Pretty Pastel Ponies And How They Saved My Life

I've been a little indecisive about posting this for a while, but I think I'll feel better knowing that I've shared all I have to say about my depression and my heart condition. The brony community is full of extraordinary people doing extraordinary things, and if there was ever a way to tell as many wonderful people as I can about it, it would be here. I apologize in advance for the length of this post, I need to provide a little background before I can get to the heart of it...so to speak.

When I was twelve, I started to notice strange sensations in my heart from time to time, and being young and healthy, I really didn’t think much of it. It seemed to go away on its own, but fast forward a few months and they had come back again with a vengeance. The sensation felt like my heart was stopping and starting again, and being just a little girl it absolutely terrified me. My mom took me to the doctor and at first, they didn’t have a clue what was wrong with me, as my heart sounded fine when they listened to it.

I had test after test done, and a few months later, after wearing a device that measures heartbeats called a Holter harness, they told me I had a heart condition where my heart beats irregularly and prematurely, also known as premature ventricular contractions or PVC for short. They told me that there was nothing they could do, and I would just have to live with them. The PVCs were unpleasant, but they didn’t occur very often and I was relieved to finally know what they were, so I was able to go about things just like anyone else, albeit with a few bothersome beats on occasion. I managed to get through four years with relatively low trouble, but everything -- my normal life, my happiness, pretty much my ability to function -- it all came to a screeching halt at the end of my junior year. My PVCs are always very unpredictable and occur at completely random intervals, and to this day I have no idea why they suddenly got so much worse, but they did.

The day I was cast into hell was just a normal day at school, which I guess when you think about it, I was already in hell. Anyway, I was sitting in class and I suddenly had a massive PVC. I experience at least five types of PVCs in varying degrees and all of these but the final two only last, well, a heartbeat. The least severe are the very faint ones I experience in the morning that I can barely feel, and these usually go away within an hour or so. The second least severe are the kind that I do feel, but aren’t painful and don’t occur again until the next day. The third, that I call massive PVCs are the kind that only last a second, but are very painful and cause adrenaline to rush through me. When these occur, I usually have to stop what I’m doing and wait until the pain and fear go away. I don’t have the panic attacks that come with these like I had when I was a kid because I’m used to them by now. The fourth, I call them palpaPVCs because they are mixed with a heart palpitation, are the kind where I have multiple PVCs that usually last for three to five seconds. The most severe are the kind I fear the most, and the ones that I didn't even know I could have until that horrible day. These are what I call chain PVCs and these are the massive PVCs that never stop.

So after I experienced this massive PVC, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary so I just ignored it and went back to what I was doing, since distracting myself helps with the panic. That night I went home and went about my routine; it was a Friday night so I was trying to get my homework done and enjoy the weekend. As I was doing this, I kept having one massive PVC after another. This had never happened before, so I tried getting up and walking around and they went away for a few minutes but then came back again. They obviously were there to stay, and I don't remember a time in my life when I ever felt such pure and unadulterated fear. My mom took me the emergency room and by this point I was shaking, sobbing uncontrollably, and could barely walk.

It’s very hard to describe what PVCs feel like to those fortunate souls who dance through life blissfully unaware of the suffering people who experience these go through. It’s kind of like explaining what bubblegum tastes like to someone who’s never had it. Or what it feels like to be tortured from the inside and not being able to do a single thing about it. They best way I can put it is, it feels like your heart is having powerful spasms, like it is going to splutter out at any moment; it is the most terrifying feeling anyone can ever experience. I equate my situation to that of a shock collar. Imagine you wake up one morning with a shock collar around your neck, have no way of getting it off, and have to wear it the rest of your life. At completely random intervals throughout the day, the shock collar will emit varying degrees of shocks. Some can be so mild you barely feel them, while some can be so bad you crumple to the floor with tears in your eyes, unable to move until the shocks subside, if they ever do. Sometimes they don't, and they continue on into the night making it impossible to sleep, and you wake up the next morning to find it's still happening, and continues to do so for weeks at time. You will not know how long they will last, it could only be for one second, or millions. The shock collar is invisible to everyone but you, and the more you beg people for their help to find a way to get it off, the more they think you need psychiatric help. I've heard countless doctors tell me my PVCs are all in my head, because I look fine on the outside, I've tried every kind of pill there is and it does nothing, so it must be psychological, especially since the Ultrasounds says my heart is structurally sound. I've heard that same speech so many times I probably have it memorized. The more I try to explain how awful it feels, the crazier I become in their eyes.

So you can probably imagine what they told me in the ER. Even though everyone could clearly see the irregularity of the crests and peaks on the heart monitor and my wincing each time my heart spasmed, they told me it was nothing. They looked me in my eyes, red and puffy with tears, and my mom's eyes that were filled with worry, helpless to take away her terrified daughter's suffering, and told us that there was nothing they could do with such nonchalance that it still makes me want to punch a wall. None of them knew that there are days when it is so bad I can't get out of bed, and I do nothing but bawl and scream into my pillow, clutching my Rarity plushie to my fluttering chest. That isn't living, only existing and wishing that existence would end. None of them knew that in the months follwoing the ER trip, the chain PVCs continued on through morning and night, giving me absolutely no reprieve. Even sleep, which should be everyone's one moment of respite, was invaded by the awful feeling in my chest. There was no escaping my own body, and soon I was not speaking to anyone, I never left my room, and I cried until there were no tears left, leaving me feeling empty and tired.

