Makeup Is My Armour

This morning, my sister shaved her head. That's right. All of it. It was past her shoulder and then bam, it was gone. 

Nope it wasn't an act of charity, she wasn't donating her hair. She also wasn't trying to beat the process of chemo. Her hair was just so damaged from a couple years of a torturous routine of bleaching, dying, colouring and heat styling that it was simply ruined. She had to start fm scratch. 

Ok Jack, what does this have to do with your blog? - You all must be thinking. 

I assure you it does.

After my sissy cut off all her hair she exclaimed that she looked butch and felt naked. I don't blame her.  My sister is beautiful, but she definitely has a strong Dutch look to her, which isn't as daintily feminine as other hereditary lines. 

I immediately came to her rescue by telling her that by wearing long earrings, feminine clothes and flawless makeup that no one would question her gender identity. She agreed and felt better.

I got thinking, I use makeup in the same manor to my Crohn's. I use it like an armour to protect myself from the world. I might take up to an hour applying my makeup just to hangout and watch a movie with my boyfriend or go out for a drink and wings with a friend. Seems a bit over kill right?

Wrong.

My makeup is a way for me to feel extra beautiful. I can feel beautiful without it no doubt, but the process of applying it is like treating myself to a spa, then going out knowing I'm looking my best shifts my brain focus from being ashamed of my illness or just feeling rotten, to having a spark in my eye that makes confident enough to order a girlie drink that I wouldn't usually (I'm a rum and coke girl).

My makeup is an armour against my Crohn's. For me it says: you can take a lot away from my life but you CANNOT take away my need to feel beautiful. 

Its hard to feel beautiful when you're running to the bathroom 10x a day, or have doctors shoving cameras up your bum, or have side effects from medication that alter your appearance without your consent. But makeup is always there for me for a little self esteem boost. 

There is comfort in feeling beautiful in your own skin, whether that takes makeup, clothes, jewelry, sports, dance, or anything else.

                        Bald is Beautiful!

I hope you all feel beautiful today!

Dance Yourself Clean

"How can you get through a dance class when you're this sick?" "It's exhausting and painful, but it makes me so happy that I don't care"

Ok, I'm not this good, but you get my point.

I've danced on and off my whole life. I've done ballet, hip hop, jazz, belly dancing, folk, tap, musical theatre and burlesque. 

Dancing has been a saviour for me. Not only has it kept me in shape (sort of) it has been like therapy. 

Nothing can cheer me up like a ballet class. It's impossible for me to feel sorry for myself or frustrated with my body and disease, when I'm dancing. Even when I'm trying to nail that double pirouette or hold an arabesque for just a few more seconds, it consumes me in a way that doesn't leave room for me to be thinking about my disease. 

Trying to hold a balancing pose is like meditation. I've can't say how many times people have recommended I try meditation to help my Crohn's. Dance is better meditation than me trying to sit on a cushion and say Om. But when I try to balance in fifth position, or in an arabesque, my mind is blanker than a fresh chalkboard.

 Despite being quite ill, I'll drag my sorry butt into the studio or rehearsal space and forget my woes for a while. 

I have done this consistently for the past 8 years and it's benefitted me more than any other form of exercise or stress relief. 

When I dance I hardly feel pain, I don't feel sad. It's a euphoria that dancers understand. It's my favourite thing to do. And it helps me cope with my illness in a way that is unexplainable. 

I wish that everyone could experience dance the same way I do, it would probably help a lot. 

On My Own, With No One Here Beside Me

I've been pretty independent as long as I can remember.  A little kid I'd sit and play by myself, or read, or pick at flowers and grass. I didn't need anyone to entertain me really. I had that DOWN.

As I got older this trend continued. My parents consider me very responsible, letting me go to our local playground without them before many of the other neighbourhood parents did the same.  Booya I have cool parents. 

I was babysitting by the time I was 10, and I had my first formal employment teaching kids gymnastics at age 13. Since then I've almost always had two part time jobs. I got my learners license the day I turned 16, I was EAGER to spend my birthday in the DMV if it meant more independence.

I moved out of my parents house when had just turned 18 to go into university residence and I never looked back. 

So what's the point? You may be asking yourself. Jack blogs about Crohn's, and chronic illness and some beauty related things. What is she rambling on about????

Is the fact that I have a lot of pride. Not like in that excessive way that religion says, more just like, I don't like to accept my own circumstances. When my Crohn's flares up, I lose a lot of my independence, and its one of the most frustrating things I have to deal with. 

Right now I'm pretty sick. So I've lost my ability to walk to work. So I either have to have my mom drive me, or take a cab. 

On weekends I come home to get my parents to help me with my laundry. 

My roommate and boyfriend help me cook and make sure I'm eating. 

