health

How I Track & Manage My Chronic Illness Symptoms in a Bullet Journal

Kate Sloan

I’ve long admired bullet journaling as a practice – like the art journaling and planner collage I did as a teen, it’s a way of making the everyday into something visually appealing and memorable. Life itself feels more beautiful, I find, when you document it in a beautiful way.

I was recently hit by a deep and recurring urge to return to this style of creative documentation. But, in particular, I’d been wanting to find a more concrete way of tracking my chronic illness symptoms. In seeking a diagnosis (which I’d been doing for over six years with no luck thus far), it can be helpful to have cold hard numbers to show to a doctor, so they can get a sense of how serious and ongoing the problem is. I’d experimented with symptom-tracking apps, spreadsheets, and digital notes, but had found it difficult to use these consistently enough to gather any real data. It was time for a physical solution.

While I no longer do much writing with an actual pen on actual paper, I’ve known for a long time that it can help unlock things in the mind that would’ve remained unexplored if you’d stayed in a digital medium. There are numerous scientists who have opinions on why this is; there are also cultural commentators, like Tom Hanks and John Mayer in the documentary California Typewriter, with their own views on why physically scrawling or hammering out a piece of writing can feel better and produce better results than digital alternatives. I doubt this is true for everyone, but it’s certainly true for me. All attempts I’ve made to journal on a computer, for example, left me feeling unable to dive as deep emotionally as I tend to when I let my thoughts meander through a notebook on my lap.

So I figured a similar principle might apply for tracking my various symptoms, remedies, ups and downs. I bought a bright yellow Leuchtturm1917 dotted journal (widely considered the best choice for bullet journaling aficionados) and some colored pens and highlighters, and got to work building my setup.

I should say upfront, what I’m doing is a very loose interpretation of what “bullet journaling” actually means. I’ve also pulled a number of ideas from various sources I found through Pinterest. Let’s talk about 3 of the main tools I use in my journal to help track and assuage my chronic illness symptoms:

Habit tracker on weekly spread

Lots of people do a “weekly spread” in their bullet journals, where they lay out the days of the week like a traditional planner, and write their commitments and appointments on the corresponding days. I got inspired by some of the journalers I saw online who were doing habit trackers as part of their weekly spread, so I decided to start doing my own.

Basically this is just a table with a list of habits I want to instill on the Y axis and the days of the week on the X axis. When I successfully do one of the things on my habit list, I fill in the square for that habit on that day. Pretty simple.

However, I continue to find it astonishing how motivating this practice is for me. The satisfaction of coloring in a part of the table and seeing the page get gradually more colorful… The ability to see, at a glance, whether I was good or less good at self-care during a particular week… The ability to triumphantly text my partner a photo of the days when I complete all of my habits… It’s all lovely.

I love that I can change up which habits I’m prioritizing from week to week; for example, if I’m having an active psoriasis flare-up, I’ll add “apply psoriasis lotion” to my habits list. The habits on my current page are: sunshine (get outside/feel the sun on my face), exercise, supplements, reading (at least 20+ minutes; must be a book, not an article or blog post), brush & floss, and intentional joy. That last one is the vaguest, but basically I’d define it as taking some time out of my day to deliberately experience something that makes me happy, whether that’s laughing my ass off at a Netflix comedy special, having a decadent jerk-off session in the afternoon, or cuddling my roommate’s cats while telling them how pretty they are.

I’ve genuinely gotten much better about sticking to these habits since I started tracking them in a journal. Would recommend!

Monthly health notes page

At the start of every month, I divide one page into 3 columns – pain, brain, and miscellaneous – and number the days of the month on the left side of the page. Then I make notes throughout the month about which symptoms I noticed and when.

This is fantastically useful for so many reasons. It gives me a record that a doctor might find useful. It gives me a clearer picture of how my menstrual cycle affects my symptoms. I can cross-reference this page with my habit tracker to see how various habits affect the way I feel.

In fact, I recently did exactly that, when I started having scary heart palpitations a couple days a week or so. I looked at my health notes and my habit tracker and discovered that the days my heart went haywire were all days that I had ingested both caffeine and a red panax ginseng supplement I’d recently started on. I did some research and found out that ginseng is known to increase heart rate for some folks – and of course, so is caffeine. I also found out through research that the antidepressant I’m on, Wellbutrin, increases some users’ sensitivity to caffeine. With all of this information available to me, I was able to make the decision to stop taking the ginseng supplement and limit my caffeine intake going forward. My heart palpitations haven’t returned since I did that.

