Just over a year ago, I lost my therapist due to insurance change. I had seen N. for about 10 months when I was no longer able to see her. After about 4-5 months without a therapist, I started seeing R. in mid March. It was a devastating change. It has been a rocky 9 months with R. Learning to trust her has been rough. She is committed to helping her patients. She is committed to helping me. Afterall she was the 11th therapist I have had. The last blog post "Eleven" highlights a little bit about that change and the positive that came from that change. Even though the change was fairly rough....it has been a blessing in disguise.
It is my goal for 2016 to revive this blog. The aim of this blog will change to bringing awareness to Dissociative Identity Disorder. I will also be blogging about the reasons why I have D.I.D. and continue to blog about mental health related issues.
I was diagnosed in 2014 with Dissociative Identiy Disorder. It wasn't until I began seeing my current therapist the diagnosis was confirmed, following a number of mis-diagnoses over the last 15 years. While life is still very rough. There has been a lot of positive that have come out of this diagnosis.
What is a Dissociative Disorder?
Dissociation is a coping skill that disconnects traumatic memories from one's consciousness, shielding them from the pain or fear associated with the trauma. The traumatic memories still exist but are deeply buried within the mind. The memories may resurface on their own or after being triggered by something in the person's life, usually appearing as panic, anxiety, flashbacks, and nightmares.
For more information on Dissociative Identity Disorder please check out this link: Infinite Mind's Website
Showing posts with label therapy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label therapy. Show all posts
Sunday, January 3, 2016
Monday, June 22, 2015
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...?"
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, October 26, 2014
Self Harm...
Self harm is disturbing. It is brutal. Yet, often it is the way I feel. It is a way to bring sensation into my the body and fill a void. Self harm is something I've battled off and on for the last 10 years. It probably is something I have battled for more than 10 years. However, right now it is what I can remember. It started out very minor. I can honestly say I never thought of the things I did as self harm. The important part for me to remember....much of what I've done (and do) is done on an unconscious level. It is almost always in times of distress and overwhelm. I often feel like my body is an empty cavern. Inside that emptiness is a bucket of emotions that are void to my knowledge. They are locked up and sealed with a ton of duct tape. It is when I inflict injury upon myself I am able to feel a small portion of those emotions...in a painful, yet satisfying, sensation.
I don't self harm because I like it. I don't believe anyone does. I hate every aspect of it. I don't like it for a moment. I struggle talking about it. It is like a drug. Drugs are addicting. Self harm is addicting. Instead of washing away all of my emotions and memory with the drug, I allow myself to for once feel something. Being able to allow the void to fill, even when it is a small smidgen of some sort of emotion.
I'm aware that many parents freak and flip out when they find out their child has been hurting themselves. I'm a parent. I can't say that I wouldn't struggle in much of the same way as many parents. Yet, because I understand some of what lies underneath the behaviors, I hope and pray that if I am presented with the same situation as many parents, I will be able to respond differently. This isn't about teens. It isn't about my children. It is about me. A 40 something adult. Struggling more with these behaviors and emotions than I ever have in my life.
Not understanding the reasons behind self harm leads people to jump to conclusions like suicide, manipulation, attention seeking, ect ect. Those who don't understand what self harm is really about believe that those who act upon the urges to hurt themselves are martyers, selfish, seeking attention, and often believe there is a need for major psychological intervention.
In some cases, the above might be true. However, in many cases it is completely the opposite. It is completely the opposite in my case. What I need is someone who is willing to truly listen and understand. I've never cut myself and even though I've never done it.... doesn't mean I don't understand it. I've battled the urges to cut myself many times in recent months. Often for me, those urges come by accident. While I'm cutting something for dinner and accidentally slip and hurt myself. The thought to follow through and cut myself again, on purpose...gets stronger and stronger.
I have recently participated in one or more of self harm behaviors. I am not proud of myself. In fact, I hate every aspect and myself. I have struggled a lot with not being able to use the tools I know I have. Finding a safe, useful, method to release and find the sensation and emotions that I am seeking.
