Be Brave

This sticker was a surprise waiting for me when I got home from Nashville.

I’d been feeling completely uninspired and I don’t mean this silly little blog I mean any form of communication even talking and texting. To try to break the cycle at the beginning of March, I ordered a bunch of cards and stickers from an Etsy shop I’d been eyeing for awhile.

Rachel, the shop owner, and I exchanged messages. I told her how much the things I ordered cheered me up and that it was retail therapy after being in the hospital for a month and a half.

She is a lung transplant recipient & knows how unpleasant long hospital stays and chronic illness can be. Along with the surprise sticker was a card with the sweetest message saying she wanted me to be the very first to receive the new design and to “keep being brave even when it’s hard.”

Reading that made my eyes well up. I always get emotional when people care. I was scrolling instagram the other night and saw a post about that sticker… an unexpected question caught her off guard and after being upset for a bit she went home channeled those negative emotions into the “Be Brave” design.

This made me love it even more… in the midst of dealing with a negative moment in her life, she thought of me a practical stranger to be the first one to reap the benefits of the situation.

People tell me all the time how brave I am and that they could never go through what I have and continue to go through and choose to keep going.

Here’s a secret, you could… I hope you never have to, but you could. I hope life never throws you into similar situations but if it did you could survive it too.

Brave is a feeling I’ve rarely felt not in the moment and even in hindsight I struggle to find examples of it.

Not when I moved to Nashville to chase all the dreams, people said I was brave then. When I had move back home & put those dreams on pause, people said I was brave then too.

Definitely not during any of the trials of the past several years health wise which seems to be when people say it the most.

It’s scary and intimidating and it hurts. It doesn’t get easier to handle if anything it gets harder.

You no longer have reserve energy to pull from because you depleted it and haven’t had a long enough reprieve to build back those energy stores. Slowly a minute turns into an hour and an hour into a day and so on until all the sudden it’s a new week, month and year.

There’s one time I felt brave, when I took my first steps at 6 and a half. I’d been told my whole life I’d never walk independently. I’d always said to my parents or anyone who’d listen that I would. At that time, I had ulterior motives though. My Aunt had just had my baby cousin and I didn’t want her to learn to walk before me. So one day when I was at my Aunt’s house I took two steps from the couch to the coffee table.

Two steps became four, and four became six, and so on. We counted steps for months, eventually we stopped counting out loud anyway… I still count most steps I take to myself any time I’m walking, some habits die hard I guess.

The most ironic thing people tell me I’m brave for is being honest when it comes to what I post on social media. You see, I have ulterior motives for that too. It’s exhausting to constantly hide and paint the perfect highlight reel we all want to show the world on our Facebook timelines, Instagram posts, and Twitter feeds. One day I decided to stop trying so hard to pretend. I’m not sure when that day was but I’m a happier person because of it. Maybe you should try that and we can all be brave together.

Now that I’ve thought about it I think bravery isn’t necessarily something we can see in ourselves but something we see in others. Maybe we’re all a little braver than we realize. Honestly, like the card said bravery is continuing to keep going even when it’s hard.

-Hannah

Every Hour Counts

A few days before Christmas, Leah and I were talking about resolutions or lack there of. I’ve never been good at setting or keeping resolutions. Ultimately we came up with the idea to plan out something to do for an hour everyday each month of 2019.

I was really excited about that idea when we were discussing it but now it’s January 1st and I’m not so excited anymore.

Goals terrfiy me because I feel like my health gets in the way of them and I never finish what I set out to and end up feeling defeated and worthless…

but drumroll… in January I’m gonna try to write for an hour a day.

If I can stick to that, maybe by the end of the month I’ll finally write the “Part 2” to Nashville weekend in June. I also hope to turn “Celebrating Life” in October into blogs also and there’s about 5 half written blogs just hanging out in my word press account that I’d like to feel good enough about to post.

I can hear my Journalism professor in my ear telling me all those things are old news and no longer matter but I still want to say them and this isn’t Journalism class this is real life, there’s no deadlines for this blog.

Posting something is better than nothing and I’ve neglected this blog a lot. I haven’t posted since August.

It’s easier to shut down than it is to put yourself out there especially when you’re just trying to survive and so much of the past few months have been just trying to survive.

