Some Days

Just like everyone else I have good days and bad days. On Thursday, I had my weekly appointment with the chiropractor. Unfortunately,there was no movement from my right shoulder blade or ribs on the right side. If we can't have my ribs and shoulder blade move on their own then we need to look at alternative options. Due to the damage my shoulder had sustained from multiple injuries, my shoulder blade has slid down over top of 3 ribs. This is what is causing the majority of the pain. Every time I inhale or laugh, my ribs rub against my shoulder blade. If I stretch or move a certain way, you can hear the bones making a cracking noise from rubbing against each other. Gross. I know. I live with it every single day. It sucks. So Thursday, no movement. Disappointing as hell. We worked both shoulders and nothing. So now I was in much more pain and filled with an overwhelming feeling of sadness. I wanted to cry. I didn't. I think my psychiatrist has me on too many meds to actually cry. I think he thinks that if I start, that I won't stop. He may be right. I don't know. I also felt like I was going to throw up. Nausea and migraines are a common side effect when you are trying to move bones back in to normal position. It was a bad day. Yesterday was bad as well. It was the first day that I tried to go without taking anything for pain. I tried so hard but by 10pm, I couldn't hold out anymore. It was unbareable. I don't want to rely on narcotic pain killers for multiple reasons. One of them being that they are addictive and that is certainly an extra problem that I don't need. The second reason being that they are not readily available. It is unbelievably hard to have a doctor write a prescription for them, especially for someone as young as me. So it's best not to rely on them and take them in extremely painful situations. Today is a bit better. Minimal pain or discomfort but it's only 2pm and I have yet to truly accomplish something. I hope that today continues to be a good day because I could really use a break right now. Maybe today will be a karaoke day. I feel better after singing. I have no musical talent whatsoever but I always feel better after belting out a good song. It cleanses me and purifies my soul. That sounds like a good day to me.

I Tie My Shoes Everyday

If you think about life, in simplest terms Life is a string of events tied together, along the way there are some twists and turns, maybe even some knots. When you lace your shoes, there's a bit of a zig zag pattern. Life can zig, it can zag. Your laces become dirty, tired and even knotted. We tie our shoes every day. We live every day, we breathe. We have zig zags,knots and we can be worn out. I learned how to tie my shoes when I was about three years old. My father had left the apartment. He had started hitting us kids and that was it. She would not tolerate it. We had a man named R move in to help pay the bills. He had gone to high school with both my parents. My room was now R's room and I shared with my baby sister. My great grandparents were mortified. They drove four hours to read my mom the riot act. But like most people in their early 20's she knew it all and had all the answers. R was staying. My great grandparents tried to reason with my mother. Did she know how this looks to others? How it affected the family image? They had no idea what my father had done. The torment we had suffered. They just knew she was now a single mom with two kids and a divorce hanging over her head. (It would take my father about seven years to sign those papers) R became an instant fixture in our home. He kept us safe from my neurotic father. At the time my father's hobbies included prank calling the house at all hours. Entering the apartment when no one was home, moving things around. Stealing things from us like the can opener. R fell in love with us as a family. We loved him back. He protected us, he provided us with some semblance of a normal life. We had a temporary reprieve from the tangled mess that had become our lives. R spent a lot of time with my sister and I. He brought us gifts. My favorite in particular was this giant white board. We would color for hours and hours. At some point, he began teaching me how to tie my shoes. I don't remember how long it took for me to do it. But I remember sitting by the door and every day he would show me. He was patient. Aside from spoiling us and teaching us things he also told me a fib that has stuck with me to this day. He once told me that if I slept with socks on, my toes would fall off. I believed that little fib for a very long time. And here I am, almost 26,and I won't sleep with socks on my feet. By the time I was ready for my first day of kindergarten, R was gone. We lived in a new apartment, different end of town. Sure, we still had troubles with my father but our time with R had come to an end. But the time we had was memorable and happy. That is what I remember. I refuse to let my father's actions tarnish those memories.(I guess we bought new shoes?) I recently tried to contact him. It was to no avail but if I could speak with him, I would thank him. Something I never did because I was too young to understand or appreciate. I wish my emails and whatnot had not gone unanswered but at some point we all have to move on. For me, moving on is a work in progress as I deal with the physical healing.At this exact moment, you could say I have a knot in my lace, one that is going to take some time to unravel. If by some miracle he finds this blog and this exact post, I want him to know how grateful I am to have had him in my life, even if just for a short time. He isn't forgotten, I mean how could I forget? I tie my shoes everyday.

Jesus is the reason for the season and I can't find Jesus.

