Four Words To Change Your Life

I wanted to start a blog to talk about life... And illness is a major part of my life. It's depressing. I imagine that I am not the only person who lives with illness day to day. Maybe it's not you, but someone you love: a friend, family member, or pet. Regardless of the who, being a 20-something and dealing with a major illness is no fun at all.

In February 2009 my then-boyfriend-now-fiancé had to quit his job because of a mix of flu-like symptoms and an inability to walk. We thought it was a complete asshole of a flu, but when he was unable to walk even when he felt better, doctors at the hospital shrugged and said, "Maybe it's blood clots. In both legs. At the same time. Which is extremely rare." I am not paraphrasing. Okay, maybe a little. The point is that they had him stand in the waiting room for six hours, leaning on me, squeezed his calves and sent him home.

He felt better a few months later, and even packed away the cane we had to buy.

In May 2010 his vision started to go. Blurred edges, loss of colour, and extreme sensitivity to sunlight were the hallmarks. His optometrist took a look and knew he was in over his head, referring Myke to an opthalmologist. The man scheduled two diagnostic appointments, and referred him for an MRI, stating, "This is rare, but a common indicator of a major illness."

The MRI results and Myke were sent to the local neurologist, who took a look at them, and uttered four words that changed our lives.

I think shocked is a good word. Between the two of us our stress levels were through the roof, though Myke likes to think he was a cool cucumber. He was a bit more collected than me, but that's only because I have terrible stress management skills. December 17th of 2010 was the first day he turned to me and said, "You don't have to stay. You didn't pick this."

It wasn't the last.

MS is a brutal disease. All diseases are brutal, really, but I guess since MS is so close to me it feels so much more monstrous. We have so many ways to describe it to people and ourselves, it's ridiculous. The fact is that something triggered his body into believing that the coating on his nerves is an invader and needs to be destroyed. Imagine slowly whittling away the plastic casing on the wire to plug your television in. How long do you suppose it will keep turning on correctly?

That's how Myke's body works. In the past two years he's gone from Batman—and occasionally keeps thinking he is—to being so frustrated from his inability to perform simple tasks that he barely gets dressed anymore. Pajamas are easier than fumbling with buttons and tiring oneself out putting jeans on. His mental function has even decreased. He attempted to take a remedial English class, and found himself at a complete disadvantage. It almost broke my heart when he said, "I feel like an idiot." 

Tiredness, pain, and loss of function are the three major effects of MS. And boy, do they suck.

Family is Two Sides of the Same Coin

So for my mother's birthday, I told her I was engaged. She reacted as I expected I would, which was why I was so anxious about it. She squealed, flapped her hands, and tried to hug me from a sitting position. She tried to hug Myke, too, but he doesn't take that shit and just kind of huddled in the chair while managing Peach and trying not to die in his video game.

We're not assholes, I swear. My mother is a very difficult person to get along with. My dad was a saint for trying as long as he did. We affectionately refer to their separation-and-divorce period as "when my mother went crazy." The crazy was there beforehand. My mother is argumentative, paranoid, pushy, and loud. Maybe if I was a normal person I wouldn't mind the squealing, but loud noises really, really bother me.

There's also the fact that my mother will argue for the sake of arguing, and that I cannot forget her bawling to my father that my brother didn't need her anymore... When he was four. He could make a sandwich, he was all set. I'm also just a little bitter (This one's on me) that my parents blatantly favour my brother for his speech impediment. I got pushed; he got babied. He is still, at nineteen, being babied.

When I worked and lived at home, my income went to paying my way. He is working and living with my dad, and he's talking about buying a second laptop. For gaming. And my dad is only trying to talk him OUT of getting an Alienware.

I have a lot of issues with my family: they suck. Even so, they haven't done anything that means I don't love them, and they certainly help me out at least as much as they fail to. I guess I'm lucky: they rock.

That my dad yesterday waived a minor bill for us because of our trouble... And laughed about how I suck at budgeting. Way to go, dad! That my grandmother was able to come up with my mom, and we then had to patiently explain to her why my mom was freaking out. She gets to see a third granddaughter get married, if we play our cards right. That my brother and all that disposable income said, without prompting, "I'm helping them get married, too. I want to help."

That instead of spending the day freaking out, Peach was calm, and even cuddled her nemesis instead of barking.

 Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.

Income Tax Sucks

Suddenly, I am less excited, and more tired and despairing. This is an unfortunately common feeling. Myke and I don't often get a break and the past few months have been unexpectedly easy. While my classmates flutter around like headless chickens, panicking about every presentation, paper, and exam, I often feel like I'm cheating the system. For the first time since we've been together we're living in a place where mold, neighbours, and heating aren't issues.

It's really my fault, so here's my warning: never, ever make a budget with money you don't presently have clenched in a death-grip in your fist. I made that mistake. If all had gone according to plan, our income tax return would be ten times what we're expecting to receive now. What reduced it? I was in school for over thirteen weeks of the year, and therefore rendered ineligible for the tax return we had been expecting. Maybe I could argue that I haven't actually attended more than thirteen weeks of school, I'm sure my professors would corroborate, but I doubt that would work.

So now, all of my happy has fled. I found myself wanting to smother Myke with a pillow last night for snoring (Maybe if you didn't have your head at a ninety degree angle to your body you wouldn't snore!) and vainly wondering what I could sell to make up the over thousand dollar difference in our budget, about seven hundred of which is a currently existing electric bill that is staring me down like some kind of angry dog.

All my hopes rest on that giveaway now, which is kind of an extreme swing of the pendulum back in the other direction.

At least with all the crappy weather today, the crappy mood I'm in, and the crappy job I had to do (Seam ripping labels from old collars to replace them with new labels for new pictures, ouch!) there is still someone who doesn't care what kind of day I'm having, as long as she can cuddle with me. I wish I could live life like a dog.

20 Something and Veg

I realised last week that, for the past several years, I don't feel like I've grown. It's a bit silly to say, considering I know I've grown quite a lot. But since I turned 20, each subsequent birthday has been kind of meh. I get asked every year by at least one person, "So how does it feel to be 20-whatever?"

I keep replying, "Just like 20-ish."

I'm a veritable 20-something. A year goes by and I just don't care anymore. I've passed that adolescent/childhood phase of a year being a WHOLE year, an gargantuan THING that you overcame, have some cake, kid. Maybe when I'm turning 30-something it will matter. Maybe I'll be 32 forever, but for now? I'm happy to veg.

So I wanted to make a blog, to speak to people who are also 20-something and happy to veg. People who are trying to start careers, enter college and university, find love, have fun, start families, and other cool things 20-somethings do. Me?

I'm a 23 year old 20-something chick, living in chilly Canada in a super exciting rural city in Ontario, where I am attending the local college for a diploma in the social services. From a small 60-something house I rent from my dad, I live with my 25 year old 20-something fiancé, two cats, and a dog. I run a small business out of my small upstairs studio making small batches of small pet products. Awesome stuff like collars and bow-ties.

And I sit, and I veg, trying to figure out what to do in this 20-something time... Besides Instagramming, of course.