Dear Friends and Family,

I hope the holiday season has been magical. Since we only really keep in touch through Christmas card updates, allow me to give you the 2011 highlight reel.

2011 was the year of not so great decisions. I mean, nobody got fired and nobody got pregnant so yay team but when you spend the majority of 2010 feeling lousy and then you start to feel good…yep…BALLS. TO. THE. WALL.

I did do some awesome things that surprised me- completed a 3 hr zipline and ropes course, traveled a fair amount, learned that I love drinking wine and painting even though my paintings look like something a blindfolded toddler would do, and made peace with several people in my life I didn’t expect to ever make peace with.

I did some really stupid things too. Like calming unexpected pre-cross country flight nerves Charlie Sheen style where I don’t really remember connecting in Atlanta but HOLY CRAP did my Facebook status updates paint a picture!

Winning.

I overcame some significant fears. I got my first infusion treatment with no incident, probably because it was last minute and I was hungover. (Notice a theme? Cross file this under stupidity.)

I hurt myself. I fell badly and sprained my left ankle. I’m now having issues with disease activity in this spot. Thank you so much, unmarked water on floor at Target. I spent too much time overcelebrating the fact that I felt better and wound up back at square one. And I got super depressed. I’m still working out that last part.

I had some pretty emotional moments. Losing several fellow RAers was heartbreaking. That, combined with a health scare with my mom this fall (she’s ok) have made me very clingy with my family and close friends. I’m sorry if I’m being annoying…again, see above.

But you know what? While it sounds like parts of 2011 were a complete bust, I really feel like it has set me up to be better than ever in 2012. So while my cat may not moonlight in Fancy Feast ads and while I don’t spend my spare time sneaking in classes in gourmet cooking or herbal medicine, I’ve learned a lot and can focus on hopefully writing about how happy I am in this new year!

Henceforth I give you, the 10 best text messages I’ve received in 2011:

‘My wife is out of town. My kids are out of town. I have no food. Dinner?’

(in response to me inquiring how a bachelorette party went)

‘I am now the only person in the world who has ever face planted on Bourbon St dressed as a princess carrying a metal lunchbox that was so loud it alerted everyone to turn and watch me fall but not help.’

(In response to me texting a friend on my way home from a date and I had to GO NOW)

‘ I have it good authority that guys love incontinent bitches…really, don’t pee yourself.’

‘Hypothetically speaking, on a scale of 1 to 10, how upset would you be if someone were to back into your right rear bumper? I love you, beautiful friend!’

(in response to my text saying can I interest you in a spin class)

‘Can I interest YOU in a colonoscopy?’

‘I can’t wait until they remake Twilight in 20 years with people who can actually act.’

‘I want to sleep with Taylor Lautner except for that whole thing with him being underage. But if I wind up a convicted sex offender, I’d be legally obligated to tell everyone and they would all understand.’

(during a graphic TMI really bad cramp discussion)

‘well, if you’re pregnant and don’t know it and this is really labor, don’t have your baby in a toilet. That’s undignified.’

(In reference being forced walking an arthritis walk with me)

‘Exactly how far do I have to walk? What if it rains? I want a tshirt. Can we just show up, get the shirts and then ditch for IHOP? I don’t want you to overdo it.’

‘Yaaay! Bad judgement prevails over common sense yet again! Go team!’

I’m sure most of these are only funny to me, especially because I know the senders and the context.

But hopefully my crazy friends will cheer some of you up like they do for me!

If you comment pushing a product, I will not approve it.

If I mention using specific brands or products, it is because they are actual products I use and not products I am being compensated for using.

If I were to ever post something about a product that I am compensated for using or writing about, I would note that.

As of yet, that hasn’t happened nor am I seeking opportunities for that to happen.

I try to keep this space true to my experience so please do not use the comments section for blatant advertising.  I get that we all have products we believe in…and that’s ok…and I am fine with you posting a link to your blog advertising such…but I am really not interested in approving comments that are basically advertisements.

I’m sorry if this causes hurt feelings but please understand and respect where I’m coming from.

I spied something more rare than a unicorn at my infusion right before I left town on Wednesday.

