My Grandpa

It was a very cold Thursday in late December.

 One of my very best friends had come to stay with us. She is 2 yrs younger than I am. My Aunt J. 

I was 15. She was 13. My  brother was 7. Grandpa lived on our basement. 

My mom had left for the evening. To her weekly bowling league. 

My brother was asleep. J and I were laying in bed. Talking about boys and school. I missed her. When we moved to Wisconsin from Illinois there was a huge loss. We had lived next to my grandparents for years. And now we were 100 miles away. 

We both heard the crash at the same time. And then we heard a low mumble from my grandpa. 

When I was 5 my grandpa, my hero, had a stroke that left him paralyzed on his left side. I was his princess. He never called me anything but Princess. And it was ok. 

The crash was the inevitable...he had fallen.  J and I laid in bed trying to decide who would go first down the stairs to check on him. It wasn't her grandpa. We were afraid to find him naked in the bathroom. Her mom, my grandma, was my grandpas first wife. Even though he wasn't her grandpa she always called him Grandpa. 

We decided to go down stairs together. We would find out if he fell in the bathroom together. 

He wasn't in the bathroom. Instead he was monkeying with his fish tank and fell on the tank. Little did we know at that time he had a small heart attack.  J and I earned up the mess. We were able to save a few of his fish. He had broken the tank and we were able to get the glass taken care of before my mom came home. 

Mom stayed up with him all night. She was a nurse and was able to care for his wounds and get him comfortable. 

The next day we went to town to get KFC. It was his request. It was New Year's Eve Eve...Before we left my mom made certain he was comfortable and okay. 

When we came home there were fresh snow tracks going up our lane. 

My mom immediately panicked. She was mad. Very mad. He called an ambulance and didn't need one she thought. There was a message on our answering machine from her boss at the hospit she worked at. She needed to come right away. She got the 3 of us situated and left for the nearest hospital 30+ minutes away. 

My grandpas dying words were "Win (my mom) you have for to call My Princess. I have to tell her what channels to tape so C can watch his shows. I need to talk to her.'

  My mom insisted he rest and not talk. He needed to rest. Instead he became agitated and upset. My mom called the house to see if we were still up. 

She didn't share that he was going to die. Just said 'G your papa needs to talk to you. Keep it short. He needs to rest and save his energy to breathe..'

She handed him the phone.

  'Princess turn tv to channel 8. My fish food is on floor by my chair. And always remember how proud I am of you for choosing to be baptized. And for making a choice at 14 that most children wouldn't consider...'  There was silence. And he was choked up and crying. 'Princess...I love you.'  He handed my mom the phone. He closed his eyes and never woke up. His last breathe was around 11:45 pm on New Year's Eve. 

I never heard my grandpa call me princess again. He was my everything. He was the first man in my life who loved without hurting me. He was there everyday after school. I didn't know it then, but the hole left in my heart would be unbearable for years to come.

What happened after I returned to school was a blessing and heart wrenching all in one. 

More on that in next post....

Until then Happy New Year. 

I am off to see Sinbad in Chicago and celebrate my 20th anniversary. It was almost a year ago when I wasn't sure this day would come...

End of Chapter...

UPDATED to change the # of therapist...I was a 'few' short.  

This isn't the first time I have walked down this path in the last 15 yrs. I pray it is the last. And somehow, my gut says it isn't anywhere near the last.  However, it is by far the hardest.

  Changing therapist sucks.

There have been many twists and turns along the way. Just as many roadblocks. Each have taught me something about myself, my relationship with my husband or children, and life in general. I'm going to venture to say that along this journey I've taught her a few things, also. 

I know I've spent a great deal of time testing her. Somewhere deep inside I've needed to know she wouldn't leave. I had 7 individual therapist in the 6-7 years before I started seeing her. Two of those therapist I had relationship for 18 months or so.  Two couples therapist. The 15months prior to beginning therapy with J there were 4 separate hospitalizations in 9 months. This doesn't account for the time I didn't see anyone bc I was burnt out on therapist leaving or retiring. So the testing was really about setting boundaries, but also finding out if she would jump ship like the previous therapist. I needed to know that J would stick with me when things got rough. When my true self started to let down my guard. I needed to know that through all of this she would be able to show her own humanness within our relationship.

By staying consistent with her reactions, regardless of wht I brought to the table, a safe space was created without me being fully aware of it. This allowed me to slowly share and show things abt me/my personality that no one had ever seen. 

There have been many roadblocks, when I couldn't communicate, and in some instances she has helped me make the connections. Begin to see a bigger picture. 

The connections have not been easy. They have been downright brutal. I've left pissed. I've heard words I didn't want to hear. I've heard words that make me cringe. And words that hurt so deep even  writing  them here are tough. A truth I need to hear. Words such as abuse, shame, hurt, and the worst of all - trauma. I've lived for many years in denial that my 'story' whatever it was - was. OT trauma. A truth I would still rather avoid. A truth, that deep down in my heart of hearts, I try to deny and don't realize it really is a truth. 

In the safety of her office, I've began to face that truth. Albeit not so much with J directly, but in general, have been able face the truth. Speaking these truths out loud so I can hear them...so her ears hear them is extremely hard to do. This is the reason I have verbally spoken so little about these truths. It is hard..it is devastating...and crippling for me to hear. 

There is a little hope that the little girl inside will have a voice one day.  That one day I will be able to acknowledge it loud and clear. And will not be afraid of the crippling truth within. 

I'm struggling with finding hope as this chapter ends and a new one begins. 

I know as the ending of this chapter comes to a close it isn't the end of the book. I know tht J has helped me in ways I can't begin to express. Most of a creating a place that was safe and trustworthy. 

I am grateful that J provided a place to 'just be'. That was safe. For the gentle guidance she's given. I've had to work very hard to letting her in. And still have a rather thick wall. However, it had been chipped away. 

I'm a different person than I was 6 yrs ago.

As I start this journey over with someone new in a few days...the range of emotions are huge. I'm paralyzed with fear of the unknown. And having to built the trust back again. 

I guess I could end by saying the next chapter is a new journey. 

A journey of healing...

Of learning to trust again...

And of discovery...

No Words

There are not many words that can describe the amount of pain, frustration, and complete brokenness of my heart at the moment. It's been brewing for months. Even years. 

Instead there is a montage if pictures that kind of speak if wht is racing in and out...

He is tired of dealing with me. With this illness.  With me not being what he expected. If I had cancer would he say same things that are just as hurtful?  Would he stop telling me he loved me?  

