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.

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!

~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 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.

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.

Living in the Dark - Guest Post for My Daily Jenn-ism

The following is the blog post I wrote for Jenn for her March Mental Health Awareness Month Guest Blog posts. Thank you Jenn for opening up your blog and giving a voice to the many areas of mental health this month (and often). If you've not been to My Daily Jenn-ism. head on over..you may just want to go check her out.

LIVING IN THE DARKNESS

Readers of my blog know that I’ve struggled with various forms of depression and suicidal ideation off and on for several years.  Consistently since my youngest was born in 2002. The intensity spiked up ten notches after I had gastric bypass and the ability to absorb medication properly came to an abrupt halt in 2004.

Some days I believe I am the Queen of Suicidal Ideation.  I imagine my psychiatrist believes the same thing.  Several years ago, shortly after I was released from a short inpatient hospitalization, she said to me “Do you really believe you will eventually kill yourself?”  I can’t even tell you what my response to her was.  What she said next, I know I will never forget.  Ever.  It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to process.  I didn’t process it.  I didn’t even let it affect me.  She was right.  I knew it.  And just like many other areas things in my life...I stuffed what she said...deep down in the ‘don’t go there’ emotional bin.  

It wasn’t until about 18 months ago, when she said it to me again, that it dug deep. Even deeper than the first time. When I left her office, I spent another hour sitting in my car.  Processing what she said.  The depth of her comment.  And how incredible hard it was to hear.  

“__, I’m not convinced you won’t kill yourself.  And that haunts me each night.”

This was a continued conversation regarding medication, the lack of being able to take them, being at the end of another failed attempt, and pure frustration for both of us.  

I had no hope at that point and the pros/cons of being hospitalized was thrown around. To hear Dr. KSB confirm she didn’t have that hope, was a bit devastating.  Initially, few years earlier, it didn’t have the same effect.

I contemplated never going back to see her.

I made an appointment with a psychiatrist that specializes in gastric bypass, whom I had seen when I was in the hospital, whom had done an evaluation on me prior to my WLS, and whom even though I didn’t like...I did trust his knowledge was extensive.  It was a 6 month wait to see him.  I was desperate when I scheduled that appointment.  The appointment came and went.  He confirmed that I was seeing one of the best psychiatrists and that I needed to continue my treatment with her.  He gave me his recommendations and sent them to Dr. KSB.  Telling me to follow-up with her in a week or two.  He also, added several dx to my permanent chart.  That appointment was a year ago.  None of his recommendations were options at the time.  Dr. KSB has left the one recommendation as a last case scenario.  Agreeing that the only way she would suggest it being an option, would be if there was an attempt to end my life.  It would be, as he said...”LAST CASE SCENARIO”.  

And so...I continue to see her.  

She knows me. I know her. She trusts me (I think). I trust her.  

And she knows that filling me with all sorts of medications is not an option.  

At my last appointment with Dr. KSB, we discussed the current state of my marriage.  My husband and I are both patients of hers.  Once again, she told me ‘my gut tells me you would not survive a separation or divorce’.  Damn as much as I know that. It is harder to hear it.  Once again, I sat in my car for a good hour after my appointment trying to process what she had to say.

Currently, mental illness waxes and wanes in my life.  There are a few good days here and there.  There are suicidal days where I’m holding on to the last bit of the frayed string, trying everything in the book to stay alive.  Some days all I can do is lay on the couch and watch my dogs play, listen to my children's voices, fighting against everything to hold on to their sweet voices.  Praying and hoping against all hope that the depression will lift.  Leave me alone.  At least for a day.  

A few weeks ago, I wasn’t suicidal.  I had more than an entire day without the constant thoughts of hurting myself, the bad thoughts, the self hatred, and self harm impulses.  Just sadness.  Sadness that this is my life.  The next few days, I wasn’t so lucky.

That is the nature of this beast.  The last 18-24 months this has been my life.  It is a constant battle to get up every day.  Some days, the darkness lifts.  

Everybody Hurts by REM rings a bell.  I woke up thinking about this song this morning.

And so....I leave you with that.

Everybody Hurts.

Everybody Cries.

Hold On.

