Make it, Bake it, Fake it: cfs

Invigorate for Pain (Product Review)

October 25, 2017

Invigorate for Pain

I have been given this product as part of a product review through the Chronic Illness Bloggers network. Although the product was a gift, all opinions in this review remain my own and I was in no way influenced by the company.

Pain relief.

We all want it.

We all need it.

Often is so hard to come by.

Who am I kidding, it is impossible to come by. We have all tried the medications, we have tried all the creams, all the devices, all the promises. Yet, the pain is still there.

So, I as always hesitant trying out a pain relieving item of any description. We all know that what works for one, doesn’t work for another.

However, I am willing to be a guinea pig for us all. So lets talks Resonant Botanical's Invigorate, Pain Relieving Lotion.

“Invigorate starts with an infusion of herbs such as turmeric, valerian, devil’s claw, Manjistha and Arjuna and those are steeped in organic Grape Seed Oil for over six weeks. Then, the infused herb oil is added to organic Hemp Oil, Hemp Oil Extract, Apricot Kernel Oil, Jojoba Oil, Clove Oil Extract, and Borage Oil, essential oils such as Sandalwood and Rose Otto from the Kazanlak region of Bulgaria, and combined (emulsified) into a truly delightful pain relieving lotion. The scent is bold and bright with tones of citrus”

Thankfully this combo was not too potent, as my primary area of pain is usually my neck. And we know how I don't love smelly things.

I have been rubbing this in just before bed, adding a heat pack, and have been avoiding the need for additional pain medications. It has got me through the night well. For nights when I have woken in pain, I have tried a little more, and it has helped me head off to sleep.

I was a little disappointment that my first real foray into Hemp Oil didn't pack the punch I was thinking. Maybe it has just been talked up so much. And, truth be said, I have done no research into the topic. That being said, I feel it has done a little for my immediate pain relief, but am still unsure of the long term impact. I will keep on utilising to see the full effect.

So, for all of us, I will keep on trialling and see how I go.

Resonant Botanical's Invigorate can be found here. They can ship to Australia, and they have an awesome Pay It Forward program. Go check it out.

cfs

My Body, My Prison, My Life with ME/CFS

May 08, 2017

I have always had a nightmare of being incarcerated for something I didn't do. Maybe it was the goody-goody two-shoes, teacher’s pet, predominantly rule abiding girl. The fear of being in trouble and worst yet arrested freaked me out.

This fear intensified as I travelled the world and experienced different judicial systems.

Maybe, it was visiting the prison in Malawi where I sat in the dirt with the incarcerated women and their children. Or was it being patted down by heavily armed guards as I entered Indonesia?

Maybe, it was the time the big year 6 kids threatened to “dob” on the little year 2’s at lunchtime for something we hadn't done. Or is it the countless crime shows I stream on Netflix?

Are my fears irrational? Probably so, I am a seemingly normal law abiding individual. (Or so I’ve always thought!)

Yet, I still have a fear of being trapped. Imprisoned. Stuck.

Last night, I dreamed of running…so free...pounding the pavement in whatever direction I dreamed. Yet as I woke, I realised I am imprisoned. No chance of running and feeling the wind in my hair once again. Incarcerated in a body for something I didn't do. Stuck. Trapped. No chance of parole. No release date in sight.

I have Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (commonly and annoyingly also called Chronic Fatigue Syndrome) and Fibromyalgia. And life with these diseases is a prison sentence.

Condemned without doing anything wrong. I was the fittest I had ever been. Eating well. Exercising daily. A busy day in the classroom. A social life. Committed to my church and living out my faith.

Yet, it struck me down. It arrested me at my prime. 30 years of age. A virus that lasted a term.

Fatigue, pain, nausea, and brain fog, that now over four years later hasn't left.

I am under house arrest. Not enough energy to leave the house. Not enough energy to have a shower. My bedroom walls have become my prison cell. I know the intricacies of the cracks and marks that cover the roof. I mark time by the sounds outside. The soccer ball being kicked against the garage across the street, pounding through my head, lets me know that school is yet to start. The light streaming in through the window that I yearn to feel on my skin.