I've slept less tonight than any other. Ight in last year tht was a direct result from surgery. 

No explanation needed. 

I should have know ....

I will never be who he or my children need. I will never be good enough to fill the shoes that they need. He didn't need to tell me. I could read between the lines. And that I did. And then some. 

I'm not fine. Farthest thing from it. I will continue to do wht I do almost every day. Get up and wipe tears away. Say 'I'm fine'. Never mind the friendships lost. Those who've left because it was to much to stay. Never mind my husband is tired and ready to leave just like everyone else. 

And to add insult to injury...in 3 weeks my insurance changes. And I haven't found a new therapist or psychiatrist. Every clinic I've called either doesn't have a female therapist or isn't taking new patients. I've narrowed it down to a few. However they either don't have a psychiatrist on staff or the one they have is a man. 

Depression...hurts.

Depression...hurts. 

I hate that commercial with everything in me. Because, depression DOES hurt. And for some reason when see that commercial I see pharmaceutical company capitalizing on the pain and true hurt of those who suffer. 

Depression...hurts. It can and will and has robbed me/my family of so many things.

The hurt...it is raw. It cuts deep.

I long for the day when it was a minor pain. 

I long for the day when there was a glimmer of hope among the pain. 

I long for the day when depression...it was just a minor hurt among my life.

I long for the day when friendships were not lost only making the pain deeper. 

I long for the day when where my children had a mom who lived her life with them.

I long for the day...

When depression didn't HURT so fucking much. 

Random Rambling

I've laid here in this bed many nights unable to sleep. Unable to stop the whirlwind of thoughts racing in my head.Tonight will be no different. 

Write this post with tears stained cheeks and blurry eyes that burn from the steady stream of tears. The emotional pain is physically present. It is nearly 2am. 

Praying for reprieve. Just once. Yet the freight train continues. Prayers go unheard. 

The swirling takes on a new twist. Changes suck. Big changes suck even more. Finding comfort or any sort of positive isn't happening. 

I

Changes Suck

She knows my flaws.  She knows many of my secrets.  She knows most of my hopes.  She knows my core beliefs.  There are moments when I believe she knows me more than I know myself.  She hasn't been my first and she will not be my last.  She has been the first one that I've come close to letting in.  Not fully.  But close enough.  For nearly 6 years, I've seen her weekly or biweekly...sometimes more.  With the exception of about 3 months during her maternity leave shortly after I started seeing her.

I've contemplated for many reasons over the last several months about the possibility of changing to someone else.  After I returned home from my trip to Utah in September it became painfully obvious that there was gonna need to be a change.  She has put it out on the table on more than one occasion.  And everytime I think about changing or she brings it up; I go back to the same place This last week we discussed it in greater depth.  She gave me idea of someone w/in her office that I could see.  When I left I made an appointment.  There was still a very small voice in the back of my head that said "you could still go back to her if it doesn't work out with this new person."

However, a change in insurance will mean that I have to terminate this relationship.  It is bittersweet.  On many levels it is heartwrenching.  After almost 14 years of being a patient at this clinic I will have to break things off with both my therapist and psychiatrist.  It isn't setting very well with me at the moment...  normal everyday anxiety is increased 100%.  

Stigma

Every day this is the routine. 

Get up. Pretend. Attempt to go back to sleep. 

Over. And. Over. Again. 

I'm fairly dang good at the 'pretend to be ok' part. Even though it takes a huge toll. 

Today would be one of those day where it proved to be to much. Majority of my morning was spent in tears. Silent, wipe away from your cheeks and keep on working tears

Today would be yet another reminder that this illness...it has plagued so many aspects of my life. It has robbed me so incredible much. 

And it hurts. 

It hurts to breathe. It hurts to care. It hurts not to care. Every aspects physical and emotionally. 

Today the reminder has come in the form of my shoulders hurting. Not a little. But a lot. Today for the first time in several months I took pain meds during the day. More than tylonel and ibuprofen. I can't take ibuprofen for the next 10 days bc I'm having surgery. I took them when I was working. Which I've not done in several months.   That reminder has stung as I think abt the first surgeon and his words to me. 

If I had cancer or diabetes...he wouldn't have dismissed me. Instead, because of the stigma associated mental illness he did dismiss me. The lasting effects 18 months later still replay themselves over and over. And I wonder if he would have taken me seriously...would I still be having the issues I  today. 

There isn't much compassion when it comes to mental illness. 

Those who judge....can kiss my a$$.

30 Days...

....came and went. 

Seemingly to the rest of the world it was just like no other day. The end of another 30 days. As is every single day of our lives. Reoccurring..day to day....calendar...month to month. 

It was an ordinary day for me. It started off hell and is ending in similar manner. 

It is the new normal one might say. 

But...it is far from normal. There is nothing normal abt living with suicidal ideation every single day of your life. There is nothing normal about being woke up from nightmares more nights per week than not. There is nothing normal abt constant internal battle between right/wrong, fear of loosing your family and the one thing that keeps you getting up every day. There is nothing normal about the constant internal battle and fight to figure what is YOUR own voice and which is the voice of trauma and mental illness. 

Today could and SHOULD have been the start of a new beginning. Not a beginning that would be filled with unicorns and rainbows. Not a beginning that wouldn't come without tears and frustrations. 

It very well should have been the beginning of renewed hope and HEALING...of myself, my marriage, and my family!

Instead, I cancelled my psychiatrist appt that was scheduled for tmw. There isn't much hope when it comes to keeping my appts with her. It is the first appt in many years I've cancelled and not rescheduled.

One month ago today...it was hoped and prayed for that the pathway would open up for myself to check into a 30 day treatment facility in Utah. After leaving the retreat I had spent the previous week at.  One of my very favorite people in the world was willing and ready to walk alongside and make that journey with me.  It didn't happen. 

 Instead, a very broken and defeated me boarded a plane in SLC and flew back home. Where My husband and I would be told over and over that 'without intensive treatment I can't accept your wide into my practice, where my therapist of 5 yrs admits she isn't so sure she has what I need, and ultimately any hope there once was...went to hell right along with the bastard who began it all!'  

I came back having lost nearly every ounce of my faith and testimony I've rebuilt in the last 6-7 months. Never feeling as if my Father in heaven hadn't abandoned me more than I did that morning of Sept 22. 

The 5 day retreat with 25 other moms had a very dark cloud over myself and another mom who has stood by my side come hell and very high water. Heaven only knows I've tried to push her away. She has planted herself by me (albeit 5 states away) and continued to be my biggest support. Her vacation away from her family wasn't what it should have been. Not a day goes by that I've not thought abt all she did and wished I could give those 5 days back to her!