I have been going crazy looking for my nativity set. My nephew has just turned 3 years old and I want to teach him about Christmas. It's not just about presents and Santa, although that is pretty awesome. I was the first grandchild on my mother's side. It meant I was spoiled by my grandparents, particularly by my grandpa. As I got older, and there were more grandchildren it was my duty to read the story of Christmas every year. I would read and the younger kids would set the nativity scene. As a preteen, I despised it. I felt as though everyone was looking at me and judging me. By the time I was 15,16,17 - I loved it. I loved the attention and it was a special tradition. One that I could actively participate in during the holidays. My grandpa passed away when I was 11. We all knew this would put a strain on the family and tensions would rise, causing rifts in our family. He was the glue that held everyone and everything in place. By the time I was 17, things had quickly unravelled. We were no longer a part of the extended family. By "we" I mean my mom, sisters and (step)dad. We were told we were no longer members of the Steeves family. It's ironic because my mother is the only biological Steeves family member. The siblings were all adopted when my grandfather remarried. I was heartbroken. My world was torn to shreds. We no longer had family traditions. I no longer had any aunts or uncles. No baby cousins to share the story of Christmas with, not until my sisters and I were old enough to have children of our own anyway. As with all things, time healed the wounds. I forgave them for their betrayals but I could not let anyone of them back in to my life. The damage was done and the trust was gone. Sometimes, it is better to let go and move on. It's what I did. Now if I saw one of them unexpectedly, I can guarantee a panic attack because a flood of emotions does come back. Suddenly, you notice that despite moving on, some wounds are still raw and tender. With the Christmas season upon us, I want to reinstate the tradition of reading the story and having the nativity scene put together as I read. When my nephew was first born, I purchased the Little People Nativity set. I can't find it anywhere. I am going crazy looking for it. He has just turned 3 (as of sunday) and I think he would understand some of it, or we could at least play with the nativity set. I'm not quite sure what bothers me more, the fact that I can't find it or I am realizing how much I have missed this tradition. It's also another realization that a lot of people have walked out of my life. It sucks. Seriously. People who are supposed to be your family, just leave. They walk away like you never meant anything to them at all in the first place. I can't imagine doing that to my family. No matter what the circumstance and believe me with two younger sisters, it can get ugly. But I love them. I have to give my mom a ton of credit for being a strong woman and helping us kids through the abandonment. She has always stuck by us and we have caused some serious headaches to say the least. My (step)dad also deserves some love for all the trouble we caused. I had a ton of issues with abandonment and it took a long time for me to trust him. He stayed. He stuck by me. So as I write this I wonder to myself am I bothered by missing this tradition and my inability to find baby Jesus. I would love to reach my nephew the story of Christmas and my grandpa's favorite carol - Silent Night. Or am I bothered still by the abandonment of my extended "family" The holidays always seem to bring forth a slew of emotions and it's difficult to make peace with them. I think I am bothered by not being able to find baby Jesus but maybe I am in denial. It's just another late night mystery running through my mind. I hope my prayers to St. Anthony, the patron saint of lost things doesn't go unanswered. This is one tradition, I would like to bring back even if it is on a much smaller scale with a one person participant.

10 Things You (probably) Don't Know About Me

I have decided to share some secrets with you. I have a list of 10 things you probably didn't know about me. Or maybe you do but either way, here they are in no particular order of importance. 1. I'm not afraid of spiders, I actually name them before killing them for my mom but I hate when people try to put stickers on me.Is that a fear? Stickers? I don't know but I also hate when my hands are dirty or there is something sticky on them, hence the hatred for stickers. 2. I love the TV show Glee, however I am still so upset over the death of Cory Monteith that I have a hard time watching it. Never knew him personally but just loved him as an actor and I definitely had a crush on Finn Hudson. 3. My mom had a blanket custom made for me. It features a really creepy zombie from The Walking Dead. I'm afraid of it. If I use it on my bed, it goes over the top sheet but under the comforter so I don't have to see the scary face in the middle of the night. 4. I didn't learn how to ride a bike until I was 8 or 9. My sister who is three years younger than me had that figured out long before I did. 5. I have a medical condition called ITP. I won't bore you with all the details and what ITP stands for but I don't have enough platlets in my blood. That means if I bleed from an injury, it may take me longer than the average person to stop bleeding. Also, it makes me bruise really easily. 6. I received a Wii mini for Christmas last year and have only been able to play it a couple times due to my shoulder injury. I can't wait to have made enough progress in my healing so I can actually play it. I have a stack of unopened games. 7. I failed grade 10 math. My final grade was 29%. When the teacher called to tell my mom, he said he would pray for me. I still laugh at that. 8. I can cook. I can make a few things amazingly well but I can't stand cooking. I get bored easily and things get burned. 9. I once drank approximately 40-45 jello shots at a party. I didn't even feel drunk, nor did I throw up. I know there was booze in there because I made them. My mom still holds the record for drinking the most jello shots in our family. 10. I don't have a favorite color. I love them all, it just depends on my day. Well the color puce, I hate that because what is puce? Who came up with that? What a horrible name, puce. As a bonus, I will throw in one last bit of nerd info. I love Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I started watching it in March 1999 when it premiered as a mid season replacement for the WB network. I have watched it so many times, I can recall character lines, episode names and what season they are from. I have met quite a few cast members but I would absolutely love to meet Alexis Denisof, even before Sarah Michelle Gellar. Shocking, I know. Well those are some of my secrets or silly facts that you may not have known about me. Since I can't sleep, maybe I will watch some Buffy. :)

