by Ashley | Autoimmune Disease
I was recently contacted by a news editor for Boise State University’s student newspaper, The Arbiter, for an interview about this blog. This article not only explains the purpose of this blog, but it also touches on a few projects I have completed in the short time this website has been live.
One project, that went viral, was my response to Paris Fashion Week 2019 when a fashion designer used fake IV poles and t-shirts with “SICK” across the front for his line, “Attention-Seeker”; the post is on my Instagram account: https://www.instagram.com/ashley_carnduff/. I have received incredible feedback, and am excited to say that I have been in touch with a graphic designer about making “Fuck Your Fashion Statement” tees to sell.
Another project, that led to this interview, will be published soon. I had the pleasure of working with an amazing photographer (www.lemonandhoneyphotos.com/contact) and a group of badass young women, who all have an invisible illness. I can’t wait to share it soon!
In the interview for my university’s newspaper, called “Student creates a support system for those battling chronic illness”, Celina Van Hyning writes:
An estimated 7% of teenagers and young adults live with at least one ongoing health condition that can disrupt daily life, according to a National Health Interview report. These conditions can range from mental illness such as depression and anxiety, to physical conditions such as asthma and diabetes.
In 2013, 15-year-old Ashley Carnduff, a former secondary education major, was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease, an inflammatory bowel disease that causes inflammation of the digestive tract which can lead to abdominal pain, weight loss and malnutrition. Since then, she has been diagnosed with several other autoimmune illnesses in addition to Crohn’s disease.
Read the rest of the article here: https://arbiteronline.com/student-creates-a-support-system-for-those-battling-chronic-illness/
Thank you so much for the endless love and support!
Please cozy up and enjoy the short read.
Ashley xx
by Ashley | Autoimmune Disease
Until recently, I’ve never been empowered by my pain; I’ve been ashamed of it. For as long as I can remember, I thought that pain meant weakness. Through my childhood and adolescence, my pain has been blamed on the wrong aspect of my body. I thought I felt immense pain because I was weak not because I was in immense pain.
When I finally sought medical advice, my pain was downplayed because I was going through puberty and “little girls have mild discomfort” with their periods (said to me by a mild-aged man…. that’s a rant for another day). I blamed my pain on my femininity and bottled it up. I felt embarrassed for seeking help because “everyone deals with it”. I didn’t want to be the “complainer”, the “diva”; I was “emotional” and “going through a normal teenage girl phase”.
I didn’t suddenly wake up sick; I was slowly dying for years. I finally hit my limit; all the pain I had bottled up, bubbled to the surface. I was 15, severely underweight, anemic, starving, malnourished, with blood-work off the charts; my intestines were swollen shut and riddled with ulcers. The disease had taken over my anatomy, my mind, my humanity; I was a skeleton… and I had no idea. It was my understanding that this was “normal”.
Ironically, I was completely blinded by the lack of visibility. I looked “fine”, even to me. That’s one of the cruelest parts of these illnesses; they’re master manipulators and hide in plain sight. When I looked at my thin and starving body, I didn’t ask too many questions because I constantly received compliments on my appearance. I turned my eye from the bruises on my spine, the dark bags under my eyes and the ribs jutting out from my abdomen because I had a “naturally” slim figure, and that made me feel confident about myself as a teenage girl… go figure.
It wasn’t until I was curled up on the bathroom floor, sobbing, screaming in pain, trying to force myself to throw up that I knew something was wrong with me. This disease had manifested itself into every fiber of my being; my body was killing me and I had no idea…but according to all the “professionals”, didn’t everyone go through this?
Suppressing my pain for so long, in an effort to be “tough”, led me to have some issues with the idea of femininity. I felt like expressing this part of me was (in a fucked up way) equivalent to expressing weakness. So instead of asking for help, I pushed through the pain; I became an important part of my school & club’s soccer teams. In my mind, I was balancing out my feminine side with this tough athlete façade; in retrospect, I subconsciously wore darker make-up and darker clothes as well. I was quiet, kind and well behaved; since this was the stereotypical idea of femininity in mind, I felt the need to disguise it a bit. I didn’t want to be the weak one, right?
Recently, I’ve done some serious introspection; this has come from my yoga course and practice. I have realized that the idea of femininity and masculinity is not linear in any way, shape or form. I started embracing who I am, as a human… not necessarily a female.