And today...another 30 days have passed. With seemingly no end in sight. 

Mental illness sucks shit!

Doubt your doubts....

Ugliness and Trust

Ugly. This post very well may be ugly. I don't know wht it will look like. What I know is every single ounce of my inside and out feel incredible ugly.   There may not be much holding back when it comes to what I have to say. And if you are reading this post and you know me, know what has happened, know the udder despair and UGLY FUCKING mess life has been AND you are offended by what I have to say....don't say I didn't warn you. And please be my guest and don't let the door hit you in the ass on way out. 

Here goes....

First and foremost I owe so much thanks to one specific person. She knows who she is. She knows and has seen first hand the pure ugliness. She continues to love me. Regardless of how much I've told her to shut up. Regardless of how many times I've tried to push her away. She's held me up literally and figuratively over the last month and more importantly over the last 6 days... and for that I owe so much more than I could ever give.    

In my religion our clergy are called to serve by the area leaders. Bishops generally serve around 5 yrs. And 2 weeks ago we got a new bishop in our ward. He just so happens to be the dad of my dd so called 'boyfriend'. They are not 16 and thus not permitted to technically date. Whatever...they are both decent kids, she follows house rules and I'm lax enough of a parent to let it be.  Anyway. It has taken about 18 months for me to open up enough with my last bishop to let him know some of the deeper and darker things I struggle with. To be able to allow him into my world just enough to know i am struggling and need help. 

And then we get a new bishop. It was a devastating blow. One that I could have looked over and with time been able to gain an ounce of trust like I did with previous bishop. 

That isn't how things turned out. He new basics from previous bishop but nothing in detail and that there were issues I am struggling with.   

Three days after our bishop was called and sustained in sacrament he received a text from my husband. It was personal. It came with it a ton of pain and frustration. We NEED(ed) his help and support moving forward. 

We met with him for two hours in his home. He asked very personal and detailed questions about my mental health, trauma, and life in general. Every ounce of my being screamed 'NO' you can't tell him, you don't know him, you don't trust him, don't tell him!!  And I did it anyway. I needed his support and help. Come hell or high water I knew I needed to give him the answers he was looking for.   Damnit I did. What transpired after meeting him needed to be cleaned up. And with the help of a loved one was able to try and clean up the pieces where possible. 

The ounce of trust I made myself give him...went out the window over the next week. With it he took not only the trust I had in him but the trust I had with my therapist by demanding to speak to her. I took my husband with me to an appt with my therapist before leaving for Utah last Tuesday. I wasn't in 'crisis-mode' when I saw her. I was headed out several hours later to spend the rest of the week with house full of other moms. I was headed out to spend the night with one of my best friends. I was holding my head up and keeping every ounce of the ugliness contained. Which is often what she sees. I took my husband with me to that appointment for the first time. I opened up a personal and private space by letting him in...trusted that in the end it would be helpful. Not hurtful. As mentioned I agreed to allow my therapist permission to speak with my bishop. In hopes it would be helpful not hurtful.  That release will be revoked as soon as I am able to do so. It wasn't helpful. It did more damage than good. The ugliness transpired ten times stronger. And left me even more vulnerable than I was before. 

I'm pissed. I'm more than pissed. I'm angry. Angry at so many people right now.  And the one thing that makes me the angriest is that no one will listen to me. That the people with the fucking pieces of paper and fancy degrees (and yes that includes my bishop bc when he isn't a bishop he works in medical field). Think that they know wht is best for me. They think I'm fixated on one thing and one thing only. They believe that they can play my husband against me by telling him they know what is best for me. I know me.  

Things have changed. I am not better. I'm angry. And I'm hurt.  I don't know if theses two relationships will ever be able to be repaired. 

Being able to verbalize to anyone...that I'm struggling with suicidal ideation on the level I am will probably not happen anytime soon. Being able to admit that self harm impulses are an issue..same thing. I don't trust that there will be any level of support and help.  I know I need to continue in therapy. However at the moment I can't even fathom walking back into her office. My husband insists that it is ok and he will go with. Which is bull crap. That space changed the minute I signed the release for her to speak to my bishop. He insisted on speaking to her. Ass backwards if I ever saw it. He KNEW when he asked for that permission he wasn't able to provide the level of support needed. And yet he did it anyway. 

I don't need to go to church. I can read my scriptures and say my prayers without going. I've been hurt by one to many bishops in the past. I totally get and understand that if what was asked of my bishop wasn't an option it would be ok. He should have told me that from the beginning. Telling me what he did is where the knife is cutting deep. And another example why it isn't safe to trust others. 

He knew before he drilled me over and over. I firmly believe he knew he wouldn't be able to offer support. And yet I heard the 'Help me understand ...'

When someone who is trying to understand and you are giving them personal info says to you 'I stay outbid the psychiatric unit at all cost. That way when a need arises I can say I don't have the experience to work in that department'...when you are told this by anyone..and you struggle with any level of depression or mental illness --- run fast!  Very fast the other direction. Itbin your clue and was mine that said person has no knowledge OR is as ignorant as the day is long about mental illness. 

I'm running the opposite direction alright!

Alone

This picture has came across my pinterest feed before.  I've probably even shared on this blog or my FB blog page before.  I frankly don't remember.

What I know is this:  this picture describes exactly what I'm thinking and feeling.

I've laid on my couch the last 2 hours in silence.  Staring aimlessly at a computer screen with nothing but mumbled up words, playing candy crush until I run out of lives, gasps of air in between the tears, pretty much sums it up where I'm at right now.

No words.

I posted this a few months ago. And for a variety of reasons took it down. This morning my head and heart are weary. 

Struggling with some pretty deep shit.   No words this morning. Just tears. Lots of tears. 

This post came to my mind. And so today I will repost it again. 

--------

Not sure where to begin.  My head is reeling on this one.  It has been for sometime.  A few months ago, during one of my therapy appointments my therapist said something that I took as a somewhat flippant comment.  I didn't answer her. And if I did...most likely was a flippant answer back.  Wasn't the first time I've been asked and most likely will not be the last.

Taken straight from an email that I received today....

"If you are indeed choosing to stay where you are, what is the payoff?  What are you getting out of it?  There has to be one or you wouldn't keep doing it (referring to sabotage).  Is there some underlying twisted payoff or is there something else driving the cycle."

