A.S. Face 0163: Debbi Lucas

It has taken me a long time to even attempt to write this. It feels a little daunting. How do you explain a life you once had planned out. Like some cantankerous old man with all his preferences and quirks. It’s kind of like my friend said “You planned to go to Venice and you ended up in Timbuktu instead” CHANGE IN PLANS.

Only it’s not quite that simple. How do you explain something that took away the life you had? It left the shell of you, so your friends, family and co-workers still see you there. Most of them still think it’s you. But it’s a pod-person. You look out through your eyes. Those blasted eyes – they well up all too easy these days, Truth is I want to keep my mouth shut and bear all of this in silence so that I can be “tough” —- but I’m not. And since this crap is genetic, I could leave a legacy that I would never want to leave. My Dad was probably indirectly one of those losses. He couldn’t take anymore pain – physical or anything else, so he took his life.

I will try to do what I can to spare my children and grandchildren that pain and to stop this now – it is hurtful; still those of us that hurt understand how this might have happened, and we pray that we are strong enough to endure for our family.

I thought about whether or not I wanted to share anything personal on the Internet, but it will be worth it if it brings some kind of understanding or kinship from someone else feeling the same way, but alone.

You are worth it. Tomorrow may or may not bring something different. Why not stick around and find out? It doesn’t mean it’s gonna be easy, but someone’s counting on you; whether it’s for a kiss or a cuddle or to lend an ear when they need it. Sometimes I need a reminder that life isn’t just about us. It’s not just about our hurts – it’s about theirs. Sometimes ours are just so intense that it’s hard to remember.

I’m hanging around and I’m doing my best – even though some days that smile is plastered on a little crooked and I may need a little help getting through. Some days I’m still help for someone else.
Oregon, United States of America

3 Responses to “A.S. Face 0163: Debbi Lucas”

  1. Dear Debbi,
    Thank you so much for being a part of my vision.
    Sincerely Cookie

  2. Debbie,

    Sounds like we have similar depths of scars. I’m so sorry to hear about your dad, I cannot imagine losing anyone that way, the pain. Thank you for sharing your story. It’s actually “therapy” to get it out, and throw it on the table, in order to face it, share it, and work through it. It’s a type of PTSD, which most will never ever be able to wrap their head around it.

    I too lost my dad unexpectedly just 3mo after I was finally diagnosed. He had an aortic aneurysm that erupted and took his life. Apparently it was on his charts 10yrs prior, however it was ever followed up on.

    My children were even taken away from me, because I was accused of being mentally ill, as I was making a 700mi round trip commute weekly for nearly 2mo while seeing my Rheumy & IM after first being DX and AS had reared its ugly head high. I was put through supervised visitations for 8mo and court hearing after court hearing, along with 3 psych evaluations, and ALL in the small rural area in which I lived. They wouldn’t listen to me while I toted my medical records in with me, explaining what I HAD been DX with and WAS undergoing treatment with a Rheumy 350mi away. Nothing like taking your pride, dignity, and children away, while some of my neighbors and most all my family members wouldn’t even talk to me. I was discarded, while trying to get my condition under control.

    I know “the shell” feeling Debbie. I want you to know that if you ever feel like communicating with me, just to talk, you can Email me: candyce.sindelir@gmail.com

    Thank you for sharing your story. Isn’t Cookie an awesome blessing!!

    (Hugs) to you my friend – I hope to hear from you some day.
    Candyce, Face #700

  3. Debbi,
    Thank you for your honesty, and for the reminder that by turning our attention outward, we can find meaning. Like yours, my father committed suicide. He was only 57 but he was in tremendous pain.
    Keep strong, keep smiling, keep caring for others!
    God Bless You!
    Face 939

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