I love to write but I’ve never had the courage or confidence to call myself a writer. I turned that part of my brain off when I came home from Belmont a few years ago but last year I started writing again and realized I feel better about myself when I have and utilize that outlet even if no one reads them. Although I hope people will read them.

In 2019 or at least January I’m gonna say all the things I’ve been too afraid to say and if January is successful maybe I’ll keep this up all year.

I’m honestly terrified to post this but I can sit here and come up with every reason why it won’t work or I can see if it does.

Stay tuned…

 -Hannah

Long Fragile Days

I was scrolling Instagram last night and someone I follow posted a long caption that included this. “This day may be ever long but living to complain another is my favorite gift to take for granted.”

That hit me hard, it was just the push I needed to finish this blog that I’ve been dragging my feet about for awhile now.

I spent a good chunk of August in the hospital. I’m still trying to sort out what normal is even though I’ve been home now a little over a week.

One of the doctors told me “Have you ever thought about writing, you should, you could inspire a lot of people…” so I’m writing even though I feel like I have nothing to say.

The truth is, I’ve wanted to write more for awhile but I haven’t had the energy. More specifically, I’ve wanted to write the part two of Nashville vacation in June.

It’s hard to write about happy things when you’re miserable and barely hanging on. I’ll write that blog someday.

Time flies except when you’re in the hospital then it drags on and on in the moment. You come home and everyone’s lived those past 11 days and you’ve been on a constant pause.

It’s a weird thing my birthday came and went and sure we can celebrate that now. However, my birthday is gone. You can’t remake time. Once it’s gone it’s gone.

Last Tuesday, I was waiting for a ride home from the hospital. My hospital room door was cracked as my nurse and tech were in and out. I could overhear the conversation in a room down the hall.

I wasn’t eavesdropping I didn’t even want to hear it but I heard it. They were talking about hospice and palliative care.

Topics most everyone wants to avoid. Rightfully so death is scary and heartbreaking and sad.

I didn’t know these people. The lady they were talking to or her family but I’d watched her grandson giddily leap down the hallway earlier eager to see her.

My heart broke for them. I cried harder over this than a lot of my own worse days this year.

Maybe it was the fact I was getting ready to go home confronted by just how fragile life is. I haven’t been able to get this off my mind in the days since. I find myself spacing out thinking about this family and praying for them.

I don’t know I think I’m realizing the emotional toll of everything that’s happened lately and somehow feeling like I lost myself in the midst of all the fighting and the pain.

I can tell Nashville stories all day long whether they’re from a couple months ago or from when I was at Belmont or just random things that happened. However, no body wants to hear hospital stories. So I don’t tell those.

I do sometimes but people’s faces change or they start shifting in their seat or take longer to reply. So I keep them all to myself then I explode.

The other day, Mom said something about my hair it wasn’t even a negative comment and I sobbed. I said you know my hair makes me uncomfortable. She said no you rock it so I didn’t realize.

I do rock it. Truthfully I love it more than I hate it but lately I hate it because it’s a reminder of all the bad this year has been. It’s a reminder that I’m only four months post op from brain surgery and everything else that’s happened this year.

I’m okay or at least I’m telling myself that. Honestly I’m not okay, I’m healing and trying to pick up the pieces of all the ick and bad.

Today’s a gift even if it doesn’t seem like it. Even if everything seems broken. It won’t always be.

-Hannah

Thoughts about 24

25 years ago now, I made a dramatic entrance into the world. Mom had a pretty healthy pregnancy, she’d even been to the doctor for a checkup hours before. Then she had an eclamptic seizure in our bathroom.

We don’t live in this headspace often but this story comes up every August. Dad in a rush of adrenaline picked up a dresser that was full and hulked it out of the way, so EMT’s could actually get to Mom (and I). By the time everything calmed down we had spent about 45 minutes without oxygen. Neither of us should’ve survived but we did.

That night Dad prayed for a girl because “they’re stronger” and he also prayed for a fighter because he knew I’d have to fight hard from the beginning.  He says he knew there would be times he’d regret that prayer. Sometimes I’m a little too strong willed but I think those moments of regret are few and far between.

This, was my 24th birthday, this picture never got posted because all I see was how bad I felt. I was really sick, I’d just been diagnosed with Chronic Pancreatitis three months before and navigating that was compounded by a headache I had no explanation for at the time.  I was actually supposed to have surgery the day before my birthday but hospital dropped the ball and it got pushed back a few days. Actually this happened more than once this year at different hospitals even.