This is solitary confinement. A disease that no one understands. A disease that is so much more than tiredness. Fobbed off by many medical professionals. So many unanswered questions. A disease that you are walking alone.

No escape is in sight. I could run. I could try and escape this body...and occasionally I have. I have pushed through and tried to live the life I once knew. Yet, the punishment for that is worse. The torture and pain that follows is unspeakable. You are trapped in a body that makes you worse with every single thing you do.

A body that feels tortured. The pain engulfs all your senses. I am being abused by my own body.

The meals are awful. I have no energy to cook. Relying on others, or pre-packaged meals. Or being reduced to specialised diets so bland that eating lettuce is as exciting as it gets...plain iceberg that is, nothing fancy like kale or rocket! Though, regardless of the quality, some days there is little energy to even eat.

No stimulation in this prison. A brain that is fogged. Reading a simple book becomes a challenge. Following a plot in a television show is impossible. Left lying looking at the walls.

No funding goes into this prison. Welfare payments don’t even cover the medical expenses. Forgotten by our welfare system.

I have no release date. I am in limbo. This disease has no cure. There is little research. There is a denial that a problem exists. There is no investment in these lives. No investment in my life.

The desire to escape my body and run away from it is real. The passion I still have for teaching hasn’t waned. My faith and hope is stronger than ever. Yet, my reality is this prison.

ME/CFS is a prison sentence. It is estimated that well over 100,000 Australians are facing this sentence. There is no parole. There is no release date in sight. It can leave you without hope. The research is only starting to make a dent in understanding this disease. On May 12^th the ME/CFS and Fibromyalgia International Awareness Day, may you stand up, raise awareness and run for those who are imprisoned in their own bodies because for some of us we may never be released from this prison.

cfs

My CFS Story- Part 3: Tough Mudder

February 15, 2016

Well, it has been awhile since I wrote Part 1 and Part 2 of my journey into Chronic Fatigue Syndrome...so if you haven't had a chance to read them, or would like a refresher here they are...

My CFS Story- Part 1: The Never Ending Cold
Back where it all began!

My CFS Story- Part 2: Suddenly I Couldn't

The catalyst!

My CFS Story -Part 3: Tough Mudder

They ( the medical professionals) did not know what was going on with my body. So, with Asthma being the only diagnosis, I was cleared to do Tough Mudder. That being said...I'm pretty stubborn, so I probably would have decided to do it anyway. Especially after ALL the training that had happened.

Anyway, the day arrived, and I was pumped! And scared...oh so scared. Would little old me who had been unfit for so long in the past, really be able to complete the equivalent of a half marathon with a ton of crazy strength obstacles in between.

Me Pre Race

But, I was doing it as part of a community. And the aim was no man left behind. The idea of Tough Mudder is that you help your fellow competitors, it is a team effort. You may have never met the person in front of you...but their aim was to help you through, likewise, it was my job to help the person behind me. Every person had a part to play.

Tough Mudder has reminded me a lot of what life with a chronic illness is like.

Why?

Because you can't do it alone. You can't face all that life whilst you are sick alone. You need a helping hand.

You need that team around you encouraging you to do your best, helping you with your weaknesses, training and doing life alongside you.

You need others around you being vulnerable admitting that they too are freaked out by what is ahead.

You need that friend running beside you at kilometre 7, counting you through the next twenty seconds...taking life one tiny chunk of life at a time.

You need that friend jumping with (ie. pushing) you into the water when the height has you paralysed with fear. You need that friend challenging you as another setback leaves you struggling to take that step forward.

You need that stranger reaching down to yank you up and over wall in front of you. It is amazing how the kindness or a simple act by someone you don't really know can make a difference in your day.

You need that person who yanked you out after you got zapped by the electricity and you are frozen...those people in your life who pull you out of the dark spots and encourage you forward onto the next challenge.

You need that friend who encourages you that "you can do this" as they give you a leg up and over the wall, over the next hurdle that life throws your way.

