Sunday Evening Random Ramblings...

I'm here.  Surviving.  Busy. There's good. There's bad.  There's really good. And then there's really bad. It is an never ending up and down battle.

There is good in many things.  My children are growing. Thriving. And seem to have adjusted well to school.  We've got some personal issues with one of my children that has triggered some pretty crappy things w/in my own trauma history.  My youngest did not come home from school every day the first week begging to be home schooled.  He was super excited that one of his buddies from church, who has been home schooled until this grade, was in everyone of his classes.  They sit together or w/in a few seats in every class.  It was a great start to what was highly dreaded.

This was the first time in many years, okay ever, that I didn't want to send my kids back to school.  I've been off work since the beginning of February. I had surgery again right before school ended.  We had some pretty sweet moments this summer.  I loved having them home and I miss them after 4 day being back at school.

Twin Falls, Idaho
Day 8 of 15

We took a 15 day, 5000 mile, to many states to count, cross country road trip.  We visited my grandparents, my birth father's family, and then went to Utah and stayed w/my BFF for a night, spent the day w/her family on the weekend, and stayed w/my in laws.  We were ready to pull into our driveway after 15 days of being gone.  It was a wonderful trip and we made some good memories.

My children were not thrilled about riding in the car.  They wanted to fly. We've never done anything like this.  Our furthest road trip was about 5-6 hr drive.  Having the 1st leg of our trip be 28 hrs of driving was a bit scary.  We made it fun and stopped in a few different places along the way to stretch and do some sight seeing.  My 15 yr old is a budding photographer and kept her camera in her lap/near by the entire trip.

Today, there was a comment to something posted on my facebook blog page.  The first sentence was a kick in the gut.  "Think more positive."  Sure. Yep. I know I need to be more positive.  The remaining part of the message didn't come across well, either.  My gut tells me it was all in support and love. However, that is not what I heard.  The timing wasn't the best.

I've been at a fairly low place.  Therapy is hard.  It is *insert several curse words* hard.  The more intense it gets the more alone I feel. Yet, I know I am not. Truthfully,  I haven't felt this alone since sitting in hospital a week before the court hearing to disrupt our adoption. It's the kind of alone that makes me think...nobody gets it.  My therapist doesn't. My husband doesn't. My bff doesn't. My family doesn't.  During that time in the hospital, I had a visitor who happened to be the Relief Society President.  Her and I go way way back.   Sitting with another friend in church today, who I know 'gets mental illness' on a very personal level, I was reminded of the same message that my relief society president shared with me several years ago.  The Lord put the same message in my head today as he did that day.  And it brought me to tears.

Fear not! I am with thee.
Oh, be not dismayed.
For I am thy God.
And will still give thee aid!
I'll strengthen thee,
Help thee
And cause thee to stand.
Upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand.

I know that I am loved. I know that I am not alone. I know these things.  However, it is so very hard to remember in the depths of hell.

Monday Musings...When Depression Strikes

For every individual, depression is a very personal situation.  Each person, each experience is unique in its own way.  Today, for me, it is a dark shadow hanging over my head and everything I do.  It has followed me from home to my therapy appointment and back home.  It doesn't matter how much I love my family, the glitch in my brain chemistry has me feeling very alone, inadequate, worthless, and in a downright very dark space.

These dips are common.  They wax and wane. Some days are brought on by circumstances.  Other days they are part of the how things roll.  Sometimes it is a mixture of both.  There are days that it takes me by surprise and others times it is terrifying because I know what is next.

Taking medications isn't for me.  Most have come with pretty significant side effects.  Life altering, life threatening, doing the opposite of what they were intended to side effects.  None have truly helped.

It isn't that I don't have very good tools and don't know how to pull myself out of the dark hole that I am in.
I do.  I've been here before.  Most days I'm pretty successful at using the tools to keep my head above water.  Today those tools are garbage.  Just like someone who has high blood pressure, diabetes, or high cholesterol tries to keep their numbers w/in range to remain healthy, I have and do try very hard to stay above water.