Anyway, now that 24 has turned to 25 all I can think is I MADE IT! Truthfully I wasn’t sure I’d actually see this birthday.  I have no idea what the future holds but I’m pretty sure life won’t get much worse than the past year has been. Brain surgery those words still seem crazy rolling off my tongue but it was without question beyond worth it.

Shaving my head was simultaneously the most freeing and stressful thing ever. Honestly think everyone should do that at least once in their lives especially women. On the flip side my “rocker chick” hairstyle that I see whenever I pass a mirror is a constant reminder of how hard this year has been.

It wasn’t all bad though the good moments were priceless, I laughed hard and smiled bigger. Learned to take absolutely nothing for granted. Lost my vision almost completely and gained a whole new view on the world. Then gained my vision back and kept the perspective.

I tried things I never would’ve if it wasn’t for the fact my life flashed before my eyes on more than one occasion. I mean I went to a painting class. I’m not artistic unless you count scrapbooking as art. I went in with no expectation and left feeling super accomplished. I totally am running with the “live like you’re dying” philosophy which reminds me…

Music, I’ve always loved music but I was reminded of it’s ability to heal.  Can’t count the number of times the music in my headphones was the thing that kept me from giving up.

For as long as I can remember the thought of dying terrified me. Death lost it’s ability to scare me. Don’t take that wrong I hope and pray for another 60+ years but death isn’t scary. Heaven is real and there’s no pain there. That’s the one thing I’m sure of after this year.

I think the biggest lesson 24 brought is I’m “good enough”. For years I constantly battled this idea that I had to do x, y, z in order to be liked or loved. Nope, just being Hannah is enough. Just being you is enough too, promise!

I lost a few friendships over the past year and my heart still breaks over them but, you can’t make people care. I hope you know, that I still care about you! Being sick puts a strain on relationships of all kinds but it also shows you who your real friends are.

The people that have been there for me this year I’m so grateful for. Thanks for not deleting my number when you got 2am text messages. Thanks for making me laugh and smile and fight. I really have the best friends!

Lastly, I learned that I can’t argue when people say I’m tough, strong etc. Even though I don’t see those qualities in myself I’ve learned a lot of people do. Just say the word “warrior” and I for sure won’t argue because 24 was all battles!

Anyway I think I’ve rambled enough… Hopes for 25? Nashville, living there again, not just visiting although I’m okay with Nash vacays too! I’ve got a Florida trip planned in a few months and I’m stoked!

More than anything as I’m trying to pick up the pieces left from a long year, I hope I can breathe, deep slow breaths that just wasn’t possible this year.

25, bring it! I can take it. However please be a little easier.

– Hannah Paige

Full Circle Moments

I take it for granted everyone understands the concept of writer’s rounds but in case you don’t… Songwriters take turns playing songs they’ve written and telling you a little bit about the song and the story behind it. Imagine you’re …

Take The Leap

Everyone loves their comfort zone I know I do. However sometimes it’s nice to branch out.

Saturday Courtney and I were trying to figure out what we wanted to do. My first suggestion was a movie but nothing sounded good to both of us and settling for a movie you don’t enjoy isn’t worth the money. We hadn’t had the chance to hang out since April and I wanted us both to enjoy whatever we decided to do.

She brought up one of those painting class things that are all the rage, and I was hesitant to say yes because that’s just not my thing. Which is strange because I love painting pottery but a blank canvas is terrifying. Don’t ask I don’t know why but it is.

Anyway, I said yes and I’m so glad I did. I went in with no expectations,  actually I expected I’d leave with a brown blob for a canvas but that didn’t happen.

The painting we picked was called “tree of light” and it reminded me of that scene in “Tangled” when they go see the lanterns. The fact it was an abstract painting took the pressure off of being “right”.

When we got there, we were one of the first people there and we asked one of the workers if we could have seats at the end of a table so it’d be easier for me if I needed to get up or something. They were happy to accommodate but our seats were already at the end of a table. Crisis averted.

Something else I learned was it’s okay to ask for help. You have to dry your painting with hair dryers in between each step and walking with a wet canvas is a disaster waiting to happen for me. So I asked one of the workers if she’d dry mine for me and she happily said “of course”! I hate asking for help but asking for help is better than falling and ruining a otherwise good experience. Courtney would’ve helped too but she was painting and I didn’t want Her to spend the entire class at the dryers.

