It's Time To Talk...Stigma

While it may be my goal to write this blog and begin to talk about my experiences living with Dissociative Identity Disorder, I am in many ways very invisible.  There are many who have read this blog over the last few years who know who I am.  Yet, at the same time there will be many who don't know me. I contemplated beginning a new blog where, I can express my views and be honest about my life, my difficulties, my experiences....safe in knowing that no one would know who I was. I have decided it is high time I begin to talk.

This week I have been thinking about why I chose in most circumstances not to discuss my diagnosis. I realized that my fears surrounding the stigma of mental illness really do impact my everyday life.  It is time to talk.

I guess to the outside world looking in I may seem very normal...whatever that might be.   I do not carry a label saying I have mental health issues. However, many who know me know that I do.  I do not carry a label that says "I have D.I.D.".

Obviously, when I meet people for the first time, I tend to skip over the fact that I have DID, and the fact that I have been hospitalized for severe depression and suicidal ideation. I do not lie. I just do not expand on certain issues.  I have a crap load of medical professionals in my life currently. Unless asked, I do not bring this up. Again, I will not lie. However, I do not expand. It is my expectation that they will ask.

My birth father is deceased.  My mother and step-father are still alive.  I do not ever say I was a victim of child sexual abuse and that one of my parents did the best she could and the other was the abuser.  I will tell you that my abuser ended his life a few years ago.  A few years to late....

The fear of rejection is fairly huge. I chose to limit what I tell people, even if I have known someone a long time I am often not upfront and open.  Why?  Truth be told I would like you to judge me as a person and not a label.  To see me as an equal who can contribute to society and can make a difference to this world that I live in.  I want you to see me as a wife and mother of two beautiful, well adjusted and smart teenagers and a wife.  So I try and seamlessly interact with society, despite everything I work at me fitting in to a world that at times is extremely frightening, triggering and scary.

It isn't easy for someone with DID to live in this world and appear normal.  I often switch between parts, my voice changes, my facial expressions change, my mannerisms change.  For many years I have tried very hard to try and plan and prepare for everything just to look normal, you see just being out there and being adult....it takes a huge toll on me...on anyone with DID.

I find it extremely hard to justify why I am so forgetful.  Why am I loosing track of a conversation half way through?  Why I have to keep time in my schedule free...just so I can either rest and recover.  Yet the reality is people don't recognize instantly that I have DID.  They do not realize when we have switched between parts/alters unless of course we react in a very clear physical way or the change is very drastic, they will just assume I am forgetful or pre-occupied with something else.

My husband, best friend (who lives 5 states away) and therapist...they know me well enough to know that these memory lapses are because of DID.  Only my therapist can tell instantly when there has been a change. My bff when we are together is also able to tell instantly.  My husband...he is learning and slowly figuring it out.  Often, my husband is able to prompt me during discussions because he knows where the forgetfulness is coming from.  He attends 99% of all doctor appts with me because of this very reason.

Society views mental health with scepticism.  The statistic that 1 in 4 people will struggle with some sort of mental health related issue....society tells us that it won't happen to us.  Indeed, with the 1 in 4 statistic, you know a minimum of 1 person who struggles with mental health issues.

Fear and stigma surround us.  There are tv programs about mental health, however it is often more for entertainment and just creates more stigma in my opinion.

People do not generally know anything about D.I.D, it is not the most talked about issue.  There is VERY Little coverage in the media about dissociative disorders.  Why? Because the underlying issue is trauma. Media doesn't want to talk about trauma.

Being victim of child abuse and young adult who was victim of abuse leaves a stigma that goes above and beyond mental health.  As a young adult, I was told it was my fault. I tend to hid the shame and the guilt I carry and have carried since being a very young child.  As a very young child I was told I was bad.  The harsh reality is of course I was a child/young adult, who was hurt.  Who suffered at the hands of adults and and employer who should have protected me or at the very least not hurt me.

Ultimately, I tend not to tell people about having a diagnosis of D.I.D because I am ashamed, not of the diagnosis or my parts but of what has happened to me.  I carry an extreme amount of shame that belongs to someone else. My abusers. One who is dead. One who is not.  This is my own self created stigma, I know.

Admitting that I have D.I.D means I am admitting not just to them but to myself, that what happened to me is a reality and as much as I sometimes wish I could, I can't deny my past.  I cant wash it away. I somehow need to embrace it. I need to someone how take up the mantel of rebuilding a life out of my past.

I want to live with this diagnosis and all of its difficulties and challenges. I want to not be a victim but a survivor. I do not want to be a statistic of someone who had a mental illness that is not commonly recognized and went misdiagnosed for 15 years while seeking mental health treatment.

