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Twoapenny:

--- Quote from: Phyll on July 27, 2021, 03:13:35 PM ---Hey Hero Members!

I know you are there and I know you are listening. : )  I appreciate your encouraging and supportive words.  By telling my story I feel like I am accomplishing some important work.... I have worked these areas over before but in different ways.  I  am grateful for the opportunity to re-visit my childhood and seeing how the patterns and themes repeat over the years; what I have learned and can continue to learn from that; and what strengths and gifts have carried me through the years as well.

While in grade school at one point I had a female physical education instructor and that was what I told myself I wanted to be when I grew up.  As a Tom Boy I loved sports. I was unable to succeed in many physical endeavors however, due to a couple of congenital conditions I had but did not know about until later in life.  These included a hole in my heart and hip dysplasia. 

I also had an attention deficit , the non hyperactive type.  I would often find myself in a day dream at the most inopportune times.  The "spacing out" seems involuntary.  I thought everyone else was smarter than me because I would forget things.  It was also later in life that I realized I was smarter than the average bear.

Atrial Septal Defect:

Mom once mentioned the doctor heard a heart murmur when I was born. She said when I came for my first check up the doctor no longer heard the murmur.  When I was 24 I found out I had a hole between the atria (top 2 quadrants)of my heart.  Apparently the hole did not close all the way when I was born and started breathing.  If the hole had been between the ventricles the murmur would have been louder and more easily detected.  My heart had to work hard to get oxygenated blood to my brain. They repaired it surgically - but I will get to that later. 
   
Alcoholism was not the only thing I was in denial about while growing up. It was in the 5th grade that we learned how to check our pulse, and the difference between a resting and active heart rates.  They had us all check our resting heart rate.  As each student was asked to provide their number of beats per minute, the teacher recorded them on the chalk board in a continuum from highest to lowest.  It had been explained that a high resting heart rate attributed to a person in poor health.  Before it was my turn to report my heart rate it became clear to me that my resting heart rate of 96 beats per minute was indeed faster than average.  If I was in poor health I automatically assumed it was my fault.  I did not want anyone to know so I lied about my heart rate.  I chose a number on the high end of average instead.

After we did the resting heart rate the teacher had us running up and down stairs.  I was breathing so hard it hurt.  I found that I could not do many sporting events very well if they involved a lot of running, such as Tennis or even basketball.  Softball I could play because I often only ran a base or two.

I remember once telling my Mom that my heart fluttered sometimes.  She assured me everyone's did that - it was normal.

I tried to hide how out of breath I became during sports.  I remember once in high school while I was playing on an intramural basketball team, I was dribbling the ball and running from the opposite end of the court.  I got so out of breath.  Since no one was near me, I stopped at mid court and made the shot.  It actually swished through the net without hitting the rim.  We also would run the "600" every year in school.  I hated that and my throat would hurt for days from breathing so hard. 

In junior high our class divided into 2 groups, one to run the 600, the other to use the trampoline.  I was in the 1st group to run the 600.  Afterwards while standing at the trampoline I became very dizzy.  I went to lay on the floor until I felt better.  The instructor did not know as she was outside with the runners.  I never reported the incident to anyone.

In high school when it came time to run the 600, I simply refused after that.  The teacher did not push the issue and I was so grateful.

In college our basic education requirements included at least a couple of credits in physical education.  I signed up for canoeing. A physical exam was required and performed by a nurse practitioner.  During the exam the APNP asked if anyone ever told me I had a heart murmur.  I recalled what my Mother had mentioned to me about when I was a baby.  The APNP advised I might want to get it checked out, that it may or may not be a problem.  From that point on I told every doctor who listened to my heart, "I have a murmur but its not a problem."

It was not until I was 24 years old and in my first professional job that I had my heart looked at.  I was living with a boyfriend (CH) taking birth control pills, and had become over weight for the first time in my life.  CH had been a navy corpsman, and had a stethoscope. I was experiencing while at rest a sensation that my heart was "flipping over in my chest."  When I listened with the stethoscope I heard my heart skip a beat when this happened.  I later learned this was a "pre-atrial contracture or PAC.

While working in the field with one of the older nurses on my team, I confided to her about the irregular heart beat.  The next thing I knew we were calling it a day and were heading back to town.  Since my boyfriend had the car my co-worker also took the rest of the day off, took me to her house, insisted I call the doctor, made me rest on her sofa and fed me home made pea soup.  Never trust a nurse! 