This friend has asked me this before. I've avoided her question, answered it flippantly.  Been rather distant and not really ready (or wanting) to really dig deep at the answers.  Just like my previous post discussing the fear of "not liking who I will find on the other side"....this particular question is just as tough. It is more than tough.  It is debilitating. It is a I can't stay present long enough to really think about it, dig deep inside, and untangle the mess debilitating.

I've mentioned before that depression and mental illness took on an entirely new role in my life after the birth of my youngest child 10 years ago.  And then 2 years later after having gastric bypass it took on another new level.  And then at the same time I had an emergency hysterectomy and we disrupted our adoption w/our son.  Many life changes that were huge.  REALLY HUGE with in a 24-28 month time span. 

For a long time I thought I would pull out of it.  That eventually things would get better.  And they did.  For a time.  For a season.  And then just like the trees change colors every fall...so did depression/mental illness.  Each year, each season, never fully getting back to 'what it once was..'

I have fought with depression since I was a teen in high school.  I used to think that everyone felt this way and it was normal.  It became my way of life.  When I got married the seasons changed and took on another new

level.

What I'm about to say feels and sounds incredible crazy.  Because it is crazy.  I am crazy. I know it. I own it.  It is what it is.  Crazy or not.  It may or may not be the answers that I'm trying to untangle.  It is however, the way I'm able to process it right now. 

This is normal and in a very twisted way comfortable.  Take away the fact I don't like feeling depressed, suicidal, and all around like shit...it has become who I am. On most days I don't want to push myself.  Yet I do.  I don't want to reach out to anyone. I want to sleep the day away with minimal energy and retreat into my little hole.  I have reached out to people from time to time and end up pushing them away.  When I have reached out, it takes a ton of energy.  And energy that I often don't have.  Ultimately, it takes on a huge risk. I've been burned before by taking risks.  I've been hurt beyond what I can even admit by taking those risks.  I beat myself up for feeling sorry for myself, for digging the hole a little bit deeper and deeper as the days, weeks, and months turned into years.  I got myself here.  Now dammit I can get myself out.

And not by taking risks of opening up to people.

And then I get upset at myself for trusting to deep.

And then when those closest to me attempt to reach out, to help, to put themselves out there regardless of how freaking hard it may for them....I pull back more.

And beat myself up for trusting to deep.

I hang on to that 3-4-5 year old little girl thinking that I don't deserve to feel my Father in Heaven's warmth and love.

I hang on to that 3-4-5 year old little girl thinking that I don't deserve to feel the warmth and happiness that my family and friends can provide.

because I'm bad...

Before anyone goes and tells me that this is untrue and crazy.  I know that. I'm an adult.  The adult in me knows it is not true.  The adult in me knows that it is the inner child voice screaming out and playing a roll in my life every single day.  Even though, I want to change and feel good about myself.....I fear I will disappoint people.  With disappoint comes the pain.  If I stay in the pain of depression I won't have to feel good and then turn around and feel bad again and again..

The ups and downs downs are so incredible painful that I believe strongly if I stay in the down at least it will be a consistent...what I know feeling.  I've said many times before how much I love roller coasters.  I hate the roller coaster ride of feelings.

As I've wrote this it sounds so damn crazy and bizarre.  I've deleted it a few times.  It comes down to that feeling I don't deserve to be happy.  I sure as hell can't make anyone else happy.  It as if feeling good, happy, in anokay place is wrong.  The need to punish myself kicks in way before anyone else can do it for me. 

I wish like hell I could say I'm in a better place.  I'm not.  I know I need to accept that as a human being, adult, mother, and wife...it is okay to have an array of feelings.  I need to accept that I'm not intrinsically bad.  I am not a sociopath.  I have the capacity to love others AND myself. 

I will continue untangle slowly. 

I will continue to untangle the incorrect beliefs that I learned from a very young age.

I will continue to untangle slowly...and it will continue to be messy.

What are they saying....

A few nights ago, I tried out Google Hang Out with one of my dear friends who lives in Utah.  We've skyped on our phones and my ipad.  There is usually a feedback or some sort that is annoying as ever.  And so we tried Google + Hangout....or...whatever it is called.

There are good and bad things about using Skype/Google Hang Out or any sort video chat.

My friend could tell I was really struggling.  Struggling with the thoughts that were running ramped in my head.  Trying to have a conversation, talk about whatever struck our fancy, and some more serious things.  She is the level headed, thinking things clearly, and gives sound but sometimes hard to hear harsh advice.  And I'm more the fly by the seat of my pants whatever I'm on a whim kind of person and say what I think as it comes to my head.

This night however, I wasn't able to say what I was thinking.  I was silenced by the thoughts that were running rampid.  She took a screen shot picture of me.  I think she knows it pissed me off.  The next morning, when I was thinking a bit more clearly, the screen still up on my computer from our video chat on Google...I saw that picture.  And it struck me as harsh.  Holy freaking hell it was harsh.

Then later in the day I read this post by Jen Daisybee.  I was struck by how very similiar the things that go in out of of my thoughts were the same on some cellular level.

I sat on my couch and thought....if only I could have relayed that back to D last night as we were chatting.  Or to my therapist yesterday as she tried reminding me to not shut down and remember her office was a safe place.

And then I re-hashed that appointment over and over in my head.  WHY can't I share.  WHY is it that I let these things have so much power over me.  WHY?  Why is is so damn hard to put words to the self harm.  WHY?

I hear D's voice.  "What are they saying?"

They were/are saying I can't trust anyone.
They were/are saying everyone is lying to me.
They were/are saying my family deserves better.  And you/I am not it.
They were/are saying my children deserve a better mother.  And you/I am not it.
They were/are saying if you just push a little bit harder on that scar on your forehead you will inadvertantly check out/pass out and be able to numb all this out.
They were/are saying if you continue to take scalding hot showers you can numb everything out for that time being.  Enough you can fall asleep.
They were/are saying don't take that shower bc if you do then you will feel safe enough to fall asleep.  Sleeping is not okay. You need to stay up.
They were/are saying your husband is tired of seeing you like this and going to find someone/where else to meet his needs...emotionally, physically, sexually, you name it...he will find it.  And you/I will continue to be here.  Alone.
They were/are saying this is as good as it gets.  Always.
They were/are saying my therapist is full of shit.  She believes I'm fine.  She doesn't believe I'm fine. She is just a waste of my/your time.
They were/are saying you had a job you loved and you have screwed it up by hurting yourself.
They were/are saying you can't change.  You can't get past this. You deserve every ounce of everything that comes your way.
They were/are saying the only way to end the insanity and the pain is to give up and let mental illness win.  Resign to it.