Most of the time I am effective.  Sometimes, like today, it gets away from me. I've used the tools and done what I know has (and usually helps).  I've reminded myself over and over something that my current therapist has said.  None of it has helped. And with each attempt to pull my shit together. I fall deeper and deeper. The one thing I know to do is to shut down.  Push everyone around me away and create a bubble in order to protect myself from further pain.

One of the things I have learned over and over is that silence magnifies the state that I'm in.  A sure way to add fuel to the fire is isolate myself from those around me and it is only a matter of time before the fire is burning to bright and I can't hide it any longer.  Yet, pulling out of the silence is sometimes to much.

I'm sharing this not because I want or need sympathy or pity from you.  I want whomever may be reading this to know that perfectly normal people, strong people, the father sitting next to you in church, the bus driver who took you to work this morning, the clergyman sitting in front of his congregation....each of them sometimes have a condition that can get out of control.

I am not an oddball by any stretch of the imagination when it comes to sharing my own struggles.  Millions of individuals suffer from one or more mental disorders. Far to many go undiagnosed because of the stigma that is associated with mental illness.

If your best friend had a brain tumor, you wouldn't tell her to try harder.   You wouldn't tell her that if she did XYZ than she would for sure feel better.  You probably wouldn't drop off the face of the earth because it was to much to handle and she was full of drama.

Last summer, when I went through TMS therapy, I went alone.  Every.single.day.for.several.weeks.  My husband did not go with me.  My local friends and family did not go with me.  Yet, for someone who has to have chemotherapy, you may take a meal, offer to clean their house, or offer to help in some other manner. I felt those around me were expecting this miracle and I would be much better.  And when I wasn't much better, I walked away feeling like I failed.  I still feel like I've failed.  My father has cancer.  If the treatment regimen he is enduring doesn't work he is not the one that failed.  We as a society will not look at him and think he failed and didn't do everything he could have done.

There are plenty blogs and articles wrote on 'mental illness vs physical illness' and how family and friends treat it so different.  I've found this to be extremely true in my own life.

I write this in hopes that somehow, someone, will find a way to reach out if you sense someone close to you is struggling with mental illness.  Speak from your heart.  Speak honestly.  Speak without harsh judgement. You wouldn't speak harsh to someone with a brain tumor.  Don't do it to someone who is struggling on any level.

This illness.  This stigma.  It is debilitating.  It is overwhelmingly lonely. It can be deadly.

Here...Kind Of.

Having a hard time picking myself up over the last few days.  It's a different kind of low.  One filled with anger and grief.  Which ends up being filled with just plain depressed.

I find myself all over the map when it comes to thinking about how life turned out.  What the future holds for him.  What our furture holds with him.  I go from thinking about picking up a card and sending it to him, to wanting to change all our phone numbers (he knows my husbands number), to asking my husband to contact his FM and setting up a lunch date with him, and the internal dialogue goes on and on and on...

Why is it so damn tough to know what the right thing to do is?

Sh*t or Get off the Pot

This morning I started my day by making the trek to see the "new" surgeon.  He is conservative that is for sure.  I wonder have asked myself over and over in the last few weeks...today..."Did you make the right choice by choosing this guy over his best friend and fellow surgeon.  I will probably never know the answer to this question.  Since this is a work related injury and I'm on my 2nd opinion since the Jackhole, I saw a month ago...I cant change doctors.  Which, is fine with me.  He's not ready to jump into doing surgery until he is confident he knows 100% what is going on and what the source of my pain is.  However, I'm struggling w/being patient.  Patience and I don't always get along.  And this is one of those times. 

I left the clinic today thinking that old saying my mom used to say to all.the.freeking.time.  "Just shit or get off the pot".  And that is where I'm at.

Until then...I remain w/the same restrictions.  I return in 3 weeks.  In hopes for more answers.  He gave me an answer today as to what the problem is right now...  adhesiv.e capulitis....AKA:  froze.n s.houlder.  I've got a long road to recovery, I think.  Which is depressing.

