel.

I want to get a grip on my mystery autoimmune disease. I’m sick of spending the day taking medication with no results. Throughout the last week, I’ve taken more Mobic, Tylenol, and Tramadol than I fear my body can handle, and the worst part is, it barely helps until all three are in my system. I’m terrified that I’m developing a stomach ulcer or something.

How I’m Going to Accomplish This

I’m going to run through Sade On the Wall and get it ready for an editor. This means that I need to write the new first chapter that’s been sitting in my head, and make a few adjustments to the chapter where Sade and her brother go to the community center. Then I’m going to find an editor who isn’t too expensive so that he or she can help me whip this manuscript into shape.

Then, when Sade On the Wall is out for query, I’m going to repeat these steps for Secondhand Mom.

In the meantime, I’m going to keep writing stories and articles, and I may even write another novel.

I’m not going to go back to school just because some people in my life — people whom I really, really love, and know mean well — think I should. I’m going to hold off until I really want to go.

I need to put myself first for a while and stop worrying about everyone else.

I can’t control everything. I can’t control my chronic pain, even though I try really hard. I can’t control my depression, even though I try really hard there, too. The lack of daylight is really not helping with my mood, so maybe it’s time to get a light box. It’s also time to start eating better: more fruits and vegetables, and more protein.

I’m also thinking about separating my more personal blog from this one. I want the focus of elizabethbarone.net to be my writing, not my aches and pains.

So, I need your advice.

  • Do you use a light box? What brand is it, and about how much did it cost? Does it help?
  • Would it be confusing if I used elizabethbarone.net to talk about writing and someotherwebsite.com to talk about my chronic pain, depression, etc? Am I annoying you with my digital indecisiveness?
  • Can you recommend any feel good foods or recipes that are healthy and would be convenient to take with me to work? (I usually only have a fifteen-minute break, so I don’t have a lot of time to heat anything up.)

Hugs are good, too. I just feel so overwhelmed. I hate to admit it, but there it is.

How Returning to Retail Changed My Life

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Sometimes, I really believe that things happen for a reason. In the summer of 2010, I quit my part-time job as a web designer for a newspaper, and began working full-time on my and a partner’s digital marketing business. That didn’t work out, for many reasons, and I found myself jobless in early 2011. It took me almost a month to find a new job as the marketing specialist at a tee shirt design company. Suddenly, I no longer had to worry about money, because I was making a salary of $30,000 a year — or $800 every two weeks — after Uncle Sam intervened. I worked eight-hour days and saved most of my paychecks. The job had its problems, but the paycheck was well worth the stress. Or so I thought until I got sick again.

When you have a chronic illness, you never know when another flareup is going to occur, or how long it will last. It’s even worse if you’re undiagnosed and don’t have any sort of treatment plan other than symptomatic relief. In less than a month, I became completely worn down. I could barely get out of bed, and limped from my bed to the bathroom every morning. I was twenty-two years old, but my body felt like I was eighty-two. My skin broke out in weird rashes and my ankles swelled up so much, I couldn’t wear anything other than flip flops. I had to leave early frequently for doctors’ appointments, and called out three times in three months on mornings when I really just couldn’t push myself. Throughout all of this, I talked to my supervisor, who pretended to be understanding but threw me under the bus later; after three months of working there, I found myself unemployed and still in pain.

It almost destroyed me. The side of the couch I sat on every day will forever be softer than the other side from the days I spent filling out job applications online and doing a lot of staring at my laptop screen. I decided to return to retail because of the flexible scheduling; I could still make doctors’ appointments, and could go back to school. Retail jobs are usually everywhere because people shop as often as cats bathe, but it took me almost four months to find one.

Even though I knew the scheduling would benefit me, I worried constantly about being on my feet all day. Previously, I’d only had desk jobs, which made it a little easier to crawl into work on those days when I could barely get out of bed. Still, I was beyond broke; the huge chunk of change I’d saved during those three months was gone after three and a half months of unemployment, and a stack of bills sat on my desk.

