Life After Near Death

So this is my life after death. I was diagnosed with Addison’s Disease almost 2 years ago. I knew I was sick for many years before that but trying to figure out WHAT was wrong with me was a whole other ball of wax. I almost died in my doctor’s office one day but didn’t because of the amazing attention and care I was given by my doctor. She is female and only a few years younger than me so I think that is why she actually cares. She also specializes in Women’s Studies so I think that is what also makes her a better physician.

I spent a lot of time in bed hovering between life and death. The side effects from the meds made me even sicker but I had to take them to stay alive. Every single one of them listed weight gain and nausea as major side effects. My thick beautiful hair turned white and fell out in clumps. The meds also increased my blood sugar levels. As I watched my body bloat and I no longer recognized myself in the mirror my world became very dark very quickly. I was in for the fight of my life and I didn’t know if I had it in me to keep on trying. I just wanted to close my eyes and go to sleep forever.

But then my son moved back home after getting hit by a Mack truck and needed help to rebuild his life. My life had a meaningful purpose again. I knew it was going to be the toughest road I’d have to walk in order to not only survive this disease but also conquer it.

I’ve been thin my whole life and my body type was not built for carrying any extra weight. It took about a year but once my vitals became stable I started the slow agonizing process of weaning myself off of a lot of the meds I’d been put on. I did it under close supervision with my doctor. The hardest part was pushing myself through the physical pain I felt with every step I took. I felt every extra pound on my joints and spine. A lot of the weight has come off but I still don’t feel like me. I don’t know if I ever will again but I hope so.

I was really sick for almost 2 years but I didn’t give up. And now that I’m finally starting to see a light at the end of this tunnel, we’ve been inflicted with this pandemic. I worked in the health care field for many years (as a PSW, Nurses Aide and Medical Office Assistant) and if I wasn’t in the high-risk category I would be working the frontlines like I did through the SARS outbreak. Instead, I have mostly isolated myself so that I don’t get infected and die.

I don’t know how this whole saga will play out but I do know that I’m stronger than what I give myself credit for. I am a survivor. As horrible as this coronavirus is; it gives me a small degree of comfort to know that (almost) everyone is taking precautions to prevent further infections and death. Before this all started I had always been very hyper vigilant about using PPE to safeguard myself and my children from any diseases and viruses I could potentially pick up from patients at work. But, I’d watch in horror as other people casually exposed themselves to germs. Now, we are all in the same boat and risk losing someone if we don’t protect ourselves.

Being raised in a doomsday cult has in some ways prepared me for the apocalyptic world we now live in. It’s probably the only good thing to come out of that whole experience.

Stay safe everyone!

Malice xox

My Name Is Malice

Malice is the little girl trapped inside me. The little girl who was suffocated, restrained and silenced.

I had the most creative, vivid imagination as a child. But, by age 5 I had already learned that my ideas and dreams weren’t important to anyone except me. I was constantly told to smarten up and stop being so weird. I was told to fall back into line and conform or live in fear of being rejected by everyone in my life. I saw things through rainbow-coloured glasses until I was forced to accept a black & white world. A world where imagination and creativity were forbidden. A world where I was told what to believe or risk losing everyone I loved.

So, I stuffed those hopes and dreams way down into the pit of my stomach and resigned myself to a world of monotony and boredom. But, that little girl inside of me refused to give up. She learned to hide her true feelings and gain acceptance by being a dancing monkey whose sole mission in life was to please those who refused to be happy. I named that little girl Malice and kept her compartmentalized…until she refused to be hidden in shame any longer. After many years of hiding my true identify and self, Malice demanded to be set free to pursue the dreams she had been forced to repress and deny. Malice is the creative force that still lives within me….and she grows stronger everyday. I no longer believe the lies I was forced to believe about myself. There is nothing wrong with me. I am a proud survivor of ritualistic religious abuse. I like who I am today and I will not dilute myself in order to make others comfortable. I will not be ashamed of the crimes and sins inflicted upon me as a child. I will not stand in line with my mouth shut to gain acceptance. I speak out now to bring awareness to the terrible suffering so many children are still suffering from because their parents have chosen to join or remain in a dangerous cult littered with child sex abuse scandals. I don’t care anymore that many will still try to label me as a freak to divert attention from the fact that right here, right now, in my city and yours….children are being physically, mentally, sexually, and spiritually raped by a greedy controlling publishing corporation that’s disguised itself as a loving religion.
And the truth shall set me free.pexels-photo-413268.jpeg