I returned to work for a few hours and then made the trek back to the same side of town I was on earlier in the day to see H*.  I have seen her weekly for the last 3 weeks.  Last week and today some pretty heavy stuff came up.  As in staying present was very difficult.  I struggled getting dressed. I struggled sitting in her office afterwards talking for a few moments.  The fight or flight internal mode was in high gear.  As she shared w/me her experience and what she felt happened and the shifts she felt, I thought I didn't think about it on the same level.  She felt like there was a shift.  Shift in energy, shift in my own personal trauma work, shift in general.  An area that she has never felt to be an issue before screamed very loud and clear.  It was a bit of a different shift for me.  I felt the shift and definately agree that it was different than usual.  I got up feeling stuck.  Stuck and unbalanced so to speak.  The intense pain and areas that were screaming to me while I was there....left shortly after I left her home/office. 

I had a psychiatrist appt w/K*.  I sat outside her office trying to gather my thoughts.  After getting to a place where I was feeling pretty good I went in to my appt.  As usual, K* irked me.  I let her know she was irking me.  I also made it loud and clear that I was not going to continue to have the disagreement that we were having.  She was agreeing with the first Jackhole surgeon.  She did not hear what I was attempting to say.  She was not hearing that I've followed the treatment plan for my shoulder 100%+.  She had it stuck in her head that "after your WLS you ate nothing but popcorn....when asked you said nope not supposed to but....its good and thats what I want".  SHe failed to remember that was the ONLY FOOD (other than toast) that didn't make me vomit for months on end.  When she got stuck on that fact...I got a bit pissed.  And made it VERY CLEAR she could "remember those things if she so choose...and that was 8 fucking years ago (okay I didn't say fuck but came fucking close),  I also made it clear that I would not change her perception, thoughts, or whatever it was that needed to be changed. SHe could think those things if she wanted.  But she did not have all the facts and I was no longer going to debate or argue the point w/her.  I have a new surgeon. He will make an informed choice about surgery and if I'm a canidate based on his findings. Not based on a dx on my chart for which I was never questioned about."  I got my point across. Which was good.

The guilt factor is really coming on hard after yesterdays blow up w/little man.  He sees someone at the same clinic that my pdoc/therapist work at.  I took the kids to dinner after our appts.  I asked little man how his appt was and was there anything he wanted to share w/me.  His face got red, looked away and said nope.  I poked a little bit and said "Did you talk w/Dr. K* about mommy's bad day ysterday and how I got upset and yelled at you?"  He sheepishly shook his head yes.  I told him I was proud that he could talk to him and he was honest w/me about it.  I followed the conversation up with "I hope you were able to remember that mommy did apologize?"  He didn't remember me coming to him afterwards in tears, telling him there was nothing that he did that was his fault and it was all mommy....and blah blah blah...  My heart sank.  And the last several hours guilt has crept in and I feel horrible.  I don't want to be that mom.  I've tried so fucking hard to change that and not blow up at my kids.  The damage is done.  Damn it all.

My heart continues to be heavy as I attempt to find and describe what that safe space will be, how I will get myself there, and what it would look like...in moments of distress, suicidal ideations, and severe downward spirals.  The heaviness comes from the resistance of doing the work.  It is work that I know needs to be done.  Work that I know in my heart I'm ready to do...to move fwd...to shit and get off the pot..  The other part is being able to describe those spaces...I was able for the first time in a very very long time....remove myself from the situation yesterday, to that spot that is safest and quietest for me....I was able to consiously choose NOT to use the hottest water possible...instead just hot enough to be soothing and drown out what needed to be drowned out at that moment.  In doing so, after using all the hot water, I was able to return to what I was doing, attempt to repair the damage w/little man (which i realize today didn't work) and move on. 

I've rambled in this post more than I ever intended to.  It's late.  Everyone is asleep.  The demon puppy is asleep and has finally stopped terrorizing everything/one insight. 