Today was a good day!

Today was the first time in a while that I was able to do something I love by myself. It's a small step in my physical healing but I felt really good. I was able to do my hair and make up by myself. I like to look good and take pride in my appearance. Today, I had that and it was a great feeling. Baby steps but today I did have a temporary improvement and a boost in my self esteem. So today was a good day.

The Realization

Today I had a wonderful massage from my massage therapist. To many of you, this sounds like a great way to spend a Saturday and I couldn't agree more. I have been going to massage therapy for about three years now, mainly focusing on the pain in my shoulder. It had never dawned on me as to why exactly I was going, other than pain. This visit was different. My chiropractor had sent me with a short list of areas he wanted the therapist to focus on massaging. So I passed along the message and as usual my therapist did an amazing job but it was there while I was lying on the table, that I realized the reason I was going was for pain, but it was pain from old injuries. The trauma had followed me all these years. I had worked on coping with the emotional aspects of abuse through counseling a few years prior. I have never fully dealt with the physical scars until now. It's now that I am coming to understand how much damage had been done. I kept the tears from falling from my eyes, but my massage therapist knows the story and why my shoulder is always the main focus of treatment. During my hour long treatment I began to relax and rest. This is the best my shoulder has felt in years probably. I know it won't last and some pain will return in a few short hours but for now, I am enjoying the relief and forgetting the past. I focus on it enough as I work to rehabilitate my body, so for now it doesn't exist. Let me have this moment of denial since I've had the realization of why I started attending massage therapy in the first place.

Domestic Violence: My Journey (so far)

I am the victim of domestic violence. I was physically abused as a child and what happened was not my fault. There. I said it. I don't feel any better. As I write this I fight back the tears that are coming to my eyes. After at least 8 years of fighting with doctors about my pain coming from my shoulder, I finally have someone who listened. I am finally being treated for these injuries. I truly thought that with all my years of counseling I wouldn't be angry anymore. If anything I am more enraged than ever before. Treatment has rehashed the past and opened old scars. I am so angry with him that I fear lashing out at the wrong people for the wrong reasons. The constant pain is a constant reminder that only furthers my anger. I don't want to forgive because I honestly don't think that I could. I would like to erase the memories from my mind and forget. Any memories I have of being 3 years old should be happy ones, not the horror of being dragged around like a rag doll by the one man you are supposed to trust more than anyone. My father. I shouldn't close my eyes and remember the hurt he caused my mother or my baby sister. I feel as though my whole life has been put on hold due to the injuries I have sustained. My career is at a standstill until I have recovered from physiotherapy, chiropractic treatment and massage therapy. In a few weeks if things aren't improving, I may be looking at other forms of treatment such as surgery. I feel like that little kid that is still being punished by her father for some unknown reason. I can't move forward until this has healed and I don't mean just the physical injuries but the psychological and emotional damage that is cluttering my mind. If I ever asked my father about why he did what he did he would lie and deny it. He would blame my mother and tell me that she has poisoned my mind with her lies. Thing about that is, if a young child suffers a severe trauma, they will remember it. I remember it as if it had happened yesterday. Except it has been 22 years and I still live with the physical pain of his actions. No one can ever give me the answer as to why he did it. No one can erase the past. I don't want to be a victim, but I am. This happened. It happened to me. Don't let it happen to anyone else. No one should have to suffer. I know there are people with much more severe stories than mine but that is their tale to tell. I don't want pity, I just want to share my journey with you. I want people to be aware of their actions and the consequences. I don't know if writing this and putting all my emotions out there will make me feel any better but for now it's a little less clutter in my mind.