Check out my sophomore article on Medium.com, entitled “Can You Feel Feminine While Being A Boss Ass Bitch?”
Check out my sophomore article on Medium.com, entitled “Can You Feel Feminine While Being A Boss Ass Bitch?”
My husband and I love to travel. In fact, one of the very first things that attracted me to him was what he featured on his online profile. On it, he explained that he loved to experience and better appreciate different cultures. Being Haitian and moving to the United States at fifteen years old, he was hungry to understand how others live, and to witness all of the beauty that the world had to offer. While I’m certainly not from Haiti, I, too, share that yearning to appreciate how others live; to witness the wonders of the world!
Once we started dating, we traveled everywhere! We did road trips from Southwest Texas to Orlando, Florida; from Del Rio, Texas, to Las Vegas, Nevada. Over the last four years, we’ve spent time together in Austin, San Antonio, and Dallas, Texas; in Orlando, Saint Augustine, Delray Beach, Boca Raton, Miami, and Key West, Florida; we time at the Grand Canyon, the Hoover Dam, Salem, Massachusetts, New Orleans and Baton Rogue, Louisana, New York and Boston (among other destinations).
Then that damn tumor regrew, and with that, everything changed. We were actually in the middle of a reggae cruise to Jamaica when the first symptoms hit in December of 2015. I doubled over in pain while we watched a famed reggae singer perform, and Yvens helped me make my way back to our room.
In the three years since, my ability to travel without severe repercussions has plummeted.
Last year, Yvens and I spent the week in Florida in order to spend Christmas with my stepson, Eli, as well as the rest of Yvens’ family. Unfortunately, by the end of it, I had to be wheeled through the Orlando International Airport in order to make it to my gate. That week, I’d also had to miss spending time with the family so that I could rest up back at the hotel (and once, on his parents’ couch). Sadly, Eli knows (at seven years old) that his stepmom gets tired easily and can’t really walk or do much for too long.
Worse still, once I got home from that trip, I had a severe bout of some sort of virus or infection that I’d managed to pick up from someone in the general traveling public. It laid me up for well over a week.
The chronic fatigue and immense pain certainly was putting a damper on our travel plans.
Then the amazing Dr. Petra Klinge of Rhode Island Hospital figured out that that evil tumor remnant had grown a tail, and a glimmer of hope started to spark. Maybe I could get some of my mobility back, or at least some relief from the constant pain and fatigue!
Alas, none of that happened. Yes, Dr. Klinge did an excellent job on the neurosurgery this past March. She managed to remove almost all of the tumor (save for the part that had managed to grow through my spinal cord). But my neurological deficits remain the same, and they are prone to get worse over time.
So what to do? I mean, it’s hard enough to travel with diabetes. Tack on the neurological disorder, and we’re in business!
So when my mom surprised me with a birthday cruise from Bali, Indonesia, to Sydney, Australia, a mix of absolute joy and absurd fear came over me. How could I manage all of the traveling and excursions with my current physical state?? As it was, Yvens and I had decided to cut back on even short trips that could lay me up for weeks to follow. How in the world was I going to manage a cruise on the other side of the world???!?
Imagine trying to keep your insulin refrigerated on a fifteen hour flight from Boston to Hong Kong! Never mind a four hour layover, and then another five hours on the flight to Bali. Thanks to the good people at Burger King, I was able to get a shit ton of ice to keep the cool packs a bit cool during the flights. That being said, it was absolute torture on my back, legs, and feet, even with the assistance of a back brace and an inflatable donut to sit on.
Well, I’m more than halfway through the cruise at this point, and while I can’t say that it’s been easy, it sure has been memorable! I’ve decided that while I may have to take my diseases and degenerative disorders lying down (small pun intended), and be in debilitating pain regardless of whatever I do, I’m still going to make some beautiful memories along the way!
Thankfully, the cruise we’re on is through Viking Cruises, which tailors its travels towards the elderly and infirm population. There are no children allowed as guests, and the atmosphere is very calming and serene. There’s lots of classical music and art aboard, as well as a book exchange throughout the common areas of the ship.
Take a walk to the main dining hall, and you’ll see a wide variety of canes, walkers, motorized scooters, and back braces (almost all of which are already in my artillery). Speak with almost any of the other guests, and you’ll find that a large number of them have had at least a few surgeries and/or grave diagnoses in their recent past.
Amidst ‘my people,’ I feel a little less guilty about my need to modify the cruise experience. I’ve already missed some of the excursions due to exhaustion, needed my cane more than I care to admit, and needed the availability of a yoga mat or two to do some deep stretches after the back pain became much too unbearable. It’s actually been nice to commiserate with the similarly disabled guests! They understand what it’s like to try and mask your pain; to feel weak or that you’re putting someone out if you ask for assistance.
