I'm a disabled artist with CFS/ME, a complex nuero-immune metabolic illness that causes me to be limited to my house and often my bed. Explore my life making art with CFS/ME through my blog and videos!
Apr 03, 2019 | Posted by Zeraph
Over a year ago, I decided to take a step that I had wanted (and feared) for many years, since I was a teenager. I made an appointment with a provider to get a prescription for testosterone.
The extremely painful disconnect that trans people often feel with their bodies is gender dysphoria, and I had had it for my entire adult life and some time before that as well.
When you live this way for a very long time, it becomes the elephant in the room that you work around.
It becomes “Life just isn’t that great.”
It becomes, “I’ll never really have what I want.”
You settle for something less, something incomplete, and try to convince yourself that that is normal.
Even though I wasn’t happy in that area, I was afraid and apprehensive about fixing the problem. Sometimes it feels easier just to do nothing. But even doing nothing is doing something.
It’s giving something up that you could have; it’s giving up time, and joy.
For me, it was also giving up real connections that I wasn’t able to build with people in my life, and the people I wanted to be in my life.
I didn’t want to be seen or referred to as a woman because of my looks or my “failure” to transition already, so I had withdrawn from old friends and from family members; from my community. I was perpetually hanging perpendicular to some aspects of life, not quite aligned nor connecting.
You can get used to not having a body.
My body felt like a lot of fragments hanging near each other but not connected to each other. It was like being reflected in a windchime made of mirrors that perpetually flashed my “self” back at me, yet I couldn’t connect those fragmented images into a solid image of a person. And I didn’t like many of the fragments, either.
However, I held back from change. I hung on to a middle ground, afraid of relinquishing some allegiance to my pre-metamorphic self, to the person who family and old friends had loved and felt they knew.
I knew I wasn’t masculine, and when I’d first come out, people were eager to point this out to me as evidence for why I should not refer to myself as male. I didn’t fit female or male gender roles, nor had I ever wanted to, and especially in the early 2000s, this was a source of violence, denial and hatred from others— on the street, in the genuine hate mail I got in my mailbox and email, and in the punk scene and among peers and so-called friends.
I knew I was not only a man in some ways, but also nonbinary, meaning that in aspects of myself I’m not either a man or a woman. I wanted to hang on to everything and be all things to all people, including to myself. I wanted to freeze in place, conceding no ground.
But over time, I experienced lots more of life, and lots of pain. And then I realized I just wanted to be happy.
There was nothing I needed to retain allegiance toward, nothing I owed anyone in terms of my presentation. All my debts were paid. The world, also, had changed. In twenty years, trans people had gone from the occasional Jerry Springer guest to actresses in major television shows, authors, community leaders and elected representatives. My attitude was now outdated, archaic. Born in trauma, it was no longer worth keeping alive. I said thank you. I said goodbye.
Left: In the clinic, waiting to get my first script for testosterone from primary care nurse Cynthia Leiffer.
Changing out the estrogen in my body for testosterone did a lot of positive things for me very quickly. Physically, mentally and emotionally I started to feel like the pieces were coming together.
It is important to note that transitioning with hormones, or surgery, does not make someone a man or a woman. Transitioning is something they do because it makes them feel better in their body. Gender doesn’t depend on the amount of hair, the softness of skin, the deepness of voice.
If it is real at all, it exists in the in-between spaces. Moments, thoughts, wants, words, sensations, translating the indescribable. When you’re trans, gender comes through like static on a broken radio. It takes a while to find the right signal, to boost it and make it your own, if that’s your goal.
It is a work in progress. But through taking hormones, I have more of a sense of having a body, now; I have an identity that I can communicate through the way I look. So, I can be present in ways I could not be present before. Transitioning is a bridge-building between oneself and the world.
For me, it has become less and less about seeing myself as a gender, and more about just letting go. For me, often, that’s letting go into a lightness of not having to worry about it all the time anymore!
It is not necessary to be masculine; it is not even necessary to “be a man.” For most people, gender is not that complicated. Non-trans men don’t go around thinking about being men all the time. It is just what is. I wanted that freedom, too; that lightness, in which to experience my own unique human gender, life, and body.