Oh, this probably wasn’t a big thing to anyone else but we played a game where you draw a picture on a paper plate that you are holding on the top of your head. Can you imagine me attempting to do that just a few months ago?! No way!

One of the ladies who was in the class had recently shaved her head because “She wanted to look badass” She complimented my hair and headband. That was an amazing moment because I didn’t feel obligated to explain WHY I did it. I just accepted the compliment and smiled while continuing to paint.

At the end of the class they take a photo of everyone with their finished product. I was going to just set out because I knew there  was no way I could balance while holding my canvas and not knock someone else over or fall myself.

When the workers overheard me say that they were like “absolutely not this was your class as much as it was anyone else’s.” So we problem solved and I sat on a stool. I caught myself apologizing for being a bother and a couple of the ladies who I’d just met were like “Nope never apologize for something like that you deserved to be in the picture as much as any of us” That’s the perfect example of  inclusion, it’s not always big things sometimes it’s the small things.

I was pleasantly surprised by my painting I don’t hate it, will I be the next Picasso? Nope but I may have found a new hobby. I laughed a lot and truly just lived in the moment.

The next time you’re scared to do something, do it ANYWAY! You just might surprise yourself.

-Hannah

Keep Living

I wrote this over the weekend in light of the deaths of Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain

Suicide hits really close to home. My paternal Grandpa committed suicide when I was three years old. I’ve never said that publicly but I am now.

I never really grieved that death until I was a teenager and found out how He died. Because at three I just knew He died not the how.

Brutal honesty, there’s been more “wanna give up” moments than I can begin to count. However I’ve seen the hurt left behind and the guilt left on loved ones. First thing first it’s not your fault if someone you loved commits suicide.

You can’t make people keep living if they want to die. That’s a scary place to be. Wanting to die. I’ve been there. I’ve written the note.

I’ve also wanted to live and had to fight with everything I have just to survive. Life is a gift and the good moments make up for the bad ones.

If you’re in a dark place, find someone to talk to. If you feel like you can’t find someone I’ll be your someone. I mean that, even if we never talk or haven’t in years, FB message or DM me on twitter, leave a comment here, however you can get ahold of me do it and I’ll be there!

Also, never underestimate the power of the little things. Keep living even if it’s just so you can hear your favorite song again or watch your favorite movie, eat your favorite food… whatever it is find your reason even if it’s temporary.

Eventually pain fades even when you don’t see the light at the end of the tunnel keep breathing. The world is a better place with you in it! I promise!

-Hannah

Butterflies

Butterflies the animal not the feeling, have always been one of my favorite things.

Actually I love the feeling too, because it normally means something great or exciting is going to happen.

Back to the animal though, I think they became my thing because they’re free. I remember in 2nd grade we took a field trip to go see a butterfly exhibit and I was in heaven.

My teacher at the time who remained one of my favorite teachers ever kept talking about how she’d never seen me smile so much. I smiled a lot as a kid, but this was something special.

Second grade was a big year. I walked independently for the first time the summer before second grade. We never said anything to the school my parents just told me I’d know when the time was right and whenever I felt like walking independently I could.

So one day after recess I was in class with just a friend and my teacher I let go of my walker and walked to my desk. It wasn’t a conscious decision it just happened.

Anyway a few months later was when that field trip happened and I walked the whole day. This was a big deal. I walked with my walker but in the past my wheelchair would’ve been necessary for something like that. Nowadays I know how to conserve energy so I wouldn’t attempt something like that. However second grade Hannah was so proud of herself.

Anyway my point, im not even sure I have one but butterflies have always symbolized strength and freedom to me.

I will literally stop whatever I’m doing and yell “butterfly” and point out any that I see. Whether that’s on someone’s shirt or an actual one flying by.

I think they also mean change and hope. Metamorphosis is one of my favorite concepts it always has been. That a whole lot of hard things can happen and you can still end up with a beautiful result.

Life is hard and it hurts a lot at times but it’s also beautiful. That’s what butterflies mean to me.

So the next time you see a butterfly I hope it makes you smile even for a second.

– Hannah

 

Survival

I’ve been my toughest critic the past year. I really miss my Nashville life. To the point that typing that sentence made tears well up in my eyes.

