My Story...
My journey through teenage life was nothing I imagined as a little girl. From a young age it was clear I was an athlete. I excelled at all sports into which my parents enrolled me. I learned naturally, was very coachable and being a team player came naturally to me. Sports were engrained in my family and a huge part of our lives.
As I approached my teenaged years, I thought my biggest challenge would be deciding between an NCAA basketball or a CIS soccer scholarship. A waterski scholarship to Louisiana State was on the forefront for many years as well. Athletics was my life. It was my hobby, my release, my love and my social time. I was a huge part of my relationship with my dad as well.
I was accustomed to striving and working hard to be on the starting lineup of all teams on which I played. I remember when I was a starting point guard for Team BC, my dad would get mad at me because I wouldn’t come in from the cold and rain until I had hit enough 3 point shots to feel satisfied. I remember pushing my waterski season into late October and not being able to feel my hands when I got back in the boat. I went to soccer 4 days a week during the winter months in the cold, sleet, rain and snow and never gave it a second thought.
My world imploded in my early teens. Here is my story.
In grade 8, I sustained a serious concussion during a skating incident. I joked with my parents that I had spent so much time dribbling soccer and basketballs, shooting lacrosse balls and carving up lakes on my waterski that I had no time to learn to skate. The injury was serious. I was transported to the hospital via ambulance. I missed months of sport and school afterwards. That accident was the start of a difficult journey.
As the months went on following my concussion, I began to struggle to study and focus in classrooms. I couldn’t focus on what my teacher was saying. I found it difficult to learn new concepts and staying organized seemed almost impossible. I couldn’t even remember what my homework was when I got home from school. My marks dropped. I was no longer a straight A student. B’s were hard to maintain. My body felt different. I was sore all the time. I had always played multiple sports without thinking about it. Now, I felt overwhelmed and began to need to miss practices to give my body time to recover. Doses of Ibuprofen became a daily necessity without my parents knowing. Athletic seasons seemed to go on forever. Being a starter was a dream and deep shame became part of my identity.
A year after the accident, my symptoms became much worse. My exhaustion worsened. My body had transformed from a fit muscular athlete to being overweight. My self-esteem was non-existent and my identity became unknown to me. I collapsed as a human being. I feel into a deep depression of isolation. I was too ashamed of myself to be social. My friendships had been based on sports before. I had no desire to be spend time with my teammates. I raced from practiced and games and socialized with almost no one. Sports drained me and made me sad. All I craved was sleep and TV.
These symptoms had been classified by doctors as a side effect of the head injury. My family and I spent two years and thousands of dollars down a mental health path along with several different types of concussion therapies. Nothing worked. I could no longer play sports nor did I have any desire.
I began having extreme mood swings. I couldn’t control my anger. I lashed out at my family for the smallest of things. I said horrible things to them. I even became physical and tried to hurt them. I was out of control. I had no hope of things improving. In the midst of all of this my close neighbor and friend Amanda Todd committed suicide. I began to contemplate her escape as an end to my treachery. My family were desperate to help me but I found myself rejecting their love and guidance.
Finally at the beginning of my grade 11 year, a doctor discovered through a blood test, that I was suffering from much more than a concussion. I was diagnosed with Graves’ Disease which is an immune system disorder that results in the overproduction of thyroid hormones a condition known as hyperthyroidism. The thyroid regulates the hormones throughout the body and mine was overloading my body. Hyperthroidism unmedicated causes deterioration in all cells of the body. The disease had decayed my body, my brain, and my soul. I had transitioned from a competitive healthy athlete into a shell of the person that I had been. Every element of my life, from school to basic daily activities, was impacted. I was at a point where I could no longer function. When I was diagnosed, I did not understand what it meant. I felt isolated. People in my life and athletic communities had expectations of me that I could not longer meet. I had built my identity around athletics and here I was in a position where I could barely walk some days. I had difficulty explaining the nature of my illness. My disease is not one that is visible to the naked eye. It was a struggle for others to understand how my life could be so severely impacted by something that they could not see. I learned that the word “disease” is one that can be a struggle for others to handle. Individuals and teammates that I had known for years were unsure how to act around me. Throughout my life, I had always been a leader in team environments. For the first time, I felt as though I did not belong. When you are friends with people on a team, you are able to bond and form connections. I lost that team support and environment. I invested endless hours into practices while I was ill and managing my disease, but despite that I was still treated differently. I had to make an entirely new group of friends. The communities where I had spent the majority of my time now judged me by my disease.
My school counselor has been pivotal in helping my family and I navigate this life change. A private counselor was also instrumental in helping me rebuild my life. They showed me how to build a safe place where I could focus and find balance. I am inspired to help other people in that same way. I would have been incredibly grateful to connect with another youth while I was navigating the process of securing a diagnosis and managing my disease.
This school year is one where I am finally feeling more like myself and grounded emotionally, socially and physical. The pieces of my life have started to fall back together. I have taken this new found strength and the experience gained from my journey and channeled that energy into helping others. I work with several young athletes who are struggling for various reasons, I created a web site to help others learn about and get help when living with Graves’ Disease and hyperthyroidism www.livingwithgravesdisease.weebly.com. I am now once again not only playing, but thriving at playing basketball for our school basketball team, I am one of the captains of my community soccer team, I have a part time job working for La Senza, and I am volunteering once a week feeding the homeless in the Tri-City Area for Linwood Ministries.
