Sharing Is Caring

That’s what I have been taught my whole life. It was the mantra repeated throughout my childhood, and is the nostalgic phrase thrown out in my present. I wholly believe in it.

I’ve had a sharing kind of day. My dad lent me his sweater, I brought some food from home for my friend, another friend shared some of hers with me, I shared my scarf and hat with others who were cold throughout the day, I received yarn as a gift from a friend for whom I knit a hat, and I got a ride home from someone because it was raining. It was all really great, and it got me thinking.

So, sharing is caring, right? We’ve established that. If so, why can’t I share my pain? Why am I the only one of my friends who’s suffering every minute of every day? Why am I the only one who has to worry about her health and her treatments all the time? Why am I the only one who isn’t healthy enough to participate in things?

It’s not that I want my friends to feel like this. I wouldn’t wish Fibromyalgia on anyone, ever. It’s just that I’m frustrated with feeling so alone in it. I can talk about it with my friends, especially a couple of them who are really there for me with this stuff. My class knows what I have (after a really messed up year of it staying a rumor despite the fact that I told everyone what it was). I talk to my parents; they know exactly what I’m going through. All of that is great, and not to be underrated.

But no one feels what I feel. No one knows what it’s like to have this pain, to feel so sick all the time. Anyone who doesn’t feel what I feel the way I feel it would have no way of ever understanding what it’s really like. And that makes me all alone. People care about me, but I can’t share this. I’m the one who wakes up and goes to sleep this way. I’m the one who sits in class with pain travelling through her body. I’m the one who stands talking with people, but is usually actually fighting a migraine, knee pain, exhaustion and more to do so. I’m the one who’s hurting. 

There’s really no solution to all of this. Even this blog isn’t the solution. It helps a lot, don’t get me wrong: seeing positive comments and a show of appreciation for what I write makes my day a lot of times. But it doesn’t take away the pain. I try to keep up with normal life, with the things people my age are doing (by the way, the driving license picture ended up coming out great!). But at the same time, I’m also a really old person: I can predict rain. C’mon, no one my age is supposed to be able to do that. My knees swelled up last week, while my friends were all on vacation in locations around the world, because the weather was changing. And yet I still can’t figure out when to bring my umbrella.

I’m tired of hurting, and of feeling alone. Just tired of it.

Yours truly,

Ella

Song Quote:

It’s taken me a while to tell you, exactly how I feel inside. The words, they may seem simple right now, but they took me a while to find. –Be Alright, Lucy Rose

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Colloquial Miss

 

What a colloquial miss. We tried, we really did. This is just the I-don’t-know-how-many-I’ve-lost-count day that has gone down this way. My friends are all away, having themselves some great adventures, and I made my peace with the fact that I was going to be sticking out our weeklong break at home (sweet home). I had a highlight planned: completing the first step in the agonizingly long process of getting my driver’s license.

First thing’s first, I have to get my “green slip”- green as in go. Or Kermit. It’s mainly a technicality, an eyesight check, but you need it before you can start everything. I’ve been spending my days trying to catch up on homework, which I’m somehow still behind on, and I haven’t had any fun. At all. This was the one thing I was really looking forward to. The first step- it’s so momentous.

When you go, they make sure you don’t need glasses, take your picture (which is the one that will go on your license) and hand you your green slip. So, I purposely straightened my bangs today, picked out a shirt that makes my neck look great (just go with it) and brings out the blue in my eyes, and put on a tad of make up. I spent the whole entire day doing homework, primarily math (a whooping 65 geometry proofs and differential math equations for over vacation), making it through solely because I had something to look forward to. I was alone at home all day, with the excitement just growing and throbbing inside of me, pulsing with my heart.

My mom swooped by the house at a quarter to seven, and we drove to the mall, to the store that green slips people (awkward verb improvisation going on here). We arrive, after my long day of anticipation, and my mom and I talk about how exciting all of this is, and how it’s such a big step even though it’s a technicality. We walk into the store, tell them why we’re there and what do they say? “We don’t do that anymore”. You’re kidding me right?

We find out that as of a few days ago or something equally annoying in a ridiculous manner, a store on the main street is in charge of green slipping people. My puffed up plastic bag of anticipation started deflating. My mom and I leave the mall, get back in the car and start driving again. It was so anticlimactic. She agrees with me. We parked in the municipal parking lot off of the Main Street and start in our mad dash to find the infamous store. We’re running, running, running, (running), and we arrive out of breath as we see the overhead sign. We practically leap forward, and guess what? It’s closed. It closed at seven.

