I'm finally sharing my story... because you might know a teen just like me

Some of y’all might know that I do online school. I think the thing that most people wonder, but rarely ask, is why the heck did you switch from regular school to online school?  Well, the answer is short: I was sick. And not a “dope” or “too cool for school” kind of sick, but a “I can’t get out of bed” kinda sick.  I have something called Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome or POTS for short. It sounds scary, but I promise it’s not. I’m doing great now that I have a diagnosis.

But getting a diagnosis wasn't easy, because POTS isn't a well-known condition. I'm writing this post today because I want to spread the word about POTS and change that fact. I don’t want attention for myself, but I do want to draw attention to POTS because there isn't enough knowledge about it. So, on to my story, which is a common one among us POTS folks: I was sick for almost two whole years with mono-like symptoms. However, mono didn’t show up in my blood tests. In fact, nothing showed up in my blood tests, so nobody believed I was sick. Not even most of the countless (well, I sort of counted, it was around 15) doctors who examined me over 2 years. Almost all of them told me that I was simply “depressed” or “whatever is wrong with me is un-medical.” Two years of doctors telling me that my illness was all in my head got frustrating. Super, super frustrating. I started to believe I wasn’t sick - even though deep down I knew that I was - which was probably the worst part of all of it.

Thankfully, my parents never gave up searching for an answer to my mystery illness, even though doctors told them I was fine. They got me into Mayo Clinic which diagnosed me within the first 30 minutes of my first appointment (although I stayed there all week for tests to confirm it).

As I said, the reason I’m writing about my journey is (1) to spread the word about POTS and (2) to help other teen girls with POTS - boys too, but it occurs mostly in teen girls and pregnant women. I'd love to spare as many people as possible from wasting weeks, months, or, like me, years of their life questioning or doubting  their condition.

So if anyone (teens, younger or older) you know has the following symptoms, please let them know about POTS so they can talk to their doctor:

-racing heart -low grade fever -blue/purple legs when standing too long -extreme fatigue -headaches -fainting spells -stomach pains

These are just a few of the symptoms, but they change from person to person. I don’t want anyone to think I'm offering medical answers. What I am offering is a way to spread the word, to share my story to so others can read it and identify with it, or maybe open people’s eyes to some questions they might be able to ask their doctors who might not have had heard of POTS.

Thanks so much for taking the time to read this, and for helping spread the word about POTS! If you have any questions, then feel free to leave a comment. I promise to read every single one of them!

xox ~ chloe

Getting giffy with it

Happy Weekend... just some fun to enjoy. (I hope you got my reference to "Getting Jiggy with It" by Will Smith!)  

When my mom asks me if I would like to join her for a run.

And then immediately after asking me, she tells me that I'm joining her anyway.

How I feel after I give a waiter or waitress a big fat tip.

Trying to figure out math homework. Actually, any homework.

When someone suggests froyo.

Attempting to fit in during a yoga class.

Flirty v. Dirty

It's my morning custom to cleanse my head from the day before and a ritualistic beginning to my new day. Running's always been my daily inspiration, my therapy, my happy place, my solitude, my weight watcher, my whatever I need it to be. No music is needed, I'm in my head hearing only my feet and seeing only my thoughts and the trees. "Mumble... mumble ____  your pussy," he yelled whizzing by on his bike, rudely interrupting my zen run. Yes, my ZEN run. Some wimpy #@hole on a bike had the audacity to interrupt my reverie and objectify me. Out loud. How dare he.

My first thought, after I impulsively flipped him off without breaking stride and without looking back, was, "Did I ask for this?" When guys have yelled lewd comments in the past, as stereotypical as it sounds, I wondered if it was my fault. So, you be the judge (I've already judged me, as I'm always apt to do). I have on a dark pink crew-neck Nike short sleeve workout tee and the ubiquitous Nike shorts in black with white stripes. I do not have on my Athleta bra, which is my most supportive, but I do have on a very supportive workout bra. I ban the bounce because I have a C/D chest, that would draw attention if bouncing, so I don't let it. And black shoes and white socks. Nothing spectacular, nothing worth scrutiny. I'm just jogging.

If bike-boy (I didn't see him, but he's not what I think of as a man) had simply thought the words in his head, he could have enjoyed his "fantasy" of whatever he was thinking of doing to my private parts, and I could have continued to enjoy my morning. I don't care what men or women do in their heads. It's our right and privilege to have a fantasy world. Not only can we have them, but we are expected to. Just ask Sports Illustrated or Kraft... without our fantasy world, I'm not so sure the Zesty Guy would have as many women swooning over him. Kraft took objectification and twisted it on his head: the Zesty Guy is laughing with us. We watch his commercials and giggle and swoon. There's nothing crude and nobody's using sleazy words to describe him, we're all playing along. Nicely. The issue arises when we cross that fine line between flirty and dirty.

But where is the line between flirty and dirty? My gut tells me. But, it's not always so clear. If bike-boy had yelled out "Hey beautiful" would I have been offended? Probably not. But what if he had yelled out, "Nice legs." My legs were showing, aren't too sexual, and the language isn't tawdry. Flirty or dirty? Simple language, but he's yelling at me from his bike while I'm running. Has he crossed a line? And if he'd said, "Nice breasts" or "Nice rack" I'd be offended, but what if I'd just gotten a boob job? Perhaps flirty and dirty are subjective not only from the yeller's standpoint, but also from the view of who's being yelled at. But I don't like strangers yelling at me. Period.

Does the flirty v. dirty line move as we age? Chloe, at 17, would be just as shocked by bike-boy's words. The line between flirty and dirty comes from parental and family influence and may waver back and forth at stages in our lives, but I imagine the point where each of us says "ick" remains fixed. And when it's crossed, we hurt and question... and maybe even blog about it.

So, back to my run... what's the point of yelling filthy comments to women? He wasn't trying to impress friends, à la the construction worker scenario. He obviously wasn't trying to pick me up. Did it make him feel better about something? I don't have an answer, but if you do, please let me know. I'm trying to understand, so I can react appropriately next time. My running / biking path is popular and I'm not changing my route because of 1 jerk, so I'm sure to encounter him again.  I'd like to learn how to deal with misogynistic jerks, and I should teach my daughter too. I believe she grasps her central point of "ick" and flirty v. dirty. Now she needs to master dealing with #@ holes without questioning herself and without flipping him off, because I don't ever want her to do the former and she's too clever to need to do the latter.

Thanks for reading my rant. I'd love your opinions and advice and to know how you react when in a similar situation. xo ~Kim