I know, that I had no choice but to come back home and put my health first. Nashville will still be there and the majority of people who I love there have been great at keeping in touch and letting me know they still care no matter what. I’ve also been reminded the city isn’t going anywhere more than a couple times.

I feel like I’ve “just survived” the past year or so and that’s what’s eating at my soul. I know from a logical standpoint surviving is a big deal! Life’s thrown so many curveballs my way that surviving is a huge achievement.

In my heart though I miss my life. I miss everything. Even my journalism classes. Never thought I’d say that. I miss being able to make plans and actually keep them. I miss a life that I’d created.

I miss being able to do whatever I want whenever I want and not having sickness keep me from it.

I think one of the hardest things about facing your own mortality is the mental game that comes with it. At least from my experience you begin to question everything you’ve ever done and everything you’re doing.

Whether I wanted to or not I’ve had to get comfortable with surviving. At least come to terms with the fact that’s enough for now. Sometime back I said to Dad “I’m just surviving now so I can thrive later.” I’ve tried to hang on to that silly little motto.

I really hope there’s a point in the future where that’s possible, the thriving part. Right now though it’s one second, one minute, one hour, one day at a time. Truthfully even that seems overwhelming at times.

But, I really believe that time will come where all my energy won’t have to be poured into just making it to tomorrow. If there’s one thing all of this struggle has taught me it’s that I can do even the things that are terrifying.

So yeah, sometimes it’s okay to “just survive” because it means someday there’s the opportunity to thrive.

– Hannah

Rebuilding

“Sometimes you have to break things in order to rebuild them better. Hoping your world is one of those things ”

Five months ago I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. I’d been blindsided by a diagnosis that explained a lot of things I’d been ignoring. I knew it was going to get worse before it had the chance to get better. It did! It got worse than I ever could have imagined.

Things are getting better though. I’m proud of myself and I honestly don’t know the last time I felt that way.

February I was spending what seemed like practically everyday in a different doctor’s office.

The picture of why things became so bad so fast was made clearer when I found out I’d inherited a gene mutation from Mom that has caused her a lot of issues. Also a compounding thing from Dad that luckily he doesn’t have symptoms of.

Yet, in the moment it felt like my world couldn’t possibly be put back together. That’s when I was told the quote I started this post with. If life had to get hard I at least have people who help pick up the pieces. Fred has absolutely been pivotal in me not giving up over the past six months.

It still crosses my mind to give up. I think that’s human. However, I’ve promised a few people I won’t and I don’t break promises!

This post is all over the place but I think that’s the state I’m in right now. Still processing everything and fighting knowing the fight isn’t over.

Honestly will I ever be “healthy” again? I don’t know but that’s the goal! Everyday is another opportunity to try to get closer to that goal.

Everyday is a new battle. There’s a lot more smiles and hope though and that makes it a lot easier. I’ve always been a smiley person yet the headache stole my joy to the point I couldn’t even fake a smile.

What’s next? Well the 14th I have surgery to get a port placed. Basically permanent easy IV access. This is a good thing, soon no more PICC line! My skin can’t wait for a break from having tape and be tegaderm free.

DOING ALL THE SCARY THINGS, so life will hopefully be a little easier in the long run. I’m so tired but I’m actually sleeping. It’s a different kind of tired than sleep can fix. It’s mental physical and spiritual exhaustion.

Life is slowly being rebuilt. I actually have the attention span to do things again. Lately that means spending an hour or so requesting “Criminal” so hopefully Fred gets that number one song!

It’s Spring and Summer is just around the corner. My favorite time of year! June typically means a week in Nashville and I’m hoping to make that happen again.  We’ll see.

Our pool was opened this week. Kinda funny actually, it needs rebuilt too. We had to replace the liner and in true Pike Family fashion the new one wasn’t the right size so it’s being reordered. We all got a good laugh when they said they’d have to remake it.

There’s this theme lately, people assuming typical and usually. When I was in the hospital recovering from brain surgery we heard the words “typically and usually” more times than I can count. I’m not typical my body is in a constant state of survival mode so it took me longer to recover. Likewise our pool isn’t typical either we made it just six inches too shallow for a diving board. That’s the reason the new liner doesn’t fit. It’s not typical.

That’s about all I’ve got to say right now. Talk soon.

– Hannah