I also like that the health tracker page gives me a place to brain-dump any random symptoms I might be experiencing that my hypochondriac brain thinks might be perilous. Looking back on this page helps me see that most of the stuff I was worried about turned out to be nothing (or, sometimes, turned out to be anxiety-related).

Self-care bingo

I read about this in a bullet journaling blog post and loved the idea immediately. Self-care is definitely an area where I need as much help as I can get, being a depressed and anxious workaholic prone to destructively high expectations for myself. I liked the thought of “gamifying” my self-care to make me more motivated to actually do it.

At the start of each month, I draw out a 6×6 bingo board and fill in each square with something specific that I want to do to reduce my stress level and increase my joy quotient. Some of the things repeat from month to month because they work consistently for me – like “take a bath” or “no social media for 3 hours” – while some get changed up.

This spread gives me permission to be nice to myself; self-care feels “productive” because I know I get to fill in a little square on my bingo board after I do it. As a person who has often beat herself up for reading or playing video games because those activities “weren’t productive,” I know that I struggle to do things just for the pleasure of doing them; there’s almost always some guilt and/or shame attached to that for me. I’m working on it in therapy (among other things), but until I figure out a better way to deal with that problem, this self-care bingo thing seems like a great stopgap.

 

Have you ever used a bullet journal to track or mitigate your chronic illness symptoms?

I Have Psoriasis… and I’m Still Hot

Kate Sloan

When my dermatologist diagnosed me with psoriasis, she stared sadly into my eyes and intoned, “There is no cure. This is a lifelong condition.”

Her grave demeanor made this skin condition seem like a death sentence – and indeed, for many psoriasis sufferers, managing symptoms is a daily struggle, as is managing people’s feelings about those symptoms, as well as your own. But my own case was relatively mild. I had a flaky scalp, some red and irritated spots on my face, and a handful of other unsightly zones scattered around my body. I wasn’t sad to receive my diagnosis – I was glad I finally had an answer, and some potential treatment routes to take.

In the years since, my psoriasis has gotten a bit worse but mostly stayed the same. My scalp still plaques and flakes; there’s a seemingly permanent red spot between my eyebrows that I cover with concealer when I can be bothered; my ears and butt and nose and hands all occasionally flare up with flaky bits. I use medicated shampoo and prescription ointments and they help, a little, sometimes. I’m doing okay.

For me, the worst thing about having psoriasis is the way it makes me feel like people are judging me and think my flakes are gross. I have no idea if they actually are thinking that, and no sexual partners have ever even said anything to me about it, except to occasionally point out an errant piece of dead skin I needed to pull out of my hair. But even the idea that they might think it’s gross is enough to make me want to stay clothed and celibate forever, sometimes.

For years, I’ve stopped partners from kissing or otherwise touching my ears, one of my grossest zones. Having my scalp scratched or massaged is a no-go for me, even though I like the way it feels, because I get too self-conscious about cascading flakes. I sometimes decline spankings (I love being spanked!) because I don’t want a partner to look at my butt. It’s sad, all the various ways this condition has impacted my sense of my own desirability.

It’s only really in my current relationship that I’ve begun to loosen that shame’s stranglehold on my sex life. I once asked Matt if they still think I’m cute when I’m flaky, and they said, “Of course! You know what else is flaky? Croissants. And everyone loves those.” It was a funny joke, but nonetheless, I cried when I heard it, because no one had ever said anything positive to me about my psoriasis before. I stopped instinctively tensing up when they would kiss close to my ears or hairline; I stopped needing to keep my underwear on during spankings. I just… let them see my body. Let them see me.

Around this time, I also began reading the writer Clementine Morrigan’s musings on her own psoriasis. She wrote about her own feelings of shame and worthlessness, and the ways to chose to combat them, including by incorporating her psoriasis into sex. She describes watching a partner kiss her reddened skin, and hearing another partner gasp, “Your psoriasis! It’s beautiful!” I was, and am, grateful as ever to people who share the stories of their struggles in an effort to make others feel less alone. That’s what I’m trying to do right here, right now.

I haven’t yet figured out how to make my psoriasis sexy for myself, the way Clementine has. But I’m luxuriating in the love I feel from my partner whether I’m flaring up or fleetingly flakeless. While I don’t believe in the concept of “unconditional love” – you are allowed to have conditions, to set boundaries, to maintain standards! – this is the closest I’ve ever come to feeling that from a romantic partner. I know now that when they flip me over and see my scaly skin, they’re not going to leave me – they’re just going to love me harder.