You’re frickin’ kidding me, right?! RIGHT?!

Wrong.

Closed.

That plastic bag still half full of spitty air? Punctured. Slashed. Empty. Hollow. Deflated. Depressing. Gone. Lost for eternity.

In an attempt to rebound into something positive, we brought my memory stick over to a photography store to get the pictures on it developed. All’s great, all’s well, until they let us know that because they’re closing soon, we’ll need to come back tomorrow to pick up the pictures. Yippee.

So we got frozen yogurt.

But do you know what this means? This means, that when we go back tomorrow my hair will be oily, I will no longer be wearing my perfect picture shirt, I’ll have dark circles under my eyes (because I can’t sleep when I’m upset) and I will have no spitty bag of anticipation. I will look tired and depressed in my picture. And the lighting in that store is awful. I will end up looking grotesque.

But here’s to being optimistic, eh?

As we were sitting outside the frozen yogurt shop, while I drowned my sorrows in banana-date flavored yogurt, I explained to my mom why the situation sucks so much. I was just getting to the part about how I look pretty today, and I won’t tomorrow, when someone walked right by our table. So a random woman got a mouthful about how “I looked pretty today!!!” My mom started laughing when the woman looked back at us, and tried to console me with the fact that at least it wasn’t a boy from my class. You know why it wasn’t one of them? Because they’re all abroad! I’ve got friends right now in Rome, Barcelona, Amsterdam, Switzerland, Thailand, New York… Everywhere but right here, suffering with me. Although I think J will be back from Barcelona soon. Maybe I can depress her too. Here’s to hoping.

You know what? I wasn’t planning on doing this tomorrow. This is messing up my schedule! I’m lying, I have no plans. It’s just annoying. It’s doubly sad: I need to go there again, and I don’t have any plans.

I’m just gonna go to bed now. I think it’s safe.

It’s me,

Ella

Song Quote:

The worst things in life come free to us. –The A Team, Ed Sheeran

P.s. You know what? I’m gonna wear this shirt again. Take that.

Laughter Lines

Old Women Jumproping

This is what my friend and I will be doing when we get together in our eighties. Just saying.

“Drumroll please!” I exclaim, as my hand nears the pile of little yellow cards. The drumming begins, and I lift one card high into the air. The drumming stops abruptly as I bring the card to eye level. “Advance to Go, collect 200.” She sighs, I laugh, pieces move and the game continues.

Yes, I was playing Monopoly. The friend I was playing with has been my friend since before I was born. Let me explain.

Once upon a time, when my mother was around 11 years old, she met a girl named Monica, and the two became friends. Naturally, Monica’s parents and my mother’s parents became friendly too. When they were both in their twenties and individually moved away from home, they ended up in the same city and moved in together. My mother married my father, and soon after Monica got married too. Both couples moved to Boston, and started bringing children to the world.

McLaughin (my friend- it’s a nickname that stuck) and I are both the youngest children. When McLaughing was one month old, and my mother was eight months pregnant, Monica and my mom met for coffee. They put McLaughin’s teeny weeny infant hand on my mom’s belly, where I was happily residing, and thus, we shared our first high five (of many) before I was born.

Seven and a bit years later, both families ended up across the world, a forty five minute drive from one another. McLaughin and I have always gotten along very well whenever our families met up (it’s harder to do than you would think, with 11 different schedules between us). Then, we got to an age where we didn’t mind being away from home for a bit, so I would find my way to their house for a weekend here and there, and vice versa. Then we got cellphones, and I talked to McLaughin at least once a week, walking to and from dance class.

Eventually, McLaughin and I were the ones pulling for the families to get together (though of course our moms were very happy about it too, it’s just we’re the ones that push for it). Whenever we see each other we have the greatest time. It’s laughter and fun, compassion and friendship, ridiculousness and comfort. And some more laughter.

This weekend, they come over for 28 hours (I only counted now, mind you). It was so much fun having them over, I absolutely loved it. It was horrible and annoying that I felt sick and exhausted the whole time, but McLaughin’s general kindness made it all a little easier to deal with. My grandfather is with us too, and of course he’s known Monica since she was a little girl, and he sees McLaughin whenever she comes to visit me. My grandfather is a sweetie-pie, and he was asking my mom what he could do to make Monica happy, so my mom told him to tell a lot of jokes- he complied.