Hell, I almost feel like a burden to our cabin steward, who is eager to clean our room at least twice a day. I feel like telling him: “I promise, you’re doing an amazing job, and more than most, I understand completely what it’s like to expect perfection from yourself in everything that you do. That being said, there’s no way in hell I can leave my bed today, so you’re just going to have to respect the “Do No Disturb” sign on the door for what it is, and try again tomorrow!” But alas…
So I might not be the easiest guest on the ship…I definitely appreciate the experience more than most! While most of the other guests are busy enjoying their retirement years, I’m just trying to suck as much out of life and this world as I can while I’m physically able to enjoy and experience it!
And therein lies the beauty and the curse of being disabled–you are well aware of the brevity of life, for better and for worse. While there’s a lot of anger, resentment, and fear mixed in there with appreciation, perspective, and awareness, I do feel fortunate that I’m making these memories now, while I still can.
I certainly have to pay for them later/during, but to me, it’s worth the extra physical pain and exhaustion in order to feel like I’ve really lived.
Traveling while disabled (TWD) certainly sucks. Trying to find room for my cane in the overhead compartment; trying to keep the ice in my bag from leaking onto the floor of the aircraft; having to stand up and stretch in front of other passengers at very frequent intervals; trying not to cry from the excruciating pain; looking crude and rude as I try and lie down on two-to-three seats at the gate that are without armrests so that I can give my back and legs some much-needed relief. It’s all rather humiliating and attention-causing, but you have to learn to live with it if you’re going to make it through the travel experience.
You just have to prepare. You have to be ready for TSA and Customs to question the amount of pills in your possession, as well as your insulin pump, cartridges of insulin, and pump supplies.
You get ready for the pat-downs and sequestration to separate areas of the airport. For certain countries, letters from your doctor(s) are needed, in which they explain how you’re disabled and just what you need for safe travels.
You have to be ready to hold the security line up as you remove your back brace, place your cane into the scanner, and explain that the device in your pocket is just an insulin pump. Get ready for TSA to ask you to rub the pump with both hands, then have them take samples from both of your hands to ensure that there are no explosive substances on the device or your hands. Be prepared for another agent to withhold your carry-ons from you in order to figure out what the hell those insulin vials and cool-packs really are.
TWD is tricky business. It’s certainly not for the faint of heart or the timid of spirit. You need to be okay with strongly requesting/demanding that each hotel room/ship cabin has, at the very least, a mini-fridge. Ideally, you want to request a fridge-freezer combination so that you can freeze your cool packs for the return trip while you refrigerate your insulin.
For pump users, you have to be prepared that if you swim in the enticing waters, you’re going to get your infusion sets waterlogged. If you don’t have extra to replace them, you’re going to be in trouble!
TWD sure ain’t easy, but I am oh, so thankful to be living in modern times. Besides the fact that I’d be long dead from the diabeetus and all its evil attacks on my various body parts, there are now so many different medical aids and inventions that make TWD a bit less painful on your body.
As an example, I met a woman on the cruise while we were docked somewhere on the Great Barrier Reef. She had a motorized scooter/wheelchair that she bought in order to travel, since she faces pretty severe rheumatoid arthritis. With just the touch of a button on her remote, the device folds into itself until it’s the size of a piece of carry-on luggage! Ingenius! Like one of those fancy prams you see all of the inexplicably rich couples in almost every movie nowadays! Anyway, I’ll certainly be looking into that scooter if I want to continue TWD, as I’m sure the need for it is in my very near future.
In the end, TWD is all about managing your expectations and perspectives. If you’re TWD, get ready for more than a few hiccups. As long as you’re ready for them, they’re not so bothersome. And do your best to see through the pain and limitations. Try, instead, to focus on the amazing sights, smells, tastes, and sounds that come with visiting somewhere new.
Appreciate that even while TWD, you’re able to experience the amazing grace that this world exhibits. Be thankful for advances in medicine and medical devices. Hell, using the insulin pump is unquestionably easier than carrying a cooler with insulin, as well as a bunch of sterile syringes in order to go anywhere!
I’m thankful to be able to TWD. Sure, it’s not what Yvens nor I envisioned for our lives. We’re almost certainly not going to be able to reach all of our desired destinations. But if you’re disabled and still able to travel, I encourage you to do so! You’ll make memories that will carry you through the painful days. It’s more than worth it to boost your spirit!
My love and best to each and every one of you!