My 11 Must-Haves For Chronic Pain

Kate Sloan

Y’all, it has been a tough month for me with regards to my chronic pain. I’ve spent so many days in bed, asked so many people to help me with basic tasks because my sore body couldn’t accomplish them, cried a few times when painkillers just weren’t cutting it… This shit really sucks sometimes.

But on the plus side, there’s always something I can do to alleviate my symptoms at least a little. Here are some of the products I use on a day-to-day basis that make life with chronic pain more bearable…

A lap desk. Mine is from IKEA but I gather that there are better ones out there. It’s not strictly ergonomic to use a computer in bed – which presents its own host of potential problems in terms of pain – but sometimes, it’s all I can manage. This neat little innovation keeps my computer from overheating on the duvet and creates a sturdy surface that allows for easier typing when I’m too achy to sit at my desk.

An eye mask. I have one from Mad Toto which I like because it has a spiral on each eye (hypnokinksters take note!). Sleep is an important part of my pain management, and since I live in an apartment with gloriously bright wall-to-wall windows, I have to wear an eye mask if I want some quality shut-eye. (More recommendations here.)

A weed vape. It’s funny: in high school I was staunchly anti-drugs, but now, in adulthood, I’ve found that cannabis is one of the only things which can tame both my physical pain and my mental health symptoms. It doesn’t always work, but it sure helps. My current fave thing is the AirVape X, a slick, bright blue vaporizer that comes highly recommended and feels like what would happen if Apple made a vape.

The Notes app. It’s built into iOS and has most of the functions I could want from a note-taking app. I like this one for writing when my body is too sore to use a computer; it syncs to all my various devices so I can later transfer the completed writing wherever it needs to go. (I’ve also been using the Scrivener iOS app sometimes lately because that’s what I’m writing my book in, and it syncs from my computer using Dropbox.)

A heating pad. Mine is an extremely basic microwaveable one I picked up from Shoppers Drug Mart for about $20, but it works a treat. This is sometimes the only thing that can calm down my sore, stiff muscles.

Modal lounge pants. I have several pairs of these now, from Gap and MeUndies, and they’re soooo gooood. During a pain flare-up, it’s important that I have clothes which are comfortable, non-restrictive, and easy to get in and out of, and these totally fit the bill.

Slip dresses (like this). Same deal: these are super comfy for lounging around the house. They’re also, depending on the fabric and the cut, potentially presentable enough to wear outside, particularly if I throw on some leggings underneath and a cardigan on top – always a plus when I barely want to move, let alone change my whole outfit.

Voice recognition software, like Siri on the iPhone. When my pain is really bad, sometimes telling Siri to do my bidding is the best I can manage. With her help, I can write texts, do Google searches, check the weather, etc. without even needing to pick up my phone.

Bath products. Taking a hot bath is one of the most helpful things I can do for my pain. I like Lush bath bombs the most; Epsom salts are also great, especially ones containing essential oils like peppermint and eucalyptus, and now some companies are even making CBD-infused bath products for an extra hit of relaxation.

Lipstick. Silly and frivolous? Yes. Fun and therapeutic? Also yes. Lipstick is (for me, anyway) the easiest cosmetic to apply, so even when I can’t manage eyeliner or foundation, I can still put on a day-brightening coat of lip color and feel cute. Underrated and important!

A vibrator. Okay, as you probably know, I have several. The most helpful one for my chronic pain is the Magic Wand Rechargeable: it’s a stellar muscle massager, and can also readily induce orgasms that ease my symptoms with endorphins. Plus it’s relatively easy to hold even when I’m having a flare-up, unlike heavier wands like the Doxy Die Cast.

 

I asked my fellow chronic pain-afflicted Twitter followers what products they find helpful, and some common recommendations were:

  • A TENS unit. These use pulses of electricity to soothe muscle pain and tension.
  • Electric heating pads and hot water bottles. Basic but useful as hell.
  • Wrist braces, elbow braces, compression gloves, etc. I don’t know quite how well these would work for my particular types of pain but am curious to try!
  • Soothing topicals, including Biofreeze, Tiger Balm, arnica cream, and THC- or CBD-infused coconut oil.
  • Lots of pillows, including firm positioning aids like the Liberator Jaz, for maximizing comfort and propping up sore knees.
  • Ear plugs, for improving sleep quality.
  • A foam roller, for massaging muscles.
  • Ergonomic keyboards, mouses, and desks (especially standing desks) for an easier time at the computer.
  • Food that requires very little prep, like fruits, microwaveable meals, ramen, and oatmeal packets. More suggestions here.

