My Battle Part 2

If I were to start at the beginning, I wouldn't know where to start. I don't remember the beginning. I honestly don't even remember it coming on slow, or one day realizing the pain had been there for a while. It didn't happen that way. There are certain days I can remember where the pain would not subside. But realistically, it started before that. I was 12 years old, in seventh grade, enjoying my life, not having a care in the world.

I guess the soonest I can remember feeling pain was whenever I had to read. Since I was homeschooled, I was required to read basically every subject. There wasn't really any "teacher" since I read to teach myself. (or was read to by my mother.) I can remember specifically reading a book called "The Golden Goblet," while sitting on our lazy boy chair. Then I couldn't read anymore. My eyes hurt. The lights above the piano seemed to be brighter than ever. Not to mention that my vision started to blur during my reading time.

These all seemed to be signs that I needed glasses. I knew I was far sighted. I have been my whole life. But all of a sudden, I no longer was able to read things without holding them out at arm distance or further.

So I visited the eye doctor. Several times I did. And probably about the third visit, my vision had changed enough that I needed reading glasses. I remember being shocked at that. I NEVER wanted to wear glasses, EVER. I thought I was ugly enough as it was. Glasses were going to make me look horrible. Especially wearing them to WEC. In fact, I remember thinking that the only advantage to wearing glasses was that people would feel sorry for me and want to be my friend? Yeah, my mind was playing horrible tricks on me. Even though I was only 12, I was extremely self conscious. I look at my sister Emma now, who will be 12 in a few weeks and think "I'm so glad she is not like me at all!!!!" She doesn't seem to have a care in the world. And I hope it stays that way.


The co-op my Mom led, Westmoreland Enrichment Classes (WEC), was always my favorite time of the week. I got to see my friends, and I was learning so much. That semester was composed of a Geography class, a French Class, some sort of Art class, and a History Timeline class. (I'm sure I was in a Science class as well, but I can't recall which one.)

My History Timeline class was right after lunch, and it was on the top floor of the building. By about the second or third week of classes, I knew something was more wrong than just me needing to wear glasses. My head would randomly start pounding at various times of the day. There was never really any pattern to it, other than it would act up whenever I got up really fast or had just walked rather quickly somewhere. And if I threw my head back and tightened my neck muscles, it would seem to ease the pain and eventually stop.

However, throwing my head back and tightening my neck led to many other problems that I had to see the chiropractor for. And whenever I would visit him, the pain was temporarily relieved for a few hours until it happened again. It was like an attack. It literally felt like someone hitting me with a sledge hammer from the inside of my head, out.

One week, I was walking up the stairs to HT class, and I didn't think I was going to make it up the stairs. The pain was so overwhelming. And sitting down in the classroom wasn't helping. If you knew me then, you would have known that I try to hide my pain in any way possible. But that day, it just wasn't happening. I burst into tears in the middle of that class and told the teacher that I had to go find my mother, but I wasn't able to walk down the stairs. That sent her into a panic attack. You see, I was extremely good at concealing my pain. No one knew anything was wrong with me at all except that I had to wear glasses for some reason. So she found my mother, and there was nothing she could do for me except take me to the chiropractor since that relieved the pain temporarily. So I went to the car while she found someone to be in charge of my siblings til we got back. I sat in the car and cried my eyes out. It hurt so bad.

The rest of that day I spent lying on the couch, bawling. And every week after that, the same thing happened. Typically during the same class.

Only one thing was able to relieve my pain for a long period of time: SLEEP

Let me tell you, I have always been a deep sleeper my whole life. And I can sleep for hours upon hours. As long as there is no light and no loud noises, I can sleep forever. A 7th grade girl does not need 12 hours of sleep. But I was typically getting anywhere from 10-12 hours every night. Let alone each nap I would take during the day.


I was starting to become extremely upset why no one could figure out what was wrong with me. I wasn't able to be doing the things a normal 12 year old should be doing. I couldn't run, or I'd be in pain. I couldn't play volleyball, or I'd be in pain. I couldn't walk around church and talk to my friends, because I'd be in pain. You see, everything that I loved to do then was taken away from me. Piano playing literally was the only self comforting thing I could do during that time. That's why I love it so much. And that's why I write music. Because I feel the need to express my emotions through my piano playing since that's what I did for so long a time. Between ages 12-15, my piano playing became my life. I constantly practiced for my next lesson. I was always thinking up ways to "rewrite songs" that I had heard, to be able to play them.

During this whole time, I was still going to the eye doctor like every week. My eyes still hurt. And my vision was getting progressively worse.

Then one day, there was a breakthrough. My eyedoctor found something that didn't show up before. And it was something that changed my life.

....to be continued in Part 3