Safe travels, and Happy Holidays!
To read more about my journey adjusting to and accepting my disabilities, keep an eye out for my upcoming memoir, From National Champion To Physically Disabled Activist: My Lifelong Struggles With A Diseased Body, And The Lessons It Has Taught Me Along The Way.
By: Katherine Itacy, Esq.
Dated: July 22, 2018
Okay, so it’s a little late in the year to be referencing “spring cleaning,” but hear me out.
Ever taken a look at your closet and realized that you’re probably never going to fit into those old jeans from your “skinny”/“skinnier” days? That the shirt that looked amazing on you in the store’s dressing room has never looked quite flattering enough on you when you’ve tried it on at home? How about taking a good look at your favorite jacket and realizing that it’s just too worn out to be worn out in public ever again?
What about noticing the dust that’s gathered on that fitness equipment in the garage or basement? You know, the one you saw on that really intriguing infomercial, but have never managed to actually use more than once or twice since you’ve had it in your home?
Unless you’ve been featured on an episode of Hoarders, then you’ve most likely had the urge to purge. Who doesn’t feel better once they’ve gotten rid of things from their life that are no longer of any use to them? Even of things that were once a part of their daily lives, but are now sitting on the proverbial or actual shelf, collecting dust?
Personally, I know that I always feel better once I’ve done some spring cleaning in my life. Whenever my personal space starts to feel a bit cluttered, or my closet gets a bit too full to make room for another hanger or two (I know – First World problems, right?!), it always makes me feel a bit claustrophobic. But once I’ve scoured through my belongings and gotten rid of things that I no longer use, wear or enjoy having in my home, it always makes me feel tidier, more relaxed and even excited about welcoming new things into my home in the future.
I’ve recently realized that this spring cleaning/pruning concept can, is, and must also regularly be applied in terms of outdated, transformed and/or unflattering personal relationships in one’s life.
If I’ve learned anything from reflecting upon my life choices, relationship choices and deteriorating health while writing my book, it’s that life’s far too short and too meaningful to waste any precious time or energy on draining, unhealthy or lopsided relationships. You know the ones I’m talking about — the ones in which you spend countless hours listening to their drama, but can never get them on the phone when you need a listening ear; the ones in which it’s all about what you can give to them, knowing that you’ll never be able to expect or hope for the same in return; the ones in which you make all the effort trying to maintain the relationship, invite them to places, see how they’re doing, et cetera, until it starts to feel like you’re a thirsty and desperate unrequited love interest who’s being ghosted.
I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that in my current state of health, I have only a limited amount of energy on any given day to expend on a wide variety of things: doctors’ appointments, physical therapy, editing my book, maintaining my personal relationships, et cetera. On any given day, if I choose to overextend myself, I know that I’ll have to pay for it over the next several days, usually with a helluva lot of pain and a lot of time passed out in bed.
So in terms of what I’m willing to spend this finite amount of time and energy on, unhealthy, outdated and/or unnecessarily dramatic or draining relationships don’t even make the cut anymore. The physical consequences I endure from the emotional toll that these relationships take on me just isn’t worth it anymore; no matter how much of a people-pleaser/pushover I’ve come to realize that I am.
Nope. I have no intention of spending whatever time I have left on this earth involved in toxic or unhealthy relationships, and as hard as it’s been for me, I’ve spent the last five-to-ten years trying to weed out a sadly large number of fake and/or manipulative and/or mean-spirited people from my world, and to cultivate the loving, meaningful, fulfilling relationships I have with my true “family” and friends. I use “family” in quotations because I am of the firm belief that as an adult, you can and should cultivate your own family; not just from those with whom you share blood or genetics or marital connections, but from those who are supportive, loving, and really know you.
In my humble opinion, as soon as we’re emotionally ready, I think we all need to take time (on at least a semi-regular basis) to reflect upon the relationships in our lives. Are they healthy? Are they respectful? Are they loving? Are they meaningful? Or are they one-sided, manipulative, abusive, disrespectful, hurtful or even inconsistent?
Take some time to think about your personal boundaries. Do you stand up for yourself? For those that you love?
Are you doing your best to meaningfully contribute to the relationships that you do value and want to keep?
Do you respect and love yourself as much as you respect and love your family and friends?
We all need to ask ourselves these questions on a semi-regular basis, just as we semi-regularly “spring clean” our belongings.
If you consider the time that you spend on any given relationship in a given week, month or year, you might realize that a friendship has managed to go dormant. Now, that could be for a number of reasons: it could be that that person has found a new group of friends that they have more in common with; it could be that they no longer value your friendship as highly as they once used to; it could be that you’ve both gotten so busy at work, with your significant others or with family members that it’s just been a while.