For the first few weeks, I came home aching every day. Even wearing sneakers instead of flats didn’t help the problem very much. I powered through, though, and after about a month, paid off all my bills. At the end of every week, though, I was broke again. As a cashier, I was only getting about fifteen hours a week, so I asked my supervisor if I could cross-train in another department, in the hopes that I could become a sort of Jack of all trades and get more hours because of my experience in multiple departments. Since talking to my supervisor, I’ve cross-trained on the floor in the clothing departments (folding clothes and assisting customers), in merchandising (putting away new clothes and organizing them according to the book), and in freight (putting away the merchandise that comes off the truck). I willingly volunteered for all of this, and yet in the back of my mind was terrified that I couldn’t do it… but I did do it.

It’s not easy. There are days when I limp through my shift. Sometimes my wrists give up on life. I most definitely cannot carry more than a few pairs of jeans at a time. (Who knew denim could be so heavy?) I usually come home with my back screaming, or at least with very achy, swollen feet. Sometimes while I’m working, I think, I can’t, but then I somehow find a way to power through. Slowly, the word “can’t” is disappearing from my vocabulary. Slowly, I am learning to work through my pain — literally.

There was a time when I would literally lay down and stop fighting when it hurt so much I wanted to cry and when I got hit with that fatigue that permeates my bones, but I’m learning to keep on swimming, and it has changed my life immensely. It’s changed my outlook, which has enabled me to do what I’ve always wanted to do, but never thought I could: write for a living.

I’m living my dream life, because I can.

Off My Mind: Things I am Not Going to Worry About

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Lately I’ve been worrying so much that I barely have time for anything else, in my head at least. The other day I realized that I just need to stop worrying… so I did. This is unprecedented in Liz history. The worries are still there, of course, but they no longer threaten to suck me dry. I no longer feel like I’m going to break into little pieces. I still need to purge my system, though, and get these worries off my mind.

I am not going to worry about money anymore. My paycheck every Friday isn’t that great — I work fifteen hours a week and earn minimum wage — and it may be tight every week, but I’m okay. It’ll be even less tight after next Friday, when I pay off the last bill in the stack of bills that I need to catch up on. Hell, I’m even managing to save a little bit of money every week. I’ve gotten damn good at budgeting. Clearly I am wife material.

I am not going to worry that every family member’s health problem is a death sentence anymore. Well okay, that’s probably impossible to stop doing, but I’m going to try. My aunt had her biopsy on the 21st, and the other lady in my life who needs a mammogram has yet to make an appointment, so either way it’s all out of my hands. Worrying is not going to help anything. It’s just going to make me feel sick.

I am not going to worry about my own health problems. Currently I’m in remission, meaning I have little to no symptoms. This could all change tomorrow, but I’m not going to worry about that. I’m actually feeling quite positive about this year’s New York Comic Con; last year, I hurt for days after, but this year I’m less soft because I work in retail again and I’m used to being on my feet for hours. By October 15th, I’ll be a pro. I’m not going to let my pain ruin that day for me.

I’m also not going to worry about my lack of a diagnosis. It’s got to be a good thing that they haven’t found anything, because maybe that means this will go away. Maybe it’s just some weird aftereffect of the mono I had, maybe it’s just the mono working its way out of my system all these years later. I don’t know. I caught a segment of some Mystery Diagnosis-ish show last night and the woman’s symptoms were almost to the T mine; I could have written that part of the episode. She ended up being diagnosed with Scleroderma, an autoimmune disease where the body doesn’t produce enough of the collagen protein and the body attacks its own skin cells and other tissues. It’s a rare disease marked by joint pain, fatigue, Raynaud’s Syndrome, and GI issues. It sounds pretty close to mine, and maybe it’s not mine, but once I get back on my feet and can afford another doctor’s appointment, I’m going to have Pam check my collagen levels in my next blood workup. It gives me something else to go on and something else to cross of the long list of Things That are Not Wrong with Me if the test comes back negative… but I’m not going to let it get to me.