Do you have any favorite products when pain comes a-knockin’?

5 Ways I Use Mindfulness to Lose Weight

Kate Sloan

Dear darlings: I know that weight talk and body stuff can be tough for some of you. It’s never my intention to shame you or make you feel bad, and this post definitely won’t aim to do that – but if you know that this subject matter is tricky for you, I encourage you to skip this post. You know what’s best for you, my friend!

I’m a chubby bunny, and mostly I’m okay with that. I’ve been lucky enough to have lovers and suitors in my life who’ve lavished attention on my curvy bod, making me see that my wide hips, soft belly and thunder thighs might not be the end of the world.

That said: my body seems to work better at a weight that’s a little lower than where I’m at right now. Currently I hover around 165 pounds, and when I’m down around 140-150, I feel stronger, healthier, happier, and more energetic. And who doesn’t want that?!

Last summer I lost 20 pounds (most of which I gained back from the stress of school and a break-up – oh, woe!), and during that process I learned a lot about habit formation, nutrition, and self-control strategies that work for my particular brain. As far as tangible processes go, calorie-counting is the only thing that’s ever worked for me – but my calorie-counting successes were only made possible by practicing mindfulness.

What is mindfulness? It’s an old, old concept often attributed to Buddhism. It’s the practice of being present, of being here now, of noticing and fully experiencing the sensations and thoughts and events of the current moment. When you’re being truly mindful, you don’t replay the past or worry about the future. You just be – here and now and only here and now.

You may be familiar with the idea of mindfulness if you practice meditation or yoga, or if you’ve studied facets of the Buddhist tradition, or even if you’ve used certain psychotherapeutic techniques like CBT or deep breathing. It’s all part of the same overarching idea, but today I’m going to tell you specifically about how mindfulness helps me lose weight. (If phrases like “lose weight” bother you, you can sub in the phrase “get healthier” – the same principles apply!)

1. Mindful eating.

I am still learning how to do this well. Meal times are often blessed breaks from work, so it’s natural to want to kick back and do something relaxing while you eat, like catch up on your Netflix queue or scroll through your Twitter feed.

But experts say eating mindfully is a way better approach. You digest your food better and get more nutrition from it. You’re less likely to overeat due to distraction. And amazingly, you actually enjoy your food more. Tastes and textures seem fabulously vivid and pleasurable when you give all your attention to what you’re eating.

2. What am I really hungry for?

I have learned that often my desire to eat is rooted in some other kind of desire, some non-stomach-based hunger of one kind or another.

If you feel yourself wanting to eat something that may not be so good for your body, it can be helpful to ask yourself: what am I really hungry for right now?

If I’m just bored and want something to do, I can put on a TV show, work on a creative project, go for a walk, read a book, do some yoga, or pretty much any other activity that will capture my attention.

If I’m craving the pleasure I’d get from eating a piece of chocolate or a big-ass burrito, I can seek out pleasure in other ways – for example, by masturbating, listening to some favorite tunes, starting a conversation with someone who makes me laugh, or cuddling my cat. (Of course, it’s important not to replace unhealthy pleasures with other unhealthy pleasures, like excessive boozin’, drugs, or a shopping addiction!)

If I want the energy boost I can expect from certain foods, I can get the same kind of kick from tea or coffee, a brisk walk around the block, or a groovy yoga flow sequence.

If it’s just a “mouth-boredom” thing, I can make a pot of tea, chew some sugar-free gum, or even engage in some hardcore flossing.

And of course, there are times when hunger is actually hunger. Practicing mindfulness has sharpened my ability to identify when I’m actually, physically hungry. And when I am, I eat!

3. Mindful exercise – or not.

I used to hate exercising. (Well, honestly, sometimes I still do. But mostly I don’t.) While running on the treadmill or contorting myself into yoga poses, my mind would go a mile a minute. “I hate this!” “This is so hard!” “This is taking too long!” “Is this almost over?”

Eventually I learned that I experience less psychological turmoil about exercising if I choose to really center myself in the present moment. If I’m intimately focused on every footfall, on the stretch and pull of every muscle, on the dependable in-and-out of my breath, not only do I have fewer resistant thoughts, but the exercise actually starts to feel better. It can be downright pleasurable sometimes!