And it goes on and on.  I could sit here for hours.  And get into the more intimate and details.  I could go on about the abuse.  About what a fucktard Randy was or was he?  I could go on about all the things that keep me up at night.

These things.  They are what the thoughts are saying.

~Doesn't get better....just different~

Words can't describe where my head and heart are right now. 

This picture kind of does a little bit. 

I don't think I have the ability to trust and believe that it will get better.....

Just different.  It just gets different!!!!

My heart is hurting in manner much different than I imagined it would. 

Grieving the life I once had. 

Grieving the dreams and inspirations for my family. 

Grieving there is a light at the end when in fact I've lost hope that light will be bright again. 

~My only Hope is in Him~

"And now, Lord, what do I wait for and expect? My hope and expectation are in You." Psalm 39:7

Not many days go by where I am not reminded constantly that the path in life I am walking down is not a walk in the park. Many, okay most, days are excruciatingly rough emotionally.  There are things I dearly love about my current situation. Then there are the things that I absolutely despise with every fiber of my being. 

These things are the ones that haunt me in the wee hours of the morning. They take away precious and much needed rest.  They continue to rob me of the very things that mean so much. 

"When the righteous cry for help, The Lord hears and delivers their troubles. The Lord is near to the broken hearted and saves the crushed in spirit. Many are the righteous, but The Lord delivers him out of them all. He keeps all his bones; not one of them is broken."  Psalm 34:17-20

I struggle a great deal with prayer. It is one of the hardest parts about being a Christian. I've prayed about many things for long period of time.  Yet don't receive the answers that I'm looking for.  Currently, I'm not looking for answers. Instead I've laid it at His feet and pleaded for relief.  Relief from what is robbing my family, my friends, and ultimately myself.  This hurts so incredible much. It has, and is, breaking my faith to the utmost end. 

I know deep down in my heart that pleading with the Lord about something so personal, that the answers lay with my Heavenly Father.  He is the only one who can see the bigger picture.  Trusting in this is just as painful and the struggle on some days.  Some days....would be today.

Day in and day out I've struggled with the current battle to regain my life, rise above mental illness, and come out on the other side whole and in one piece. It sucks. There is no way around it. Dear heaven I can't tell you how horrific and troublesome it is for me to continue fighting my way out of hell. Only to have the rocks fall back down on top of me making it even harder to pull myself out of this pit. 

 I'm trying like hell to hold my head up.  I'm fighting my way out of hell to Praise him in this Storm.  I am feeling defeated.  I am seeking out some sort of meaning in all of this.  I have found nothing. I know that Jesus found hope through suffering, so that his children could do the same.  I don't have any answers.

"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." Matthew 11:28-30  
My entire life is not engulfed in suffering and a pit of pain.  It really isn't.  I have so much to be thankful for.  This burden has taken ahold of my life, stuck a stick through my heart, and taken me down to my very core.  It has and continues to hinder my everyday functioning.  I know it doesn't have to be that way.

It doesn't have to be this way. I know it doesn't.  And so, I continue to find hope where all seems hopeless.  I continue to seek healing, where there appears to be none.  I continue to lay my burdens and pain at His feet.  Trusting that relief will be found as I lay these burdens before Him.

TMS Update ~ Mental Illness Sucks

I've ended TMS Therapy.  I finished 2 weeks ago with 61 treatments.  Not the suggested and usual 25-35 treatments.

61 Treatments. (update: the report I received today said 48 treatments.  I'm pretty sure it was 61.  I counted 61 day on my calendar.  And that was what the therapist said on the last day.)

I lost track on how many of those treatments were dual for anxiety and depression.  AKA: Both sides.

Nearly 11 weeks of going every single day.  There were a few weeks of 4 days.  And when tapering began it was over the course of 3-4 weeks.  

I wish I could sit here and write how much better life is.  How much better controlled depression, anxiety, and mental illness is in my life.  Reality is...I can't.  That hurts my heart more than you can even begin to imagine.  I gave it my all.  Every single day.  I didn't cancel or miss appointments.  

If I'm anything, I am brutally honest.  And this blog has never been anything but that.  I've pretty much told those who don't like that where the door is.  You won't find rainbows and unicorns shooting out my ass.  

That being said....TMS isn't all it is talked into being.  It isn't this one day you wake up and "oh my freaking word the cloud was gone..."  No it wasn't like that.  It hasn't been like that.  Yet, every testimonial I've read has pretty much been JUST THAT.  Because those people...the ones who are so much better after 3-4 weeks of treatment...those people...they shoot rainbows out their ass.  They eat unicorn poop cookies for lunch.  And while I'm extremely happy for them.  I want to trip them.  I really do.  Because they gave me false hope.  Almost every single day I sat down in that chair I had high hopes.  Really high hopes.  

Slow and steady wins the race.  I know that.  I also know that I've hit a block.  A really big block.  It isn't going anywhere anytime soon.  Despite my attempts to barge over it, under it, through it, or around it.  It's there.  The elephant in the room.  

The hope has slowly faded over the last 2 weeks.  The reality that this...this life that I'm living...although a smidge better than it was....it is still pretty damn horrible.  There is no amount positive thinking, reiki, tapping, prayer, faith, you name it....none that will change that. 

Mental illness sucks. 

Trauma sucks.

And I'm tired of fighting it.  Fighting the thought that 'it will get better'.
Tired of buying into the thought that 'it will get better'.

I'm not very positive today.  You could probably say I"m never positive.  And honestly, I don't care.  I got out of bed yesterday to go to a massage.  And came back home.  Went back to bed.  I'm writing this from my bed. I'm not working right now.  Which it gives for more reason to not get up.

In the last 24 hours depression has hit hard.  Honestly, it has been long standing.  Yet, the last 24-48 hours has hit hard.  

I hope my next post can be a bit brighter.  Until then...this is what I've got.

End.Of.Story

Get back up....

The last 24 hour have been rough.  Rather brutal to be exact.  Father's Day has never really been a trigger for me.  It seemed to be this year.  It wasn't took a friend asked me abt it that I was able to look a little closer and see a tad clearer that maybe that was part of the problem.

My inner critic and self doubt is raging higher than ever.  And has already begun to  wreak havoc.  I know I shouldn't give in and I know that sabotage isn't the answer. Yet, when faced with fear and anxiety of the replayed tapes....I gave in.  And here I did!

The next step is to call and find out if I have to work today bc I'm on call.  Go to TMS and a therapy appt tonight.  Both of which I wish I wasn't going to.  Staying in bed seems to be the better alternative.

