Pain invades my sleep.

It has been a bad couple of weeks. Pain has been a constant reminder of my condition. An aggravating and hard reminder. One that reminds me that, yes, I am sick. A reminder I wish I could forget.

Waking up in pain makes me never forget. You lay in bed feeling like a major test in school is waiting for you, that you just worked out so hard your body is screaming, and if you even tried to roll out of bed and hit the floor, you would not feel it as your are at your pain level cap. I hurry to get pills in me and have them start working as soon as possible. A baby waits to be taken care of and I am responsible for this 7 month old bundle of joy and energy. I have to get going as soon as she wakes up.

Coffee is my nectar of the gods very morning.

Pain is also available in the evening, free of charge. I hurt in the hours leading up to the time when I can lay down to not sleeping. My body does not relax and is tight from being in pain all day. Insomnia sets in for a few hours. I used to be able to fall asleep in under a minute. I trained myself in college to fall asleep fast as I had 3 noisy roommates. Those days are gone now.

And now pain invades my dreams.

I had a dream last night. Dreams are a rare occurrence. Most nights I can’t fall into REM sleep. This night I was given a very strange view of my life. In this dream, I was hooked to a morphine pump for my pain and told to press the button as often as I needed it. As soon as I felt the pain, I would hit the button. Every 5 minutes I would press it. Over and over again. The pain never left me. It was dulled for about 30 seconds. Then it came back. For what seemed like hours I tried to fight off this pain. It never went away.

I woke to my usual pain and I grew afraid. Was this my life? Was this my fate and destiny to be chained to drugs? This is what drives people to depression. This is what causes anxiety. To be under constant bombardment and never getting a moments peace.

On common theme I see in my fellow pain warriors is when we do get a low pain day, we over-do it. We push ourselves and celebrate. We try so hard to live a normal life, even for a day. To get that day of relief is a blessing. It keeps us sane for when the next comes crashing down. It keeps us going.

I fully understand my need for help. I understand my need for medicine and how it helps me. I know some days, most days I would not be able to get out of bed without this help. This blessing and curse.

And my constant pain reminder that follows me.

#hugapony my friends

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World War me.

I am recovering from my last convention and am trying to regain lost rest and sleep. I want to thank everyone who came out to visit and I plan on special post for all of you. I am humbled and honored by the response that was given. It meant as much to me as to you.

I have been diagnosed Fibromyalgia, panic disorder, insomnia, and quite a few other conditions for 5 years now. I have experienced a lot and have struggled to find the help I need to make it through my day to day routine much less when life throws me curve balls. I have tried and put into place all manner of methods of managing my conditions. I have changed diet, put in a modified exercise regiment, and adjusted my life to fit my condition.

I also take prescribed opioids.

News outlets have been reporting on the “Opioid Crisis” that has arisen. They talk about the real effects on people’s lives. They talk about the families being torn apart with the misuse of the drug. They are representing every side of the issue.

Except mine.

I, like many other chronic illness sufferers, rely on the use of these drugs to lead somewhat regular lives. Understandably we do not represent all responsible opioid use. However, we do regularly get added to the group of opioid abusers. The news loves to report the numbers of total users or the max number of prescribed people in US. Using these numbers all kinds of data can be thrown around as to the approximate number of abusers. I am not ignoring the rising numbers of opioid related deaths, I fear that too many people are caught up in the panic and it is hurting the people who need the help.

I have recently changed pharmacies due to the national response. CVS has come out to say that they will not prescribe more than a weeks worth of an opioid to cut down on the number of pills in the public. This hurts in several ways. I now have more co-pays to look forward to paying. I now have the stress of going to the pharmacy once a week instead of once a month. I get to be faced with the pharmacy techs who judge me on my condition. They have to evaluate what I take, how many I take, and how often I take it to ensure that I am doing everything correctly.

It can be humiliating and debilitating.

It can also lead to them to refusing to fill a medication. When I was first being diagnosed, I had a tech tell me I couldn’t have any more medication, even though I was taking them as prescribed (Post is here “Anxiety now?“). I have also been through the panic of not being able to see the doctor in time or canceling my appointment so I end up running out before I can get the help I need (Oh Day of days). It is so tight now, my new doctor has a new form that I had to fill out saying I have to bring all my meds into the office each visit and be subjected to random pill count checks.

To quote a friend, “This is victim shaming.”

“We are not getting the prescribed medications from our dealer or a junkie. We getting these medications from a licensed doctor who has examined, poked, prodded, and run tests to find out what can help. We are not using these pills for recreational use. We are using them so we can get out of bed and live a somewhat normal and have a job.”

