I've been thinking a lot lately about the incremental changes I've made to my life since my decline began a couple of years ago. After having been severely affected by my EDS during my teen years, then emerging into adulthood with my symptoms subsiding, age has caused a second wave of EDS to come creeping my way. As an undiagnosed teen, I was scared by how my body seemed to break down and buckle at every turn, but as an adult with a matured sense of self I can tackle this new wave with a renewed perspective.
I have a HEDS/CEDS combo, and I was diagnosed in January this year after over a decade and a half searching for answers. I feel I still have youth on my side at 27, but in the last year or so I've had to really knuckle down and make some hard decisions and big changes to my lifestyle. At the time, every decision has felt like submission to EDS, but as I go along I've been making peace with those choices.
I feel my EDS is mild in presentation, with daily subluxes, and dislocations only a few times a week. I don't rely on pain medication, not because I don't live with pain, but because I used a lot of pain meds as a teenager purely to get myself out of bed. These days I have somewhat of a psychological aversion to them. Codeine is my fallback, but to be honest I take them on really bad days once every few weeks, max. I have a huge (and growing) collection of braces and supports that I can reach for when my joints need some help, and I use those daily on an as-needed basis. Often I forget that I don't have boundless energy, and flop into a spoonless coma-like state to recharge. One day burning through spoons can equate to days spent lolling around uselessly, so pacing is definitely a skill I'm still seeking to perfect (for more on spoons, see my previous post!)
I definitely count myself as fortunate. I know what it's like to be bed bound for weeks, months, years. I know what waking up breathless in the middle of the night because my diaphragm collapsed is like. And I count my blessings every day that with a few measures, I can live my life in relative normality.
For me, dealing with EDS is as much about finding tricks and aids that help me get by on a physical plane as it is about coping on a psychological plane. One of the weird facets of my EDS blindsiding me at the age of 12 was that I knew I had to grow up exponentially quicker than my peers. It was a very conscious realisation, and it helped me understand what I was going through. A child shouldn't have to be so acutely conscious of their own childhood in that way, but I knew that what I was facing was going to require maturity far beyond my years. In this way, since the day I understood that, I've been very self aware of personal growth, and how important that is in dealing with EDS. EDS isn't something that happened to me, it IS me, but it does not define me. That's where I'm at now.
I still go camping... though a trip to the chiropractor is always required straight after. I still go on hikes... but I wear the most supportive boots and stop often, even when it's only a mile. I can still cook and clean for myself... I just need to save up some spoons first, and know that I might be useless for the rest of the day afterwards. I am a full time student that takes on extra work... and often that means foregoing a trip to the pub after class with my classmates.
Surviving and thriving with EDS is all about those ellipses. More than that, it's about embracing those ellipses. What comes after the ellipses isn't indicative of failure, it's just adaptation. Other's might not have the same ellipsis, or they might not have an ellipsis at all, but that doesn't matter. So what if yours might read "I can make it to the top of the mountain... in a wheelchair", or "I keep my house clean... with the help of a professional cleaner". We EDSers have to be many things (strong, feisty, compassionate, resilient), but most of all we have to be adaptable. I think coming to this understanding is the most valuable part of my arsenal yet.
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