The mythical OMG SOMEONE MY AGE also getting an infusion. I felt many emotions: shock, awe, curiousity…disappointment that I wouldn’t be the center of attention that day.

I kid. Kinda. But don’t you like it when you go in and you’re the only patient too? SO MUCH faster… plus you feel like a celebrity because everyone sits and talks to you and brings you unlimited crackers.

Anyways. I was starting to feel weird because I kept trying to subtly watch her. Like me, I could see no physical evidence of illness although the needle in the arm was certainly abnormal. She looked like someone I’d be friends with!

I was getting ready to introduce myself when the nurse came in and said the Dr needed to see me before we started.

Great! I knew she would be gone when I got back and hated that I was missing the chance to make a new RA friend. PLUS, I wanted to make sure nobody thought I was creepy and weird for staring.

But seriously! The mythical person my age with my disease sitting in the chair in MY clinic!

A very rare sighting indeed.

I met with the Dr and when I had returned to the infusion room, I had all but forgotten about my unicorn friend. Plus, I will admit to being secretly thrilled to regain my VIP status.

The nurse came over and, in the midst of starting the line, said ‘oh! I almost forgot! The girl who was here earlier asked about you after you left. Here’s her info, she said she’d love to talk if you ever need it.’

Wow.

I am thankful for so many things. Friends, family, pets, opportunities. And I am also thankful for random acts of kindness that are bigger pick me ups than you may realize.

I hope you all had a wonderful holiday.

Unfortunately, I think that many of us experience the co-existence of depression and chronic illness and while I want to always be positive and funny, I guess I figured that nobody would want to hear about being sad.

Shame on me. I blog, of course, to make connections with other people but also because it helps me process to see it written down somewhere.

I’ve also tried to be as realistic as possible so why in the world would I not write about this very real part of it?

Maybe because I needed to let it happen for awhile before I was willing to start processing it.

So what am I depressed about?

I really don’t know. I think it’s just a culmination of chronic illness, trying to do everything for everyone all the time, trying to be in 10 places at once, working and stressing about work far too much, and letting people take advantage of me.

It’s a lot.

I find myself in a position where I’m continually exhausted, where I get home from work and have absolutely no energy to do anything (including blogging), where I’m avoiding friends because I just don’t feel like going anywhere, and where my body is hurting because stress makes my symptoms so much worse.

Of course, the rational reactions I’ve had (screaming and throwing a double bird) to seriously important and life altering events (a homeless dude who jaywalked in front of my car on a quiet street carrying a case of beer) definitely make me a good time to hang out with.

Everybody loves the crazy angry girl!

Or at least everyone loves someone crazy!

Maybe it’s my bodys way of saying HEY YOU! YOU! Yeah, YOU with the blond (strawberry blond right now, thank you epic fail at touching up the roots yourself) hair! You’re not taking care of me! You’re trying to make me do an Ironman where I’m really only in proper form for a 10k! You’re not feeding me properly. You’re not giving me enough sleep. Sure, you bathe me but I could really use some exercise. And since you’re not giving me this, I’m going to make it so that all you feel like doing is getting into bed and crying.

Dude, body. I’d much prefer a good old fashioned bitch slap.

I had a moment with a good friend recently where everything kinda fell apart. And by fell apart, I mean that she asked me how my day was and I literally fell apart. I hadn’t realized until then how bad I was…and it was a good, much needed cry that ended with a long walk and a cup of tea.

So what am I doing right now? I am making damn well sure I get MY time. While I usually do a gratitude challenge for myself in November, now I’m taking time everyday to do 3 things for myself. Something I want to do, something for my health, and something to set me up for a good day tomorrow.

Today, it was a long hot bath and some yoga stretches. And I fully intend to dream about People’s new Sexiest Man Alive tonight so chalk that up to starting tomorrow happy!

Slowly but surely.

I say hysterically challenging because it was so funny that I just can’t be upset about it!!

Truth: I have a very sweet cat. She has been indoors her whole life, she sleeps a lot, and she poops in a box. While I may have a bit of a begging situation at play in my house…ok, not begging because Molly has manipulated her way into virtually unlimited treats due to cuteness…and I complain because a few times I’ve barefoot stepped in hairball, she’s very easy to take care of and I swear, she’s kept me sane in this journey!