My personal challenge in the coming weeks and months is to start dealing with the stigma. If people stop talking to me, judge me or ignore me. So be it. That is their problem not mine.

I am who I am.

I am the 1 in 4.

It is about damn time I begin talking....

Eleven...

In my post a few weeks ago I mentioned that something has happened with this new therapist.  It is the first time in 15 yrs of therapy...actually 16 years that someone was not afraid to touch the root of what is going on.  My last therapist, N., she saw it.  She knew what was going on.  However, 2 shoulder surgeries in the first 5 months of seeing her didn't give her the ability to dig deep into what was going on.  She did more stabilization and working on building trust and some light(er) ground work. 

ELEVEN.

That is the number of therapist I have had prior to seeing R.

She is the first person to address the abuse and trauma head on and not back off.  She hasn't let "me" get scared, freak out and tell her nope, nadda, not going there, nothing....and backed off.  Instead, in those moments she has hunkered down and said what I needed to hear.

"Do you want to get better...?"

Yes....

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.

Dear Suicidal Thoughts...

Trigger Warning.
Talk of suicide and swearing.

~~~~

Dear Suicidal Thoughts...

I hate you. I hate everything you have taken from me. I really fucking hate you.

I hate how I have to spend so much time and energy keeping my guard up and making sure that I don't fall to your fucking grips again and again.

I hate how draining that it is.

I hate what you've taken from my family.

I hate that you make me believe these bad things will be better for my family in the end.

I fucking hate you.

I hate how evil you are.  You are an evil fucking bitch.

I hate how you scare me.

I hate that I'm always waiting for the next shoe to drop and you will creep back into my life.

I hate how you are always lingering around teasing me.

I hate how, even when I know I'm not OK, I feel guilty because I feel like I should be just fine. 

Dear Suicidal Thoughts...


I will continue to keep trying.... not to let you back into my life the way you have been in the past.

I may not be successful today, or last week, or last month.  But one day I will.

If, despite all that I am doing, you manage to come back, I will not let you take over my life as you have in the past.  I will kick you in the fucking balls as I am trying to today.  You might be winning today. But be reminded, you will not fucking win. You will not!

I will continue to try and keep myself safe and protect my body, mind and spirit from you.
You will never beat me.  Never.  I promise you one thing.  You will NEVER fucking win.


Dear Suicidal Thoughts...

You will NEVER kill me.  No matter how hard you try.  I still wish you would go to hell and leave me the hell alone.  

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.

~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.

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...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.

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.

Beautiful Mess

Trying like hell to keep my head above water...I headed down this path to the water. 

It is chilly today...43° at the present moment.

As I walked down the path...I was struck by how much it felt similar to where I find myself currently emotionally and spiritually.

No blooms on the trees. Broken limbs.  Trees down.  Leaves scattered.  Dirty.  Dark.  Dreary. 

The sun would peak down every little bit.  Giving a small glimmer of light among the trees.  But not for long. 

I could only go so far since the trail ended and was full of mud.  I could continue.  Get dirty. Get stuck. 

I turned around.  And went another direction.  Only to find myself in the same predicament.

At which point I turned around and came back to my car.

As I looked at the few pics I took on my phone I was struck by how they didn't represent fully what my eyes seen.

The photo below portrays a little light.  Blue sky and lake in the distance.  It looks peaceful and full of grace.  There was a level of peace as I listened to the birds chirping.

A beautiful mess.
It is all in the eye of the beholder.

The Last 3 days....

...and then some have been incredible hard.
...as in gut wrenching hard.

I'm struggling to keep my head above water.
To find balance among the waves.
I know that I'm not alone in this struggle.
Yet at the same time it feels as though I am.
I've pulled out all the tools.  All the stops.
Everything I can to keep swimming.
It hasn't been enough.

My hair hurts.
My teeth hurt.
My ears hurt.
My toes hurt.
Everything hurts.
I know why.
Relaxation tools have went out the window. I've done them.
Over and over...from deep breathing to some mindfulness.

I'm not positive tonight. I don't see much positive ahead of me.  I got up today. I went to church.  I made a crockpot dinner.  It is the extent of my ability to cope for today.

Lone-li-ness

I've thought a great deal lately about loneliness.  I can't really say it is because I'm feeling lonely.  Although, extreme marital distress/issues and severe depression  that continue to stare me in the face tend to increase that feeling tenfold.

In general, I've been thinking about how it is easy to be lonely in just about any situation we face in life.  It isn't very new to me at the moment as I've veen pretty dang lonely in my marriage and in the midst of friendships.