I feel more apt to connect with my family and even with people I went to school with, knowing that they will be able to “see” me better, and I won’t feel stuck being someone else.
Though it’s difficult for me, I’m working slowly on sharing more of my experience, because I don’t want anyone to feel they have to wait as long as I did if this is something they need as well. And, I also wish to become a student of connection.
Telling stories and sharing perspectives creates sparks of understanding that go both ways. I’m reaching out to people after having held back for a long time, and in turn I am providing my truth as well.
Thank you for reading my story! I tried to include as much as I can, but inevitably I’ve left some things out about these very complex experiences, including how they might affect other people. I’d like to make another post eventually about the medical and practical aspects of being on hormone replacement therapy while having ME/CFS and being mostly housebound. If there’s anything you would like to hear more about in particular, please let me know!
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Feb 24, 2019 | Posted by Zeraph
What IS the optimal level of risk-taking when someone is trying to heal or improve their health? What can we learn from other fields that study risk-taking? And perhaps most importantly, how can we improve our odds of success?
I talked with a friend today about something we have in common. Both of us tend to be risk-takers. And, both of us sometimes struggle to know which risks are going to be good for us.
I think a lot about risk-taking behavior lately, as one possible lens to understand how to manage and heal chronic conditions.
With ME/CFS, there are many possible treatments, and each of them is a risk.
Sometimes that risk is financial, sometimes physical, sometimes emotional. Often, it is all three.
Yet these risks also might yield rewards. We sometimes hear of someone who has gotten well through one treatment or another. Some people relocated to a mold-free environment, living out of a tent or RV or moving to the desert, on the basis that their illness was caused by an inflammatory overreaction to even small amounts of mold. Some people have tried one of the often-controversial cognitive rewiring programs. Others had big improvements from more common approaches, like low-dose naltrexone (LDN).
Yet often, we also hear of people who have not gotten better or have been harmed. These stories can be scary. For some patients, the fragility of their health combined with the lack of satisfactory options has made them risk-averse. They take few or no risks in order to conserve the level of heath they do have.
Personally, I want to take the right number of smart risks with my health in 2019. These risks might be medications, programs, even new mental frameworks. I know that some risk-taking is necessary if I want to improve. But how can I determine which risks to take? And how often should I try something new?
As I explored this question, I began to wonder if there were answers waiting in the science and mathematics of risk-taking. After all, risk is a concept that is studied in several fields, and surely someone had put plenty of thought into these very questions.
As I began to research, I recalled a phrase I’d heard used in the sciences: Risk tolerance. It seemed like a good place to start.
Risk tolerance is the amount and type of risk that someone (or something) is willing to take to meet their objective. As a concept, it can be studied in human beings, in animals, and in organizations. (Pretty much anywhere decisions get made!) It’s a common framework for making decisions around financial investments, for example.
When risk tolerance is high, losses don’t cause much panic; when it’s low, any loss can feel catastrophic.
Juni Daalmans, author of Human Behavior in Hazardous Situations, writes that humans evolved to have a moderate risk tolerance. Though risks do lead to problems sometimes, and even death, it was necessary for our ancestors to take some risks to acquire enough food to survive.
Crucially, they also had to take the right risks, by observing the world carefully to notice patterns.
Of course, not every human, nor every animal in a species, has the same risk tolerance. As with many other things, diversity means that different individuals prefer more or less risk. Linnér et. al (2019) reported on 124 genetic variants associated with risk-taking behavior, but also noted that the environment plays a significant role. Though some of your risk tolerance is established before birth, you can influence your risk-taking behavior.
From my perspective, it’s essential to take some risks on a regular basis to improve my health. And my risk taking tolerance is reasonably high, even with the risk-averse part of me that has been formed by years with ME/CFS.
Currently my health is in a very slow improvement. That’s great, but if I want to recover faster, I should take a good number of risks in 2019— maybe even as many as one per month. That’s a lot of opportunities for improvement, but also a lot of cumulative risk.