Anyways, this past week, I’ve been dogsitting for my neighbors’ rottweiler mutt mix. Translation: sweetheart but a super big, rather aggressive, highly neurotic dog who goes through life like she’s been shot out of a cannon on red bull.

Oh. My. God.

For starters, before I can even take her out on her walk, I have to get in the house. The key is stiff and with my swollen fingers, she unfortunately has ample time to FREAK THE EFF OUT about the blond intruder. As soon as I get the door open, she recognizes me and FREAKS THE EFF OUT realizing that she’s going outside. And did I mention that she’s a jumper? Oh yeah…hurls 80 ish pounds straight at you to show her enthusiasm.

Dude. Can’t you just sniff my crotch?

Getting the harness on her is like trying to lasso a bull on crack greased in Crisco with a rope that has little parts you have to get just so. I have begged, pleaded, and yelled: hold still!

And then I don’t take her on a walk. Nope. She drags me. Girlfriend prefers a pace where I’m half running. It was fun tonight in Uggz on wet leaves; I felt like I was water skiing! So fun for the arthritis patient terrified of falling!

Twice, we have seen rabbits.

Rabbits.

Imagine being drug through the yard at night, slipping and running and scared of falling, just trying to keep up with this huge dog while wrapping the leash around one wrist and keeping a firm hold on the lower part with the other hand. And then…being unexpectedly and forcibly yanked in another darker direction. Rope burn!

Seriously rabbits. Let’s work together. You don’t want to be eaten just like I don’t want to fall or suffer whiplash. Surely we can come to an agreement!

When the walk is over and I try to leave, I have to back out and kinda block the door. Because oh yes, girlfriend is a darter. And when she darts, she doesn’t run out and leisurely walk the backyard.

Nope, she’s all MLK ‘free at last’ and in my assessment, if you lose the dog you’re dogsitting, you have failed miserably at said task.

I did check and just in case, she’s microchipped so I wouldn’t have to pull a Meet The Parents.

Nope, while I will be spending two more days dogsitting, I will not have to paint any dogs. SCORE.

When I sleep, I like it completely silent and pitchblack.  I have a white noise machine, blackout shades, and a sleeping mask. The only acceptable noise is rain. When I don’t feel good, I must have it quieter that completely silent and if I could figure out how to transport my room into a blackhole, that would be fabulous.

Thursday was just horrible.  Even with my blackout shades pulled as tight as possible, there was still light. I dozed very fitfully in between getting sick every 30 minutes, couldn’t get comfortable because I felt so lousy and because of the damn sunshine, and had really strange, disorienting dreams when I could sleep.  Several times, I woke with a start because I swear to God I heard footsteps in my room, knocking, and then a phone ringing that wasn’t mine.  I remember thinking am I sick enough to hallucinate?

I live next door to one of my friends from college.  Our bedroom walls are shared and are very thin which has led to some, um, awkward moments.  Last year, when I had bronchitis, she texted me at 3am telling me to get either some water or a cough drop because the coughing was keeping her awake.  So yes, when we’re both in our respective beds, we’re really only 2-3 feet away.

Anyways.  She gets off of work at 330 so I texted her at 315 that a) if she stopped and got me some Sprite on her way home, I’d give her $20 and b) if the vomiting didn’t stop soon, I may need her to drive me to urgent care.

She texted me back immediately that she’d been home sick all day and had I been in bed and getting up all day because she swore she heard walking.  So yes, we were both sick as dogs in bed 3 feet away from each other hearing each other jump up to get sick and thinking we were losing it.

The whole point of this is:  I’ve noticed when I get sick like that, my RA is usually better.  I don’t know if it’s my immune system sending an evite to my joints saying PARTAY IN THE STOMACH or what.

I also wonder if it’s the lack of food.  Case in point, I’m still feeling better RA wise because my stomach is still kinda blah so all I’ve had to eat since Wednesday is Sprite, soup, and then I got crazy tonight and had a hamburger patty (which is not sitting so well. BOO.)