Relationships can and will change. People change; their priorities and values change. Those who used to put the time in to contribute to your relationship may no longer do so.
But there’s no need to vilify someone just because they’re no longer in your life as often as before, or in the same capacity as before. I think we can all agree that one’s priorities can change a lot after marriage, divorce, children and/or burgeoning careers. Some people may need to take some time for themselves, to get themselves together or even focus on the more urgent needs of others in their own lives. Give them the space they need, and you may be able to reestablish your relationship with them later on in life.
The thing is, same as there are different reasons for getting rid of personal items in your home, there are a multitude of reasons for severing ties with people from your life.
And if you end these relationships after meaningful reflection, honest introspection and the best of intentions, then I think that you’ll find that your life is just a little bit tidier; that it’s at least a little less stressful or drama-filled, and that you may even become excited at the prospect of welcoming new relationships into your life in the future.
As long as we approach each relationship with honest intentions, an open heart and a forgiving spirit, it’s probably best to let go of the relationships that fail or fade away or are no longer having a positive impact upon our lives.
Focus on loving, respecting and appreciating the wonderful people in your life. You’ll be too busy maintaining and enjoying these relationships to spend much time worrying about why the others have ended. I can’t promise that it’ll be easy, but I can safely say it’ll be worth it!
Happy spring cleaning, everyone!
Here’s a photo depicting one of my most meaningful, loving, supportive relationships; it’s of me and my very best friend in the world, Nikki:
If you have any thoughts or insights on this post, you can let me know by leaving a comment below, or reaching out to me via Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, Tumblr, Google+ or Twitter. Feedback and thoughtful, respectful comments are always encouraged!
Hi again, everyone! While half of our dynamic duo is still on her hiatus (during which time, she’ll be creating and starting her own online nutrition-based education/coaching system – Go, Nikki!), the other half, Kate, is here to give you our fifth podcast episode, “Self-Hate and Female Rivalry.” This podcast episode focuses on how we, […]
Hey there, friends!
I hope you’ll take a listen to the latest podcast episode from “Hammer Time with Nikki and Kate: A Disabled Lawyer and a Personal Trainer Walk into a Podcast.” In it, I talk a lot about the power and influence medical professionals have over our lives; the importance of putting advanced care directives in place, as well as suggestions for how you can ensure that your voice is heard by your doctors.
The podcast is also available for streaming on Google Play and iTunes.
Let me know what you think! And make sure you’re following the podcast!
By: Katherine Itacy, Esq.
Dated: March 4, 2018
It’s been a long, long journey since I started feeling the symptoms of my spinal disorder in December of 2015. Since then, I’ve retired from my job (today, actually), gone through a number of painful medical procedures and nauseating pain meds, lost a good deal of mobility and had to adjust to a new “quality” of life. It’s made me feel sad, defeated, depressed and downright incensed.
I’m not a person who easily asks for help or admits defeat. I’m not someone who gives up easily or just accepts her circumstances. I fight. I persevere. I persist.
I made it through neurosurgery at the age of four and relearning how to walk. I’ve made it through thirty years of Type I brittle diabetes. I’ve made it through an eating disorder I created from withholding insulin from myself. I made it through a toxic first marriage and an even more toxic divorce. I’ve made it through dozens of surgeries, all of which occurred while running a successful law practice.
But over the last decade or so, I’ve had to start accepting my physical limitations and the consequences that stem from mistreating my mind, body and soul. My idea of what I’m capable of enduring and achieving in this life has changed; it had to. And that royally pisses me off.
While we were still living in Del Rio, Texas, I realized just how angry I was; not so much at any of the doctors that had demonstrated such horrific bedside manner; not at my poor husband, who was simply trying to keep positive and believe that we would find something, anything, that would help alleviate some of my daily pain.
I was angry at myself, at my shit body. Was it not enough that my diabetes was already waging war against my nerves, my hands, my eyes and my breasts? Was it not enough that I face a huge risk of going blind, having a heart attack, suffering from kidney failure and/or having a limb amputated in the future? Was it not enough that I’d been born with Spina Bifida Occulta and a huge lipoma across my entire back? And that the damn lipoma had wrapped around my spinal cord at the age of four and started pulling on it so tightly that the cord was ready to snap? Now, 28 years after having 90% of the lipoma removed, there was something else happening with my spine?