Some weeks days it is just plain hard to be human....to be alive...to breathe.  It is hard to come to terms with the reality of our lives.  How we thought they would be.  How we envisioned our "for time and all eternity", "for better or worse", and so many other areas in life.  

Loneliness, sorrow, and disappointment seem to feed into each other.  For me they are extremely hard to separate at times.  For me they are extremely hard to separate at this time in my life.

Recent life events, at the darkest of days and my most depressed moments, I have felt incredible lonely.  So much so these moments/days/weeks have felt like they are going to kill me.  I've spent many hours sobbing uncotrollably in my car over the last several weeks. Unable to stop the tears.I've learned to drive while crying.  I know this isn't safe.  It has become a coping mechanism to get me to the end of each day.  I have cry through many different things each day.  If I give into this deepness of dispair and loneliness and commonly known as the black hole...I would never ever get out of bed.  Ever.  Functioning while crying constantly is still functioning.....at best I'm leaving my house to work, attend occupational therapy and regular therapy appointments....which at the end of the day regardless of how is functional.

I was raised in a predominatly Methodist family, before joining the LDS Church (which my bio family are all members) at the age of 15.  I've been taught and believed from a very young age that my Father in Heaven loved me.  That I was His Daughter and nothing I could do or say would change his love for me.  I was taught from a very young age how to pray.  During the years of trauma/abuse endured by my bio father, I remember praying over and over for him to forget about coming to get me.  My lack of faith in being alone in this experience over and over was the beginning of feeling as though my Father in Heaven had forgotten me, that loneliness that not a soul would understand....and...... the self talk as it does with trauma/abuse from a very young age was believed to be my truth...I was indeed alone. 

....to be continued...maybe later....maybe never!

Dear Asshole (Part 1)

**I tried to keep this short. For my own sanity. This is a FAIR WARNING there is very likely going to be several explicits. It is what it is. It is where my heart and head is with this.  This is just the beginning of a series of "Dear Asshole" posts.  More will come as I'm able to process.  Each time I've ever started to write something similar to this I've ended in a pretty rough space.  Never got past the first few sentences and ended up in fetal position on my bathroom floor/tub for heaven only knows how long afterwards.

As the title states: Dear Asshole.  He is just that. An asshole.  And so much more.  As mentioned above it is likely these will not be pretty.  

Dear Asshole,
You may have been excited to see this letter from me since we've not had contact in over 30 years.  What pictures and information you have from me you received from your mother.  Good for her for caring.
I didn't want to write this when I was overly angry, emotional, or depressed.  However, those 3 words seem to be part of my every day life. And have been for several months.

This last bought of severe depression was not triggered by the trauma piece you help create. It is very likely it was just part of much more going on.  Each time I get closer to rising above the fog this particular piece begins to boil over. Causing there to be a ripple effect into my everyday life. You destroyed me in more ways than not.

I spent years trying to figure out reasoning's for your actions.  I've spent countless hours talking to other victims. I've spent countless hours reading and trying to sift to the bottom of why abusers abuse.  The more information I have found, the worse I've felt abut the situation.  They say that abusers have the domino effect.  The abuser was once abused.  That's bullshit.  I'm nearly certain that never happened to you.  Next option?  You strive to dominate.  That is exactly what you did.  When you could no longer hurt my mother, you choose to hurt me.  Fuck you!  You rat bastard.

I hope you woke up each day of the last 33 yrs of your life and took a good look at your shit-filled self and were eaten alive by what you did to me.  I hope you never forgave yourself for it.  I always thought I would be thankful for the day you died.  Each day I got closer and closer.  And the day that I got the phone call was the day when the previous 33 yrs of attempting to stuff deep down came boiling over.  Each day, I prayed for closure that you would die.  Instead, rage took over deep w/in my heart.  Rage that you took the easy way out.  Rage that you didn't suffer.  Sure, I'm sure you suffered.  You have never suffered a moment of the torment that I live each day.  You don't wear the physical and emotional scars that I do.  Those scars that are not seen.  Only heard by the rage that has built within me.

I can only hope hell is as it is chalked up to be!!  There is no amount of repentance that would bring you closer to the pearly gates of heaven. None. I know first hand that in order to cross that gate you would have needed to make amends to those you hurt.

Screw you!
Your Daughter

Change Starts with Believing in Yourself

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Doesn't Get Easier

I've stared at this screen for well over an hour.  Trying to come up with the words to what I'm thinking and feeling right now.

About a month ago I wrote this post "The Good, The Bad, The Ugly....Meds Suck".  Meds can certainly suck. 