Towards the end their stay, McLaughin and I started playing Monopoly. We created our own set of traditions for the game, which include buying everything we land on, hugging when one of us gets snake eyes, drumming the table when Chance or Community Chest are called for, and this thing called “race”. The rest of the house was quiet because everyone was in the living room reading, and we were next door in the kitchen hogging the table, so whenever something exciting happened they were all a part of it (willingly or not) because they over-heard it all. I don’t know about everyone else, but McLaughin and I enjoyed that. McLaughin has the ability to simply fill me with joy, give me energy and put me in a good mood.

They stayed late to have some dinner with us and I pulled out my camera and took a bunch of pictures. I suddenly remembered I was supposed to go to a surprise good bye party for a friend, so McLaughin, my sister and I rushed up to my room and rummaged through my closet, choosing an outfit and sending me to the bathroom to change. The rest of the family was shouting at us cause we were holding everyone up, but it wouldn’t be a traditional get-together if that didn’t happen at some point to someone in the family, so it was A-Okay.

I hugged everyone goodbye, and we all rushed out the door. I was late for the party, but it was the absolute best reason for being late- I was busy having a good time with some good friends. A friendship like ours will never fade, it will never stop being this beautiful, McLaughin will always be one of my dearest friends.

Yours truly,

Ella

P.s. I added a new page! Check out “In The Beginning”

 

Song Quote:

I’ll see you in the future when we’re older, and we are full of stories to be told… I’ll see you with your laughter lines. –Laughter Lines, Bastille

 

From my previous post, this poll is still relevant:

Not This Way

RIP sleep

This isn’t how it was supposed to go. I wasn’t supposed to feel like I was seconds away from collapsing all day. I’m not supposed to feel this upset after what otherwise would have been a great day.

 

Today was my first day of junior year, and like anyone would be, I was excited, nervous, and not at all eager for it to start. But at the same time, I was worried. I chose a beautiful outfit to wear today, got my hair cut a few days ago (so now when I wear it down it’s layered and naturally wavy), and got myself just a bit pumped about a new school year. But I was worried.

 

Ten minutes in, I felt sick to my stomach and needed to run outside. Too much noise, too many people, too many limbs around me. Outside it was extremely muggy, so after realizing I was probably going to get more oxygen inside, I went back in. Playing super hero music in my head and thinking “I’m going in” helped a little bit with that tough decision.

 

See, you all pretty much know me by now, or know the way my quirky head works. You know that I am generally an optimistic person, and that in almost every post, regardless of it’s theme, I have some witty or weird sentences that lift the spirits a bit. This comes naturally, and it wouldn’t be me writing if whatever piece didn’t have those. Right now though, I don’t want them to be here, because it’s makes me sound happy or strong or brave or whatever, and I’m not! Well. I am. But I’m not. You know?

 

No.

 

I had a really hard time. I’m not going to get into everything that happened today, but I’ll share a few main events that show that the staff at my school are incredible, and that I feel really sick:

 

-My teacher had the “tech staff” turn down the volume on the microphone after it worsened my migraine.

 

-The school guidance counselor brought me a cup of water and offered to take me home when she saw how I looked (dead and sweaty).

 

-The principal picked up my backpack, carried it for me, and let me stay in his office (under the air conditioner) until I felt a little better.

 

-The school superintendent is setting up a cupboard in my main classroom so I don’t have to walk down two flights of stairs to get to the lockers.

 

So as you can see, my school has been absolutely amazing to me so far, and it’s only been a day. I’m so incredibly thankful for them, especially the guidance counselor who has been on my side since the first day three years ago, when I transferred into this school. She’s known me since before all of the medical shifts and scares.

 

At the same time, this year is extremely intense in terms of school work and schedules, and my energy is so limited that whatever leeway I’m given will only make a dent. I have a long scary year ahead of me, and I want to just go ahead and tackle it, but I don’t know if I can. I’m so sick and so tired after one frickin’ day. How am I supposed to last more than that?

 

It doesn’t help that I haven’t seen my dad in forever. Part of it as because my vacation was longer than the rest of my family’s, so I missed a week, then he went away on business. It has been two and a half weeks since I saw him, and he comes back this Friday. Usually our relationship is great, even when he’s away, but this time it’s been complicated. He’s away so often, and he misses so much of my life. I know it’s not fair to be angry at him, because it’s not like he’s having that great of a time and he’s just abandoning us. He’s working all day long, and I know that he’s probably lonely. He just… he’s away, you know? My life keeps going, and two weeks in teenager land is a major chunk of time.