I now had to wake up each day (and in the middle of many nights) in debilitating pain? Be unable to sit, stand or walk for any ‘normal’ period of time? Endure persistent (inexplicable) muscle spasms all over my body? Pain shooting down my sacral area (i.e., ass), legs and feet? Be so tired that I sleep for 21 out of 24 hours or 30 out of 36 hours, leaving me to question whether I’d fallen into a warped version of a Disney movie and in need of a prince to come kiss me awake? Be unable to use my legal mind, which I’d spent years crafting and refining; which enabled me to perform (what I thought was) my calling in life?
I’m lucky. I have wonderfully supportive family and friends. But not a one could fully understand what I was going through; not a one could seem to counsel me through the rage I was feeling towards my own vessel in life.
I’d only tried counseling once before, and that was when I came to the realization that I needed to get a divorce. That thirteen-year relationship had shattered the person I once was, and I needed help putting her back together. It took a while, but it worked, and I finished counseling stronger than ever before.
But as I sought explanations and treatment for my plethora of symptoms from this (then-) unknown spinal disorder, I realized that I needed help once more. And maybe, more than anything, I needed to find a group of people who could really understand my feelings. I vowed to myself and my husband that as soon as we made it to Detroit (our next destination), I would try to find a support group to join.
My plan had to be adjusted after it became clear that we wouldn’t get to Detroit for a while. There were delays in the application process; then a natural disaster and a government shutdown delayed my husband’s training academy. I came back to Rhode Island last June to stay with my parents while Yvens finished up this job change and training. I’m so thankful that I’ve been able to receive outstanding medical care here while I wait.
But the anger resurged. So my primary care physician referred me to a counselor who focused on helping patients adjust to their disabilities. It’s been so constructive to let some of the steam out of the pot, and it’s been really helpful to have my feelings be validated by someone who hears even more tragic and dire stories than mine on a regular basis.
Still, my counselor supported me finding a support group so that I could share my story and hear similar stories from others in comparable conditions.
As I was searching for a chronic pain support group in Rhode Island, I got news that I’d been misdiagnosed for the last 2+ years. What was actually happening to me was a recurrence of my spinal cord being pulled. Yup, I have tethered spinal cord (“TC”) again. Twenty-eight years after it first tethered.
My dad figured I was one of the rarest medical patients to ever live. He always thought my getting TC to begin with was such an uncommon thing. But my new (and totally awesome!) neurosurgeon assured me that I was not alone in having TC once again. In fact, she’d recently released a tethered cord for a patient who went forty years in between his first and second TC!!
The day after I received my recurring TC diagnosis, I took a shot in the dark and tried to see whether a “tethered cord” support group existed on the World Wide Web. Guess what: I does! On Facebook! So I joined the group and took another shot in the dark; I asked its members whether anyone else had recurring TC. Take another guess: several had! And while some of their stories were a bit bleak (e.g., one woman has had FOUR TC release surgeries in the last fifteen years, and anticipates needing more in the future!!!!), just knowing that there were others like me out there was so sadly comforting.
Of course, I hated that anyone had to endure a tethered cord. It can paralyze you, and often messes with your bowel and bladder functioning (as it has with mine), on top of many other things. And up until a few weeks ago, I didn’t even know that what I had was recurring TC. But it’s been so helpful to be part of a community (albeit, an online community, which, up until this point, I hadn’t been the biggest fan of or participant in) where people just get it.
I’d forgotten just how important it is to find and surround yourself with people who get it; who get you. And it doesn’t have to be all of you; I’m not sure I could ever find anyone (other than myself) who has experienced and felt every single thing I’ve experienced and felt. But in times of stress or pain or loneliness or anger or sadness, it’s essential that you be able to confide in, vent to or simply be with another person who understands; who will know just what to say and what not to say; who can tell you, with authority, what has at least worked for them in the past when they felt the way you’re feeling. It can make all the difference in the world.
And I’d encourage you to be that person for someone else when they need help. Remember how helpful friends, family and even near strangers have been to you in the past when you needed a helping hand or a listening ear.
It’s like this past week, when a good friend called to thank me and my BFF Nikki for our most recent podcast episode, where Nikki and I had discussed self-care and self-love. My friend called to say that she had recently ended a toxic relationship, and had really identified with our mention of ending toxic relationships in your life as part of your own self-care and self-love.
Simply hearing that our podcast struck a cord with another person made me feel incredible! Did I discover the cure for cancer? Nope. But maybe I’d reaffirmed for my friend the validity of her decision to end the relationship. Who knows? Maybe it’ll encourage another listener to do the same with an unhealthy relationship in his or her life. Not that I’m out here trying to break people up; it’s just that Nikki and I wanted to share our discussions and our experiences with others in order to make people’s lives better. We wanted to connect with people, and let listeners know that they’re not alone. We want them to know we get it.