My appt with my psychiatrist was rather gut wrenching.  Again. It doesn't get any easier hearing the same things that she has told me many times over.  In fact, it gets harder.  And being able to feel my doctors frustration with where things are at made it even harder.  

When I walked threw the doors of my house this evening and my children were arguing like children do...I was reminded why I walked threw that door again.  

And then the tears fell even harder.

And they've not stopped.

I wish I had the answers.

I wish this wasn't so freaking hard.

I wish that the power of positive thinking would be the magic cure.

I wish this would be so much different than it is.

I wish there were answers. 

It doesn't get easier to get back up...
It gets increasingly harder...each time I hear the words out of Dr. K*'s mouth.

Getting back up...doesn't get easier.

~There' s no title for this~

Here is a little scenario that played out last night.  I've tried to write about it in a way that makes sense and it isn't happening.  Bare with me here folks.  If you get to the end of this...bless your heart.  There is a point that I'm trying to get across.  A positive one (kind of) and one that needs to be followed....if you get to the end.

We were gone all day yesterday at my Aunt's house for our Family Thanksgiving.  We left early yesterday morning because I had a chiro appt for my shoulder.  I fell on Thursday in my parents hot tub and did a number on my shoulder.  (Really...I did.  It wasn't pretty.) My appt with Dr. M yesterday morning was a bit tortuous.  I was already in a mood that was to be reckoned with.  

While at my Aunt's house yesterday we were informed that our Family Christmas was going to be held one week earlier than usual.  There was no warning.  Just "this is when we are having it".  The Aunt who is in charge of it this year took it upon herself to 'change it'.  And generally this wouldn't be an issue.  I'm not working weekends right now and won't be for several months.  I had been told by my mom it was possible going to be changed to the Saturday before Christmas. I wasn't very happy about that.  However, that date would be better for us.  We don't ever go anywhere other than to my parents house or my families.  We rarely ever travel and generally don't make plans to go anywhere.  However, I had an idea brewing in my head.  This particular weekend...the last weekend of the year is our "Anniversary Weekend".  We don't do much if anything.  And my husband has been given the opportunity to have a 3 day construction job that weekend.  So we really didn't have much for plans.  But I had been thinking about plans....plans to head to see my BFF.  I had not talked to my dh and was waiting to run it by my BFF before I talk to dh.  And this was going to be the weekend I thought about going.  

In general I don't get myself worked up or upset about things like this.  My mom's family is pretty large (7 siblings total) and I just go with the flow.  I let them all get all po'd at each other. And I stay out of it.

All the way home I stewed and stewed about this bit of information.  The more I thought about it the more upset it made me.  

We got home and I began to prepare our dinner for today.  Cutting veggies and making rice that would end up in the crock pot this morning before we headed to church. While I was chopping the veggies whirlwind of impulsive self harm thoughts became more and more intrusive.  I've never purposely cut myself.  There have been moments where it has taken every ounce of my ability not to.  Last night was one of those times. 

Instead I called my dh into the kitchen.  His response was to 'not use real onions just put in the onion flakes' and he refused to cut the onions and mushrooms.  I wasn't able to fully tell him why I needed him to help me.  He had a mindset that it was my idea to make this dinner for today and so it was me who needed to do it.

We bantered back and forth. It was more me looking for a fight.  I take full responsibility for it.  If I was bantering with him...I wasn't cutting myself.  And at that moment it seemed to be the lessor of two evils.  One thing led to another. I was an emotional mess...I started spewing shit such as...to bad my head wouldn't fit under then damn food chopper thing.  He responded with "you sound like ___ ____".  And back and forth.  I took his phone off the phone charger and threw at him telling him he needed to call ___ ___ and tell him that."
The bantering went back and forth some more. Mostly me. Him ignoring me. Which just pissed me off even more.

What came out of my mouth next kind of surprised me as I said it.  And I know it took the wind out of my dh's sail.  In a nutshell I told him that "__ __ needed a friend.  One that could understand where he was coming from.  One that wasn't judgmental.  Which is where I'm at. The only person I have that somewhat understands lives 6 hours away.  And maybe if I had someone locally who GOT ME who I could call and talk to or show up at their house for whatever reason...that I could just sit on their couch and watch TV with....maybe things would be different."  He responded with "what the hell am I? Chopped liver?"  To which my response was "listen to yourself...just listen to the double bind you just put yourself in? You are telling ME who has a knife and food chopper in my hand that I sound like __ __ bc of what I just said.  I asked you to help me. Not because I don't want to do it. But because I was putting my own safety at risk. I don't need to tell you every time I want to hurt myself.  Nor will I.  Because of the things YOU just said. Do you REALIZE how often I am in that frame of mind or space? No you don't. Because YOU don't fucking listen to me. You refuse to help and said use processed food. I don't want to do that. I'M TRYING to make healthy meals for our family.  He followed with I didn't tell him and if I would have he would helped me.  At that point he was trying to. But I had a knife in my hand and refused to let him.  He knew to back off.