You need the people in your life who are waiting with arms outstretched when you are freaked out running directly at a slippery slope and you can trust will catch you as you fling yourself upwards. You need those around you who will catch you as you scale your Everest.

You need those friends and family members that will forgive you when you snap at them, when the fatigue, the pain, or the heartache has got all too much.

You need that person giving you the extra push up the hill...spurring you onto perseverance.

You need people around you who don't comment or make any mention of the fact you are the slowest on this journey, but instead stop and wait and allow you the time and space to catch up and do things in your body's timing.

You need the people around you who know that life...just like an obstacle course race...is a team effort. Who start strong with you, who walk/run the journey together, who are moving towards a common goal, who are helping others along the way who have joined the journey, bringing others with them, to finish the race well together.

The Team (and some random dude!)

These verses from Hebrews 12 (verses 1-3) come to mind when I think of this race, this life…

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfector of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.” (NIV-emphasis mine)

May my journey through chronic illness be run with perseverance. May my eyes be fixed on Jesus. May I not grow weary and lose heart!

Walking (and running) through life with a chronic illness you need those around you to celebrate with you. To celebrate the small wins, to celebrate the big. You need those alongside you to encourage you to persevere and point you to the finish line. To encourage you so that you do not grow weary and lose heart.

So, I completed Tough Mudder. I both loved it and hated it. A mere three weeks later I was officially diagnosed with chronic fatigue syndrome.

I guess there are not many people who have (idiotically) completed Tough Mudder with a major chronic illness. (Though secretly...I'm really proud of that achievement!)

I look forward to the day I can complete Tough Mudder again, this time without a chronic illness. I hope that when I do, I can have the same team running the race alongside me.

cfs

30 Things About My Invisible Illness You May Not Know

September 18, 2015

Things take a while to do when you live with a chronic illness...particularly a fatigue based one. I actually started completing this last year...but never got around to finishing it. So, I have now neatened and updated it...hope it is useful for learning a bit about my life with CFS.

30 Things About My Invisible Illness You May Not Know

1. The illness I live with is: Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (Myalgic Encephalomyelitis) and Fibromyalgia

2. I was diagnosed with it in the year: 2013 (one week before heading to the US on a holiday I had booked months earlier). This followed suddenly going from being able to run 14kms (slowly, I admit), to having breathing issues running around a block.

3. But I had symptoms since: late 2012, I always wondered why my 3pm-itis was so bad! I'd get to the end of a school day and all I would want to do was put my head down on the desk...that, and eat a lot of chocolate!

4. The biggest adjustment I’ve had to make is: there have been so many.... The grieving process associated with a change in health, fitness, social life, work capacity, housing, income, and career to name such a few. It has really challenged me to think about what things I value above God, and I have been so humbled in this.

5. Most people assume: that I am fine! Or that my disease is just about being tired. Have a read of this blog post here if you want to find out a bit more about what tiredness really means to me.

6. The hardest part about mornings are: the 9am slump. I can get out of bed and get moving but by 9am I have hit the wall and all I want to do is be back in bed.

7. My favourite medical TV show is: ER... It has been for years! Ahhh...Dr Carter (or is that just my 19 year old self talking!)

8. A gadget I couldn’t live without is: a microwave...essential for zapping any vague food source when you can't face cooking or even eating. So thankful for friends and family who have kept my freezer stocked over the past few years.

9. The hardest part about nights are: needing to think ahead about whether I have enough energy to be able to drive myself home. That and missing the sleep window at night (the zone where sleep is possible) , and then being awake for hours.

10. Each day I take a minimum of 10 pills & vitamins!

11. Regarding alternative treatments I: am willing to give them ago.

12. If I had to choose between an invisible illness or visible I would choose: visible, maybe?! I don't know....I don't know if I'd want to look as sick as I feel all the time...but it would be nice to not need to explain yourself all the time.

13. Regarding working and career: it's been hard to accept that it is on hold at the moment whilst I balance my life as a professional patient!