I was put on antidepressants even though I kept telling to doctors that before this, I was the happiest person in the world and my despair would go away if they could only give me a pacemaker. However, they continued to treat the symptoms and not the cause, because if there isn't a quick fix that makes them money then you're apparently screwed. They also gave me a beta-blocker called Atenolol to slow my heart rate and block the release of adrenaline, but that also did nothing.

This is what my life, if you could call it that, has been for the past nine months -- and if you include the sporadic episodes I had as a kid -- the better part of six years. By now, the chains have gone away, but I never know if I'll wake up one day and have to live through the nightmare of last summer all over again. I still struggle with my PVCs every single day. I stay far away from caffeine, I can't exercise at all, and I only drink water. It's because I can't eat more than ten grams of sugar a day, and most drinks have sugar in them. I turned eighteen a few months ago and sat there smiling like nothing was wrong as everyone enjoyed my red velvet cake, which used to be my absolute favorite. People think I'm strange when I turn down desert at a restaurant or tell them I don't drink soda. They have no idea how badly I want to, and how much I used to love all things sweet in my old life. I can't exercise at all; I'm unhappy with my weight and planned to take up jogging but it looks like I'm hanging up the running shoes.

On my worst days I can't talk at all without bringing on a set of chain PVCs, and I have to use my phone or a notepad to communicate. Having a heart problem isn't like having a headache or joint pain. If your heart malfunctions, you could die and it's taken me a long time to realize this isn't going to kill me. I wish every day that it would though. Everything would be so much easier if it had turned out to be something structurally wrong with my heart, because then it could be corrected with surgery. Since my condition has to do with electrical impulses misfiring, not even a heart transplant could fix it since the new heart would just do the same thing. My mom has offered to trade hearts with me so many times; I think she feels it's the only thing she can do. I had contemplated suicide so many times, knowing that what it was the only way to end my suffering, and I'd actually had a note written out and everything. That's when I started watching MLP again.

I'd joined the herd when I was in middle school and jumped aboard the Friendship Express with all my fellow bronies and pegasisters. With one episode, I fell head over heels in love, I'm sure you all can relate, and I've been watching it off and on ever since. At first it had been Fluttershy who had originally stolen my faulty heart, and she still does hold a special place in it, but after I saw Suited For Success and saw Rarity in a brand new light, I never looked back. Anyway, when I'd gone through that summer of endless tears and days spent in bed, the only connection I had to MLP was my plushie. It hurt too much to watch all the ponies being so happy, plus it was hard to focus on anything besides my heart.

When I began to feel a little better and could walk into my computer room, I began watching it again, and felt something that I thought had been cast out of my life forever. Joy. It felt so foreign to me the first time I experienced it. I managed to find a light in the darkness, as cliché as the phrase is. Even though my life is now confined to my house, talking with a pen and notepad, and trying to stay warm as my skipped beats cause my heart to not circulate blood efficiently making me cold constantly, there are moments where I can actually feel happiness again. Thanks to MLP, I'm able to forget about my situation momentarily and lose myself in the euphoria and childlike wonderment the show seems to instill in us all, even after five years of watching it. I still never know if a pleasant experience will suddenly be ruined by a PVC or a panic attack, but that doesn't stop me from trying to live the best life I can.

On days when I'm at my lowest, as hard as it may be, I try desperately to think of what I've been given instead of what's been taken away from me. I try to think of what would've happened if I'd actually killed myself. Don't ever take anything in your life for granted, because you never know how much you appreciate the little things until they're gone. A chocolate bar. An early morning jog. A long conversation with a loved one. Going on vacation. Not being aware of your heart at all times. Even just being able to leave the house. Enjoy all of those things as I once did. Don't listen to that voice telling you how many calories are in it, indulge in that donut that's begging you to eat it. Go on a walk at sunset with your special someone. Talk as much as you can, for as long as you can. If I'd known what I was going to lose, I would've eaten red velvet cake in existance, talked until I lost my voice, and walked until the soles on my Chuck Taylors were gone.

Only when my outlook on life started to improve did I realized how far down my depression had actually spiraled. I had been teetering on the precipice, and I was ready to take the final plunge. I had everything prepared, but when I jumped off the cliff, I realized what exactly I was doing, how young I was, how much I still had to live for, and hung on to the edge. If it wasn't for MLP, and given enough time and another set of chain PVCs, I believe I would've let go. But Rarity's little white hoof reached out to me, pulled me back up, dusted me off, and dried my tears with a handkerchief. Think of her what you will, I know many of you don't see her with the eyes that I do, but at the moment, that pony is the only thing keeping me going. We all know they're fictional characters in children's show, but I think we all have our reasons why the show and our favorite ponies mean so much to us. This is my reason. If Twilight somehow manages to find a way to cross dimensions like in Biblical Monsters and the Mane Six end up in our world, could whoever manages to stumble across them be a dear and rely a message to Rarity? Tell her I said thank you. For everything.

P.S If any of you have the same heart condition as me, please say so. I've never met another person in my life who suffers from PVCs, despite how common I'm told they are. I'm also an only child so I don't have genetics to provide me with someone to go through it with. Thanks so much for reading this mammoth of a story , I tend to go on and on when I put my fingers to a keyboard . Have a good one y'all!