Businesses face risks all the time, too, and luckily for us, they have made a science out of evaluating and minimizing them. Two of their risk-minimization strategies are relevant here: Transfer and mitigation.
Transfer is when you cause some other entity to bear some or all of the risk. For example, if I choose to try a new supplement, I can find a reputable company that offers a money-back guarantee if it does not work, or free product to try. In this way, I force the company to assume the financial responsibility if the supplement turns out to be a bad investment for me.
Mitigation is a way to lessen a risk. If there is damage from a risk, mitigation will limit that damage. If a new supplement may cause a side effect, is there a way to limit the damage from that side effect? If I have to travel in order to access a new treatment, how can I make that travel as easy as possible? Often, people with chronic conditions are very creative in mitigating risks.
Beyond that, there’s probably the biggest way to minimize potential risks, which is research. Research can help us take the right risks. But research is also complex: There are many voices speaking. Some are applicable to our unique bodies and some are not.
Some, unfortunately, just want our money.
The research I do now is very different from the research I did when I first got this condition. The average person’s casual research skills just won’t cut it when it comes to navigating a medically unsolved condition. There is a learning curve, and it can be both steep and treacherous for the beginner.
I admit, I was looking for a solid answer. I was hoping that mathematics had some wisdom for me about the optimal number of risks to take in order to persevere in the end. I wanted some clear-cut numerical wisdom. I haven’t found anything quite that definite about this complex issue.
What I learned, however, was that the optimal number of risks to take in the modern world depends on the situation, but if the risks are reasonably good risks, it’s often good to take many. One’s cumulative chances of success rise with each risk— as long as you can weather the negatives. And that will come down to your individual body, bank account, and risk tolerance.
What is your risk tolerance when it comes to your health? Is your risk tolerance changing over time? Would you change anything about how you approach risk?
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Feb 03, 2019 | Posted by Zeraph
I’ve made a lot of progress this year in strengthening my body and increasing my resilience even though I experience chronic illness in the form of ME/CFS.
To stay on track with my healing effort, I like to turn to a reference that will remind me of my goals. I used to have a tendency to flounder around, feeling guilty when I wasn’t doing what I should be, but not quite making any changes.
Instead, I was just making myself feel bad all day by thinking vaguely about things I was supposed to be doing!
Now I use a daily self-care checklist instead.
Here’s how you can set one up too.
I’ve been using the Streaks app (iOS) to build habits for several years, but this year I kicked it into gear and have been making huge progress by using it in a new way.
You don’t have to use the Streaks app— you can use any app you want that tracks daily tasks (I linked to some at the bottom of this article) or you can use a paper checklist or notebook, a dry erase board, or whatever works for you.
The key to a daily self-care checklist is that the tasks stay the same every day, unlike a regular to-do list. Over time, the checklist helps build new, restorative habits that support your health.
I recommend you choose to build habits that benefit YOU. It doesn’t have to be what other people think of as healthy. Your body is unique and you know it best.
I like to shoot for several rest periods per day as a daily habit, for example. I also include things like taking my medication and drinking my medicinal tea. I listen to my audiobook daily because I find it puts me in a calmer state and makes me more ready to do other self-care tasks. Your tasks might be totally different, and that’s OK.
It’s useful to spend some time thinking about what makes your body feel good, what puts you in a calm state, and what rituals are most important for your health (mental and/or physical). Think about tasks you often forget to do even though you know they’re important. Do you forget to take medications? Skip out on resting enough? Do you need time for self-massage, meditation, creativity, prayer?
Though self-care is great, I also recommend you don’t shoot too high. Make it achievable. You can always make it more intensive later! There’s nothing that makes me abandon a daily ritual more quickly than if it’s just too much work, or takes too long. Do what you can do.
Note: If you have ME/CFS, please don’t choose exercise-based goals. If you have ME/CFS, I recommend that none of your goals are exercise-focused, even if you normally exercise. Use your goals to track habits that are always going to benefit you even if you are unwell that day. If you choose to exercise (while being aware of the risks!), of course you still can, but it should be a separate decision, not linked to completing your goals. The one exception that I make for myself is very light restorative stretching.