14. People would be surprised to know: how much I miss running!

15. The hardest thing to accept about my new reality has been: is accepting and remembering that I have CFS. I forget. I sometimes wonder...'gosh I'm tired today' and then I remember...

16. Something I never thought I could do with my illness that I did was: complete Tough Mudder. I didn't realise I had CFS when I did it! I am thankful for my friends on my team who helped get me through. And write...I never started writing and blogging to the same extent in my pre CFS life!

17. The commercials about my illness: I've never seen any!

18. Something I really miss doing since I was diagnosed is: entertaining, baking, hosting others, holding dinner parties...I would love to be able to even just go over to a friends house for dinner.

19. It was really hard to have to give up: crossfit. It has involved being on the outside of an awesome community, not just the exercise side. That and serving at church. And work and career aspirations. And social life. Oh...and reading...what I would give to be able to spend more than 20mins reading at a time.

20. A new hobby I have taken up since my diagnosis is: crochet... However, only in moderation. Surprisingly, it hurts my hands to crochet!

21. If I could have one day of feeling normal again I would: run, and bake, and host a big dinner party and not be scared of the ramifications and the next day!

22. My illness has taught me: to find joy in Christ. Not in the earthly things that I can't depend on.

23. Want to know a secret? One thing people say that gets under my skin is: "you look great today, you must be doing well." All I can say is, looks are deceiving! The more make up I am wearing...the worse I am feeling!

24. But I love it when people: offer to do something to help out. "Can I drop a meal by?" "Can I come and vacuum your floors?" Or bring me flowers...you just don't get flowers when you have a chronic illness!

25. My favourite motto, scripture, quote that gets me through tough times is:

The pain that you are experiencing cannot compare to the joy that is to come!

(Romans 8:18 paraphrased)

26. When someone is diagnosed I’d like to tell them: there are some great supports and services out there. I was blessed by a friend telling me about the Fatigue Clinic at UNSW in Sydney. I was able to get into their program way earlier than a lot of people do. Plus learn to smile politely every time someone offers medical advice and cures that healed their 3rd cousin once removed!

27. Something that has surprised me about living with an illness is: is how far grace can sustain you. To this point there has not been a day that I haven't survived!

28. The nicest thing someone did for me when I wasn’t feeling well was: there have been so many people who have blessed me during this time. I think one of the simplest has been the friends who have actually asked me how I am and expected the real reply.

29. I’m involved with Invisible Illness Week because: why not. I have an invisible illness. People look at me and see normality. However, there is so much going on inside each of us!

30. The fact that you read this list makes me feel: thankful. I am so thankful for those who have encouraged me with my blogging and writing through this adventure of invisible illness!

banana

When chronic illness leaves you feeling like a bruised and blackened banana

July 13, 2015

Sometimes I feel like my life with a chronic illness is a lot like a banana. Not in the superfood, power inducing, on-the-run snack, but in the bruised, blackened, and abandoned in the fruit bowl type of way.

Over the years we slowly begin to build up layers of identity around us. Career, social status, interests, health, beauty, fitness, tastes, etc…my list could keep going on. What this presents, if you will allow me, is the image of a perfectly formed banana. However, when chronic illness hits, in my case Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, you (and your identity) becomes damaged, bruised and blackened.

First to go is your healthy self. This is when that layer of protection around you known as ‘health’ is peeled back, a layer I had always just taken for granted. No longer are you a normal healthy individual doing everyday life, but a doctor traipsing, cure following and prescription popping patient. You are self-conscious, you are in pain, you are confused, you are feeling riddled with guilt, you are doubted by those around you, even those in the medical profession…and as one more doctor tells you that they can’t find anything wrong and maybe it is psychological, bruises begin to appear on your now unprotected body.

Then fitness, body image and self-esteem get peeled back. You’ve gained or lost weight, you’ve gone from training for marathons to being out of breath moving from your bed to the bathroom. You physically look sick, or if you have an invisible illness you look fine on the outer, but no one truly knows how awful you feel on the inside and how much make up was required to cover the bags under your eyes. You feel beaten and defeated. Bruise.