Knowing we’ve done that for even one person out there is pretty indescribable. It’s one of the best and most basic parts of being human; it’s the shared human experience.
Be that for others, and know there are others that will be that for you. Not a single one of us is completely alone.
Get it? 😉
By: Katherine Itacy, Esq.
Dated: February 16, 2018
As I mentioned on my very first podcast with my best friend, Nikki Marchesseault, “Hammer Time with Nikki and Kate: A Disabled Lawyer and a Personal Trainer Walk into a Podcast,” I recently read this amazing book, “Love Warrior,” by Glennon Doyle Melton. I’d heard it was a good book, and I was looking for a new memoir/autobiography to read, so I gave it a chance.
Man, was a captivated within a few pages! This woman can write. She is an incredible storyteller, and was so unabashedly honest about her struggles with bulimia, drug and alcohol abuse, and generally feeling like an outsider in the world.
She explains that after a very long time of abusing and neglecting her body, she finds out that she’s pregnant, and decides at that very moment that she will quit her methods of self-abuse cold turkey in order to protect her child’s health and embrace her new role as a mother.
Glennon and her partner then get married; they end up having three beautiful children, and she really enjoys getting into her new roles of wife and stay-at-home mom.
Unfortunately, ten years into the marriage, her husband admits that he’s been having one-night stands since just a few months after their wedding. At this point, Glennon has to decide what her future is going to look like: Will she stay with her husband? If she does, will she ever be able to trust him or be intimate with him again? If she files for divorce, how will her life as a single mother work when the rest of her family lives miles and miles away? How will it work out with co-parenting their children if she’s still so mad at her husband?
At this point in the book, Glennon describes her anger and feelings of utter betrayal at this seemingly perfect man destroying the family that she has been so fully invested in for the last decade. She turns to spirituality and goes to counseling, does yoga and controlled breathing, and eventually realizes that if she can ask her higher power for forgiveness at being a flawed individual, then maybe her husband isn’t a monster – maybe he’s just flawed, too, and is entitled to the same forgiveness from God that she is.
As she tries to co-parent, stay strong for her kids and heal herself, Glennon finally takes the time to care for her mind, body and spirit. Of course, this is really uncomfortable for her, because she’s never had a healthy relationship with her body, with food or with her feelings. She wants to run away from her emotions, but she learns the way of the Warrior, and works each day to submerge herself in her feelings and process them for as long as she can bear. The next day, she does the same thing and tries to process them for just a little bit longer. She doesn’t try and go from broken to full healed in a day, a week, a month or a year; she accepts that this will be a lifelong process for her, but as long as she keeps working on it, she will be able to get through it, as well as anything else life throws her way.
Anyway, all of this back story is to say that by the end of the book, Glennon has finally started to understand what self-love is all about, and how by taking the time to tend to her mind, body and soul, she will be a better person, writer, minister, wife and mother.
I think a lot of us, especially women, forget about this. We think that completely sacrificing ourselves to our partner or our children or our career is what is required or expected of a “good” wife, mother or professional. But once we get to the end of our lives, do we really want to have sacrificed who we are for the sake of others? Is that really doing anyone a favor? Would you want your daughters to do the same thing to themselves when they get into a relationship or start a family?
I’m certainly guilty of this. As I explain in my upcoming book, I spent years neglecting and abusing my body for the sake of my career, my clients and my now-ex-husband. Without a doubt, doing so has shortened my lifespan, made me unable to bear children, and severely impaired my quality of life. I had so little regard for my physical form that I damn near killed myself in order to help others and make my then-husband happy. How was that fair or respectful to myself in any way? Why did I think so little of myself and the quality of my life? Where did I learn to do that? Why did I think that was okay?
Anyway, Glennon ends “Love Warrior” by detailing a conversation that she had with her daughters about what it means to be “pretty” or “desirable” in this world. She explains that the definition of “pretty” is an always-changing idea crafted by corporations in order to sell products, so instead of wanting to be “pretty,” why don’t you try to be “beautiful,” meaning “full of beauty”? Figure out what you love in the world (e.g., dancing in your room, singing in the car, being near the ocean, volunteering for a charity, going to Bible study, being with your family, whatever it is that makes you happy), and fill yourself up with those experiences each and every day.
I can completely identify with and embrace her definition of beauty. Being a beautiful person should mean nourishing your mind, body and soul, and then making your happiness something that you can share with others. It may be hard to practice everyday, especially with how busy our lives can get with the mundane, everyday tasks, but the more often you can practice self-love, the more beauty you can share with the world.