I know I need to get up.
Damnit I will.
No one said I have to like it.
Just freeking need to do it

Hope on the Horizon - TMS - Week 5

I've not updated the last few weeks on how things have been going with TMS because I've not had in me.  Quite honestly, there have been some really tough moments.  Really tough days.

There have been days where I wonder if it is worth it.  I keep telling myself it will be worth it at the end of the day.  IS THERE REALLY any HOPE on the HORIZON????  Many nights it doesn't seem like it.

On Thursday, I met with the psychiatrist and she did the MT for the rTMS - which is on the right side of the brain and will treat for anxiety.  The Beck Depression and Anxiety questionnaires have shown off the charts anxiety and depression.  The Beck Depression is gradually getting better.  Still in the 'severe' range.  However, not off the charts type of range.  Yesterday was the first day for me to receive the rTMS.  It was triggering.  It was downright horrible. I tolerated it because...I feel I need to.  Because I want to find the hope on the horizon!! And so regardless of how horrible I might have felt it was.  Regardless, of if it seemed like Chinese water torture.

The MT on both sides is pretty high.  The computer/coils/machine gets hot.  My head gets hot.  My brain gets hot.  Sitting in the chair for nearly 1.5-2 hours gets uncomfortable.  It is what it is. And I will push through it till the end.  I do believe the end is in sight. I hope so anyway.

 I've had VERY few people in my day-to-day life tell me they have noticed any sort of difference. When  asked my husband will tell you no.  Early last week Jodi (therapist) mentioned she could tell a difference.  We discussed her observations.  I don't have to believe her. But I can keep the things she has said to me in the back of my head to reflect on.  And days like today...maybe I believe her a little bit.

I've had a couple friends that live distantly tell me they can/have seen a difference in photos that I've posted of myself, they have noticed it in my voice while talking on the phone, and just in overall conversations.  

Earlier in the week a receptionist that I see at my chiropractor office several times a week told me "G*, you just don't sound like your chipper self.  Even in the roughest moments...you come in here with a smile and are always so pleasant.  The last few weeks you seem to be really struggling.  Are you okay?"  She is aware of TMS and had asked me if I noticed a difference or was feeling better.  I ALWAYS schedule appts w/my chiropractor AFTER my TMS appts bc of the toll it takes on my neck and lower back sitting in the chair.  She is seeing me after being triggered (TMS has been triggering trauma crap), after discussing this aspect with her she was able to see the connection and got it.

A few different times over the last 2 weeks I've caught myself thinking "hey..." and then am smacked with the learned behaviors, the belief that I can't get better, and overall mental illness crap.  And I fall back into the cycle of self destruct, self injury, and self sabotage behaviors.  

And then today happened.

And then today not only happened....but it REALLY was okay.

A few differences that I've noticed TODAY:

**2 nights in a row...I slept more than 3-4 hours.

**Last night I fell asleep HARD and when I say hard I mean HARD.  There is some not so positive aspects of that happening in relation to self harm/soothing stuff.  However, I wasn't rattled by it like it usually does.  Sure I was rattled. Sure the physical pain from biting yourself, leaving marks, and having your husband really have to intervene...suck.  It didn't cause a domino effect where I ended up swirling.  Self injury for me usually starts small and spirals to bigger and more out of control issues. That did not happen.  Instead, I dealt with the backlash.  

**Instead of coming home from a morning at the Farmer's Market and Chiropractor and going to bed "to take a nap...."  I ate lunch w/my family.  Did the dishes.  Swept all of the floors.  De-furminated our dog.  Planted a perennial flower that has been sitting in the pot for a week.  Prepared part of Sunday's dinner (Crockpot Lasagna).  Took the dogs for a walk. And did several other things.  I have not one time...laid down in bed to take a nap...OR...sat on the couch and checked out on my computer.  

**Actually, today is the first time I've turned my computer on in over a month and didn't sit down for more than 30 minutes and end up checking out for hours on end.  Instead I've limited my time to doing only productive things (for the most part).

*I've not sat waiting for the other shoe to drop.  You know when you notice the good...and then wonder when the bad will creep in.  That hasn't been my mindset.  Instead it has been the opposite.  As little bits of negative and darkness creep in...I've countered it back.  With a big F to the U to the C to the K to the Y to the O to the U...you are not stealing this day from me.

There has been only a few minor self harm/self sabatoge thoughts that have come/went.

There have been no suicidal ideation --- which hasn't happened in several weeks/months!

I believe I have 2 more weeks left.  Instead of 4-6 weeks of treatment we are looking at 7-8 weeks.  If I understand correctly it is because the MT is unable to be at the 120% bc it is so high.  I'm not 100% certain. 

~TMS - End of 3rd Week - Life~

Not much to report on the TMS front of life.  It is what it is.  Every day for nearly 90 minutes I treck the 30 miles there and back.  Most days, I go in between my work shifts.  (I work split shifts 90% of the time).

My tolerance level for the damn woodpecker is better.  Still gives me a headache every single day.  However, not as intense.  Amount of tylonel being taken before is less and less.  The MT was raised this week. Overall my tolerance level for being there is getting a little bit better.

The million dollar question I keep getting asked from those around me and those who know I'm doing this is "How do you feel? Can you tell a difference?"  Not noticing much of a difference in the positive realm of life.  I've had a few people tell me they can see a small difference.  I have a hard time believing them.

Life has a way of getting in the way.  Knocking you upside the head, screaming at you to wake up and pay attention.  This week I got that wake up call.  I had an appt scheduled with my hemotologist for Wednesday.  Because my summer work schedule is on-call I never know from week to week what my days off will be and some weeks I don't know what I will be working the next day until that day.  It is crap-tastic at best.  However, it is the best I could do when it came to picking for summer work schedules.  I cancelled my hemo appt so I didn't have to miss work.  I'm trying hard to get to work and not miss.  Tuesday was a rough day.  It was one that just plain and simple was rough.  I went to bed in hopes of sleeping.  Instead, sleep was no where in sight. NOT.EVEN.CLOSE.  Exchanging texts w/a friend turned to emails bc that sometimes is easier on our phones.  One thing led to another and we ended up talking on the phone into the weee hours of the morning.  When we hung up I had about 2 hours before my alarm would go off for work. I knew I wouldn't be able to work. Since my job is safety sensitive...sleep is a nessassary commodity.

After I called in sick to work I began thinking about the appt that I cancelled because I had to work.  Hoping and praying that time slot would still be available...I called the clinic the moment they opened.  I was fortuanate to get in to see the new hemotologist.  So thankful I did. So thankful that I choose her.  My last dr. is ill and had to leave her practice.  And sometimes there are blessings among tragic circumstances.  This would be one of them.