Think for a moment or two, that your body is numb. You can not feel anything. You have completely lost all feeling. Then, paralysis starts to sink in. You get frustrated because you don't know what to do. You want the sensation back again. You want to feel your body again. What do you think you would do? Take a moment and imagine you have finally found something that will help you get that sensation and emotion you are seeking...that would allow your body to feel again. Would you act upon it? Would you take it?
I've said this before and will again, most individuals who act on self harm urges do not do it for attention. Ultimately, it is to finally feel something. It is to release an overwhelming abundance of trapped emotions.
It is helpful for me when I have someone who is willing to listen without passing judgement. This person has to understand and continue to love me through all of the hell that I put myself and them through. I have a someone in my life who does not freak out. If she could be with me I'm pretty certain she would sit with me. She has sat next to me. She has laid next to me, as I've sobbed uncontrollable and the urges to follow through have been flooding every ounce of my body.
Instead of freaking out and feeling like I need to be hospitalized she has cried with me, she has asked what she can do to help me get through every single tough patch.
This is why I am writing this post. I know there are those of you out thee who are reading this and know someone who struggles with much of the same self harm issues that I do. I want to give you some insight and reasoning behind this awful part of mental illness. I also want to challenge you to do the very same for them that I have had done for me. I have given you the perspective from someone who has and does live with it every.single.day of her life.
I leave you with my hope that you can/will take it upon yourself to listen-truly listen-to whomever it is you may know. I ask you to love this person no matter what. Unconditionally... love them with all your heart. I ask you do do your best not to judge. It is hard. I know. Lastly, I ask you to take it upon yourself to try and understand fully. From their side, not yours. This is critical if your friend, loved one, spouse, child, whomever it might be, for this person to learn to trust you.
There are extremes to self-harm in which psychiatric help is necessary, I am for not one moment saying there isn't. However, not everyone needs immediate attention. I am just trying to feel again. Feel and not be numb. It is much easier to not be so numb and regain a little bit of the feeling that I'm seeking when those around you are not freaking out about the methods in which you help yourself feel. Instead, helping them feel your love and understanding may be....all they need!
I don't self harm because I like it. I don't believe anyone does. I hate every aspect of it. I don't like it for a moment. I struggle talking about it. It is like a drug. Drugs are addicting. Self harm is addicting. Instead of washing away all of my emotions and memory with the drug, I allow myself to for once feel something. Being able to allow the void to fill, even when it is a small smidgen of some sort of emotion. I'm aware that many parents freak and flip out when they find out their child has been hurting themselves. I'm a parent. I can't say that I wouldn't struggle in much of the same way as many parents. Yet, because I understand some of what lies underneath the behaviors, I hope and pray that if I am presented with the same situation as many parents, I will be able to respond differently. This isn't about teens. It isn't about my children. It is about me. A 40 something adult. Struggling more with these behaviors and emotions than I ever have in my life.
Not understanding the reasons behind self harm leads people to jump to conclusions like suicide, manipulation, attention seeking, ect ect. Those who don't understand what self harm is really about believe that those who act upon the urges to hurt themselves are martyers, selfish, seeking attention, and often believe there is a need for major psychological intervention.
In some cases, the above might be true. However, in many cases it is completely the opposite. It is completely the opposite in my case. What I need is someone who is willing to truly listen and understand. I've never cut myself and even though I've never done it.... doesn't mean I don't understand it. I've battled the urges to cut myself many times in recent months. Often for me, those urges come by accident. While I'm cutting something for dinner and accidentally slip and hurt myself. The thought to follow through and cut myself again, on purpose...gets stronger and stronger.
I have recently participated in one or more of self harm behaviors. I am not proud of myself. In fact, I hate every aspect and myself. I have struggled a lot with not being able to use the tools I know I have. Finding a safe, useful, method to release and find the sensation and emotions that I am seeking.
Think for a moment or two, that your body is numb. You can not feel anything. You have completely lost all feeling. Then, paralysis starts to sink in. You get frustrated because you don't know what to do. You want the sensation back again. You want to feel your body again. What do you think you would do? Take a moment and imagine you have finally found something that will help you get that sensation and emotion you are seeking...that would allow your body to feel again. Would you act upon it? Would you take it?
I've said this before and will again, most individuals who act on self harm urges do not do it for attention. Ultimately, it is to finally feel something. It is to release an overwhelming abundance of trapped emotions.