I blog for my own therapy.  Tonight...I needed that therapy.  I've wrote several blog posts and have them in the drafts.  Most likely they will never be published.  And maybe someday, when I'm not in a vulnerable space, when I'm able to speak about the sexual abuse and other crap....I will share them.  For now, it's off my chest.  And I know that I don't have to share them w/anyone but myself.

The Courage to Heal

Today I opened the book:  "The Courage to Heal:  A Guide for Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse" by Ellen Bass & Laura Davis.     !!!!holy hannah intense is an understatement!!!!

I am not naive.  I knew it would be intense.  I knew there would be parts that were tough.  I barely got to the end of the Preface without an overwhelming feeling of panic and fear.  The effects that sexual abuse has had on me in my life....clearly screaming loud and clear.  I have put the book down and walked away on several occasions in the last several hours.  Unable to read any further.  Paralyzed with fear.  It isn't the fear of feeling unsafe, being abused, or feeling vulnerable.  The fear of speaking...breaking the silence...breaking the power that it has had over me.

Over the last several years I've remained in a world of denial, so to speak.  For nearly 35 years I've maintained silence.  If I don't speak about it.  It didn't happen, right?  Not so much.  I've protected myself.  I've been able to only let bits and pieces of this and that out in the open as I felt safe to do so.  I've been unable to figure out how or why there is such power in not speaking about the details.

The writing exercise at the end of the first chapter is geared towards the way it has affected me and still does.  What kinds of things do I still carry in the terms of my feelings of self worth, my relationships, sexuality, work, ect ect.  It also suggests writing about strengths I've developed because of the abuse. And a few other positives in my life.

As part of the writing method it suggests sharing what you write relatively soon after writing it with a friend, loved one, therapist, someone...ect ect.  I've wrote very openly here on this blog.  However, I'm not sure I'm able (or wanting) to expose myself in this manner here on this blog.  I'm struggling with what sort of balance.  Obviously, sharing these writings with my therapist would be helpful.  And I'm sure at some point will.  I also know that J* reads this blog from time to time.  It is helpful for both of us.  She is able to see me in a different view point...often uncensored, so to speak.    I wish this blog was on word press.  Being able to "password protect" certain posts is VERY VERY attractive to me. 

I could make this blog private.  However, I'm not sure that want to deal with that aspect.  I blog for ME and ME only.  However, as I've said before...if along the way someone...somewhere finds strength in what I've wrote, is able to know that they are not alone....then damn it was worth exposing myself.  I know how much comfort I've received from reading other posts of fellow bloggers.  Some whom I know very intimately.  Many whom all I know is their screen name or blogger name.  Whatever it might be...it has been a life line that I am so thankful that I've had.

I've rambled....I know (you read here often you know that happens...OFTEN).

I will end with something that touched my heart today. Made me smile.  Made me think of my sweet ETAAM Soul Sisters....the intimate group of "tiara wearing mamma's" and how much I miss each of them!! 

Well $h!T

In the last 24 hours I've said...

Well Shit....on more than one occasion.  I am somewhat proud of myself.  Only one of those times was it something more obscure; including more swear words.

I decided to make lemonaide out of lemons today.  Inviting the Work Comp Nurse C.Manager to join me 'in the room' while at my orthopedic consult today.  I have nothing to hide.  I NEED and WANT there to be no issues with this.  I know from experience that when a nurse is assigned to your case....it is the first step to having it denied.  It is just a matter of time.  I made it very clear that I WANT to get back to work.  Sure the break was nice.  Reality is....I work for a reason. I need the income.  Plain, cut, simple and DRY!!!

I'm hurting this evening....a TON!!  It's all I can do not to cry.  No amount of Tylenol, ice, heat or anything is helping.  Two cortisone injections...one in each shoulder.  blech.  I have a consult for decompression surgery at the end of April.