This is a crisis. My crisis. My own personal war inside me. I have to fight to get help. I have to fight to get time to go to the doctor each time. Taking off work to go see a doctor takes a lot of time and most jobs are not forgiving. I have to look at what I have and ration. I have several medications that are “As needed”. Do I take them now when I am having a rough day or do I save it in case I have a worse day? Why do I have to choose?  Who is speaking for me? For us?

I am only one small voice on a small platform.

I am speaking up.

Don’t forget us in the crisis.

#hugaplushie my friends.

 

 

 

Midweek quickie

I had a interesting weekend with a small social experiment. My sister posted the following picture and had some fun writing. I joined as well and post this picture.

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I soon sat down to enjoy having a bit of fun and work on my creative writing skills. I realized my mistake after 30 min.

Everyone was posting on it.

10, 15, 20, 25. They came in twos and threes. Everyone enjoying the short blurbs about themselves. I felt my phone going off every 10 min with another one. I cursed my sister (who promptly reminded me that I shared the picture voluntarily). I couldn’t sleep as I had more stories to write…..

In all honesty, it was a wonderful time and a big stretch of my writing and creative muscles. Thank you all who posted.

Just a reminder that this Saturday, Oct 28 @ 12pm, I will be have the My Stuffed Little Therapy panel at Nightmare Nights in Addison, Tx. I would love to see each and every one of you there.

Have a wonderful week everyone!

#hugapony my friends.

Event time!

I have an announcement! I will be having a Stuffed Therapy panel at Nightmare Nights next month! This is a My Little Pony convention in North Dallas, Tx on Oct 27-29th. My panel is set for 12 pm on Sat the 28th. I am very excited to be bringing my panel to even more people. I love being able to talk about the benefits of stuffed therapy and how it can help you. Being able to help people with their anxiety and depression is always enjoyable.

I hope to see some of you there!DanielPermenter

#hugapony my friends!

3 Year anniversary

3 years ago I decided on a journey to help others fight anxiety and depression with plushies and ponies. This was a journey of self discovery and meant really just to channel my feelings and emotions. There was such a draw and almost demand for more that overtook and surprised me. It was a welcome joy to have a platform to help others.

Over the last 3 years, I have gotten to meet a few of you in person. It is always an amazing experience to see how you have personally effected someone’s life in a positive way. In all honesty, it is what keeps me going some days. I have my bad days and there is always someone who brightens my day. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

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Looking ahead, I hope to be more active in have panels and have more of an online presence. I have a few articles with The Might.com in the works and a writing project that I have shared with a very select few of you that I hope to bring to light one day.

If I have effected you in some way over the last 3 years with my blog, Please post a comment somewhere here or on social media. I promise to respond.

Once again thank you all!

#hugapony my friends.

The Fibro-Dad

Being a dad with fibromyalgia is a difficult life. The days are long, lacking energy and being racked with pain. You end up staring at the clock, trying to survive to the next min, hour, anything to the time when you can get relief. However, when you have your kids involved, this adds a new level of pain, shame, and hardships.

When I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia 2 years ago, my daughters were 5 and 7. I was already a full-time dad with tons of responsibilities. I was working full-time, managing flareups, and trying to find time and energy to be a dad. Over the next 2 years, my condition and health worsened. I had to leave two jobs over my medical conditions and ended up a stay-at-home dad. My wonderful wife picked up the slack on the job front, and my daughters started helping me at home.

I would have days were I could not move from the bed. My daughters became super troopers and would ask, “Daddy, are you having a bad pain day?” “Yes baby, I am.” My soul would be crushed at having my daughters help me. I was the dad. I should be the one taking care of them. Over the next year, I would learn to swallow my pride and shame, and learn that I needed to accept help. My girls adjusted and learned to cook, clean, and help me around.

Then my wife got pregnant.

We were overjoyed. I love my daughters and wanted the best for them. Now there would be a new little sister added to the family. I was so happy for a moment. Then it dawned on me that my new daughter would never know a daddy who was not in pain. This new life would never be able to see me at my full best. Would I have the energy to keep up with this new little one? Would I be able to overcome the pain to be there for my wife? How was I going to be able to help?

I was terrified and ashamed.

Throughout the pregnancy, I did my best. I got a part-time job to help with the bills. I helped around the house, pushing myself in ways I thought were the most I could give. Little did I know that more was required of me.

I was only able to hold the job for a few months before pain and fatigue set in and I was unable to continue. Amazing family and friends pitched in support in ways that still make me tear up. I pushed though until the wondrous day of the birth of my new baby girl. I was a proud dad for a third time. We brought this bundle of joy home and she is amazing. She laughs and talks and makes life so fulfilling.