It may have taken me a very long time (and becoming physically disabled) to understand and appreciate the importance of self-love, including nourishment and care for your physical form, but I get it now; thanks, in large part, to Glennon Doyle Melton.
I have now vowed to try and fill myself with beauty each and every day of my life, for the rest of my life, and I would encourage each and every one of you to do the same. I guarantee that you’ll be the happier for it, and our world will be that much more beautiful because of it.
By: Katherine Itacy, Esq.
Dated: January 24, 2018
Both of my parents have demonstrated an obscene work ethic my entire life. And sure, they came right out and told me and my brother to work hard in school and for the things we wanted, but I think that I learned subconsciously to mimic their true workhorse style.
You know how they say: “Work smart, not hard?” Well…that lesson was never taught in our house…. Instead, Mom and Dad just wanted us to take pride in the efforts we put into whatever we did. You give it your 100% best efforts, and you don’t worry about the rest.
I get (or got) this perverse high from working nonstop at full tilt, and it came on quickly in my early teens. As I was getting better at track (and training more and more each passing year), I was also working at Dunkin’ Donuts during weekends and summers. The manager there learned fast that she could use my “Work the hardest you can, even at your own expense” mantra to the store’s advantage. As a young teen, she had me working in the kitchen with the full-time bakers. Later, she had me driving the delivery trucks to their other stores, and opening one of the stores at 5 AM. At the same time, my coworkers learned to let me pick up the slack while they took extra smoke breaks and stole my tips.
You’d think I would’ve learned to ease up the pace a bit, but nope! Not me! It made me proud to come home exhausted from my shift, with my feet aching and my hair and skin smelling like stale coffee grinds and donut grease (despite numerous attempts in the shower to eradicate the smells).
My work ethic only increased after that, to the point where I was running my own law firm, on three different boards of directors, doing pro bono legal work for the RI ACLU and a few select clients, testifying at the RI State House on various criminal justice and civil rights bills, volunteering for a friend’s mayoral campaign, representing a nonprofit on a RI Senate Study Commission and coaching high school track throwers. My obsession with doing my absolute best for all of these clients and entities led me to neglect my diabetes and caused me to have almost forty surgeries and procedures over a four-year timespan.
Even the Deputy Defender at my last job told me (half-jokingly) during my job interview that she’d only come down to the branch office for my interview “to see how tired you are from everything you’ve been doing!”
Looking back on it now, none of it was for fame, accolades or a sense of power. And upon deeper reflection, none of those things were ever praised in my childhood home. The only goal that my parents ever encouraged us to pursue (besides attaining higher education and the pursuit of happiness) was to work hard at whatever we chose to do in life. There were no five-year or ten-year plans in place. We weren’t raised to be doctors or lawyers. They didn’t push us to go to Harvard or Yale. They wanted us to find our own way, and to find our own version of happiness.
Turns out: None of my major life decisions were prefaced with much premeditation.
As contradicting as it sounds, I never plotted out what sport I hoped I’d excel at, or what college I’d work hard to get into, and yet, once I made the decisions, I worked my ass off to give my absolute best to the task at hand. I stumbled upon throwing and had no idea that I’d be good at it. Same with law school! I only considered it after my diabetes precluded me from becoming a federal law enforcement field agent. And the only reason why I decided to run my own firm is because I’d left a few other incompatible associate/partner positions and a friend told me that he’d mentor me through opening my practice.
I have never dreamt of running for public office, obtaining a judgeship or becoming a senior partner at some huge law firm. In fact, I’ve always preferred working behind the scenes. Coming out of law school, I would’ve been perfectly content being a worker bee, doing the grunt work while others received the prestige. I hate politics (personal and professional), and the only thoughts I’d had regarding political positions were that it’d be great to be an adviser and help shape public policy/law without having to do all the hand-holding and deal-making.
I was in my glory in both college and law school, taking up to 20 credits a semester, getting a double major and a minor at Penn State while spending 2-3 school days per week on the road for track meets; doing research for three different law school professors on top of doing internships and writing a 100-page paper on the criminal justice system (when my writing requirement only required that I write 10 pages, if memory serves correct). I didn’t even realize that I was double majoring, or was earning a minor as well. Hell, I was three classes away from a second minor in African and African-American Studies!
It all made me feel useful. It made my life feel purposeful. I felt like I was contributing; like I was soaking up as much knowledge and guidance as I possibly could. Like I was helping as many clients as I could possibly help.