And while we’re still on the health subject, I am so going to stop worrying about my Mirena IUD. When they first told me it could potentially poke through my uterus and cause DOOM, I didn’t worry about it. But ever since I missed my followup because I couldn’t afford the copay, I’ve been freaking out at the slightest bit of pressure in my lower abdomen. Logic tells me I would definitely know if the thing poked through my wall because I’d be in screaming pain and bleeding like a stuck pig or something, but my imagination (as we know) runs rampant and tells me that I am bleeding internally and am going to die. If you’ve ever thought I might be crazy, you now may be convinced that I am completely insane. I’m not apologizing for my imagination. It helps me write stories. :P

I am not going to worry about what I want to do for the rest of my life. I had this problem. I wanted to do everything and couldn’t pick one thing to do forever. A week ago, I realized that I don’t have to pick one thing. A career should be something you enjoy, that you want to get paid for. It shouldn’t be a life sentence. At least, not for me. I am not a “pick one thing and do it forever” kind of person. The only thing I do forever is love someone. I have many interests, all of which wax and wane. It keeps my life interesting and keeps me learning. I can already tell that I’m going to be one of those seventy-year-olds embarking on a new career, because I am always embarking on a new interest, and have already had a successful career.

Part of me wanted to be an editorial assistant, part of me wanted to be a teacher, and part of me wanted to be a surgeon. I can’t do it all at once, and I accept that. I tried to pick one thing to do forever and I couldn’t convince myself that it was okay, so when I realized that I didn’t have to choose, I felt a huge weight come off me. All I had to do was choose which one I wanted to do next. As much as I’d love to be an editorial assistant, it’s not realistic for what I want in my life right now. I’d have to go to school for another two to three years, work the retail job I have now, and then when I finished I’d have to find a job in the field… which would not be easy. I want to work as an editor for a publishing company and read people’s novels and short stories. Those jobs are very, very hard to come by, partly because of the economy, and partly because of the changing landscape of publishing. It doesn’t mean that it would be impossible. It just wouldn’t be easy.

So instead, I’ve decided to chase my other dream for now and come back to that one later: being a teacher. I’ve decided that I’d rather work as a preschool teacher because, as much as I love all kids, that age group is my favorite. And, in Connecticut, you can become a preschool teacher with either an A.S. in Early Childhood Education or your CDA certification. I’ve also heard that many preschool and Head Start programs will hire a teacher as long as they are currently working on their certification. I’ve emailed the head of the ECE department at my community college to see what my best option would be, as the certification on its own would take less time than the A.S., and I’m assuming that since I already have an A.S., I’d be just fine with the certificate.

I’d be able to start working in that field in a relatively short period of time, and then I would have a good paying job with health insurance benefits and enough income to live off of. After that, I could start pursuing my B.A. in English part-time and eventually be in that field, as well as have time to focus on my writing; most preschool teachers are part-time employed, and depending on where they teach, they also have summers off. I would also have something to fall back on if I can’t find employment as an editorial assistant. No matter how I look at it, this works for the best.

I am not going to worry about our wedding plans. Mike and I both have very different ideas of what our wedding should look like. He wants a Halloween wedding and I want a beach wedding — two very different seasons. I worried about us compromising, but I’ve decided that if we don’t, I don’t care. It doesn’t really matter to me how we get married, so long as we do get married. We’re going to talk about our wedding plans, budget, and a possible date later.

I am not going to beat myself up about my savings and worry about how soon we can get our own place. It really bothers me that I had to use the money I saved for an apartment to get through the months I was unemployed… but I’m not going to beat myself up about it anymore. I’m saving money again and moving forward. I’m considering setting up a second savings account that is only for the apartment, that way it’s out of sight and out of mind, and I won’t be tempted to tap into it next time I have a monetary emergency.

And, on a lighter note… I am not going to worry about catching up on Grey’s Anatomy anymore. I finished Episode 16 of Season 7 earlier today, DVRed the first episode of Season 8 last night, and I’ll catch up eventually. I’m not really looking forward to having to wait a whole week to see the next episode, anyway.

Also, on a completely different subject but also equally light note, I am back in my writers’ group at NVCC. I’m also sort of a team leader, the person who is there every Thursday so that we meet once a week no matter what. This also means that, every week, I have to write something. It also means that I’m taking it upon myself to ensure that, every week, we have some kind of snack. Snacks are important. I’m making the writers’ group and the Fresh Ink publication one of my priorities right now, because it helps me make writing one of my priorities. Writing and snacks are important.

What are you not worrying about, and what are you looking forward to? Leave a comment and get the bad things off your mind, and make something good your mind’s priority.