Adding insult to injury...my blood pressure was high this morning.  I thought maybe it was because of being nervous and upset with having another person that I did not know accompany me to the orth consult.  This evening I had it rechecked when I went to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription.  It was still high. Not as high as earlier...but high enough.  And my exact thoughts were...Well...SHIT.  I've known for a few days it was creeping up there.  I generally have a rather low blood pressure.  Around 110/70 is usually the highest it goes.  This morning it was much higher.  MUCH MUCH higher.  I've got an idea.  It's more than nerves and pain.  And well...SHIT!!  I don't tell my mom much.  However, when I told her my BP was high the very first thing she said "the new med you are on can have a tendency to do that, you know?"  No...I didn't know.  Honestly, I want to just scream.  The jittery crap still happening.  Continued and got even more pronounced this morning when the dose was doubled.  Well...SHIT!  As I mentioned few posts ago, there are other things going on that need to be addressed.  I don't have it in me. I want this medication to work and will have to be in a really  REALLY bad space before I give up.  Fortunately, I've not struggled with daily suicidal thoughts for a few weeks.  (Other than right after my appt w/the new doctor...those first few days were clearly situational....)  However, I'm slowly able to tell that they are creeping back in.  Always starting at night. 

Thank heaven my sons high fever is done.  Last night we had about an hour of my lil guy screaming he was in pain, high fever (103.6 and then 104.1 about 20 minutes after the 103.6 was taken).  After it came done he seemed to do better.  Fell asleep in our bed.  He's maintained a 100.1-102.6 temp most of today.  He felt well enough to go to W.algreens with me and get a treat and medication. 

I'm in limbo.  In need of seeing my therapist. I don't want to call my pdoc bc she isn't a therapist when it comes down to it.  And as 'well versed' as one would think that I am with the clinic that I go to....seeing someone new is rather anxiety inducing.  I'm not sure what to do.  Struggling to keep my head above water.

I have a massage tomorrow afternoon.  My chiropractor has been asking me to consider seeing her again.  Hoping I can get some sort of relief...or a TON of relief.

Sometime Today

I will get out of bed....sometime. 
I know it is.nearly 10am.  Quite frankly I don't give a.Shit.
I made the mistake of talking to my mom last night about my appt.  I should have known better.  Her thoughts and comments were hurtful, as usual.
I've felt isolated and alone before.  This morning that reality shines even brighter as I think about moving forward. 
My best friend for the last 18 years and I, have slowly drifted apart.  I know it is in part because I have distanced myself from her.  She is filled with unending drama.  She had an affair with my BIL and continues to be good friends with his family. I don't live those values and so I get that I'm part this is my doing.
It doesn't change the fact that we are still close.  She called yesterday morning while I was on my way home from my Dr appt.  She had asked what I was doing and I told her.  It was once again a confirmation that I am on my own here in my world. 
My husband asks if I am not feeling well or if my shoulder is hurting.  I tell him the truth.   He has nothing to offer.  Nothing to say.  Not even as much as 'I'm sorry'.  As I type this out on my phone in bed...that last bit hurts.  Deep.  And ai cant stop the tears.  I want him to care.  To show me he cares.   He can't.  It isn't in his realm of conscious thinking. And after 18 years of marriage I should be know this.  I do know it. 
I know I'm not alone.  I know there are a few people who will read this and think otherwise.  I know who you are and I appreciate your random FB messages of support very early yesterday morning while I was sitting in the drs office.  And the phone call saying "how did it go?"  The distance between us is to much some days. And try as I might there is no changing it.
There was a nice break in this fucked up cycle of severe depression and suicidal ideation.  I should be thankful I guess. 

Crazy

My heart is heavy (heavier) this evening as my dd questioned me about an upcoming therapy appt.  My dh and I had discussed that we would very cautiously approach this subject with her.  Not give her 'much time' to worry and fret over it before her actual appt.  He let it slip on Saturday and wasn't very good about giving her a 'soft and cautious' approach about why we have felt the need to make her an appt.