Any social life you once had gets stripped away, some suddenly as you enter the land of hibernation and Netflix, others slowly but surely as the illness progresses to months, and then years, and then more years. The extravert is now just a shadow of what it once was, and your social standing that you once wrapped tightly around you is gone, and along with it went all the fun in your life. Another bruise.

The layer of your identity found in your career disappears. No longer are you that successful, powerful, recognised, high achieving colleague. Any aspirations or goals you once had now gone as you struggle to hold down a part time job. Then even that disappears, along with financial stability, and you are feeling less and less of who you were. Bruise.

When you can no longer shop for yourself, clean your house, cook your own dinner, or live independently is when you feel like all of who you once were is gone. The perfect outward impression that you have presented to the world for years, has disappeared. You are now dependent entirely on others…your mother is even back doing your washing for you. Who you were and what you thought defined you has been stripped away. Bruise, bruise, bruise.

Then as the world moves on around you, as friends take promotions, get married, have babies, or travel the world, you begin to feel even more so like that last banana sitting in the fruit bowl, too damaged, bruised and blackened to now be eaten, just waiting to be thrown away…

However, the story doesn’t end there. Despite chronic illness stripping away everything you once held dearly. Despite it leaving you feeling blackened, bruised and useless. You slowly begin to realise that your identity hasn’t actually gone. Yes, it has changed, and it has shifted from what culture perceives your identity should be, but it is still there. You are you! You are an individual who is fearfully and wonderfully made. You are an awesome superfood that has purpose and hope. When you are beaten, blackened, bruised and feeling left behind, in the rawness and vulnerability, there is so much beauty in who you are, and so so so much hope. When you are in that place, you might not be able to see it, but anyone around you who takes a moment to consider it can see it shining through. You are an encouragement and an inspiration. You are abundantly greater and stronger than how you may feel your chronic illness has changed and left you. So keep on fighting…you are well and truly worth it.

And, really, when you think about it, it is the bruised and blackened bananas that without doubt make the best banana bread!

cfs

a letter to the world

May 12, 2015

Dear World,

I just wanted to drop you a note to say thank you.

Thank you for knowing. Thank you for taking the time to know a bit about the disease I have. Thank you for knowing that having Chronic Fatigue Syndrome doesn't mean I'm just tired all the time. Thank you for knowing that the nausea is constant, that I am out of breath lying in bed, that I am dizzy all the time and that my body just hurts...and that this is on a good day. Thank you for knowing that the person you see in front of you, me, is constantly living a lie to survive in this world. Knowing that the well made up, well presented me actually spent ages putting my make up on to cover the bags under my eyes, or that I needed to lie down after having a shower, and after getting dressed and again before walking out the door.

Thank you for having insight. Thank you for seeing that for 2 years I have been trying my best to live a normal life, to balance earning an income so I can still live independently, progressing a career, having a social life and enjoying friendships and hobbies, whilst having a rather debilitating disease. Thank you for seeing that living constantly in survival mode is doing nothing to help me. For seeing that each and every task thing I do in a day needs to be measured and weighed to see if it is worthy of the energy required. Thank you for seeing that taking time off work to care for myself now, is a blessing not a step backwards.

Thank you for your understanding. Thank you for understanding that even though I might not talk about it often or if I look like I am getting on with life, that I am still unwell. Thank you for getting that this is what life with an invisible illness is all about. Thank you for understanding that I am doing my best, and that to do my best comes with sacrifice, pain and heartache, as to meet that deadline or to go out tonight, means that tomorrow may be spent in bed.

Thank you for asking. Thank you for asking if I am actually ok and listening for a real response. For asking how my walk with God is going, and for how you can support me with that. For specifically asking about my needs, and what practically you can do to help. Thank you for asking what time you can come over to fold my laundry or bring me a meal, because without that my clothes will live in a washing basket for weeks or I won't bother with dinner because eating the meal itself is exhausting, let alone the thought of preparing the food.