As I approached my teenaged years, I thought my biggest challenge would be deciding between an NCAA basketball or a CIS soccer scholarship. A waterski scholarship to Louisiana State was on the forefront for many years as well. Athletics was my life. It was my hobby, my release, my love and my social time. I was a huge part of my relationship with my dad as well.
I was accustomed to striving and working hard to be on the starting lineup of all teams on which I played. I remember when I was a starting point guard for Team BC, my dad would get mad at me because I wouldn’t come in from the cold and rain until I had hit enough 3 point shots to feel satisfied. I remember pushing my waterski season into late October and not being able to feel my hands when I got back in the boat. I went to soccer 4 days a week during the winter months in the cold, sleet, rain and snow and never gave it a second thought.
My world imploded in my early teens. Here is my story.
In grade 8, I sustained a serious concussion during a skating incident. I joked with my parents that I had spent so much time dribbling soccer and basketballs, shooting lacrosse balls and carving up lakes on my waterski that I had no time to learn to skate. The injury was serious. I was transported to the hospital via ambulance. I missed months of sport and school afterwards. That accident was the start of a difficult journey.
As the months went on following my concussion, I began to struggle to study and focus in classrooms. I couldn’t focus on what my teacher was saying. I found it difficult to learn new concepts and staying organized seemed almost impossible. I couldn’t even remember what my homework was when I got home from school. My marks dropped. I was no longer a straight A student. B’s were hard to maintain. My body felt different. I was sore all the time. I had always played multiple sports without thinking about it. Now, I felt overwhelmed and began to need to miss practices to give my body time to recover. Doses of Ibuprofen became a daily necessity without my parents knowing. Athletic seasons seemed to go on forever. Being a starter was a dream and deep shame became part of my identity.
A year after the accident, my symptoms became much worse. My exhaustion worsened. My body had transformed from a fit muscular athlete to being overweight. My self-esteem was non-existent and my identity became unknown to me. I collapsed as a human being. I feel into a deep depression of isolation. I was too ashamed of myself to be social. My friendships had been based on sports before. I had no desire to be spend time with my teammates. I raced from practiced and games and socialized with almost no one. Sports drained me and made me sad. All I craved was sleep and TV.
These symptoms had been classified by doctors as a side effect of the head injury. My family and I spent two years and thousands of dollars down a mental health path along with several different types of concussion therapies. Nothing worked. I could no longer play sports nor did I have any desire.
I began having extreme mood swings. I couldn’t control my anger. I lashed out at my family for the smallest of things. I said horrible things to them. I even became physical and tried to hurt them. I was out of control. I had no hope of things improving. In the midst of all of this my close neighbor and friend Amanda Todd committed suicide. I began to contemplate her escape as an end to my treachery. My family were desperate to help me but I found myself rejecting their love and guidance.
Finally at the beginning of my grade 11 year, a doctor discovered through a blood test, that I was suffering from much more than a concussion. I was diagnosed with Graves’ Disease which is an immune system disorder that results in the overproduction of thyroid hormones a condition known as hyperthyroidism. The thyroid regulates the hormones throughout the body and mine was overloading my body. Hyperthroidism unmedicated causes deterioration in all cells of the body. The disease had decayed my body, my brain, and my soul. I had transitioned from a competitive healthy athlete into a shell of the person that I had been. Every element of my life, from school to basic daily activities, was impacted. I was at a point where I could no longer function. When I was diagnosed, I did not understand what it meant. I felt isolated. People in my life and athletic communities had expectations of me that I could not longer meet. I had built my identity around athletics and here I was in a position where I could barely walk some days. I had difficulty explaining the nature of my illness. My disease is not one that is visible to the naked eye. It was a struggle for others to understand how my life could be so severely impacted by something that they could not see. I learned that the word “disease” is one that can be a struggle for others to handle. Individuals and teammates that I had known for years were unsure how to act around me. Throughout my life, I had always been a leader in team environments. For the first time, I felt as though I did not belong. When you are friends with people on a team, you are able to bond and form connections. I lost that team support and environment. I invested endless hours into practices while I was ill and managing my disease, but despite that I was still treated differently. I had to make an entirely new group of friends. The communities where I had spent the majority of my time now judged me by my disease.
My school counselor has been pivotal in helping my family and I navigate this life change. A private counselor was also instrumental in helping me rebuild my life. They showed me how to build a safe place where I could focus and find balance. I am inspired to help other people in that same way. I would have been incredibly grateful to connect with another youth while I was navigating the process of securing a diagnosis and managing my disease.
This school year is one where I am finally feeling more like myself and grounded emotionally, socially and physical. The pieces of my life have started to fall back together. I have taken this new found strength and the experience gained from my journey and channeled that energy into helping others. I work with several young athletes who are struggling for various reasons, I created a web site to help others learn about and get help when living with Graves’ Disease and hyperthyroidism www.livingwithgravesdisease.weebly.com. I am now once again not only playing, but thriving at playing basketball for our school basketball team, I am one of the captains of my community soccer team, I have a part time job working for La Senza, and I am volunteering once a week feeding the homeless in the Tri-City Area for Linwood Ministries.