This afternoon my husband was gone w/my youngest to a chiropractor appt.  I came home from lunch w/my mom. I had a chiro appt early this morning followed by a massage.  Instead of working on my back and shoulder, H* felt the need to do energy work. I did not really clue her in as to how my weekened went but just said I have had a tough few days.  I left that appt w/her telling me to take plenty of time intergrating back into myself and not to drive until I was ready.  It was draining on all levels.  Driving nearly 3 hours round trip for a 1 hour lunch w/my mom was nice...but even more draining.

The moment I walked in the door my dd asks me about this appt.  I had no clue she knew.  I also had no clue that my husband let the shoe drop and didn't talk to her about it.  He told her it was because of something totally unrelated as to why.  Not knowing why and feeling completely terrified she went to the neighbor girl whom she is very good friends with and asked her "Why do you think my parents would want me to see a therapist". 

Long story short...only crazy people see therapist. She sees me as being crazy and depressed.  It didn't come out in that manner.  It came out in a 12.5 yr olds thinking. It hurts deep.  It was the things that came out...that fuel the "my kids deserve better" montra.  The montra that plays very loud more often than not.  Ultimately...my biggest fears...came out of my daughters mouth this evening. 

I tried to keep myself composed and in a "concerned mom mode".  I explained to her as gentle and loving as I could why her dad and I feel it would be best for her to see someone.  I hope and pray that she was able to know that I am coming from a place of love.  I pray she was not able to see the deep shame, pain and frustration...I tried so hard to keep from her.  She went on her way. I spent 45 minutes sobbing in a hot shower, trying to compose myself....I've not done so well.

I return to work in a few short hours.  My heart hurting more than it has in a very long time.  I have absolutely no clue who I will manage to get to the end of each day.....and the only thing that I can say right now or think is...fuckity fuck fuck.

Sometimes...

....anxiety gets the best of me.
....depression gets the best of me.
....life gets the best of me.
....work gets the best of me.


~~Sometimes during those moments~~~

....I contemplate what life would be like if I was single. (done in the last 5 days)
....I contemplate what life would be like if I never had any children. (done in the last 5 days)
....I contemplate what you would look like if you were standing at my door in your underwear. (done in the last 5 days)
....I contemplate what you would say if I told you that I had a crush on you. (done in the last 5 days)
....I twist 24 gauge wire into little birds nest with beads to make a "robins nest". (done in the last 5 days).
....I edit photographs over and over.  (done in the last 5 days and need to do MANY MORE but don't feel like it)
....I contemplate what life would be like if I lived in Florida, Las Vegas or California.  (done in the last 5 days)
....I contemplate what life would be like if we would have never adopted our older son. (done in the last 5 days every single day several times during the day and all night long)

....I DO ANYTHING in my power to get out of my head. 

Today would be one of those days.  My living room looks different.  My carpets are cleaned.  As in...vaccumed, spot cleaned w/foam spray and scrub brush, and shampooed.  Most all of my Christmas decorations are out on the wall shelf that separates the living room and dinning room. All of the sheets and comforters in our house are freshly washed.  My fridge was cleaned.  Hardwood floors scrubbed and mopped.  Today was supposed to be my 5th day off in a row.  I was called yesterday to work a school route this morning.  It was an 1:51 minute shift. I get paid a minimum of 2:15 for any 'extra' work.  And because it was on my day off it is guaranteed overtime pay.  I was home by 8:45am and left for group at 3:30pm.  I also, looked into how to return my my Dansko boots that I bought from onlineshoes.com and I found a NEW pair of shoes to replace the boots I am returning.  And because I had a coupon to go towards my purchase I ordered my son a of Keen everyday hiking boots.

AND

I took an hour and half nap.  ALL between 9am-3:30pm. 

AND

I am sure more will be cleaned or done tonight bc I'm not going to be sleeping anytime soon.
Group set off a trigger for me tonight that I didn't expect or seen coming.  Not sure what else to clean in my house.  I have photos to edit.  I need to go to bed....an hour ago actually.  I have to work at 5:30am. I have a therapy appt mid morning that I really don't care to attend. And I don't get off work until almost 7pm.