Learning to Care for Myself

Growing up in a large family and with a sick mother, my symptoms, which started around age 10, were frequently ignored. Nobody paid attention to them for long enough to notice how visibly they mirrored my mother's.

Around age 12, the ignorance of my symptoms, internalization of my pain, and bullying I was facing at school manifested into Anorexia Nervosa. Still, not one member of my family saw the change. Due to lack of appetite, my weight eventually dropped to 83 pounds in the winter of my eighth grade year although my height was 5'7". It wasn't until I passed out on the grass on a morning 3-mile run that my older sister caught me when I couldn't explain grass stains on my left side. I was faced with a decision.

Looking in my bathroom mirror at how much weight I could still lose, I cleared my foggy brain for long enough to look at my choices. Life or death. Stay with my mother in Florida and be ignored, or move to Virginia with my father and recieve medical attention and overall care. I walked into my mother's room and faced three hours of yelling and threats because of the one sentence I was able to get out: "I need to move in with Dad."

Since I moved to Virginia the summer after eighth grade, an array of doctors have officially diagnosed me with anorexia nervosa, anxiety, depression, hypermobility type ehlers-danlos syndrome (EDS), POTS, insomnia, vitamin D deficiency, dangerously low blood pressure, fainting spells, chronic fatigue, and several other illnesses. I have been prescribed various drugs for pain management and emotional coping, physical therapy, electrolyte drinks, and certain procedures to avoid fainting spells. I have had at least three concussions from fainting.  Moving forward is scary for me.

Since my diagnosis, my mother has found that she has many of the same illnesses - likely due to the connection with EDS - a genetic illness I inherited from her. Though these illnesses create a stark image of the future, I have had the privelage of growing through diagnosis and making these struggles a part of my identity. My relationship with my mother has begun to heal, four of my siblings have found relief in the diagnosis of EDS, and we have all reached for treatment that will work for us. I have been helped by physical therapy, antidepressants, electolyte drinks, constant hydration, and various precautions to aid in my "recovery," so to speak.

Though life is tough when battling illness, I have been blessed with medical care and a supportive inner circle of people who take my illness seriously. I have decided, after accumulating nearly 150 absences from school this past year, to seek virtual school, as it could put less stress on my body and mind and enable me to work at my own pace despite brain fog and constant fatigue.

Every aspect of my life has suffered from illness, but every piece of me looks forward to the journey of finding ways to feel like I'm once more living. Stairs present an ever-growing challenge, but one that makes me smile as I grip the railing, knowing that next time I'll be a little stronger and more able to make it up the steps. Life is about compromise, and though it hurts, I believe that I will be made stronger through these challenges. I look forward to continuing to share my experiences with those who may benefit from them.