Getting back up...is the hardest thing to do!

Here is where I tell you this post has some significant language issues.  If you are in anyway offended by F* bombs and/or any other sort of swearing..this is where I tell you to click the X at the top of the screen and leave this post.  Because there will be a few colorful words not suitable for those who are offended by colorful language.  That being said, for those who've been around long, know me well, or have read my Blog Page on FB...you know this is for me more than it is for you.

You've been warned. I hope you continue to read. I hope you are able to get something from whatever will be spilled from the tattered brain dump that is about to happen. I blog for me.  It is cathartic.  And right now I'm in need of some intensive therapy.  My therapist doesn't think so from what I can understand.  She isn't fully aware of the darkness that has transcended.

Here goes it.....

Even with all of my experience with depression and anxiety, I was fortunate enough to be without suicidal thoughts until I wasn't.  It has been about 6-7 years that the war has raged on.  Rage is the understatement of the day.

I battle with severe depression, anxiety, and suicidal ideation on a very regular basis.  If you've read this blog at all you will have figured that out.  I don't always write about the good days.  I'm tired of battling this mother-fucker.  Sometimes depression battles me.  Gives me a sucker punch to the gut and while I'm gasping for air, it twists my arm around my back and kicks my ass face first to the floor.  The floor is a nice place to be when you are depressed. 

Getting up from the floor is often the hardest thing I do everyday.  I've been sucker punched more and more over the last year or so than ever before.  It's getting old.  

Usually when I'm depressed, I am able to go to work.  I am able to parent in a half-assed sort of way.  I'm not very good company, ask my husband.  This has cost me friendships over and over.  When you are constantly face planted in the middle of the floor you are not a very good friend.  You are not a very good wife.  You are not a very good mom.

I try hard every.single.day to find one thing.  I try hard every.single.day. to find something else to be grateful for.  Depression is a fucking bitch.  She's a lying whore who needs to have her ass handed to her.  She tells me that I can't get back up.  Heaven have mercy, I know I can.  I do.  I have to do whatever it is, that one thing at at time...to get my ass back up off this floor.  My face is currently planted on the floor.  If you think to yourself that the only manageable things is harming yourself, you are not alone.  Shit you are not alone.  

I know what it is like to lay on my bathroom floor in a heaping pile of tears.  Thinking the only way out is to line every mother-fucking bottle of pills in that cabinet up.  And one by one take them.  That isn't you thinking.  That isn't me thinking.  That is the bitch depression lying to you.  To me.  

The grip of this illness is suffocating.  It is so freaking suffocating. I am suffocating.  It has grabbed me by the horns and sucker punched my ass right down on to the hardwood floors.

Not to long ago I came across this article.

I'm going to end this post with an excerpt from this link.  About the weather.  About depression.  About the similar lives they live.

Excerpt from:  Letters of Note: It will be sunny one day

"Here are some obvious things about the weather:
It's real.
You can't change it by wishing it away. 
If it's dark and rainy it really is dark and rainy and you can't alter it. 
It might be dark and rainy for two weeks in a row.
BUT
It will be sunny one day.
It isn't under one's control as to when the sun comes out, but come out it will. 
One day.

It really is the same with one's moods, I think. The wrong approach is to believe that they are illusions. They are real. Depression, anxiety, listlessness -- these are as real as the weather -- AND EQUALLY NOT UNDER ONE'S CONTROL. Not one's fault.

BUT

They will pass: they really will."

Technical Difficulties

The picture in this post describes where my head/brain is really at.

Heaviness that is encompassing my entire existence. There have been low spots over the last few months.  Many to be exact.  However,  the last few days have really taken its toll. My family is suffering. Regardless if how hard I try to keep it from them.  My pain tolerance is diminished.  The tolerance for anything is gone.

Getting up is hard to do.
Not giving up is hard to do.

The Lights Went Out...

The lights have been flickering on and off for quite sometime. I've managed to keep them on for a few weeks.  Pull myself up and keep them from flickering off more than they were previously.

It's been a very fine line the last few weeks.  This morning I woke up with an impending doom.  One that I knew wasn't going to be easy to fight off.  I went to work, a therapy appt, and then back to work.