 

He misses doctor’s appointments, school meetings, tests, and dinner I cooked for everyone last night. Ten minutes on the phone everyday is just not enough. He also has a knee-jerk reaction to any complaints, which is to get angry/frustrated and try to make it clear to us that the world is a mean place and we should just deal. The thing is, I’m not like some other family members: I rarely complain. I rant, but in a funny, sarcastic way. If I’m complaining, it means it’s serious and I need support. Him telling me off is not what I need. It’s not like I’m trying to have a bad day on purpose.

 

For instance, when my mom and I went to another doctor last week (a new one), he (the doctor) was a total jerk and upset me a lot. I talked with my dad on the phone right after, and I was basically sobbing into the phone. He very quickly just got frustrated and told me I should just deal and not over-react. When I talked to him the next day he told me he talked to my mom, and “it turns out” I “wasn’t exaggerating, the doctor really was a jerk”. No kidding. I told him I don’t normally complain or make a big deal out of little stuff, so if I tell him something, he should just take it as it is. It’s the truth. It doesn’t help that he always has to cut the conversation short because a meeting is starting.

 

I try to be understanding, to tell myself that he’s working really hard, that he didn’t choose to have to travel so much (except he did, basically), and that he would much rather be home with us all the time. But at the end of the day, when I’m a kid and he’s my dad, he just isn’t home. I hate it, and I’m crying, because I miss him and I don’t want to have to write this down. If I don’t though, I’ll just feel worse.

 

Starting a new school year is never supposed to be all that amazing, but it definitely wasn’t meant to be like this. I just want to feel better already. Screw all that telling myself it could be worse, and that I should love and enjoy life. Life right now sucks. I want to be better. Healthy.

 

I can’t sit here anymore, my back hurts.

On that absolutely beautiful and uplifting note,

Yours truly,

Ella

 

Song Quote:

All the dishes and the words would pile up inside, she loved the world but it didn’t love her back. -Expecting Too Much, Orla Gartland

 

Birthday Ramblings – 16

Image

The dog my parents and I met on our walk along the beach, in honor of my birthday

This Friday, I turned sixteen. An age of promise, opportunities, excitement and adventure. I would really love to believe, with my whole heart, that my year will be like that. The only problem is, I’m afraid it won’t.

I’m scared, I’ll admit it. Being sick is scary, even if I try to ignore it. It could be a lot worse, but it’s bad right now too. When people asked me how old I was turning, and I told them sixteen, each and every asker got this dreamy look in their eyes and told me what a great age sixteen is, how I’m going to have so much fun, how great it will be. Each and every one. I smiled, and nodded. I hope so, I thought to myself.

I miss out on a lot of things kids my age are experiencing, and most of the time I’m okay with that. Maybe I’m even better off without those experiences. But with all of the talk of what a great year I’m supposed to have, I just want to be a normal teenager. One who isn’t quite as limited as I am.

My mom told me that on her seventeenth birthday, she suddenly got very sad that she was no longer sixteen. She said she didn’t really understand it then, and she doesn’t now either. I assume I have no say in the matter, but that’s not what I want to be feeling next year, that I wasted being sixteen. What do I mean about that?

I think I mean, along the lines of what I’ve been thinking these past few weeks, that I don’t want to waste my time on earth being sad or upset. I want to try to get as much out of life as I possibly can, leading as free and happy a lifestyle as I can. I want to explore my abilities, learn about the world around me and enjoy absolutely every relationship I have, be it with family, friends, animals, or inanimate objects. As my friend wrote in my birthday card, “Be JOYOUS! Life, life. Life. Life, life, life, Wooh!”. She’s awesome.

Altogether it was a very nice birthday, compared to my past few (for example, my entire class throwing a surprise party on the day of my birthday for another girl whose birthday was a week away… so nobody could come to mine. Kids are mean). Laid back, pleasant, and quiet, it was along the lines of what I’m up to at the moment.

Back to my main point, which was, I do believe, that I want to enjoy being sixteen. Yeah. I do. That’s basically it. I’ll talk more about fears and joy another time, even though I feel like that’s all I talk about. But, hey, if that’s whats on my mind…. right?

Just smile and nod,

Ella

Song quote:

I’ve come to know that memories were the best things you ever had… steady as the stars in the woods. -Old Pine, Ben Howard

 

P.s. Yay for over a hundred followers! Thank you everyone! It means so much to me to know that people out there are reading what I’m writing, and that maybe, just maybe, it means something to them. So, thank you.