Okay, I will admit it: I love tracking things, and I love apps. Maybe you do too (or maybe you don’t)! The key is to find what works for you.
Personally, I like to track my goals in the Streaks app according to percentage of completion. Streaks lets me see how often I completed my daily habit in the last 7 days and the last 30 days. I set a percentage completion goal for the month and make sure I reach it.
Different apps will have different ways of tracking, reminding and rewarding you for completing daily habits.
You don’t have to track goals if it makes you anxious — do what feels right to you!
Streaks is the tool that works best for me, but there are lots of other habit tracking apps for Android and iOS, including The Habit Hub and these game-like apps .
What is one self-care ritual or habit you would like to do every day?
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Dec 16, 2018 | Posted by Zeraph
I hope you enjoyed watching me create these two abstract paintings!
This video is closed captioned so remember to turn on captions if you need them.
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Nov 25, 2018 | Posted by Zeraph
For the second time this year, I challenged myself to blog daily about my experience with ME/CFS, while also trying new things to improve my symptoms every day! I did this over at my Instagram, under the tag #14DayMEChallenge. You can view my posts here.
“Challenges,” whether 7, 14, or 30 or more days, are popular right now. They often involve doing something every day for a period of time, and they can be a good way to improve a skill, build a habit, or improve yourself or the world in some way. Some people take photos daily, or draw something daily like in #Inktober; other people focus on self-care or health.
My goal in doing a ME/CFS challenge was twofold: I wanted to create a form of accountability for myself, and I wanted to benefit from a focused attempt to rest more often, which is one of my self-care goals. If you don’t know, I follow a strategy of resting throughout the day and also taking periodic rest days in a patient-developed treatment protocol called aggressive rest. Aggressive rest just means that you rest before you’re forced to by your illness.
One of the biggest changes I implemented throughout my 14 Day Challenge was to get serious about completing my daily checklist. I use an app called Streaks to manage 12 daily self-care tasks. Streaks is an iOS (iPhone/iPad) app developed by the folks at Crunchy Bagel, who by the way are super nice and have had meaningful email exchanges with me about how to improve their app. The app is a one time fee of $4.99 (I get it, that’s steep for an app) but it’s really helpful to me and it does exactly what I want it to do.
I also started using Downtime on my iPhone and other Screentime features meant to help you manage and limit your phone use.
However, I found quickly that these features don’t work that great. Screentime is super inaccurate and Downtime (a scheduled time when your phone stops letting you use apps) is just too inflexible for me. Currently, I only use the feature that limits my time on game apps and social media apps, as these seem to work well enough.
The next idea I started exploring was this idea of doing “10% better” at resting and self-care. I generally had been pushing myself to do a lot better with resting, and to be honest, I was failing… or felt like I was failing… often.
Spending time doing nothing is super hard, even if it sounds nice to think about. And I’m a very motivated person with a lot of projects going on, too.
When I was younger I was actually a trained volunteer HIV and sexual health educator, and among people who do that sort of education, there’s this idea of harm reduction. That means, basically, “We understand that human beings are gonna be human beings, and probably do things that might cause them some harm. So instead of telling them to just stop, which won’t work, we’ll give them tools to do it more safely.”
So what if we apply this idea of harm reduction to resting and pacing with ME/CFS? That’s where I came up with the idea of doing “10% better” in my efforts at healing. It’s a series of little improvements that I hoped would add up over time.
But I would have to see what happened over the course of the challenge.
This kind of led into thinking about new ways to rest that weren’t so drastic and weren’t so impossible-feeling for me. I know that resting works for me already— but I just couldn’t MAKE myself do it!
One of the things you learn with chronic illness, and with life in general, is that you can’t fight your body and win. You also can’t fight your mind. It’s kind of a “flow-with” situation. How can you accept and flow with your current mind and body in a way that supports your eventual goals?
Out of these thoughts came a new strategy of resting that I call 1/2 Hour On/Off. This means that after doing any activity for 1/2 hour, I rest for 1/2 hour. Both activity and rest are defined by me, the individual.