Overall I had a rather nice holiday.  Being home to much isn't very healthy for me.  And most certainly being home to many days...aka: stranded due to weather in the same house w/my dh....can be a recipe for disaster.  But...I DID IT.  And other than a few minor ppfffts here and there...my head remained above water, positive, and do what I can to make the best of a situation that I had no control over.  I mean...really I can't control when Mother Nature decides to dump 19 inches of snow in my back yard.

I was able to keep my focus and head in a positive light until after all my family and friends left Christmas night.  I went to bed with a heavy heart.  One that aches for my husband to acknowledge my existance.  Today J mentioned "he must care if he did xyz...".  I don't see what he did/said as caring. It was more of a show of "I (dh) do everything...she can't do anything".  I seen it as a act on his part to make me look bad.  Which he often tries hard to do.  I see it. My family sees it. My dad. My mom. My friends.  

When bringing it up today with J, I prefaced it on the grounds of I just needed her to listen and here me out w/o judgement. I don't need to be told what I"m doing wrong in my marriage.  Fuck if I dont' know it.  And for a few moments she did listen w/o judgement.

I get that I"m there for me. I get that he's not there in that appt. I get that she can't change him. I get that it is her job to help me change me and my perceptions/reactions and blah blah blah.

A month or so ago I believe I bloggd about the Charlie Brown Teacher's voice.  I also wrote about how my massage therapists interpretations of my 'charlie brown's teacher voice....' was me.  Me doing it to me.  

Regardless...that voice is back.
It is louder than ever.
I know I continue to go back week after week for my appts.

I've btdt and have the emotional baggage and scars to show for what it got me. I don't for a moment believe that I'm thinking on the all or nothing/black or white spectrum.  Regardless of how I come at my husband and regardless of what tone, empthatic bullshit or whatever I do....he's not going to open up to me. His walls will go up. They already have. He will shut me out. He will make it be MY fault. MY problem. He already has.  Regardless...at the end of the day...it is me who bears the weight and pain.  And it is me in the end who will loose regardless. I'm fighting a battle I can't win. I either conform to be "nice and empathic' towards him as J pointed out in my therapy appt or I loose in the end and it becomes about me and my anger.

Fuck the trauma aspect that gets brought into the picture. I'm sick of it always being about me.

And no couples therapy isn't something I'm willing to do at this point. He's the master of saying what therapist want to here and it comes back to bite us/me in the ass in the end. I know from experience. I sat threw months and months of it.  Only to be the one who ended up in the hospital with an eating disorder.  

SO fucking glad I took a vacation day so we could spend the weekend together. To do something no matter how small or insignficant...just to spend some time together. For our anniversary.  Instead, I've come home from work to a cold shoulder. To having him say 4 words to me all night. Thus why I've stayed in bed since after we ate dinner.  And I have no plans on getting out of bed.  I have a massage in the morning and I plan on coming right back to the very place that I am laying in at the moment.

The lights have definately went out.  There's no flickering. 

Merry Christmas

I hope and pray each of you had a very safe holiday season.  It is my prayer that as the New Year approaches we can each have a safe and prosperous 2013.

This last year hasn't been the kindest on this body of mine.  It is what is and we move forward.

I leave you this Christmas Evening with a glimpse at our Tree top.   Every year we do a different color.  This year the theme was red.  I voted for purple..like we had last year.  However, the boy got his wish.  Because... folks at the end of the day it is about the kids.  And I believe strongly in letting my children decorate and choose what is on our tree.

~System Reset~

As I slowly climb my way out of the dark hole that I've been, in the world continues to move on.   Deep depression and suicidal ideation has slowly faded. It's there.  I am not convinced it will ever go away.  There are days when I wonder what it would be like to not always be wondering when the next bout will come creeping/crashing back in.

For today I didn't think about when the lights would go back out.  I got up at the @ss crack of dawn and drove 80 miles on country roads for me daughter to do a 'presentation' of socks to the county foster care unit where my mother works.  After a 5 minute presentation and talk, we got back in the car and drove 80 miles back home.  I took a vacation day today. Scheduled a massage and had physical therapy.

