Dandelion Dreams and Discord

  While Jon and I were still long distance, I started working in early childhood, which I believe kept me fit and healthy. I averaged about 10,000 steps at work a day and enjoyed getting involved in the activities the children were doing such as PE and music. I could even see my own coordination and rhythm improving, which is quite amusing! Young and still quite lean, I didn't see too many physical challenges initially. I noticed my desperation for carbs, but otherwise there wasn't really anything particularly noticeable. I didn't have acne or bad facial hair or any of those other typical tell-tale signs.  When I was probably 3 or 4 years into my job, I started getting chronic infections that I thought were thrush. I'd go to the doctors and tell them, they'd make me do countless urine tests and attempted to swab me. I remember telling the Doctor that I couldn't be swabbed, but she attempted anyway and I remember screaming out in pain as she prodded me. "We

  It's funny as I work backwards through this journey of mine and retrace my steps, I now remember another reason why I put off this journey.  You see, when I got my adult teeth, I developed a severe overbite. 14mm to be precise! This was an inherited condition, my mother had the same and to a slightly lesser extent my grandmother.  So as we began to explore things like braces, which had been held off, because I appeared tall for my age. (Doctors advised us to wait for me to stop growing to avoid teeth movement.) I had to go see all kinds of specialists as I had ear pain causes by jaw.  What eventuated was being told that I would need braces. I would also need to have my jaw broken and pulled forward. Which is an 8 week process, being unable to eat any solid foods or brush your teeth. From all those appointments and particularly the ones with the cranio-facial specialist, I learned that my jaw was wearing away and they believed I had rheumatoid arthritis.  So anywho, that was a big

  As I got into my early 20s, the discomfort and the struggles I had around my health continued, but I had become resolute in waiting till marriage. So almost by accident, my fears and concerns fell by the wayside. Perhaps part of me felt by disregarding them, they would diminish and disappear.  I focused on trying to be independent despite the crippling anxiety that kept me wanting to be home. Locked away. I got my license after much intrepidation. I forged ahead in University studying a Bachelor of Arts and maintaining contact with my high school friends. I think although my ailments were plentiful and I struggled with severe fatigue, I pushed on. Partly because I didn't know PCOS was the cause or how it was affecting me. After a series of traumatic events, I finished on-site University and moved solely to online, which at the time felt like a fix, but in actual fact cause even more problems for me.  I also started to find myself in the dating scene, I went on my first date with

  From the time I was young, I knew I was destined to be a mother, partially because I always wanted that traditional role and also because I had just always imagined it that way. It felt like it was just meant to be.  I was a very girly little girl, who enjoyed dress ups, Barbie and Disney films. I spent my days with a baby doll on my hip and a magic milk bottle in my hand. I'd name them, dress and redress them over and over, change them and carry a gaggle of babies around. My favourite dolls were Dolly Bri (named after my cousin Briony) and Thomas, a baby in a crocheted outfit with closed eyes. I distinctly remember tying my dressing gown around my waist with my baby up under my shirt.  When my brother came along, nearly six years after me without even knowing it, I think I kind of saw him as partly mine. He was a firecracker with grey blue eyes and a full head of glossy curls. Sometimes I was one of few who could understand him. Or at times calm him down. So without even realizi

  Warning: This story is of a personal nature about women's health. "Something is not right." Miss Clavel says one night after putting twelve little girls in two straight lines to bed.  I had a similar epiphany one summer day, when I was seventeen or eighteen. I left a family barbecue in my mother's car, because I desperately wanted to go swimming but had suddenly gotten my period.  I remember telling myself I'd just go home and get a tampon. Something I'd never used before. But I was adamant this time that I wouldn't miss out on the fun.  My period had a habit of rearing it's ugly head at every important event. Birthdays, parties, Easter, Christmas and my only thought at the time was that it was stress induced. When I got home, I tried to insert it, but couldn't. I tried a few times more times. Met with resistance and a lot of pain, I knew something wasn't right, but with no real understanding of my own anatomy, I was just confused. When my mo

  Throughout high school I was keenly aware that my body was different. It had a different rythmn, a different way of doing things. But I could never put my finger on the how or the why. Beyond the periods, there was little evidence of the why.  I was tall and slender for my age, I ate an moderately healthy diet, but I absolutely detested working out or sports. A lot of my bent up energy was poured in to writing, dancing and theatre. My anxiety became increasingly worse once I hit puberty. I found myself anxious, sometimes without even knowing why, constantly revved up and on guard. It became increasingly normal to me, so I didn't know to question it. Conflicts and teen drama took their toll at times and I didn't want to leave the house. I felt like the whole world was ready to critique, judge or ridicule me. So I lived in fear of making mistakes or disappointing everyone. What this created was a young girl, who outwardly appeared rigid, sometimes egotistical and controlling,

  "Yes, I think you have Polycystic Ovary Syndrome" our GP said, sitting across from my mother and I. I would've about thirteen years-old, having started my period the year before, we were both concerned by how sporadic it was.  I could go four months without ever having one. Once it finally arrived though, I was met with painful cramps that would keep me up at night, so bad that I'd have to stay home from school till it was over. I remembered mentioning my lack of periods to a friend when I was in seventh grade, her response came fast and thick, "Maybe you're anorexic, Google says periods stop if you have anorexia." It was 2007, the beginning of when the world could tell you anything you wanted to know with a single click, even if it didn't happen to be true. All I could do to not cry was gulp and walk away slowly. I'd learn to do that often over the years.  But the diagnosis you ask? Back to the diagnosis, the diagnosis was purely verbal, I spe