It is helpful for me when I have someone who is willing to listen without passing judgement. This person has to understand and continue to love me through all of the hell that I put myself and them through. I have a someone in my life who does not freak out. If she could be with me I'm pretty certain she would sit with me. She has sat next to me. She has laid next to me, as I've sobbed uncontrollable and the urges to follow through have been flooding every ounce of my body.
Instead of freaking out and feeling like I need to be hospitalized she has cried with me, she has asked what she can do to help me get through every single tough patch.
This is why I am writing this post. I know there are those of you out thee who are reading this and know someone who struggles with much of the same self harm issues that I do. I want to give you some insight and reasoning behind this awful part of mental illness. I also want to challenge you to do the very same for them that I have had done for me. I have given you the perspective from someone who has and does live with it every.single.day of her life.
I leave you with my hope that you can/will take it upon yourself to listen-truly listen-to whomever it is you may know. I ask you to love this person no matter what. Unconditionally... love them with all your heart. I ask you do do your best not to judge. It is hard. I know. Lastly, I ask you to take it upon yourself to try and understand fully. From their side, not yours. This is critical if your friend, loved one, spouse, child, whomever it might be, for this person to learn to trust you.
There are extremes to self-harm in which psychiatric help is necessary, I am for not one moment saying there isn't. However, not everyone needs immediate attention. I am just trying to feel again. Feel and not be numb. It is much easier to not be so numb and regain a little bit of the feeling that I'm seeking when those around you are not freaking out about the methods in which you help yourself feel. Instead, helping them feel your love and understanding may be....all they need!
Friday, May 31, 2013
~TMS - End of 3rd Week - Life~
Not much to report on the TMS front of life. It is what it is. Every day for nearly 90 minutes I treck the 30 miles there and back. Most days, I go in between my work shifts. (I work split shifts 90% of the time).
My tolerance level for the damn woodpecker is better. Still gives me a headache every single day. However, not as intense. Amount of tylonel being taken before is less and less. The MT was raised this week. Overall my tolerance level for being there is getting a little bit better.
The million dollar question I keep getting asked from those around me and those who know I'm doing this is "How do you feel? Can you tell a difference?" Not noticing much of a difference in the positive realm of life. I've had a few people tell me they can see a small difference. I have a hard time believing them.
Life has a way of getting in the way. Knocking you upside the head, screaming at you to wake up and pay attention. This week I got that wake up call. I had an appt scheduled with my hemotologist for Wednesday. Because my summer work schedule is on-call I never know from week to week what my days off will be and some weeks I don't know what I will be working the next day until that day. It is crap-tastic at best. However, it is the best I could do when it came to picking for summer work schedules. I cancelled my hemo appt so I didn't have to miss work. I'm trying hard to get to work and not miss. Tuesday was a rough day. It was one that just plain and simple was rough. I went to bed in hopes of sleeping. Instead, sleep was no where in sight. NOT.EVEN.CLOSE. Exchanging texts w/a friend turned to emails bc that sometimes is easier on our phones. One thing led to another and we ended up talking on the phone into the weee hours of the morning. When we hung up I had about 2 hours before my alarm would go off for work. I knew I wouldn't be able to work. Since my job is safety sensitive...sleep is a nessassary commodity.
After I called in sick to work I began thinking about the appt that I cancelled because I had to work. Hoping and praying that time slot would still be available...I called the clinic the moment they opened. I was fortuanate to get in to see the new hemotologist. So thankful I did. So thankful that I choose her. My last dr. is ill and had to leave her practice. And sometimes there are blessings among tragic circumstances. This would be one of them.
We discussed some pretty heavy things. Things that I know. Things that I don't like to hear. Things like "you will probably need IV/PICC infusions every 12-18 months for 6-9 week intervals for the rest of your life."
I am scheduled to have a PICC placed on June 14th. My last experience was rather negative. The thought of having to relive that horror again is enough to make me sick. Yet, I know it needs to be done. This morning , I got up and called the clinic and spoke to one of the treatment nurses. Letting her know that having it done sooner than later is probably for the best. Waiting 2 weeks will only increase my anxiety over the entire situation. I'm still waiting to hear if they can get me in today or next Tuesday. Given that it is late morning today, my guess is it will not be scheduled till next week.