And while I have essentially stumbled upon every accomplishment and accolade I’ve earned since high school, and had no prior plans for any of the educational, professional or activism decisions I’ve made since then, it has somehow all felt like it was meant to be. I can’t imagine what my life would’ve been like, had I not been a hammer thrower or a criminal defense attorney.
If all of this was somehow preordained for me to stumble upon, what am I supposed to believe my purpose is now? I feel so confident that I’m supposed to be practicing criminal defense, representing indigent clients, doing pro bono work and advocating for justice and equity for all. I know I had a skill at legal research and writing. Yet now, I can’t even understand or analyze a single legal case. I’m in so much pain these days, I’m mind-numbingly laid up in bed, with every other thought being: “It hurts so bad!!!”
Almost a year ago now, I came to the heart-wrenching conclusion that I could no longer perform my job duties, and I immediately notified my employer. Just about one of the most soul-crushing things I’ve ever had to admit to myself or others. This workhorse has been put out to pasture. My heart and my soul (and my ego) want to be able to continue contributing to society. My mind and my body have taken that purpose away from me, and it is still something that I am adjusting to. Why put a purposeful soul into a defective body?
Best believe, if I could work, I would. I’ve been working incessantly since I was fourteen years old. I was able to earn a good living running my own law firm, starting at the age of twenty-five, in the midst of a tough economy and an even tougher area of law to turn a profit. I have no qualms about doing hard, thankless work; I’ve sure done it before. In fact, I’ve done a helluva lot of free work, and been more than happy to do it!
The workhorse in me sure isn’t happy about her crap body forcing her to retire. Quite honestly, being trapped in this body is one of the cruelest punishments I could ever receive. It’s stifling my spirit. I’m trying to stay optimistic that life will guide me to stumble into whatever’s meant for me next, but in the meantime, I need to conserve my energy in order to make it through most days. Time to put that workhorse spirit into adjusting to my new quality of life – goodness knows, finding peace with this reality will be the hardest work I’ll have done yet!
My name is Katherine (Johnston) Itacy, and welcome to my site! I intend to use this site to explain who I am, the journey I’ve been on, and the lessons I’ve learned along the way.
Born and raised in Warwick, Rhode Island, I am a 29+ year-long Type I Diabetic who threw the 20-pound weight and hammer throw in high school and college. After setting both state and national high school records, winning eight national high school championships and competing in the 2000 World Junior Track and Field Championship in Santiago, Chile, I earned an athletic scholarship to Penn State.
Later, I earned an academic scholarship to Roger Williams University School of Law. I loved law school; I joined both the moot court board and the trial team, conducted research for several professors and a private attorney, and graduated fourth in my class. I spent a year working for a private criminal defense attorney before pairing up with a classmate in his practice, and eventually, going out on my own. I spent five years running my own law firm in Rhode Island and Massachusetts, focusing on pre-trial, trial and appellate work for criminal defendants, and hearings and appeals for convicted sex offenders. I joined the Rhode Island and National ACLU board of directors, as well as the Rhode Island Association for Criminal Defense Lawyers board of directors, and did pro bono work for both the ACLU and for indigent criminal defendants.
Running my criminal defense law firm was the most rewarding experience I have ever had, but it took its toll on my diabetes. During four of the five years I ran the practice, I underwent over three dozen surgeries. Diabetes had attacked my eyes, my hands, and the nerves in my elbows and wrists.
In November of 2014, I took a job in Del Rio, Texas, as a legal research and writing specialist for the Federal Public Defender’s Office for the Western District of Texas. I loved my work there, but my health began to deteriorate further, to the point that I could no longer perform my job responsibilities. I developed an incurable spinal nerve pain disorder called adhesive arachnoiditis, as a result of a 1988 lipoma/tethered spinal cord surgery. The diabetes has also caused benign tumors to develop in my breasts, and has damaged the nerves in my lower body.
For the last 22 months, I have been on a mind-numbing journey to find adequate health care, including a sufficient drug protocol to help alleviate my daily pain. I have also had to adjust to my new quality of life, and to accept the fact that I can no longer pursue my life’s calling.
I hope that you can use this blog site (as well as the book I am writing) as a resource. I will be using both the site and the book to document my life’s journey, and to share some of the life lessons I have learned from living in a diseased body. My poor health has motivated me to live the fullest life possible, but I have days (as I am sure that many physically disabled persons do) when I feel as if the medical system and my body have failed me. We all need an avenue to vent our frustrations, and to feel as if we are understood. I hope you will find that you can do those things here.
I look forward to hearing from some of you as to what struggles you have faced with your health and with the medical system in America. We all need emotional support from time to time, and I am confident that we can find that in one another. I wish you all good health, and a full, happy life!