From there I got evaluated, tests were run and I had surgery.  They sewed a dacron patch over the hole. Within 6 days post operation I was sent home on blood thinners.  A week later I was back in the hospital with 2 liters of blood and fluid in my pericardium (lining around my heart). That whole ordeal also taught me how afraid I was to self-advocate for my health. I also found I had trouble communicating with male doctors.  A couple of them had me reduced to tears.  I did not know I was out of breath because I had been that way all my life! 

After they tapped the fluid off and stopped the blood thinners I improved, except I experienced a chest pain syndrome that reoccurred for years.  Never found out what caused it, the cardiologist said there was nothing wrong with my heart and kicked me out of his office.  It was not until I started using a CPAP machine in my 40s for sleep apnea that I stopped having the pain in my chest. 

It was also a blow to my self esteem to have a scar down the middle of my chest.  Who knew there would be more of that to come. 

So what happened to boyfriend CH?  He was 10 years my senior and I was supporting him financially.  About a month after my surgery we were up at my family cabin. I was not much interested in sex with a healing breast bone, but CH forced me.  I got away eventually and was sleeping in the front room when my brother D and the band showed up.  CH went home and I went home with brother D.  I moved out after that.

So how does this relate to what is going on today? I will lie to W to avoid getting yelled at, just like I lied about my heart condition because I thought it was my fault. And I often think everything is my fault.  Why is that?  Because I had an alcoholic parent who blamed everyone else for his trouble?  I felt as responsible for my Dad's angry outbursts as I do with W's. No wonder how angry I am with W over this latest health crisis because I knew I was sick, he didn't believe me, and he yelled at me for not doing well!  Also, it is because of my income we can live the way we do, and that he has health insurance.  He lost interest in sex a long time ago and there is very little affection.

Two of my friends have agreed to be my designated health care agent in the event I become incapacitated.  I need to do the paperwork but it is at least something I can do now to protect myself from W being in a caregiver role with me if I cannot self-advocate.

One thing for certain, there are reasons I am still alive today.  I may not realize what all of those reasons are, but I know I have helped many other people so far in my life.  I survived a hole in my heart with sleep apnea while drinking heavy amounts of alcohol and experimenting with an assortment of substances in my teens and 20s.  I am a sober miracle to say the least. 

Will continue tomorrow.....

--- End quote ---

I'm still catching up, Phyll, so I know you wrote this a while ago now but - phew!  It's kind of revealing and scary, I think, when we start writing down things that have happened over the years.  You kind of wonder how on earth you managed it all - dealing with health problems that no-one else knew were there (or wouldn't acknowledge in some way), trying to keep parents and teachers happy, keeping up with friends, wanting to fit in, assuming responsibility for things that are other people's fault or no-one's fault at all, it's such a lot.  And then that awful boyfriend raping you and you just going home after.  My heart broke a little bit for you there, I think it's just that sense that you aren't even there - they/he wants something, he's getting it, you're just not relevant to the process.  So awful.  And I wonder how many people have awful things happen and just go home or go to work/school etc as normal.  This big event going on inside them and no-one notices.  I am glad you've got these friends in place to organise healthcare decisions for you, Phyll, I think you need that just in case.  I'm sorry W shows many of the same things you've had to cope with in the past already - and you've got your mad neighbour as well!  Sheesh.  None of us wants to live in isolation but sometimes it does feel like the only way to keep the nutters at bay.  I'm glad you're here, Phyll, and I'm hoping to catch up with more as my own dramas are subsiding now :) xx

Hopalong:
As ever, Tupp nails it in a phrase:

--- Quote ---This big event going on inside them and no-one notices.
--- End quote ---

I don't know any answer. Except to keep telling, keep telling, keep telling until someone believes you. Telling takes it out into the light, whereas when it stays muffled inside you, nobody CAN notice.

I think when the worst things happened to me, I would eventually start to tell others and tell and tell...but in a weird way, I had never told myself. About the pain or harm and particularly, that these were unacceptable.

My previous T once said to me that he believed I'd acclimated myself to a certain level of abusive behavior. That in some way I communicated in relationships that it would be okay to treat me badly. I'd trained myself to forgive too much and worked too hard to understand everybody else, and so it took many years before I loved and understood myself.

That's when I learned things like -- sensitivity is what it is and if I can't handle being yelled at, that is reality and I am allowed to be myself and recoil or go away from that. Pain is what it is and I don't have to be tough. Anger is what it is and if I am gratitutiously hurt, I am allowed to be angry about that as long as I don't get stuck in it.