The good news is the iron levels were not as low as they have been in the past. The TIBC direct panel is raised and shows that it is likely I've been deficiant for awhile. Which I've known. Hoping things will turn around quickly!
My tolerance level for the damn woodpecker is better. Still gives me a headache every single day. However, not as intense. Amount of tylonel being taken before is less and less. The MT was raised this week. Overall my tolerance level for being there is getting a little bit better.
The million dollar question I keep getting asked from those around me and those who know I'm doing this is "How do you feel? Can you tell a difference?" Not noticing much of a difference in the positive realm of life. I've had a few people tell me they can see a small difference. I have a hard time believing them.
Life has a way of getting in the way. Knocking you upside the head, screaming at you to wake up and pay attention. This week I got that wake up call. I had an appt scheduled with my hemotologist for Wednesday. Because my summer work schedule is on-call I never know from week to week what my days off will be and some weeks I don't know what I will be working the next day until that day. It is crap-tastic at best. However, it is the best I could do when it came to picking for summer work schedules. I cancelled my hemo appt so I didn't have to miss work. I'm trying hard to get to work and not miss. Tuesday was a rough day. It was one that just plain and simple was rough. I went to bed in hopes of sleeping. Instead, sleep was no where in sight. NOT.EVEN.CLOSE. Exchanging texts w/a friend turned to emails bc that sometimes is easier on our phones. One thing led to another and we ended up talking on the phone into the weee hours of the morning. When we hung up I had about 2 hours before my alarm would go off for work. I knew I wouldn't be able to work. Since my job is safety sensitive...sleep is a nessassary commodity.
After I called in sick to work I began thinking about the appt that I cancelled because I had to work. Hoping and praying that time slot would still be available...I called the clinic the moment they opened. I was fortuanate to get in to see the new hemotologist. So thankful I did. So thankful that I choose her. My last dr. is ill and had to leave her practice. And sometimes there are blessings among tragic circumstances. This would be one of them.
We discussed some pretty heavy things. Things that I know. Things that I don't like to hear. Things like "you will probably need IV/PICC infusions every 12-18 months for 6-9 week intervals for the rest of your life."
I am scheduled to have a PICC placed on June 14th. My last experience was rather negative. The thought of having to relive that horror again is enough to make me sick. Yet, I know it needs to be done. This morning , I got up and called the clinic and spoke to one of the treatment nurses. Letting her know that having it done sooner than later is probably for the best. Waiting 2 weeks will only increase my anxiety over the entire situation. I'm still waiting to hear if they can get me in today or next Tuesday. Given that it is late morning today, my guess is it will not be scheduled till next week.
The good news is the iron levels were not as low as they have been in the past. The TIBC direct panel is raised and shows that it is likely I've been deficiant for awhile. Which I've known. Hoping things will turn around quickly!
Monday, May 13, 2013
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.
Thursday, March 28, 2013
DBT, Self Sabotage, Fear, and Acceptance
I know the DBT skills. I was in the group for 9-10 months about a year and half ago. I do use the tools I was taught. However, there is a very strong part of me that is unable to use those tools from time to time. Okay, often I'm unable to use them.
As I drove home this afternoon from an appointment w/my orthopedic surgeon, the reality of I really do need to attend this group again. Many feelings came up over the course of the next few hours. This picture kind of illustrates some of those feelings. A small scared kitten...coming upon big bad puppies at the door in front of me. Those puppies are nothing but lovable, endearing, and probably will be my best allies in due time. Just as healing can provide the same comfort.
Overwhelmed with fear. Urges came to the surfaces. Ones that I couldn't fight off. I want to hide and run away at the same time. I've wanted to do everything possible to not feel the true feelings about "What is really behind the emotions regarding this group..."
I came home and took the DBT binder and put it in the trash. Determined that I don't need this group. I don't want to attend. I am overwhelmed with the thought of it. And so, forget it. I'm not going there again. Hell to the no.