My health chose to find this happy moment and turn things to 11.

Over the past three months, I have had my pain levels spike and maintain those levels for weeks. After two weeks at a time with no relief makes for a serious mental breakdown. I had to find days to which to take heavy meds just to get relief. Caring for a newborn is difficult in the best of times.

Doing it with Fibromyalgia is a nightmare.

There are no breaks in the day at which you can just lay down to try and relax your body. The little restless sleep that never gives rest is gone. You learn to survive on even less energy, more pain, more problems. That survival has made me go back to watching the clock tick by the minutes until my next moment of peace.

I find time to catch a break in these small moments of the baby sleeping. I rest for 5-10 min before another daughter needs me or I try and summon the energy to complete a task of housework. I would not trade my life with my beautiful wife and amazing daughters for anything. It just takes me longer and is harder for me to do the things that need to be done. Sometimes I don’t know how I am able to get all the daily tasks done. I feel that makes me a super hero.

The Fibro-Dad.

#hugapony my friends.

Sara-hah-oh?

I have been seeing a lot of friends who have been using the private messaging thing that has been so popular around here lately. I have nothing against anyone who uses it. Seeing professions of love and hate spew forth makes it interesting to see. Trying to find out who these lovers/haters are have been driving some people to go to great lengths to find out who it is.

The thought had crossed my mind to try it out but I would rather tell you all to your faces and would rather people tell me to my face what we actually think. Honesty is better in my opinion. I would rather say to your face what I think about you. If you want honesty, you will get it. My family has a saying, “If you want my opinion on something, we will ask you 3 times. Each time we will ask ‘Are you SURE you want my honest opinion?’ ‘Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear or do you want to hear my honest opinion.'” We will give it, whether you like it or not.
I will say this.
I love you all and think each one of you is special. If you are reading this blog you are important to me. If you want more details just ask and I will tell you. I will give you all the information I know about you, and I will be honest, if you want me to be. Wherever you see this, ask and I will give you what I think.
I would love to hear from all of you about what you think of me. Good, bad, ugly. I would rather see people for what they actually think of me and not what people show me. I am a big boy, I can handle it.
If we had a bit more honesty in the world, maybe it would not be such a bad place.
May your day be great and may your coffee cup never be empty.
#hugapony my friends

Finding time.

Time is a thief. It steals away the good moments, the ones we want to last forever, away from us in the blink of an eye. It then injects itself in those embarrassing moments, making them stretch for an eternity. Time is a trickster. It makes games out of our lives.

I am not a fan of time.

We use phrases like “Stealing a moment”, “Finding some time” or my favorite “My time is too valuable.” Time is a commodity. It is something people seek out. It can be traded, borrowed, sold, and spent. It is one of our primary resources as human beings.

Our time on earth is limited. We do not know the limits, the start and stopping points of our lives. We carry on each day with this precious resource called time. We sell our time for money with jobs. We spend a third of our lives using it to sleep and recharge our batteries at night time. So much of our time goes into everything.

Except, I believe, ourselves.

I have heard many say they need some time to themselves, but how many of us actually do that? How many of us have actually looked in the mirror and thought about yourself and your own existence? How many of us spend time in our own brains? What kind a person is behind our eyes?

Do you like that person?

Do you even know that person?

Have you even thought about your own thoughts?

Take a moment and spend some time to meet the most important person in the world.

You.

Have you spent time thinking about you? No, not the person you think you are to others. Not the person influenced by those around you. Not the person from work that everyone loves/hates.

Have you ever thought about you, and how you think?

Have you taken the time to get to know you?

I hope you like that person. Its the only one you get.

#hugapony my friends

Back in the Saddle again.

I have taken today by the horns and started writing. Again. I have taken a sabbatical from it to refresh my mind and handle life events. I return today feeling ready to start again.

Writing has a way of clearing my mind and making a way for new thoughts and ideas. I have mulled over a paper/book thing for a while now and I have hopes of continuing on in this pursuit.

Scared? You bet I am.

It is always hard to put yourself out there in front of people and share what you think. In today’s society, this is more true than ever. The current political and social environment make it quite difficult to express an idea or view.

This makes me quite sad.

How many writers, painters, and scientists are being squashed beneath the overbearing weight of the public eye? How many of these are being judged in the open court of public opinion?

Sharing yourself is a scary business.

I will continue on in this endeavor. I will try and share my ideas and thoughts to the world, God willing.

I hope you will join me.

#hugapony My friends.