I'm so lucky to have people in my life that care enough to support me through this, but damn I wish I could just do it myself. I feel like a burden and a constant pain to them, and if I could, I would be doing everything on my own. Believe me I would. I hate feeling like this. I feel like a little girl that can't take care of herself and that is so frustrating. 

I swear when I'm well again I'm going to be so independent. It'll be fantastic. 

 

Bums and Booze

"Are you allowed to drink on your medication?" "Um, not really, but whateverrrrr"

Crohnies are people. That's something that should seem like a total no brainer, but people forget that we like to have fun and mess around and feel normal. Sometimes, this involves alcohol. 

Before anyone gets their panties in a knot, I'm of legal drinking age in my country. Glad we got that sorted.

As normal as we like to feel, those of us who are dealing with a chronic illness do get affected by the sauce a little differently than others. 

I distinctly remember my sister making a comment to me the morning after I had been at a party: "Your poop smells like rum" I guess there was no hiding what I drank the night before. 

I'm not saying that drinking isn't dangerous. It totally is in large and frequent quantities. But just because you have a chronic illness, doesn't mean you can't enjoy the occasional cocktail. You totally can. We just have to be a little more careful about it. 

Pretty much me the next day. 

As someone with Crohn's disease, the hangover can be brutal. Throw the dehydration, weakness, headaches, and upset tummy out the window. We get the frisky whiskies, the rum runs and tequila bum a lot worse than the average person. They send us running to the cocktail cockpit to relieve ourselves. 

Some of our meds, conditions, and bodies can interfere with our processing of alcohol. Sometimes due to a lack of nutrition, rapid changes in weight or mood, can change our experience getting boozed up.    

 

I think the biggest thing for us to remember that our bodies go through a lot on a daily basis. The poor thing gets enough stress. Alcohol is difficult for ANYONE to process let alone someone who is being bombarded with heavy medications and treatments. It's just going to take an extra toll on our bodies than other people's. 

This has rarely stopped me from having a good time chugging away with my friends. Just because I have Crohn's doesn't mean I can't have a social life! I just have to be sensible and unafraid to have a social life without drinking when I need to.

Where Will You Be When Diarrhea Strikes

"You ok?" "Yeah, I just heard some unfriendly, very ominous sounding gurgles" 

You could be here...

Or here...

Or here....

Or God forbid here...

It could be here...

I think it happened to him here...

Those girls are in ignorant bliss....

It happened to Man's best friend here...





. . .

That's the same face I make.






Hope this brought some humour to our symptoms. Have a great day!

A Picture for Fun

"I love a good pun"

My Sanctuary and My Prison

"Where did Jack go?" "Bathroom" "Of course"

I've decided to dedicate this post to my relationship with bathrooms. We have a special bond, me and the water closet. It's difficult for me to go nearly anywhere new and not become acquainted with their facilities. 

For me, the bathroom is a sanctuary, somewhere where I go to relieve myself of horrible pain. I almost always feel better walking out than I do walking in. It's a place where it's just me, and my Crohn's. It's like our together time. A time where I can just be mad at it, mad at my body, mad at my life. Where I can pray to God to smite me or at least knock me out until the pain passes. I spend more time in the bathroom than anyone else I know. I go up to 12 times a day and can stay in there for up to 20 minutes at a time. THAT'S A LOT OF TIME TO SPEND IN THE LOO! 

OH BAYBEH

Without fail, if I disappear, I have gone to the bathroom. Hey, at least I'm easy to find!

My favourite bathrooms are in fancy restaurants and hotels. They're just the nicest and cleanest, sometimes having special soaps, lotions and perfumes or real towels to dry your hands with.

I'll take it!

But in a pinch, a dirty, grimy, hasn't-been-cleaned-or-maintained-in-8-years toilet can look like a gold encrusted throne to me. 

The relief I feel when I get into a bathroom is indescribable.

I made it! I think to myself. It's like a victory every time. 

So I've painted a pretty picture of what a bathroom is to me, and all of it is true, it's just not the whole truth. 

The other half of my relationships with bathrooms is that it's my imprisoned battleground. I always have to be near one. It's like a weird form of house arrest where moving between safe checkpoints is a nerve wracking and dangerous experience. Except instead of an ankle alarm sounding, my anxiety kicks up and nothing is enjoyable until I'm back in an acceptable radius of a restroom. 

A bit hyperbolic, but accurate metaphor

And then there is the experience of actually using the bathroom. For me, this means my worst pain. I always feel relieved when I get into a bathroom because it means I made it, but then I have to put my war face on and engage in open fire. (TMI?)

The pain is so bad that I almost throw up frequently, pray for mercy, and have a difficult time keeping from screaming in pain. Not to mention that in most public washrooms the loo paper is cheap, that the wiping is rough and unpleasant. 

When I feel the pain coming on, I also feel the dread No, please no. It's only been 45 minutes. I don't want to go back in there. No. It's going to hurt. No. Please no. 

And if I forget my iPhone? I don't even want to think about that!