This is where the self sabotage comes into play. I have the opportunity to give this group a try again. I have the opportunity to get the help that I need. Not everyone is blessed with the ability to have unlimited mental health coverage like I do. It comes at a high price (stress of my job) and I don't for a moment take it for granted.
What the hell am I so afraid of? Why throw the damn book in the garbage? WHY? I took it out of the garbage. Put it back in the drawer where I took out of and walked away. The urges were more than I could fight off, again. I gave in. Again. For as long as there was hot water, I hide ran away from the intense feelings of where this was all coming from. The fear became tears. I could feel (or taste) the tears as I stood in the hot shower. I could feel those feelings. And at that moment....I knew what the hell I'm so incredible afraid of. What was driving the fear. The self sabotage. The self harm.
Holy Hannah it has taken me forever to write this far....to admit it...what I'm afraid of..I'm stuck. Stuck in being honest with myself.
I think I'm afraid of finding out who the real ME is. I'm afraid I will find out that I have the ability to beat this. I'm afraid I will find out that I have the ability to live the best life I can and it is a life worth living. I'm afraid of finally having to feel the real emotions, and figuring out at the end of the day, who "ME" is. Oh my hell that is freaking terrifying...being afraid of yourself is scary as hell.
Typing that..,,took me over an hour. In between puking and typing...I got it out there.
I've done DBT before. I know what the work is. I know it isn't easy. Nothing in life worth fighting for is easy. I fear that a second go around won't work. And if that is the case I don't know what will. I know that I need to find acceptance with where I am at the moment. That taking things one step at a time is the only way out.
Yet it is so f*cking terrifying. I am acutely aware of who one of the psychologist working with this group is. She is understanding, compassionate, and she knows how incredible difficult dealing with this shit is. I know she only expects each participant to do the best she can do and be honest with herself (and them). It is all anyone can ask and it has to be enough.
My options right now are limited.
Self sabotage is not an option.
I know that I need to find healing.
I know that finding acceptance in all of this will come. In due time. My options for this evening and the days ahead are to breathe and accept the challenges that lay ahead of me and accepting this group is something that would be in my best interest (along with whatever type of treatment that is needed).
Not sure where I heard this quote....it fits perfectly with today's theme.
"Sometimes the most courageous act is showing love and kindness towards yourself..."
I need to remember this. I want to remember this. At the very moment I can't remember it.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
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!
~~~~~~~~
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!
Sunday, January 27, 2013
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
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
Thursday, December 27, 2012
The Lights Went Out...
The lights have been flickering on and off for quite sometime. I've managed to keep them on for a few weeks. Pull myself up and keep them from flickering off more than they were previously.
And no couples therapy isn't something I'm willing to do at this point. He's the master of saying what therapist want to here and it comes back to bite us/me in the ass in the end. I know from experience. I sat threw months and months of it. Only to be the one who ended up in the hospital with an eating disorder.
It's been a very fine line the last few weeks. This morning I woke up with an impending doom. One that I knew wasn't going to be easy to fight off. I went to work, a therapy appt, and then back to work.
Overall I had a rather nice holiday. Being home to much isn't very healthy for me. And most certainly being home to many days...aka: stranded due to weather in the same house w/my dh....can be a recipe for disaster. But...I DID IT. And other than a few minor ppfffts here and there...my head remained above water, positive, and do what I can to make the best of a situation that I had no control over. I mean...really I can't control when Mother Nature decides to dump 19 inches of snow in my back yard.
Overall I had a rather nice holiday. Being home to much isn't very healthy for me. And most certainly being home to many days...aka: stranded due to weather in the same house w/my dh....can be a recipe for disaster. But...I DID IT. And other than a few minor ppfffts here and there...my head remained above water, positive, and do what I can to make the best of a situation that I had no control over. I mean...really I can't control when Mother Nature decides to dump 19 inches of snow in my back yard.
I was able to keep my focus and head in a positive light until after all my family and friends left Christmas night. I went to bed with a heavy heart. One that aches for my husband to acknowledge my existance. Today J mentioned "he must care if he did xyz...". I don't see what he did/said as caring. It was more of a show of "I (dh) do everything...she can't do anything". I seen it as a act on his part to make me look bad. Which he often tries hard to do. I see it. My family sees it. My dad. My mom. My friends.