I walked around a mini-mall that is in an upscale neighborhood. I never go there. I enjoyed looking at each of the large gingerbread houses. And then I walked outside into a flurry of large white fluffy stuff.  The first we've really had at this point.

I had an appt for a massage at noon.  I've blogged before about "The Healing effects of Massage Mind".  For the first time in months....this article explains exactly where I spent 90 minutes of my day.  The worry about when the lights would flicker on/off.

All of it....gone.
The non-stop chatter.
The snarkiness.
The anger.
The frustrations.
The self-doubt.
The endless worry.

GONE.  Not for part of my massage. Not for half of it.  For 99% of the 90 minutes that I laid on that table....it was all gone.  

H* described it so well when I stepped into her office after collecting my thoughts.  "You needed that system reset." 

And that is the same thought as I sat in the rocker putting my socks on.  I needed this reset.  There was no deep tissue work.  There was no deep myfacia release.  There was no pain (well...not really I have a few trigger points on my hip/sciatic that are painful).    I

We all need a System Reset from time to time. It was what I needed today.

When the Unthinkable Becomes Your Reality

Yesterdays events in CT have torn me from one side to the other.  I sat at work in near comatose trance as I thought about "the parents of the gunman".  Thinking to myself that "this Unthinkable act of terror could easily be my reality".

I've started and deleted more blog posts in the last 24 hours than I ever have.  The thoughts, words, and feelings that are racing from one side to the other of my brain are not printable. They are stuck in a world of pain, hurt, grief, and so much more.  I can't get those words out. I've not slept. I tossed and turned. I would fall asleep only to wake in terror that 'this was my reality coming true'.  PTSD sux.  Heaven have mercy does it ever.

So I leave you with 3 separate posts that speak the words that I am unable to speak.

They are real.
They are raw.
They are hard to read.

I know 2 of the 3 of these ladies personally.

Please take the time to read them. Visit their blogs and share with them your love and support.

Soul Cancer/The Hearts and Hands behind the Guns (L* is fellow trauma momma. I love and respect her so incredible much.

When Reality Goes Beyond the Imaginable  (Kristine is a dear sweet friend. I wish we lived closer. I wish we could sit..her with her wine...me with my Diet Cherry Pepsi, wipe away our tears and love in each other like we both so desperately need.  I will get to do that with her in March.  March will not come soon enough)

Thinking the Unthinkable (this is a new blog to me.  Mommy Needs Therapy or a Bottle of Wine shared this link with me.)

You are Not Alone

We all have those people whom we need to refill our cup.  To give us that boost when we need it most.

Words could never describe how very therapeutic is to be surrounded by loved ones..dear friends who know your deepest secrets and heartaches.  Who you can let your guard down and know it is OK. 

These moms get me on all levels.  The good and bad.  I get them, accept them, and am able to just be while in their presence.

It is nearing midnight.   We are on a 5 hour road trip south to pick up another dear friend of ours.  Fellow trauma momma...and her dd.

We will turn back around and drive back to my BFF's house.. 5 hours.  And then on to our house another 5 hrs late morning or early evening.

This is the best medicine around.  Better than any antidepressants could ever do for me.

Few weeks ago Jodi told me she wanted me to do something for me.  It didn't have to be big and bold.  Having this tine with S..might seem to some as big and bold.   It isn't.  I need it!

This road trip we have laughed till we cried while I realized something that makes me want to cry.  (My baby is growing up)  We have ate crap food.  I spilled an entire box of Mike n Ike's on the floor.

And I am reminded tonight...

I Am Not Alone!

Answered Prayers

Sometimes life throws curveballs we don't expect nor believe we can handle.

Fourteen years ago a beautiful blonde haired, blue eyed, curly head little 4 yr boy came into our lives.   He not only won over our hearts... by no true fault of his own...he broke our hearts immensely.  The grief, guilt,  and fear that followed had been at times more than I could handle.

For a few years his name was not mentioned in out home.  We didn't discuss anything.  And my grief and anger continued to boil within.