Or maybe all my immune system cells that are normally attacking my joints are just hungover from what they did to my stomach?

Who knows.  It’s just nice that I only have to deal with one problem at a time.

In honor of our fabulously “blue day,” this onset story post is written as part of the IAAM World Arthritis Day Blog Event, an event with participants from MANY other blogs, support groups, non-profits, and major advocacy groups.  How awesome is it when this fabulous community of ours puts together a united front!  Because, honestly, that’s what we HAVE to do in order to make changes for the better.  If you’re a blogger reading this and want to know how to participate, email me (or comment) and I’ll send you the scoop.  Also, I encourage you to visit the IAAM Facebook page to see other blogs participating AND (if that’s not enough), post your own onset stories in my comments and not only will I approve the comment, I will also repost your comments in a seperate post so that all may read it.

So…enough instructions right?  On to the story!

Some of you may have seen some recent press and advocacy efforts in response to some absolutely assinine socially irresponsible comments made by Dr Phil on two seperate occasions.  According to Dr Phil, obesity causes rheumatoid arthritis.  Yep, you read that right.  And even better, this was said by a man whose dissertation was entitled “Rheumatoid Arthritis: A Psychological Intervention.”  So perhaps his psychological intervention would be to throw carrots and rice cakes at us patients?

I have a hard time writing about my onset so bear with me if this is a bit choppy and rambling.

I grew up dancing.  I was best at ballet- I’ve always been long and lean and best at the graceful stuff- but I loved tap because it was LOUD and jazz because it was always to fun music.  I danced competitively in high school and then continued dancing at frat parties in college. (Sorry Mom and Dad.)  After college, I got super into group exercise classes and then running.

In the six months before things really got bad for me, I dealt with the following events in a very short period of time: a brother deployed to Iraq, some serious job drama, a suicide in my family, a lot of family in-fighting due to the suicide, and a pretty severely broken heart.  Family who may read this, please don’t take what I said above the wrong way. It is simply a fact that we all had different opinions, reactions, and ways of dealing with it.  Nothing wrong with that.

So what did I do to deal?  I controlled everything I could about myself because it was the only thing I felt that I had any say in.  I ate very cleanly and I worked out incessantly.  Ironically, one of the worst situations I’d ever been in propelled me to live the healthiest I’ve ever lived in my entire life.

One of my last memories before starting to have problems is taking a kick boxing class with one of my guy friends at the gym.  I wanted to try it and he, a former collegiate athlete, warned me that it was a hard class.

Oh, I should probably mention that I’m competitive.

I was in great shape.  I was working out with a personal trainer 3 times a week, running, lifting weights, RUNNING STAIRS, and even wind sprints.  I was also keeping a food diary and forcing myself to eat protein bars and shakes.  I do not miss that part.  When I worked out like that, I felt good about myself.  Hell, where I was at emotionally, it felt so good to feel good about ANYTHING.

I remember being totally exhausted halfway through the class, looking over and seeing him still going, and thinking oh hell no am I going to let this boy outdo me in something this close to a dance class.  That gave me the energy I needed to keep going.

Towards the end of the class, they had us pair off and air punch each other.  I gave him one hard right upper air hook, slung a whole bunch of sweat in his face, and grinned.  He looked at me, shocked, and started laughing so hard, he had to stop.

AJ-1 Former collegiate football player- 0

And yes, that felt GOOD.  As did the long, hot shower I took afterwards.

I started having problems with my feet a few months later.  Quite literally, my left foot had been sore for a couple of days and I took a run on a treadmill at the gym.  Okay, okay.  So the real story is that I was really angry at a boy for being a douche so I took an anger run which, for me, was usually a longer, harder run that normal.  But jerky boys stress me out and my choices were run it out or say something I would later regret. I ran for probably 40 minutes.  Headphones on.  Anger mix playing- if you’re ever interested in good tunes for an anger mix, I highly recommend Christina Aguilera’s Fighter and Linkin Park’s In The End.  Suffice it to say, I was pounding my feet in a way that I definitely shouldn’t have been. When I stopped and stepped off the treadmill, I was in so much pain that I almost hit the ground.  I remember thinking great, I should’ve just said what I was thinking because now I’m going to hate him forever for breaking my foot.