When bringing it up today with J, I prefaced it on the grounds of I just needed her to listen and here me out w/o judgement. I don't need to be told what I"m doing wrong in my marriage. Fuck if I dont' know it. And for a few moments she did listen w/o judgement.
I get that I"m there for me. I get that he's not there in that appt. I get that she can't change him. I get that it is her job to help me change me and my perceptions/reactions and blah blah blah.
I get that I"m there for me. I get that he's not there in that appt. I get that she can't change him. I get that it is her job to help me change me and my perceptions/reactions and blah blah blah.
A month or so ago I believe I bloggd about the Charlie Brown Teacher's voice. I also wrote about how my massage therapists interpretations of my 'charlie brown's teacher voice....' was me. Me doing it to me.
Regardless...that voice is back.
It is louder than ever.
I know I continue to go back week after week for my appts.
It is louder than ever.
I know I continue to go back week after week for my appts.
I've btdt and have the emotional baggage and scars to show for what it got me. I don't for a moment believe that I'm thinking on the all or nothing/black or white spectrum. Regardless of how I come at my husband and regardless of what tone, empthatic bullshit or whatever I do....he's not going to open up to me. His walls will go up. They already have. He will shut me out. He will make it be MY fault. MY problem. He already has. Regardless...at the end of the day...it is me who bears the weight and pain. And it is me in the end who will loose regardless. I'm fighting a battle I can't win. I either conform to be "nice and empathic' towards him as J pointed out in my therapy appt or I loose in the end and it becomes about me and my anger.
Fuck the trauma aspect that gets brought into the picture. I'm sick of it always being about me.
Fuck the trauma aspect that gets brought into the picture. I'm sick of it always being about me.
And no couples therapy isn't something I'm willing to do at this point. He's the master of saying what therapist want to here and it comes back to bite us/me in the ass in the end. I know from experience. I sat threw months and months of it. Only to be the one who ended up in the hospital with an eating disorder.
SO fucking glad I took a vacation day so we could spend the weekend together. To do something no matter how small or insignficant...just to spend some time together. For our anniversary. Instead, I've come home from work to a cold shoulder. To having him say 4 words to me all night. Thus why I've stayed in bed since after we ate dinner. And I have no plans on getting out of bed. I have a massage in the morning and I plan on coming right back to the very place that I am laying in at the moment.
The lights have definately went out. There's no flickering.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
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.
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.
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:
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.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
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.
It gets increasingly harder...each time I hear the words out of Dr. K*'s mouth.
Getting back up...doesn't get easier.
Monday, November 12, 2012
It's Hot...and I Can't Sleep!
It is another one of those nights.
It is hot in our house. And I can't sleep. There are a ton of issues that seem to be piling up. Some situational. Some marital. Some trauma/abuse related. Some just plain depression/mental illness related. Some just called life.
My husband and I are not on the same wave length of life. The more I try to be understanding and see things from both sides of the coin....the more I get pissed off. I'm not stupid. I know that there are 2 sides to every story. I know that my own shit carries a huge weight within our marriage. I also know, that there are many days, weeks, and months he does all he can to upset me. To get me to react.
And this is the current dance between us. I don't blog much about our marital issues. I try very hard to keep some things private. However, right now at this very moment it is what is keeping me awake. Mixed with some of the other long standing things that I struggle with. The two things don't seem to mix well.
This evening was no different in the realm of one thing leading to another. Unfortunately, I resorted to throwing a hissy ass fit. Over nothing really. And over something that I'm very passionate about. In the end...at the end of the night...I had done exactly as I have tried so hard not to. Freak out and throw shit. It isn't just about the issues of today. Instead, as one of my previous therapist from years ago used to tell me all the time...."__, you need to stop stuffing that crap over and over. The lid is going to blow off. When it does...it will not be pretty." The lid blew tonight. Kind of. There really wasn't much of anything said. Just thrown. From me. Not him. I take full responsibility. I'm not even going go there as to what the icing on the cake was. It was just a matter of time.