We discussed some pretty heavy things.  Things that I know.  Things that I don't like to hear.  Things like "you will probably need IV/PICC infusions every 12-18 months for 6-9 week intervals for the rest of your life."

I am scheduled to have a PICC placed on June 14th.  My last experience was rather negative.  The thought of having to relive that horror again is enough to make me sick.  Yet, I know it needs to be done.  This morning , I got up and called the clinic and spoke to one of the treatment nurses.  Letting her know that having it done sooner than later is probably for the best.  Waiting 2 weeks will only increase my anxiety over the entire situation.  I'm still waiting to hear if they can get me in today or next Tuesday.  Given that it is late morning today, my guess is it will not be scheduled till next week.

The good news is the iron levels were not as low as they have been in the past.  The TIBC direct panel is raised and shows that it is likely I've been deficiant for awhile.  Which I've known.  Hoping things will turn around quickly!

TMS - Week 2 - Meds

Last week was rocky.  At best.  By the end of the week my tolerance to the damn woodpecker was a tad better.  Not significantly.

I'm still angry that THIS seemingly is my only... last option.

I'm not all that interested in adding more time sitting in the chair and adding treatment to the opposite side for anxiety.

Not sure when that will happen.

All this to say....
I wish it was easy as keeping calm and taking meds.

I wouldn't have to do this crap if I could.

TMS...Day 3

I can only hope and pray at the end of the day (or in this case treatment)....this will be worth it.

Right now I an not very hopeful.

The Apple Cart has been upset. 

And even though things were tough before...they are intensified at an all new level.

Today's treatment was spent listening to a TV show on HulaPlus.  I didn't care either way if it was on.  The tech suggested trying do watch something in hopes of distracting myself.  Not sure how well it helped.

I was in a pretty rough space before going to my appt and it only continued.

This evening I came home from treatment and have spent the night in bed.

TMS - Day 2 - Intense Anger

Today was the first full day of treatment. All nearly 90 minutes of it.
It was just myself and the technician.  So much nicer not having an audiance glaring at every twitch and move I make.

So much nicer not having several people there.  As I said previously, so far every single person has been nothing but awesome.  My perception of the entire process isn't as awesome.

Which brings me to the next piece...

The tolerance to treatment was a little bit easier.  The unraveling was not any easier.  Actually, it was a tad bit more unraveling than than the first day.

Over the last few days I've been incredible angry.
Angry that this is where I'm at.
Angry that this is the alternative.
Angry.
Angry that damn it this is my fucking life.

And then the anger subsides for a short time.
And then a variety of other emotions come to the surface.
And then before I know it the barrage of emotions...come crashing down...and I find myself in a pile of tears sobbing.

Because damn it all...this is my life
Because damn it all...I hate this.
Because damn it all...I hate that THIS is basically the only option I have left.

Journey to TMS - Part 3

If you've not read the previous posts on Journey to TMS...please start with the links below.

Part 1 ~ Journey to Transcranial Magentic Stimulation
Part 2 ~ Jourey to TMS ~ An Answer to A Prayer

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I can't promise I will blog/journal the entire process.  However, in the first week or two I will try.  With weekly updates as time goes on.  There are not very many blogs that discuss TMS Treatment/Therapy.

The following was wrote the evening after my first appointment and the day or so after.

Week One....Day One....or so I thought.
5/6/13
Today was the beginning of treatment.
Or so I thought.  It was my hope anyway.  Instead, I sat for almost 2 hours in the TMS chair while the psychiatrist and assistant attempted to find the motor threshold.
No luck.
They were unable to find the spot they needed.
I will return at the end of the week and see a different doctor from the sister-clinic.

My anxiety was high before the appt. today.  It is much higher now. I came home and spent the next two hours puking.  And the last 2 hours I've spent trying to stay present, not give in to the negative self talk and swirling associated with it.

TAKE 2....Week One...Day One...Retake.
5/10/13
Today was the beginning of treatment...repeat.
Dr. W came from another clinic about 1.5-2 hours away.  The psychiatrist that will be overseeing my treatment is local and new(er) to TMS.
Dr. W set up some parameters at the beginning.  Talked to me a little bit about a few options that he/we would have have if he was unable to locate the spot that was needed. It took a great deal of self talk to get me to this appointment.  My toleraence level was markedly less today than when I was there on Monday. After what seemed like hours they found the particular spot they were looking for...or...so they thought and on my way to getting this crap done and over with for the day.

After finding the proper placement they needed to find the proper dose or whatever it is called.I believe it is called MT-Motor Threshold. I can't remember right off hand.

And then they started the first treatment.  I had watched several different videos on what to expect, what  it feels like, and all that other jazz.  When Dr. W described what I may/may not feel he didn't give a very accurate description.  He told me "depending on how well you tolerate it...we may need to tweek the angle a little bit...if it hurts in your eye, teeth, or left side of your face let me know..."

SOB....he was so incredible way off.  I truly had no idea how horrific it would be.  I don't blog this to scare anyone off.  I'm brutally honest.  I wish that I had somewhat of a clue what to expect.  That first set took me off guard. To say it was awful would be an understatement.

Treatments are generally 37-40 minutes long or some damn thing like that.  However, the target dose is higher and requires the system to take a longer break.  Which means treatments will take about an hour and half.

There was much unraveling today.  I received half of the treatment today because of the length of time it took to find the motor threshold.  By the time I was done we were done today.... I was DONE....and I really was MORE than DONE!

It was comforting to have the technician be as understanding as she was.  My gut tells me she will be good to work with on a daily basis. Trusting her will be another story.  The Dr. and Technician from the sister clinic were super nice and sweet.  However, my tolerance for men providers isn't always the best.

It took quite awhile for me to pull myself back together so I could go to work.  I worked the rest of the day.  Stuffed the emotions and feelings associated with this.  The moment I am in my car and alone - the tears turn into sobs.

I'm angry.  VERY angry.
I hate that I have to do this.
I hate that this is my life.
I hate everything about this.

Journey to TMS - Part 2

Part 1:  Journey to Transcranial Magnetic Therapy

It had been about 2 months since I heard from the TMS Clinic.  As I wrote previously (and below), it came at a very low point.

In a nutshell, the clinic manager called and let me know that they were still working with my insurance company.  And because of the complexity of the insurance issues, they were willing to take a risk and start treatment.

An answer to a prayer.