Thank you for advising. Thank you for seeing into my life and looking at where I am and my situation, and out of the care that you have for me, speaking into my life. Thank you that this advice is specific and well intentioned, and not based on generalised statements or thoughts about the disease I have or the way I am managing it. Thank you for offering advice only after you have walked in my shoes, or spent the time considering my shoes. (Size 8 by the way!)

Thank you for doing your best to continue to include me, even when time and time again I need to say no or cancel at the last minute. Thank you for picking me up and dropping me home, even when it's out of the way. Thank you for dropping in coffee or doing my shopping.Thank you for organising way more things than me, because the stress alone that comes with event planning is way worse than it ever was in my pre illness life. Thank you for coming to sit on the couch with me and sharing a gluten and dairy free pizza, and not complaining as we eat cardboard! Thank you for doing so much to bless me time and time again.

Thank you for listening to me through my tears when it's all become too much. Thank you for listening to me explain the latest treatment or life plan. Thank you for listening to me complain, and cry and rant, and talk myself in circles. Thank you for decoding my word finding difficulties and my constant brain fog.

Thank you for encouraging me with your texts or your kind words. Thank you for encouraging me with small gifts or passing comments. Thank you for encouraging me to keep my eyes on heaven and grow in my joy within the pain.

Thank you for remembering important doctors appointments and checking how they went. Thank you for remembering how much birthdays and holidays mean to me and celebrating these with me. Thank you for remembering that holidays in particular are so so hard when you are unwell, and thank you for doing everything you can to bring joy to these events. Thank you for remembering to text me before 8pm with the next days plans, because you know I now go to bed way too early.

Thank you for being you. Thank you for continuing to allow me to share your life. Thank you for being real back with me. Thank you for allowing me to be able to bless you and encourage you in whatever way I can. It may not be in the way I used to be able to, but the heart of the love is still there.

Thank you for praying. Thank you for praying for me and with me. Thank you for praying for me when I can't pray for myself. Thank you for continuing to point me to our creator, and healer and Lord.

Thank you for your compassion, your kindness, your joy, your fun and your concern which shines through all of the above.

Thank you for reading this.

Yours gratefully,

Kate (the girl with the invisible illness)

cfs

Trust

November 09, 2014

So it is Sunday night and I am home...alone.

This is not unusual to be home on a Sunday night, I quite like the chance to get mentally ready for the week and to be in the space where heading back to work tomorrow isn't too bad a thought.

However, I shouldn't be home tonight. I should be out. I had something on that I was looking forward to being at. But the thought of not getting to bed till after 10pm, just made me even more nauseous than I was already feeling.

So here I am feeling sorry for myself, with a cup of peppermint tea and a handful of Reece's Pieces. (Which by the way, now contain milk as their final ingredient...I'm sure the ones I had eaten in the past had been dairy free...anyway, I digress!) It is strange, that I am feeling this way, as I have just had an awesome conversation with my flat mates about decision making, trusting God and how we can look back in our lives and be blown away by seeing how he has worked through our circumstances. Or is it? Am I truly trusting God through the days like today when my arms feel like lead weights and the nausea is at its worst when I am lying down? Or am I just in a 'woe to me' frame of mind?

I was reminded to delve back into my favourite book I have read on suffering so far. Trusting God by Jerry Bridges. This book has spoken to me in so many ways, and has helped me categorise what has been going on in my head and in my life. It has helped me look to the cross and to God's promises as sustenance.

Our first priority in times of adversity is to honour and glorify God by trusting Him. We tend to make our first priority the gaining of relief from our feelings of heartache or disappointment or frustration. This is a natural desire, and God has promised to give us grace sufficient for our trials and peace for our anxieties.....We honour God by choosing to trust Him when we don't understand what He is doing or why He has allowed some adverse circumstance to occur. (Bridges, Trusting God, p52)

He has me. He holds me. And I trust Him in that.

Yes, the disappointment is there that life isn't going my way. Or that time and time again the symptoms make normal life impossible.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight. (Proverbs 3:5-6)

He has me. He holds me. And I trust Him in that.