Several years ago we were involved in couples therapy. It wasn't really all that helpful. I guess it was. But it wasn't. Each of us would meet w/our individual therapist together as a group. One of the things my therapist at the time (not the same person I currently see) would discuss often with us was how we would get into a rut what she compared to a Mexican Standoff. As I thought about how things are this evening. The last few weeks. The last month. We are in that same spot. A Mexican Standoff...which one is going to give? I'm not sure. I know that I'm at the end of my rope.
Little bit of time has been spent discussing some of the current issue in my own individual therapy with Jodi. I can only work on me. I can't change him. I know that. I've been in therapy long enough, seen enough different therapist, and walked this walk long enough o know that I can only control me....
That doesn't make things any better. And quite honestly, it pisses me off that I am the only one that seems to think there is an issue. Regardless of how I try to bring ANY thing up....he shoots back as it being me, myself, and I as the one who sees things differently.
And this is what is keeping me up this evening. The wee hours of the night. Feeding into the mindset that so often creeps in...the suicidal/hopeless thought process. Believing they/my husband and children would be better off with out me. Believing this on a good day is hard to fight off. And as I sink deeper....there is no fighting off. The only difference between me 'medicated and not' right now is that in this state of mind....I had more energy to do self harm and hurt myself. At the moment there is no energy. I was working more hours than I should while on C.ymbalta and the week and half after stopping it. The last week...I've struggled more and more with work. And getting out of bed in general.
It's not rational. I am fully aware that the above paragraph is 110% irrational. Yet, I don't for a moment believe it. Depression has grabbed me by the horns. I know it. I feel it. I hear it. I see it.
And it is in these moments that I am attempting to tell myself that yes indeed..."Depression is a Lying Bastard...." It's not easy.
So many things swirling. I'm hot and I can't sleep. And so I continue to attempt to find some sort of normalcy, hope, and belief...something to hold on to.
I'm tired.....emotionally and physically. Tired of hurting. Tired of living in constant pain. Every freaking day. Tired of having a significant other, who also lives in chronic pain...not get it. Expect much more than I'm physically able to do. And then be sarcastic/martyr like when I can't do it. Tired of not being able to take anything for the pain. And when I do it increases the downward mood spiral or doesn't even begin to help with the pain. Tired of doing everything possible to break up the a.dhesions/f.rozen s.houlder and have it not even come close to helping.I'm sure it is helping. I just can't see it right now. And the therapy involved in breaking up the a.dhesions is grueling. It involved needing to rely on pain medications. I haven't been. Up until the last few days.
Please tell me that tomorrow will be better!?!?!?!
It is hot in our house. And I can't sleep. There are a ton of issues that seem to be piling up. Some situational. Some marital. Some trauma/abuse related. Some just plain depression/mental illness related. Some just called life.
My husband and I are not on the same wave length of life. The more I try to be understanding and see things from both sides of the coin....the more I get pissed off. I'm not stupid. I know that there are 2 sides to every story. I know that my own shit carries a huge weight within our marriage. I also know, that there are many days, weeks, and months he does all he can to upset me. To get me to react. And this is the current dance between us. I don't blog much about our marital issues. I try very hard to keep some things private. However, right now at this very moment it is what is keeping me awake. Mixed with some of the other long standing things that I struggle with. The two things don't seem to mix well.
This evening was no different in the realm of one thing leading to another. Unfortunately, I resorted to throwing a hissy ass fit. Over nothing really. And over something that I'm very passionate about. In the end...at the end of the night...I had done exactly as I have tried so hard not to. Freak out and throw shit. It isn't just about the issues of today. Instead, as one of my previous therapist from years ago used to tell me all the time...."__, you need to stop stuffing that crap over and over. The lid is going to blow off. When it does...it will not be pretty." The lid blew tonight. Kind of. There really wasn't much of anything said. Just thrown. From me. Not him. I take full responsibility. I'm not even going go there as to what the icing on the cake was. It was just a matter of time.
Little bit of time has been spent discussing some of the current issue in my own individual therapy with Jodi. I can only work on me. I can't change him. I know that. I've been in therapy long enough, seen enough different therapist, and walked this walk long enough o know that I can only control me....
That doesn't make things any better. And quite honestly, it pisses me off that I am the only one that seems to think there is an issue. Regardless of how I try to bring ANY thing up....he shoots back as it being me, myself, and I as the one who sees things differently.