For me, activity might mean typing, light cleaning, using my phone, and any kind of work.
Resting meant listening to an audiobook, watching videos, or lying down doing relaxation or meditation. I found it was really helpful to give myself options. When I get antsy during a planned 1/2 hour rest period, I can switch activities as much as I need to.
For someone who is more mildly affected with ME/CFS or more severe, the meaning of rest and activity will change.
Toward the end of the challenge, I started using Flaredown app, which is a multi-symptom tracker for iOS and Android. It allows you to graph different variables against each other, including symptoms, treatments and special factors that may come up in day to day life. It’s for a huge range of chronic illnesses and conditions.
For me, the jury is still out on Flaredown. It very much feels like it will be what you make of it. It’s up to you to make sure you’re tracking the right variables and that you’re accurately recording your symptom severity.
I am always pretty unsure if I’m recording things correctly, as they may change throughout the day and I can only enter my answers once per day.
Short answer: Yes.
The challenge actually helped more than I thought it did. I had hoped to use it to build good habits and find new ways to manage my illness, but I also had a secret hope that I didn’t say much about: I wanted to improve my baseline. This is a really elusive and important goal, and one of the hardest to achieve. But without changing the baseline itself, recovery is not possible.
Mostly, I have moved my baseline through medication. I’ve stabilized declines simply through my behavior, but it’s rare to raise my baseline permanently just through my own actions. I hoped that the challenge would actually help me do that. After all, if I am going to recover, I need my baseline to improve regularly.
Through the gradual and small improvements in the challenge, I gained new tools that helped me do a little bit better every day,and over time these changes added up. In the few weeks since I did the challenge, I’ve had more energy than I have had in the last year. I’ve become accustomed to having productive time every day, and it doesn’t build up fatigue until I crash. Instead, I am mostly still fine. This is a great indicator of a shift in the baseline.
I still need to stay attentive and keep doing “10% better” (harm reduction) and doing 1/2 hour on/off days (aggressive rest). But I’m feeling more energetic than I have in a long time. I’ve had days where I’ve cleaned, organized, painted AND worked on the computer in the same way — an impossibility for over a year now.
Thanks for following my healing effort – by following my blog, Instagram or Facebook, you’re literally a part of my healing team. It wouldn’t be possible to do the 14 Day Challenges without a community of people caring, encouraging, and learning along with me.
If anything I tried in my challenge appeals to you, let me know! I’d love to know what you are trying out for yourself.
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Nov 18, 2018 | Posted by Zeraph
It’s the most magical time of the year: First snowfall (here in New England, anyway) and the start of the Christmas season! However, it’s also time for lots of cold and flu bugs, and those come on top of the extra symptoms that many of us with ME/CFS experience year-round.
If you have ME/CFS like me, or many other chronic illnesses, you’ve probably noticed constantly-shifting symptoms of illness and infection, like chest congestion, sore throat, stuffy nose, sinusitis, candida issues, and more. Often doctors can’t do much to help and you’re left to pick yourself up on your own.
For people with ME/CFS, minor infections and inflammation can easily lead to profound crashes, with their even more disabling symptoms like difficulty moving, breathing, eating, drinking, and speaking.
I thought I’d share one of the things that helps me avoid crashes from infection symptoms and immune dysfunction. I struggle personally with chest congestion and sinusitis, especially when I’m tired or have overdone it, and this remedy is very helpful. Two or three cups a day puts me back on track and often limits infection-related crashes to one day rather than an endless string of days.
Super Ginger-Lime Immune Tonic
What you’ll need:
Optional: Your favorite immune-boosting and/or antifungal tea (Ex: Pau d’Arco, Echinacea, etc.)
1. Thinly slice plenty of ginger (about 1/3 of a medium hand of ginger) and put in a mug. You can reuse this ginger all day and it keeps working for 2-3 cups of tea.
2. Add a teabag with good quality ginger tea, and your additional immune-boosting tea if you’re using it.
3. Fill with boiling water and cover 10 minutes.
4. Squeeze a lime slice into the tea and drink while hot. (Don’t put it in with the water— the boiling water will destroy beneficial compounds in the lime.)