I am always reminded by how big and mighty our creator is as I look out over the wonderful things he has made.

cfs

My CFS Story- Part 2: Suddenly I couldn't

October 21, 2014

2013 started with more training, more running, more exercise, a new job, my brother's wedding (yay- I got a sister!). With a group of friends from church we were training for Tough Mudder. It was fun. I was loving trying to conquer a pull up (achieved!), and pushing myself to do things I never thought I could. I even had a half marathon on the possible radar. I was enjoying the social life, I was loving my new job, I was content. I was happy.

Beach view at the end of completing the Spit to Manly walk in early 2013.

However, my nose was still constantly running, I still felt like I had a low grade virus that just wouldn't go away.

I still remember the garagefit workout that changed everything. It was a 800m run, followed by pull ups or squats or kettle bell swings (or something like that), and then as many rounds as possible in 20minutes. I had tested it out during the week. I could potentially do 3 rounds in that time and that was my aim. I was running 20+kms each week and so thought not much of the workout. However, little was I to know that a pesky 800m run was going to start the snowball effect that would impact the next couple of years.

I don't know what was different on this Saturday morning, as opposed to any other morning. We began the WOD. We began the run. Sudddenly, I was struggling, I was out of breath. I couldn't breathe. Was I having an asthma attack? Ventolin wasn't doing a whole lot. I couldn't keep going. I felt a whole lot like this quote I had found on Pinterest about being more annoyed that you couldn't finish a WOD more than the injury itself!

A couple of days later I headed to the doctor with a long list of random things I had listed in my iPhone about what my body was doing.

Off I went for tests....
Blood tests.
Respiratory Specialists
Cardiologist
Immunologist.
Dietician.
No answers.

It even got to the point when I was told that maybe it could be psychological. However, that just didn't sit well with me.

So, after that appointment, I went home, put on my running gear and headed to the oval. Maybe if this was psychological I could run my hardest and push past whatever psychological barrier was there.

Let me tell you, it definitely wasn't psychological!

Anyway, by this stage I had eased up on the running and was just doing non cardio workouts. Anything to keep my breathing vaguely normal.

However, tough mudder was looming and so I did all I could to be ready.

Little did I know that the journey God had me on from this point on would remind me a lot of tough mudder, just a whole lot longer than 20kms.

I am to learn what this truly means over the coming months.

cfs

My CFS Story- Part 1: The Never Ending Cold

October 08, 2014

I have been really encouraged reading other peoples stories on blogs about their Chronic Fatigue Syndrome/Myalgic Encephalomyelitis. I dislike reading other peoples 'how I cured my cfs/me in 6 month' stories, but instead love the inside story to what has sustained and strengthened people during this time of suffering, pain, questioning and hurt.

So, here's the first part of my story, if you are interested, have a read...

Part 1: The Never Ending Cold

I'm a to-do list kindof girl. I love a list and conquering a list and achieving way too much in a short period of time. I get really restless if I have time on my hands and I so don't know how to stop.

I'm a busy person...

In Term 4 2012, my day typically used to look like...

Get up and go for a run (3-5km), get ready for the day and do a quick quiet time over breakfast. Into work by 7.30am.

Prep for the day.

Teach between 8.30 and 3pm.

Followed by staff and parent meetings.

I was also a co-ordinator at the time and so that entailed more meetings and organising.

Leave work around 5.30pm (yes, it is true, teachers do not work a 9-3pm day!), go to the gym, or to life group, or garagefit or out to dinner. Get home 9.30-10pm.

Repeat again the next day.

This was all well and good. I felt great, was the fittest I had been in along while, was in the process of figuring out future career plans, enjoyed my social life, was independent, loved church and mostly things were pretty good.

However, I felt like I just kept getting a cold. It was never ending. My nose kept on running, my body was a bit worn down and I had developed 3pm itis.

I hit 3pm and the kids had left for the day and before I could fathom cleaning the room or planning or heading to a meeting I needed to put my head down on my desk and just stop for a bit. Only chocolate seemed to buoy me out of this slump. And so with a sugar pick me up (thank you Ruth my coworker), I would pick my head up and keep on moving...