Learning about mindfulness has also shown me, though, that sometimes focusing too much on my present moment can emphasize any discomfort I’m experiencing. Mindfulness experts would tell me to “breathe through it” but sometimes that just doesn’t work for me, and the only way I can get through my workout is by watching a riveting TV show or listening to a fascinating podcast to take my mind off the exertion at hand. And I think that’s okay, because at least I get the workout done, even if I don’t do it the way I “should.”

4. Stop procrastinating.

Procrastination comes from being out of sync with the present moment. It comes from distraction, fear, and laziness. When I tap into the now, I don’t want to procrastinate.

“I could work out, but I don’t wanna,” I think. And then I ask myself, “What will I do now, if I don’t work out?” and the answer is usually some variation of “sit around doing nothing,” an activity that I know will just make me feel bad and gross.

Procrastination is avoidance – not only avoidance of the thing you’re putting off, but also avoidance of your feelings and experiences in this moment. When I’m really in the now, I often find that I want to work out. My body is crying out for it.

5. The moment will pass.

Studying mindfulness has taught me that no one moment is unendurable. Moments go by. They give birth to new moments. And the new ones feel different from the old ones. It sounds obvious but it can be a revelation.

Sudden snack attack? I can breathe into it. I can choose to think about something else. I can remind myself, “I will not actually die if I don’t eat a bowl of chips right now.” And the moment will pass.

Tired muscles during a workout? I can breathe into it. I can choose to think about something else. I can remind myself, “This is difficult, but it will not kill me.” I can remind myself, “I did this last time. I can do it again.” I can remind myself, “I will feel so awesome when this is done.” And the moment will pass.

Look at my body in the mirror and hate what I see? I can breathe into it. I can choose to think about something else. I can remind myself, “Lots of people have called you beautiful.” I can remind myself, “It’s okay to have ups and downs.” I can remind myself, “My body is strong and can do lots of great things.” And the moment will pass.

All moments pass. All moments can be endured, if you just take them one at a time.

Extra resources: Leo Babauta has taught me more about mindfulness than anyone else. He’s got great articles on mindfulness rituals, beating a food addiction, forming habits, overcoming instant gratification, getting in shape, and lots more.

Can Butt Plugs Cure Constipation?

Kate Sloan

Am I getting a reputation for being that chick who blogs about pooping? And a follow-up question: do I care?

This past week, three whole days went by without me evacuating my chute, if you know what I’m sayin’. That has never happened to me before. I was very worried.

I’ve been eating fewer calories lately to lose weight (that’ll be a whole ‘nother post, sometime in the murky future) and the other day I ate FIVE LARGE CARROTS because I am a lunatic. That’s probably what caused it.

I tried everything I could think of – short of regular ol’ laxatives, because I wanted to reserve those for a true emergency. I drank a fuckton of water to lubricate the pipes. I took an herbal psyllium husk supplement and waited 12+ hours. I walked around and jumped up and down. I ate more fiber, more fats. Nothin’.

Then I had a brilliant idea. There have been times in the past when I’ve inserted a butt plug, only to need to take it out again a few minutes later on account of sudden-onset bathroom requirements. This was always annoying before, but maybe now it would be a solution.

I poured a couple drops of Pink silicone-based lube on my medium Njoy Pure Plug and slipped it inside. I chose the Pure Plug because it’s heavy, so my butt would really be able to feel it and maybe it could wake up my intestines. (Man, I am so not a doctor.) I was prepared to switch out the medium plug for the larger version after a few minutes if necessary… but it wasn’t necessary.

After about 5-10 minutes of rhythmic clenching, hopin’ and prayin’, I heard angels singing hallelujah as my intestines started to do their thing. And then I went into the bathroom, took out the plug, and all became well with the world.

My theory on why this worked, which is backed by no medical knowledge whatsoever, is that the plug stimulated peristalsis. My butt was like, “Hey! There’s something in here! We better clear it out!” and other stuff was cleared out in the process too. Kind of sort of makes sense, right?

Mr. Will, another sex blogger, presented an alternate explanation: perhaps the lube was a factor. Indeed, the lube I used contains aloe vera, which some people use as a suppository when constipated. Soooo… yeah. That probably makes more medical sense than my theory.

Do you ever use sex toys to deal with your medical problems? (You probably shouldn’t. I’m not a doctor, I’m not responsible for the choices you make, you should always check with a medical professional, etc. You know the drill!)