This is a strong tea and has powerful effects! Drink 3x a day for best results.
*If you prefer lemon, go for it. I prefer lime because it’s seedless (meaning no seeds in the tea!) and I feel it works a bit better for me.
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Sep 29, 2018 | Posted by Zeraph
Maybe this always happens this time of year. It’s almost October; then the Saturnine period from fall to Christmas, the death time. Not only because of the season or the feeling, but because people often die during this time…
I think one year I spent several months thinking that was me, that I couldn’t possibly keep living. Not depression, exactly, but the body sending out signals that surely this can’t keep going. Surely there is some bottom to this pit. At the time I was declining slowly but steadily. I stabilized. After a while (with medication) I improved. Now I am stronger, but completely overwhelmed by sensory sensitivities. In some ways this is more disabling than anything before. To see screens, lights, to concentrate, all wears my brain out until it can’t bear to experience any more stimulation. The other night, with my eyes shut tight in a pitch dark room, I find myself thinking: It needs to be darker.
Yet I (living, breathing, alive) don’t want to be unable to talk to people, unable to look at screens that connect me to people. I can’t go outside anymore because of the sensory issues. They’re so extreme, and they cause crashes — sensory crashes. Days of lying in the dark, audiobook, brief use of phone.
I don’t know how to address this, I don’t know how to fix it or even begin to approach it. My brain is on fire, I can feel the liquid heat of it in the way the outdoor sun burns my eyes and overwhelms my brain to the point of dissociation. I start to perceive in jumbled flashes: Tree. Water. Sky. Motorboat sound. Leaves. All strobing like I’m in a crowded club on a bad trip.
I know what the outdoors is supposed to be like. I remember its embracing energy, the calmness of the forest. I want that. I want to feel it. But I don’t feel anything like that. The outdoors is here but I can’t experience it because it doesn’t feel right to me anymore. It doesn’t feel like it is supposed to. So I can’t go to it. I can’t go home.
Yeah, maybe it was last year I listened to Leonard Cohen’s last album on repeat and fell, fell fell down into a darkness, a gloomy Saturnine place, a cool crypt within the hot body. And I was afraid, sometimes. And sometimes I wanted someone to take me in their hands — When I lived on Division Street, we had bags of potatos sometimes, and they would sit in the dark and sprout, and we’d find them too late for eating. And I would take them into the garden and press them into the earth, so that though they were loose and collapsing, their life could make new life. I imagined that someone could take me in their hands, like that, and press me into the soil, and make my life count in that way. That I could be able to rest, and fulfil my final purpose.
I didn’t die, and I didn’t get better, and my body is still loose and collapsing. Is there a sprout, something green inside? Is there new life, begging to be let out, uncurling, using me for fuel? (Take it, take what you need.)
Am I still part of this? Of all of it?
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Sep 18, 2018 | Posted by Zeraph
Here is a question for you: Is your life small or large?
How do you know?
Is it possible to have a big life in a single, small room?
Or to lead a small life that is lived in many places?
Questions like these have become more pertinent to me lately. They surface when I am ensconced happily in my bed, writing, painting, designing or networking with other artists. They surface also when I am taking the comparatively hazardous journey outside, where the lights, sounds and unfamiliar vistas of the outdoors overwhelm me, sending my brain into a strobing cataclysm of sensory overwhelm.
They surface when I’m somewhere in between, too. When I’m in the living room of the house that I live in, a place I visit so infrequently that it seems like another country, taking a wheelchair ride to the shower or bath. At times like these, I may suddenly think, “My God—my world must seem to others so small—so sad!” But then that question bounces against a bigger and deeper feeling inside: “But my life doesn’t feel small or sad to me. Why is that?”
Perhaps I should explain a little about myself.
