i sing the body electric

  
Yeah, so there’s my full name, the full names of two of my friends, and the bar I used to occasionally hang out in. That’s okay. Hi, I’m Elizabeth Roberts-Zibbel. That’s me, Facebook reminded me, with my friend Phil, four years ago. That photo makes me happy. Watching three particularly crazy episodes of The X-Files (Season 2) with John tonight while filling Easter eggs with candy made me happy as well. 

I went semi-anonymous here several years ago after getting in trouble at work (see “Open Letter to the Person Who Turned Me In“) which, just as I thought it might, began my slow painful departure from Parks & Rec and, eventually, the working world. I quit, pulled my retirement, planned to return to employment after some time off, but instead slid farther into illness and anxiety and applied for Disability instead. It was approved, though SSI payments have now stopped as we refused to jump through continued ridiculous hoops. Fortunately, we no longer so desperately need that money.

This weekend I feel closer to the person I was when I still worked, closer to the person I was when the above photo was taken. John just interviewed for a full time position at our local state university, instructing in the College of Education and Human Services. He quit his job teaching kindergarten soon after I left my job. We were both miserable. Neither of us wanted to live the rest of our lives the way we were, in jobs we hated, barely seeing each other or our children. It has been a long, ridiculously hard road since then, but we did the right thing. He also did the right thing again, quitting the very low paying and traumatic job he got in between.

John is likely to get this position. We’d be back on regular insurance, he’d be unionized, our daughters’ college educations paid for. Not only that, but he just started his own web design company, which I will run once he begins teaching full time on campus in the Fall. If he doesn’t get the job, he will still be teaching there as part time staff. His first class, Family Diversity, is going amazingly, awesomely well. He also designed the website which is allowing two of our hometown’s most beloved journalists to publish their own work, and own the rights to it, for the first time after our paper’s publisher fired one of them – this became somewhat viral news for a short time – for an editorial questioning the NRA (the other had quit previously over changes being made). If you’d like to check it out, it is http://www.bgindependentmedia.org. I do copy editing, obituaries, and arrange advertising space for the website. I am extremely proud of it.

My Etsy shop, http://www.windinthedoor.etsy.com, is successful on its own too. We are going to combine it soon with Zibbel Media. I feel like I have purpose, and worth. I still volunteer at the Historical Center, and am on the Youth Theatre Advisory Board, and am an active stage mom for both girls in their artistic performance endeavors.

Yes, it has been hard lately. I haven’t been to the museum in two months; I have been making once-monthly visits to the ER; my CGRP treatments for the study are over. My other worrying symptoms over the past year (see entry “Comorbid“) culminated in a trip to a new OB / gyn to see if my endometriosis had returned. It probably hasn’t, but I was found to have “pelvic floor dysfunction” and a visit to a physical therapist for treatment revealed that my pelvis was actually severely out of alignment, which certainly could have contributed to my chronic state. So far the physical therapy to fix the issue has only increased my pain. I had the horrible, demoralizing appointment with Dr. S, which I am only just now feeling recovered from. She did allow for my medication to be refilled, but with 0 or 1 refills only. I’m still “in trouble” is what that tells me. I had to stop the Corgard after once again being reduced to sleepy depression. As soon as I know whether I’ll be back on regular insurance, I will begin my search for a new doctor. I have not been back to the ER since February 26. I received a survey about that visit, so I did get the opportunity to thank the staff for treating me so respectfully, the opposite of my own doctor. The research nurse involved with my study sent the hospital a letter on my behalf, as well, though I don’t know if it will make a difference. I have not yet filed a complaint about Dr S but I fully intend to. The letter I wrote as a blog entry was not sent, though writing it made me feel empowered, and re-reading it still does, though at first I couldn’t see past the devastation brought on by my doctor’s harmful treatment. I don’t have to be a victim, or even a sufferer. I am still a survivor; a pain warrior. A success.

Success can be measured in different ways, of course. My daughters are healthy and happy, though I’ve realized Zo probably has some degree of Sensory Processing Disorder from her traumatic early birth. Neither of my daughters is intellectually brilliant, but emotionally and creatively they are both stars. John and I are stars too. We all are. 

Some days I feel happy, and capable. Other days I’m a mess. Chronic migraine or not… isn’t that just life?

   

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