EVERYBODY HURTS Youtube Link

~~~~~~~~
And I will add I've had a bad week of suicidal ideation.  Self harm crap has been sky high.  My BFF informed me I'm to negative and need to try to increase positive in my life.  And while I know she is right, when every ounce of my energy is taken by going to work....there is nothing left.  Excuse?  Sure as hell is.  Bit it is where I'm at.  I have went as far as have plan in place and need to be talked down off the ledge by one of my Orlando Moms.  She gets this place.  I know she does.  And somehow that makes it that much harder.

Jenn added the following to this post. And I will do the same.

If you or anyone you know is struggling with depression or suicidal thoughts, please contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline.

No matter what problems you are struggling with, hurting yourself isn't the answer. Call 1-800-273-TALK (8255) to talk to a counselor at a Lifeline crisis center near you.

Someone loves you and someone WILL miss you.  I promise! 

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!

When the Unthinkable Becomes Your Reality

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

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

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

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

I know 2 of the 3 of these ladies personally.

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

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

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

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

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.    

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly...Meds SUCK

**DISCLAIMER:  This post is a representation of MY thoughts, opinions, and experiences.  DO NOT stop taking your medications just because...I or anyone else say they SUCK or anything else that I may/may not say about them in this post...There. I. Said. It.**

I've not really blogged much about the medication change that transpired little over a month ago.  I was hopeful on many levels.  At the end of the 2nd week, I was seeing some positive changes.  Still a tad reluctant of the positive effects...BUT very thankful there were some definite positives.  There were negatives in the realm of side effects.  That is something I'm very accustomed to at this point.  I've seen my current psychiatrist going on 13 years this next spring.  She knows me inside and out.  I've blogged before about our love/hate relationship.  I love her dearly.  I hate the effects medications have had on my body.  I've taken just about every.single.thing out there.  After my gastric bypass, my ability to tolerate medications became much less.  As in MUCH MUCH MUCH less.  And so the battle continues and as I've said over the last several years....got much worse.

THE GOOD:
Medications are prescribed by doctors to assist symptoms, to target abnormal medical findings, assist and prevent illnesses.  These symptoms range in anything from pain, insomnia, hallucinations, coughing, chest pain, cramping, and many more ailments.  The goal of medications is ultimately to relieve symptoms.  At the end of the day, the goal of medications is to get rid of ailments/symptoms and prevent something worse from happening.  In many cases the goal is both....prevent and get rid of.  At any rate, the goal is to normalize ones quality of life/living.

Medications work.  Sometimes.  In some people.  They have the ability to make bad things go away and allow people to live happier, healthier, and more productive lives.

THE BAD:
The bad thing with medications is they have side effects.  Take trazodone for an example.  It is used as antidepressant, but it makes people sleepy.  SO it is used in a sub-therapeutic (for depression) to help with insomnia.  This particular example can be a good side effect.  Most side effects, though, are bad.  They are uncomfortable the person.  They are often the reason patients stop taking their medications.  Side effects are usually uncomfortable.  Rarely are they fatal.  Usually they are reversible.  Most often these effects go away once the medication is stopped.

The interesting thing about side effects is that few of them happen to everyone that takes them.  Take the side effects of SSRI's for example, a ton of people will experience sexual side effects, not everyone will.  Tremors, sexual side effects, weight gain, and sleepiness are often common side effects of SSRI's and other medications used for psychiatric disorders.

I've struggled with nearly every single psychiatric medication that I've been prescribed since my gastric bypass in 2004.  As a patient who struggles with severe depression, a condition that is impeding my life, it is often worth taking the risk of any given side effect.  Usually, I find myself somewhat hopeful the effects may not happen.

THE UGLY:  (and it can be ugly)
Side effects are unpleasant, at best.  Many have rare and really ugly effects.  The rare and ugly effects are actually not side effects..they are considered ADVERSE REACTIONS.  They can be awful, fatal, and in rare cases irreversible.  Tardive Dyskinesia is an adverse reaction, one that takes time to develop.  One that was a listed as a VERY rare side effect of a medication I took about a year ago.  The usual response to the UGLY is to stop the medication ASAP.

Increased depression, self injury, suicidal ideation in my opinion falls under the ugly category.  This medication is prescribed to relieve these very symptoms and then it increases it.  Occasionally, these reactions/effects can lesson after a few days.  In some cases, they continue to get worse and worse.  Until there is no choice to stop the medication immediately.

THE MEDS SUCK:
I'm currently in the VERY UGLY portion of taking a new(er) medication.  The last paragraph describes what life has been in the last few weeks.  Each and every day increasingly getting worse.  The last few days have been hell.  I've been here before.  I've experienced this before.  I spoke with Jodi last night about the effects.  My pdoc is not in the office at the time.  Seeing someone else is not really an option.  And I've been this route enough times to know that I need to stop the medication immediately before I end up in the hospital.  Jodi and I discussed taking it every other day.  The suicidal ideation wasn't as horrific, was manageable, and not constant prior to reaching the full dose. I'm unable to cut the medication in half, therefore, taking it every other day was the option that seemed like the best action to take.  Giving that a try was something that I was willing to give a try.  After today, I don't believe I will be taking it again. At least not until I can see my doctor in a few weeks.