I’ve realized I can be, both, gentle and strong; quiet without being meek; compassionate without being a pushover. I’ve recognized you can be in pain and not be weak. You can ask for help and not be weak. You can be sick and not be weak. In fact, I’ve learned that anyone dealing with these types of illnesses is anything but weak. I’ve validated my own pain, despite being a woman… because a lot of my doctors won’t. Crohn’s doesn’t discriminate based on sex, so why did my doctors? Why was my pain less valid?
Let’s stop telling woman to “man up” and let’s start recognizing everyone’s pain as true, regardless of their background. “Feminine” or “masculine”, pain is pain.
We believe you.
Ashley xx
by Ashley | Autoimmune Disease
It’s no secret, hospital life is isolating.
Those that enter the ER with a broken bone or the common cold kindly wave farewell to this confinement as they drive back to “normal life” a few hours later.
However, those with chronic illnesses don’t get to leave the isolation at the door.
For me, isolation has become a consistent companion. My illness forces me into solitude to survive.
I need lots of rest. I can’t typically partake in normal college kid shenanigans; alcohol and partying leaves my tank on empty for the following week, and it only strengthens my relationship with isolation.
You’ll often see me absent from social activities, only spending time with my boyfriend Marcus, you won’t hear from me, and I’ll be locked away in my bedroom, sometimes for weeks on end. I promise I’m not being an asshole. I’m just trying to survive.
Please do not take pity on me for spending time alone. Often times, isolation is the best medicine.
Although isolation is healing, you must establish a firm boundary with it. As we all know, excessive seclusion can lead to loneliness. Even if you need to spend time alone, you shouldn’t ever go through this battle alone.
To embrace isolation and avoid loneliness, I suggest establishing a strong support system. This person, or group of people, should be impeccably trustworthy. They should love you without question, listen to you without judgment and support you without doubt. If they don’t believe your symptoms or they bypass your feelings, they are not a good support system.
I have been absolutely blessed with the support in my life. My mom, dad, step-mom, brother, sister-in-law and so many more offer constant aid. I know I can call them at any time with an anxious mind or aching body, and they will help me in any way they can.
Another huge blessing in my life has been my boyfriend, Marcus; his support is particularly special to me because of our relationship. He offers me his shoulder to cry on, runs any needed errands for me and loves me for who I am. He’s picked me up off of the bathroom floor, held my hand in the ER and sacrificed his own comfort for mine.
I know I can lean on my support system at any time; this is why isolation is a healing tool for me. While I may be locked away in my bedroom, these people are all just a phone call away. (I also have several friends I could go on and on about, but I’m trying to keep it concise. I love you guys.)
While grateful for my support system, I understand some people are not as fortunate; they don’t have friends or family to lean on. No one should have to go through this “invisible” life alone; find your support that helps make you visible. If you don’t have anyone in your life, I promise I will be your support system.
Seriously.
This shit is hard.
(Direct Message me on Instagram: @ashley_carnduff & I will offer any support I can.)
And to everyone in my life, just remember I’m still here for you, even if I’m lying in bed strapped to a heating pad.
Ashley xx
by Ashley | Mental Health
“I wish I had Crohn’s so I could be thin.”
“You’re so lucky you don’t gain weight!”
“I wish I had Crohn’s so I could eat whatever I want.”
“You don’t need to workout, you’re already so little.”
“I know Crohn’s sucks, but at least you look amazing.”
While my loved one’s meant no harm with these “compliments”, phrases like such can be extremely damaging to one’s body image, mine included.
Through my adolescence and young adult years, I feel fortunate to have been able to maintain confidence in my physical appearance. Sure, I’m not perfect and I’ve picked on my looks in front of the mirror, like I’m sure many of you have; I’ve have bad haircuts, worn regrettable t-shirts, my teeth are crooked and my skin sometimes breaks out. Yet, these are not the body image issues I struggle with deeply.
Upon looking in the mirror, I’m happy with what I see; dark blonde beach waves, deep brown eyes and a faint smile. Now, lift the veil. I’m still standing there, but the reflection has changed.
