Photo credit: photographer is myself, model is Melissa
A few short years ago I was a registered veterinary technician working in a cat specialty clinic, and I defined myself by my job. When I felt I was failing as a mother, or partner or human being- I would clock in at work and suddenly my ego was pretty much fine. I had eleven years of experience working in animal emergency clinics, animal dermatologist, animal ophthalmologist, you name it and I had probably seen it or done it. I held countless fur babies, saved lives and helped some pass over the rainbow bridge. It's a job you can't be taught, you have to have the passion in your heart and compassion. I had created a career based solely on working my ass off and loving my job. I was lucky enough to pass the last exam they offered in the state of Georgia to grandfather in and become registered without going to college. It was a four hour exam over everything from hamsters to goats and I managed to pass it.
In September of 2013 I had a flu that wouldn't go away. I had body aches and eventually abdominal pain that kept sending me to the ER. The weeks passed and I wasn't getting any better. A local gynecologist misdiagnosed me with syphilis despite several negative STD screenings. I was given medicine that made me more sick. It was a confusing time and I was honestly scared. My doctors weren't taking me seriously, and my friends and family were trying to understand but just couldn't. I eventually got diagnosed with interstitial cystitis. I researched it, I tried the diet and the medications that were recommended. And my life slowly started to change. The first big step was I could no longer drink alcohol without having intense pain. There were days I was peeing 60 times, it felt like torture. My boss was being a huge bitch and ultimately made my life a living hell. I was too caught up in what I was experiencing physically to realize how much psychological trauma she was putting me through at work. I was later diagnosed with endometriosis, irritable bowel syndrome, trigeminal neuralgia and fibromyalgia. I fought as hard as I could to keep my job but I knew it was only a matter of time. They were looking for reasons to fire me at this point, and the medications I was on eventually made it easy for them. I literally forgot to show up to work for a shift I offered to cover for a coworker.
I started the long and stress filled process of filing for disability, knowing well that with the limitations I now had my career would be over. Everyone tried their hardest to be helpful. I ended up having to make a gofundme account to keep the lights on. I lost my car, I lost my dignitiy, my self esteem took a nose dive. I no longer had anything to be proud of and I had no idea who I was without my job. My biggest accomplishments were getting out of bed and washing my hair. I researched my illnesses, I spent hours in the doctors offices, learned all about insurance and medications. I joined support groups on facebook and my friends online slowly began to replace my friends in real life. I stopped having parties at my house, I quit calling my old work friends, and I became a recluse in my own little world. I couldn't make plans without fear that I would have to cancel or leave early. I was too afraid of ruining the night for everyone else. When I felt good enough to do things I never had any indication of how long it would last. It could be a day, or maybe just an hour before I would have to lay back down. Everything suffered. My personal relationships, my love life. Sex was painful, and I ultimately ended up having a hysterectomy last year for endometriosis. With that surgery came the feeling that I was incomplete somehow and not even a woman anymore.
I was literally stripped of everything I was. I had never counted on any of this. I'd seen the commercials for the things I was diagnosed with but never in a million years dreamed any of it could happen to me. I fell into a pit of depression, the medications caused me to gain weight and even cut my hair. I had to forget being pretty and just focus on comfort. My wardrobe was filled with flowy dresses and yoga pants. And I cried a million tears, I prayed to a god I wasn't sure existed. I wasn't sure if I was being punished, if it was karma, if it could have been prevented. I exhausted myself mentally trying to figure out the answers, to cure myself. All of it was to no avail.
During the time I was scrambling to make money I modeled for various photographers in Atlanta. I figured out that it was work I could do for a maximum of two hours and then I could spend days in bed recovering if I needed to afterwards. Later as the weight gain became more and more noticeable I could no longer model (because I didn't feel comfortable anymore, not because I couldn't find paying shoots). I kept making excuses and then finally just started telling the truth, "I'm not happy with my body." At one point a photographer friend let me borrow his camera. I used it as a crutch to stand on. I had expressed emotions of fear and pain and anger through my modeling, I had shown the world my sadness. It was time to show them my hope. I started planning shoots in my head, I practiced on friends and family. And the friends I made in the photography community reached out to give me all the help I needed. They lifted me up where my previous employer had beat me into the ground. They showed compassion and understanding towards my limitations. I was amazed at the difference in the two worlds.
I may not be who I was before chronic illness, but I'm far from dead. There are days I can't move, weeks I can't shower, and times I still cry and ask why this happened to me. But I don't feel sorry for myself for long. I've found a way to incorporate my love for animals into photography. I've learned to let go of the past and understand that although things will never ever get to be the same, I'm glad I had those experiences when I did. I'm glad I got to live my dreams for so long. Now my future is a mystery, but I have fought so many battles I can't help but be proud of myself. I've learned all about medications and insurance policies. I've learned all about my fellow spoonies and how to make them feel better when they're down. I've learned modeling and photography. I haven't wasted this opportunity to show the world that I can still make a difference, even if its not in the way I originally thought I would. Instead of defining myself now with my illnesses, I've discovered exactly who I am at my very core. I'm no longer a vet tech and that's ok, I can't be defined by a title anymore. It took losing everything to discover who I am.