When I was twenty-five, I was enrolled in college at the University of Maine in Orono after concluding several years of traveling across the United States. I was studying to be an ecologist, I worked as a research assistant, and I was unhappy. At the time, I was engaged with a scientific field I no longer cared about in hopes of becoming someone I thought I ought to be—a proper scientist, not an artist who would never make much money. I wasn’t so much blossoming into adulthood as I was wilting. Life kept propelling me forward, rootless and unwilling, toward some future I could not conceive of and did not desire.
Perhaps that unhappiness was why I missed the first symptoms of my illness. Or perhaps it was simply because no one expects this to happen to them, this creeping and insidious sickness that hides in the shadows, barely seen, until it’s already made itself at home in your life.
However insensitive I was to the signs, I took notice when one day, after an ordinary afternoon of classes, I was too tired to walk across the campus lawn back to my car.
What would you do in such a situation? It certainly feels like an emergency, but you cannot call 911. You need help, but no one will understand.
I had no diagnosis yet to explain my symptoms. I had no idea what was happening to me.
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Sep 17, 2018 | Posted by Zeraph
CFS/ME isn’t typically seen as a pain disorder because the fatigue aspect is so much more disabling. But many people do have pain to varying degrees.
My CFS/ME pain is mostly in my limbs and joints. I also have pain from other, non-CFS/ME problems.
When I’m in pain, I don’t manage my CFS/ME very well.
I am restless; I move too much. I try to distract myself. I don’t sleep as well.
Pain is fatiguing, and it can make other CFS/ME symptoms much worse if it gets out of control.
So what can you do to manage pain effectively when you have CFS/ME?
After having CFS/ME pain for five years, I’ve discovered 3 key tips for dealing with pain:
Here’s some more information on each of these points.
Triggers are anything that causes pain to start or to get worse. Avoiding triggers is the best method of pain relief.
Sometimes it’s not clear what the trigger is. This is one reason it can be helpful to use tools to track your pain, like a daily, simple hour-by-hour diary.
The Hourly Diary
The hourly diary is recommended by Martha E. Kilcoyne in her book, Defeat Chronic Fatigue Syndrome: You Don’t Have to Live With It (available from Amazon). She recommends making a short note every hour describing what you are doing and how you feel.
For me, diarykeeping was useful in understanding patterns that I previously just didn’t notice, even though I felt like I was pretty aware. For example, I noticed that I have an increase in pain and fatigue every afternoon and that my fatigue from exertion can be delayed as much as two or three days. As Kilcoyne explains, the diary can be as simple as one or two words per hour, so it is an accessible tool for some severely affected patients as well.
If holding writing implements is difficult for you (like it is for me) you can use a digital tool like a smartphone diary — I like an app called Day One.
Or, try one of these: 24 Of The Best Chronic Pain Apps And Trackers
For me, my top triggers are dairy, sugar, overuse of muscles, and lying down in “crunched-up” or curled position.
Start treating at the first glimmer of pain! Treat the pain adequately, not just a little bit.
Don’t try to push through pain for any length of time — it WILL get worse.
When you have CFS/ME, it’s important not to let pain slide. Often, pain comes on mildly and intensifies over time. If you wait until it’s intense, it’s probably too late to treat it well or prevent it from impacting your other symptoms.
Good pain relief often involves more than one modality or method. After all, pain is a complex, bodywide experience that affects us in many ways!
I conducted a poll in one of my CFS/ME support groups to see what pain relief methods CFS/ME patients found most successful. Here are the top 10:
There’s no need to wait to administer pain relief— I go ahead and use all my safe available modalities right away, as long as they are OK to use together. (Of course, be cautious around opiods and any other dependency-forming substances, or substances that may affect your ability to conduct yourself safely.)
If you aren’t mentally competent to determine what medicines to take or how much to take, it is crucial to get help from a responsible person or medical professional. People with CFS/ME during flares can become too confused to correctly self-administer medication, so be aware of your mental state and get help as needed.
I find it helpful to list all the things I can do for pain, so that i can refer to the list later when I am in pain and unable to process or brainstorm clearly.
What do you find helpful for treating pain?
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Sep 03, 2018 | Posted by Zeraph
I found an awesome pain relief cream that works for my CFS/ME and fibromyalgia pain!
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