My x-ray the next day revealed nothing.  No break.  I was told that it was probably a stress fracture and that they would redo the x-ray in a couple weeks at which point we would probably see scar tissue to confirm it.  I was also told to stay off of it…which I didn’t after it started to feel better a few days later.

A week later, the other foot started hurting in the same place.

I continued working out with my trainer and mentioned the pain to her.  She told me it could be due to having shoes that weren’t supportive enough.

I took myself to an expensive shoe store in town and got a pair of customized running shoes.  Seriously customized.  They put me on a treadmill in a pair of shoes with sensors so that they could see where I put my body weight when I ran and walked.  They selected a pair of shoes for me based off of that and put additional support in them for me based off of the sensors.

Those were not cheap.

I continued working out in my new shoes and the pain continued, duller but persistant.

I went back to the doctor and had both feet xrayed.  Nothing showed up on either.  It was very frustrating.  They ran all sorts of blood tests and by chance, looked at my rheumatoid factor based on a history of severe and chronic allergies that had required shots for several years.  I remember thinking surely, SURELY, I don’t have yet another autoimmune thing going on.  That would be crazy.

The pain continued with my left foot significantly worse than my right.

I was at work a couple days later when I heard my cellphone ring.  I didn’t have time to answer so I figured I’d just deal with it later.  A few minutes later, I had email to my work account from the nurse at my doctor’s office asking me to call her immediately.

I wish I’d kept that email.  Because that literally was an email that started this whole ball rolling.

My diagnosis was confirmed several weeks later.

Someday, I will have the courage to blog about the place that diagnosis sent me when all of a sudden, it took away the only thing that made me feel good at the time.  You can probably imagine that it wasn’t pretty.

You’re probably wondering what those numbers at the top are.  They are a direct response to Dr. Phil.

133- my approximate weight at diagnosis

26- my age at diagnosis

32- my current age

To raise awareness, please post “your numbers” on your blogs, Facebook, and twitter.  Feel free to use the metric system if you like it better or your BMI.  Do not post what the numbers are, just that those are your numbers.  We are asking everyone to do this and then to reveal what your numbers mean at the end of the day.

Take that, Dr. Phil!

It’s not that I didn’t KNOW, its that, in my mind, it couldn’t apply to me.

I took a blogging break because I didn’t want to write and spew depression.

And then my buddy, RA Superbitch, passed away. I never addressed it on here because I just didn’t know how to.

The anxiety deepens.

I was forwarded a blog written by Sara Frankl-gitzengirl.blogspot.com- last week. Sara has AS and is in hospice.

I read the whole thing Friday night and bawled my eyes out.

It’s just so unfair.

None us of asked for this. None of us deserve this.

There are so many things I want for myself and I am scared shitless I won’t get to because of this damn disease.

Don’t get me wrong…I know that mine is easily controlled and currently under control…but who knows what tomorrow will bring, right?

I’m feeling a lot like I did when I was first diagnosed which scares me. I am pissed. I am sad. I am oh-so-frustrated. But most of all, I am terrified.

This really is happening, isn’t it?

So what do we do now?

So let’s see…where are we at…

Height: 5’6

Weight: (insert hysterical laughter)

Language: still foul. I have instituted a Starbucks policy: when I’m mad at work, I take a walk and get a coffee.

Nervous system: jacked up on caffeine frequently. (see above.)

Motor skills: about the same. Still problems with hands and fingers although still capable of throwing out a bird in traffic if necessary. As long as it’s held very low. Underneath the console. So nobody gets shot.

Goals: My birthday present to yourself this year is health. Period. I are willing it to happen. And I’m going to do something unusual this time: I’m going to follow my doctors orders AND I’m  going to consciously do something positive for my health everyday, even if that something is only taking a few minutes to get in bed early to watch tv and relax!

Reflection on the past year: Loads of fun…after having such a debilitating flare, I went all out when I felt better. And maybe not in the healthiest of ways. But I’m sure you can relate! Just being so happy to not feel so crappy makes you do things that maybe make you feel…crappy.

It’s time to find that elusive happy medium!