My heart has broken into a million pieces over and over.  As gained information about him.  I created a FB account in hopes of keeping tabs on him....fear he would know more about where we lived than we were  comfortable with him knowing.   I've kept in contact with his FM.  Out of fear he would move to the larger city where we live and I work it has been good go know where he has been. 

Sadly due to turn of events this week he was unable go keep himself and those around him safe.  There is good in that. I made a few anonymous phone calls this morning.   I want to believe they were a help in the judge sending him to the State Psych Hospital.   He was there almost 10 yrs ago to the day.  It is the ONLY place that we were able to get him help. 

I can hope and pray he gets the help he soooo desperately needs!

And I will sleep better knowing he is not going to show up at my door.  And most importantly he can get some help.

Change Starts with Believing in Yourself

This post has been a work in progress for the last week. I've deleted it each time I've sat down to write.  I've had a really hard time gathering my thoughts and moving my fingers in order to get it out on here.  Here it is. 

 I've mentioned on my I Will Get Up Again FB page that I have seen my massage therapist at the college she is attending to further her education.  These appointments were for Intuitive Support.  When I decided to make an appointment and give this a try, I did it thinking it would be a good mix with what I'm already doing between seeing H* for massages and J* for regular therapy.

I don't think this is something I would have considered if I didn't already have a relationship with H*.  It's been a good mix.  Last night I had my second appointment.  It was tough. Just like therapy with J* can be/is tough. There wasn't anything that I didn't already know or haven't heard a million times before.  It was just an added support that "In order for change to happen...I need to begin by believing in myself."

Changing those core beliefs is something that isn't easy. I know that. I've been in therapy long enough, been to enough mindfulness and DBT sessions to know that in order for change to even begin to happen....I need to begin by believing in myself. I know this. Quite honestly...I believe every single person KNOWS this.  Do we really BELIEVE it?  That is the question.

The last several weeks have been fueled by deep depression and sucidal ideation.  To the point where I've questioned how much longer I could keep myself safe.  Struggling with self harm to an entirely new level.

Last night I mentioned to H* (massage therapist) I have been hearing that "Charlie Brown's teacher...the 'whaaa whaaa whaaa voice' over and over.  We discussed that some of what she told me on Monday sounded the same way, some of what Jodi and I discussed on Monday was the same thing.  And then last night it was there again."  She paused for a few moments and thought about it.  Responded with "**, what you are hearing that 'whaa whaa whaa voice' is not me. It is not Jodi. It is your own voice telling yourself...wha wha wha!!"  Initially, I didn't agree with her.  Then, this morning as I laid in bed doing not a DARN thing but ENJOYING the peacefulness of being home alone....I began to think more in depth about my appts with Jodi and H* this week.  Slowly, the light flickered on a bit brighter.  "You need to believe in yourself in order for change to begin to happen.  The Charlie Brown voice....it is you...the sound of YOUR own voice."

Much of what is underneath all of the tough stuff...comes down to some of the tougher core beliefs that I have about myself.  The belief that I can't change.  That this is as good as it gets.  Regardless of what positive shifts and attempts I make in my life, marriage, parenting and so forth....holy shit this is hard....I've been stuck on THIS part for over an hour.  Being able to type it out...to SEE it...it's painful.  Damn is it ever painful. Here it is:

"I don't believe that I am worthy of the change, no matter what I do I will not be good enough and....ultimately I am not worthy of the positive and wonderful things that can come about in my life....by believing in myself. No matter how many times my family, my friends, my therapist, or anyone tells me...I don't believe it."

There.I.said.it.  It was probably one of the hardest things for me to type, read, erase, and re-write and leave....

It is the first step to moving past the core beliefs that are incredibly strong.

Tomorrow afternoon I will interview for a job transfer.  This position was open to the public.  I'm not certain exactly how many applications and how many of those applicants took the accounting test.  I have been told that the average 'open to the public' application amount has been 250-300 per position.  Usually 100-150 are offered the ability to take the test required to obtain an interview.  Based on the test score there were approx 10-15 people offered interviews.  I am struggling with keeping this interview.  Trying to find reasons why this position would not be best for me.

I keep hearing the words that have stung for so long.  Cementing the core belief that I am not worthy, that I am not good enough, that no matter what I do...it won't be enough.