Our friend he mentioned we know from a distance struggles with depression. My husband has been helping them with some remodel projects over the last year.  He was our best man.  They are not close friends and we have never invited them over for dinner.

I put the knife down and proceeded to call this family.  Without talking to my husband or making sure it was okay with him...I decided to invite them over for dinner.  To take that first step and reach out a hand of love and support.  Whatever it might look like.  

Conversation went something like this...

ME:  Hi S...what are you doing tmw afternoon after church?
S:  Nothing, why?
ME: I think it would be great if  J, J and You came over for dinner. Are you up for that?
S: I don't know. I can ask J.

ME: Well, you are more than welcome to come.
S: Well if J doesn't come can I still come?
ME:  Heck yeah S. You know that. I think our families truly need to spend more time together.

Our conversation went on for about 2-3 more minutes while we discussed dinner/time and such.

I got off the phone.  My dh looked at me stunned as hell.  And said "So the G's care coming for dinner.  When do you plan on cleaning the house?"

I responded I dind't give a flying f* what the house looked like. If they didn't like it that was to bad.  At the end of the day....S deals with a husband who struggles in the very same manner than I do.

This evening S showed up w/her 14 yr old son.  Minus her husband.  She apologized over and over.  He left church early because he was stressed and having some severe anxiety over work situation. I told her "S you have no reason to apologize. I get it. I really do."  When my dh came upstairs she apologized again to him.  Telling him "J was stressed and sleeping."  She's from another country and has some really strict cultural manners.  She felt horrible that we had invited their family and he didn't come.  I made it really clear that "I understood....".  Even telling her that 9 out of 10 times you don't see me in church are for the same reasons. I get it. And she doesn't need to apologize.

Before anyone served their dinner I got a dish for her husband, got desert and rolls ready to send home to him.  When she left I made sure to let her know that he was missed and to please let him know that "we...not just I get it."  My husband said nothing. Not one word.

I'm tired.
I'm mentally and emotionally drained.
This incident took my thoughts/impulses off of myself at that moment to not cut, burn, or whatever it might have been.  Instead, it put the reflection (in my opinion) back on my husband that "WE" are not alone in this fight.  He was able to hear S talk a little bit about her frustration.  Their 14 yr old son was able to hear another mom/parent say "this sucks but it is okay and I'm glad you came even though your father didn't".

And now...

The desire and impulse to hide behind what is easy for me...taking hot shower/bath and burning myself has been strong. THUS why I'm writing this post. And from here I will go to bed. Instead of hiding behind the pretense that I need heat on my shoulder and taking a bath.  I will use a microwaveable rice heating pad. And go to bed.    

Homesick

Still in a pretty rough spot.  The weekend has been pretty bland.  I've manage to make my world small.  Very small.  A good friend from work is struggling.  She has had the same injury that I had and has to wait for the adhesions to loosen up a bit before she can have her tear repaired.  The two of us met in town and headed to some theraputic breakfast at D.unkin Donuts. From there we did some retail therapy at K.ohl's.

My daughter and husband have left for the afternoon.  Leaving me with the boy (10) and my girlfriends 2 children who are 9 and 3 yrs old.  The 3 littles are in my sons room playing.  I"m laying on the couch listening to y.outube videos.

This particular song has been played over and over.

And I close my eyes...

And I see your face...

If home where my heart is...
Then I'm out of place...
Lord won't you give me strenght to make it through some how...
I've never been more homesick than now...

And with that I leave you with the actual video that I've listened to over and over!!

~Checking In~

One of my fav pics from local zoo.

I've had several messages asking how I'm doing over the last few days. I appreciate the concern.  Even though...my private responses or lack thereof may not seem like it..I really do appreciate them.  Comments to posts have went unpublished because of personal info of a few different comments. Again, thanks.

Things are about the same.  No better.  Can't say they are not worse.  The last 48-72 hours have been gawd awful. Very few moments of clarity.  I managed to pull myself together enough to work for a few hours yesterday morning.  Even though I was there at work. I did not work. My pain levels were a bit higher than they have been and I took a pain pill as soon as I got to my parking spot and got on the bus.  By the time I got to the office I was about to fall over asleep.  So...I sat listening to movies on my tablet and slept.  I seriously slept more than I was awake while I was at work.  Left work and came home and went to bed.

Today was day four of taking the low dose of c.ymbalta.  It will be the last day if things don't wind down quickly.