I see pale, bruised skin hugging my body; I see my hand hanging so limply from my sling after my shoulder inevitably subluxated for the third time that day. I see scars scattered like stars on my belly. My once defined abs, are lopsided from surgery and bloated consistently. I see the disappointment and anger as hot tears roll down the cheeks of a young girl whose only dream of playing college soccer was demolished. I see thinned hair and brittle nails from my medications. I see a body that hates me so much it wants to kill me.
“I wish I had Crohn’s so I could be thin.” Well, I’m not thin. My body is constantly starving and malnourished. This deprivation led my doctor to believe that I had an eating disorder. The only issue with this diagnosis is that I didn’t have an eating disorder. Yet, she negated my truth, dismissed my symptoms and continually gave me pamphlets and resources for ED support. Crohn’s doesn’t make you thin; the pain, medications, surgeries, scopes, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, anxiety, fatigue, depression and more make you thin.
“You’re so lucky you don’t gain weight!” And YOU, my friend, are so lucky you can gain the healthy weight you need. About 6 months ago, my doctor explained to me that I was underweight and needed to put on some pounds; well, unfortunately since then, I’ve lost another 25 pounds. I haven’t weighed this much since I was 13. I would love to gain a little bit of weight if all it meant was some warm and happy bites of pizza, followed by a little movement later on. Part of why I don’t gain weight is because of my extended hospital stays. I am currently writing this from my hospital bed, unable to eat and unable to partake in all the yummy Thanksgiving food tomorrow. So, am I really so lucky to not gain weight?
“I wish I had Crohn’s so I could eat whatever I want.” All I have to say to this one is, what the fuck?! I don’t know where you acquired your IBD knowledge, but this disease typically eliminates a lot of different foods from your diet; especially your favorite sugary and fatty snacks. You can’t eat whatever you want without risking extreme pain, diarrhea, ER visits or a bowel obstruction. So again, what the fuck, dude?
“You don’t need to workout, you’re already so little.” Being thin is not my goal for working out, and I don’t believe it should be anyone’s goal. I think the goal of exercise is to be healthy. I workout because it helps my arthritic joints, relaxes my knotted back muscles, quiets my anxious brain and resets my headspace. Working out and being healthy/fit is way different than just being thin.
“I know Crohn’s sucks, but at least you look amazing.” First of all, you actually don’t know that Crohn’s sucks. Secondly, under the make-up, slim figure, curled hair, and lip-gloss is the same old sick girl that would rather have her health than her looks, any day.
To put it plain and simple, the grass isn’t always greener, my friend.
While I’m not here to propagate, nor negate the validity of “thin privilege”, I just want to bring awareness that there are many factors that influence your weight. Whether a person is underweight or overweight, we don’t get to judge. I am too thin because of an illness; yet there are so many other diseases out there that cause you to gain weight instead. We are so quick to diagnose a female like me with an eating disorder, and we are too quick to label a person who is overweight as “lazy”.
It is not our place to put these labels on one another. You never know what someone is going through.
So today, while you are sitting around the dining table, inhaling glorious mashed potatoes, warm turkey and pumpkin pie, remember the “thin” girl in the hospital, without her family and who’s unable to eat.
Thin isn’t always a privilege.
Ashley
by Ashley | Mental Health
According to NASA, the moon’s purpose is to make the Earth a more livable planet through the dark hours of night, as the brightest and largest object in the sky.
While she may not be large, Luna’s light shines endlessly and makes my world a much more livable place, especially at my darkest hours.
This sweet little Aussie is my Emotional Support Animal; after joining my life, I quickly learned that Luna battles severe anxiety as well. Over the past year and a half, we’ve been slowly overcoming our angsts together.
When I’m in pain, she protectively and gently brings comfort by lying next to me; when I nap, she positions herself across my legs to keep an eye on me; when I’m crying, she immediately runs to my aid by giving me a literal hug and ferociously licking my face. Luna has become so in-tune with my emotional needs, that the slightest sniffle will send her scrambling across the hardwood to save the day, when all I actually needed was a Benadryl.
Although she is a notorious sock thief, and her hobbies include shredding sticks inside the house, this little monster has known exactly what to do for me, with no formal training, since day one.
Much like the Earth and Moon, my world would wobble off its axis without her.
Do you have a Luna in your life? I would love to here about her or him.
Ashley xx
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