The last few weeks I've had several different occasions that have cemented the belief that I will not be good enough.  The voices have been loud and very clear.  Regardless of what I do...it will never be good enough.

Yet, I have continued to fight the tough stuff.  I applied for the position.  I took the test and did not leave...EVEN though it took every ounce of my energy to not get up and leave.   And I will, against all the internal conflict, go to the interview tomorrow.

This is just some of the tough stuff rocking the boat!  The marriage piece adds an entirely new level.  The medication issue adds another level.  The boat tips further and further to one side and eventually it gives in.  I've been at that spot more than once.  I'm trying hard to keep from going there again.

Cry for Help? Maybe. Maybe, not.

This evening after a long day of appts (5 different appts folks...3 of the 5 were shoulder related, an appt with my therapist and a massage....thank heaven for wonderful massage therapists!!!)

When I got in my car and ready to head home I saw I had several private messages from our sons foster mom.  He turned 18 and has been on his own since he got out of jail a few months ago.  I keep tabs on him ever so often via FB. Sometimes more than others.

I've not heard from the FM for a while. I had just came out of my last appt...a therapy appt with J*.  And I couldn't really decide if I should respond back or not.  My gut told me I should.  And so I did.  And one thing led to another in a 2 minute conversation and I gave her my cell to call me since I was going to be driving and couldn't be texting and driving.

For the next 50 minutes the range of emotions went from pure rage, heartbreak over and over, anger, and over and over.

Our mental health system is broken.  It is broken in a really bad way.  Our police departments are not equiped to deal with people who are ill.  This young man is more than ill.  He's not received transition services and is on his own.  In a world that is cruel.  Doctors are cruel.

He needs help.
He doesn't have the mental or emotional capacity to ask for help.
Beacuse he is now 18 and his OWN guardian he can refuse help.

Today because of his mental illness he broke cour orders to and showed up at FM's house (they have phone contact and she sets up meetings with him in public only bc he's hurt her before).  When reminded he needed to leave he insisted that 'he was worried she was in jail or the hospital or something because she hadn't returned or taken his calls.  He WANTED help."  She called 911. And the small town police department, who are tired of hearing about/from him arrived.  He resisted arrest bc he broke court orders not to be there.  He was then tazed.  NOT ONCE...but TWICE.  He's asking for help. On more than one occasion in the last few weeks.  He's just not been able to 'ask' in the right ways. I believe strongly his emotional disabilities are getting in the way.

My heart aches for him. I've tried hard to distance myself. To protect myself and children.  Yet, this kid whom once called me mommy...whom...I was his mommy....he's hurting. He needs help. And doesn't have the ability to advocate for himself.  It is all so wrong.  So very wrong.  The system has failed this kid from the very day his birth mom abandoned him when he was 6 months old at her parents home.

It rips my heart apart.  I want to help him so incredible bad.  And I can't.  For my own mental health and safety.  And the safety of my children.

I came home and talked to my husband about my conversation with FM.  He seemed so incredible distant.  Concrete.  And just plain made it clear that 'he really doesn't care'.  I want to scream "how can you not care?"  I know. I know. He didn't say that. That is what I think and feel...that he doesn't care.

All I've ever wanted for this kid was for him to get the help he needed....for 14 yrs that has been my prayer.  I'm obviously praying for the wrong thing or not doing it faithfully enough...or something.

Gentle Reminders

Sitting in my car with music blaring is rather therapeutic.   It isn't considered the best option at times when I'm in the darkest of moments.   However, it is sometimes the best option.

I will often be early to appts and in turn sit in my car, PINK's F*cking Perfect,  Adele's 21 CD or Train (my new love) blaring.   It drowns out the background noise tht sometimes is to loud.

The last week I've spent many hours sitting in my car...trying to tune out the background noise. 

This afternoon my 10 yr old looked out into the garage and decided to come sit with me.

I was honest and told him (within his realm of knowledge)  why I was sitting in the car.

He responded "hey...it beats yelling at me or *.  And you aren't in bed"

Yes sweet boy....I hear you.   I'm soooo cotton picking sorry!!!