Also, I think about my dog, who cowered and trembled over many things when I first got her (she'd had a very hard life and much fear and pain). Watching her respond to gentleness, loving touch, compassion, patience, protection and humor over time was just incredible. (She's now a sweet and confident doggy diva.)

It amazes me how long it's taken for me to see myself as entitled to those healing things too.

But I also think it just doesn't matter how long it takes or how old we are when it sinks in. We get our insights every day, we have choices every day, and the present is the only time we have.

Hope things continue to get better for you Phyll. Hope speaking out here, telling and telling, is helping.

hugs
Hops

Twoapenny:

--- Quote from: Phyll on July 28, 2021, 05:11:47 PM ---When I was born I was one long, skinny baby! 6 pounds, no ounces and 22 inches long.  My Mom said I was a "dry baby" meaning the amniotic fluid leaked throughout her pregnancy.  When I needed my right hip replaced 6 years ago, I told the orthopedic surgeon I always seemed to have trouble with that right hip.  I recalled complaining of groin pain to my parents when I was about 10.  Whenever I put myself in the knee/chest position I could feel the right hip seem to slip out of the socket. So I read without sufficient amounts of fluid in the womb the baby is unable to move about as easily and may develop hip dysplasia. The surgeon confirmed he believed that was the case with me.

The surgery 6 years ago went without a hitch.  I was up and walking 2 miles a day in no time.  With this hip replacement I am still struggling.  I wonder if my hips were why I could not get the knack of gymnastics.

So the ADD thing definitely hurts my self esteem.  Despite all evidence to the contrary, I really thought most everyone was smarter than me, especially in College.  (Even though I crammed 22 credits and somehow made the Dean's list in one semester of my final year.  I was the youngest person to get hired at my job when I was 24 years old.  It was not until I sobered up in my late 20s that I started to realize  and was able to admit to self I was not a dummy.

It was a doctor who first told me I had ADD, when I was in my late 30s.  I had some testing by a psychologist who said on a scale of 1 to 10, I was likely a 7.  IQ testing showed a 19 point differential between my verbal IQ compared to my Performance IQ, which is considered significant.  I guess I can talk a good story. Still I resisted trying medications for it, until my AODA counselor from years prior came to visit as she was teaching a class in the city I was living in.  Turns out she found she had ADD when her son was evaluated.  She had gone back to school and completed her Masters degree.  That was as close as I would get to getting it in writing from God that it was okay to try medication.  It does help but quickly wears off.  W's criticisms of me are often a result of my issues with focus, but I suspect he has similar problems.

So this all seems to me to sound a bit boring for you.  I do want to write about my relationship with my Dad growing up.  Tomorrow then.

--- End quote ---

Gosh, Phyll, is it the same hip you've had replaced again or the one on the other side this time?  It's odd how things can go well one time and not the next - I know someone who had both of hers done (not at the same time, a couple of years apart) but she had the same - really easy recovery with the first one and not so much with the second.  I hope it's all starting to ease into itself a bit now?

I do always wonder how much conditions like ADD, autism and various other things overlap with difficult/abusive families, and whether things like alcoholism creep in as parents/grandparents/great grandparents had to cope with these conditions without recognition/diagnosis/self understanding and so on.  I wonder what would happen if everyone could get a whole spectrum of tests done for all sorts of different things so that anything that showed up could be tweaked and adjusted a little, if need be, and if that would make people's lives easier.  It's always so hard to know with these things.  I'm glad you did get that diagnosis eventually and that you were able to try the meds (even if they don't last long!  Lol) xx

Hopalong:
I struggle every day (or more honestly, don't struggle and give up too easily) with ADD. I was diagnosed at age 60, which had two effects:

1) relief and elation that there was some explanation for why many "adulting" tasks were so filled with anxiety for me. It lifted anvils of shame and self-loathing off my shoulders.

2) grief that I suffered so much from not knowing this about my own brain. But I can't blame anybody...people simply didn't know enough about this when I was young. And they underdiagnosed it in girls all the time. (I don't have the "H" in ADHD, except in one form...it tends to trigger interrupting, which I've nearly mastered now. Only took 7 decades!)

Glad you're telling your stories, Phyl. You sound very strong to me.

hugs
Hops

lighter:
Everyone needs empathy, P.

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