I wrote the following excerpts in a google document about a week ago the day before I went for the first appointment/treatment (that treatment didn't happen...more on that later)  

The Before
*Initially when I got the call from the TMS Center...I was very hopeful.  I immediately text/called two of my closest friends.  Speaking with one of them on the phone while she was working.  Fear, self sabotage, and all that other crap didn't have a chance to sink in at that point.

The call came on a day when I was unable to get out of bed.  At a point where not much more fight was left.

That call was nearly a month ago.  I've had plenty of time to back out.  I've had plenty of time not to follow thru and just plain build my anxiety up so damn high I can't stand myself.  Night terrors have filled nearly every single night of the last 3-4 weeks.  Much in relationship to TMS therapy.

And my anxiety is extremely high.  LOTS AND LOTS of anxiety!

There is no turning back.  I can't keep going like this.  I know something has to change.
So I will go.
And make the best of it.
And pray for the best.

In less than 24 hours, I will go for the initial treatment.  I'm not sure that I can do this.  I don't want to go alone. I will.  I have to. My children deserve to have their mother back. If anything else.  They deserve to have a mom.  And I deserve to be their mom w/everything that I've got.

Journey to Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation aka: TMS (Part One)

Shortly after the beginning of the year my therapist mentioned a new(er) treatment for depression.  She gave me the pamphlet that contained basic information, told me a little bit about the seminar/training she had went to, and told me to give it some thought.

I'm pretty certain it wasn't an hour after she gave it to me that I made the call to the clinic.  They were doing consult/intakes at no charge.  At this point in the game...I had NOTHING to loose.  A day or two later I received a phone call from the intake coordinator (or whomever it was) and made an appointment for a day or so later.

I went home the evening after making the appointment and googled TMS Therapy.  I asked on my FB Blog page if anyone had heard about it.  I had a few responses.  Nobody that really had any knowledge.  I read and watched the information on the Neurostar website that was provided in the pamphlet.  It seemed very promising.  The video in my opinion was very cheesy and fake.  I came across the following videos from an excerpt on the Dr. Oz show.

Please check out these videos to learn more:
*Fair warning* Dr. Oz is a bit over the top.  Which he is with many things.  However, this is one of the best descriptions and "real" videos I've come across so far.
Dr. Oz  Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation: nA Cure for Depression? Part One

Dr. Oz  Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation:  A Cure for Depression?  Part Two

I went to the appointment at the TMS Center.  My husband went along.  It was rather tough in many ways.  Telling a complete stranger, someone that I had no trust in about me....and why...I was there....well...it wasn't very easy. I will just say that much.  And add in that my husband was with me.  It just was tough.  In many ways.  Any intake is tough.  Plain.Cut.Simple.Dry.  Little did I know then....that would be the easier part of this entire process!!!

I left with very little hope that anything would come of that appointment.  I knew the treatment wouldn't be covered by my insurance.  The gal was a bit more optimistic than I was.  There were bits and pieces of holes that needed to be cleared up.   Over the next week I received a few phone calls to get more information on my insurance coverage.    I am acutely aware with what my insurance will and will not pay for.  And I knew that this clinic was out of network.

End.of.Story.

I received a phone call about a week or two later telling me they had a financial assistance program and I could apply for a scholarship.

I filled the form out immediately upon receiving it in an email and sent it back the very same evening.  

A few weeks later I received a phone call telling me they would like to offer me a scholarship.  The gal was going to email me the information immediately after talking to her.

It was awesome assistance.  However, it still wasn't feasible. I tried to figure out every way imaginable to make it work.  I knew I was sliding down a very slippery slope. And needed help soon.

It wasn't long after that my husband had his little mini meltdown (in my ever so humble opinion that is what I will call it).  He was faced with having surgery, the possibility of having prostate cancer, and in general he was sick of my shit.  I am sick of myself. I can't imagine what those who live with me must feel like.  I am/wasn't faking it very well.  I know that things were bad.  And they weren't getting any better.

My husband was adamantly against using our tax refund towards partial payment for treatment.  I spoke to my mom about borrowing the money from them.  It wasn't going to be an option.  I let the clinic know that we could not do it right now.  We have tapped out every single penny and then some with taking out a loan with my shoulder injury.  And any more debt was not feasible at this point.

I didn't hear anything again for about a month or two.  Just a quick call letting me know that they had received a denial from my insurance company (not a surprise...I knew it was not going to be approved) and they had filed an appeal.  However, it could take about a year for the appeal process.  She informed me they had requested my medical records from my psychiatrist and therapy notes from my therapist.  A day or so later I saw my therapist and she informed me she had received the request.  She was not going to send all  13 years of treatment notes.  However, did I agree with her sending a letter instead.  I firmly believe that is/was better idea.  Treatment notes can be subjective to whomever is reading/writing them.

Okay.  Fine. I left it at that. I think that was the beginning of March.
Until I got a phone call...not quite a month ago...on a day that I had not gotten out of bed. 

There have been several days that I've not gotten out of bed in the past few months.

It's been rocky at best.
However, treatment has started.
Over the next few blog posts I will write what/how it came about.

Get Up and Try

My computer is at G.eek S.quad getting fixed.  Online access has been limited to my phone and iPad.  Hopefully, it will be done today.  My dh has appt to pick if up.

The last few days have been a whirlwind of emotions.  Many ups and downs.  The uncertainty of the next 4-6 weeks and the treatment I'm about to partake in has had my stomach in knots.

On my way to work this am Pink's 'Try' was playing in the radio.  It is the reminder I needed for today. 

I will blog more once I get my computer back about TMS Therapy, how if came to be, the good, the bad, and how it has/is helping me.  Today is day 1.

Fueled by Fear

After a few months of uncertainty, I will begin a new form of treatment for treatment resistant depression.  It isn't something that is well known.  I will blog more in next few days.  If you follow my FB page you may be aware of what type of treatment. 

I will do this treatment! I will not back down.  I will be OK.  Regardless of how incredible scared I am.

That being said....

I am incredible terrified.
Filled with fear.
Fueled with fear.
Unable to really talk abt any of the fears associated with it. 

I had 4 separate doctor appts today.  Yearly physical with my PCP whom I've not seen in a year. That brought with it a bag full of triggers.

Chiropractor for my back that crapped out on me this week and had me flat on my back 50% of the last few days.
Occupational therapy for my shoulder. 
Last but not least a psych appt....and it didn't go very well.  I lost my shit. I was ugly.

I came home and received phone call to set up treatment. Starting Monday.  And it has pretty much left me speechless...paralyzed in fear...unable to think rational on any matter.