And this is what is keeping me up this evening. The wee hours of the night. Feeding into the mindset that so often creeps in...the suicidal/hopeless thought process. Believing they/my husband and children would be better off with out me. Believing this on a good day is hard to fight off. And as I sink deeper....there is no fighting off. The only difference between me 'medicated and not' right now is that in this state of mind....I had more energy to do self harm and hurt myself. At the moment there is no energy. I was working more hours than I should while on C.ymbalta and the week and half after stopping it. The last week...I've struggled more and more with work. And getting out of bed in general.
It's not rational. I am fully aware that the above paragraph is 110% irrational. Yet, I don't for a moment believe it. Depression has grabbed me by the horns. I know it. I feel it. I hear it. I see it.
So many things swirling. I'm hot and I can't sleep. And so I continue to attempt to find some sort of normalcy, hope, and belief...something to hold on to.
I'm tired.....emotionally and physically. Tired of hurting. Tired of living in constant pain. Every freaking day. Tired of having a significant other, who also lives in chronic pain...not get it. Expect much more than I'm physically able to do. And then be sarcastic/martyr like when I can't do it. Tired of not being able to take anything for the pain. And when I do it increases the downward mood spiral or doesn't even begin to help with the pain. Tired of doing everything possible to break up the a.dhesions/f.rozen s.houlder and have it not even come close to helping.I'm sure it is helping. I just can't see it right now. And the therapy involved in breaking up the a.dhesions is grueling. It involved needing to rely on pain medications. I haven't been. Up until the last few days.
Please tell me that tomorrow will be better!?!?!?!
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
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.
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.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Hellacious
Terrible day today. Actually, been several tough days.
I don't want to go over it again. I had a therapy appt with J* today.
I didn't want to go. Often, I say that. I always do. Usually with hope and a desire to get to the end of some of the ick. That didn't happen today.
Instead fear, depression, anxiety, and all kinds of other ick took over. Leaving me unable to communicate with here to what depth I'm struggling.
I wish it was different. It wasn't.
I've been here before. Yet, it is different.
Today's therapy appt was more draining than any I've had in a very long time. The aftermath has been numbing. Hell it was numbing while I was there. Shutting down completely. Moving closer to the edge. Came home and just wanted to rest. Laid my head down and as I sunk into my bed, hearing my dh's words, I tuned the rest of the house out. I wasn't sleeping. I could hear the TV and my dh folding laundry. He knew things weren't okay. My body heavy. Shoulder, feet, back and head trapped inside with a prickly metal wire feeling. It is the longest and most intense dissociating experience that has occurred in as long as I can remember.
I was reminded of this little saying "Sometimes it's okay if the only thing you did today was breathe" as I got out of bed to use the bathroom. I crawled in the shower and sat there till the water ran cold. And sat there longer with cold water running over my face. Wake up. Snap out of this.
About this time of my children came in the bedroom/bathroom complaining that he/she needed to shower and there was no hot water. And so I get out and sit in the recliner. Still numb. Still trying to process what it is that seems to have grabbed a hold of me by the horns and yanked me down under.
And so it continues.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Going Up? Maybe.
I gave up trying to figure out the ups and downs of depression. As I'm sure many have said before me...depression and mental illness is much like a roller coaster. When you are up....your are up. When you are down...you are down. Everything in between is messy and sometimes more than one can bare.
I've got my butt securely fastened in the seat. I'm not going anywhere. Hard to remember that it is a temporary ride, when it has hung around so long. I'm hanging on tight. As the gradual incline up has started to appear above the horizon.
With having surgery and having been in such a deep slump many things around my house have been let go. Sure my husband does most of the cleaning and organizing. However, there are things that have just plain been let go for way to long.
Slowly beginning to think about changing the look in my house. Money is very tight. We are unable to purchase anything at this point. Keeping my thoughts and actions in line with moving up and forward will help me in my physical recovery. In the end...that will help me getting back to work full-time. And then it will only be a matter of time before we are able to add the little luxuries such as chalkboard paint to one of our kitchen walls. And expanding my daughters closet. Little things. Moving forward. Moving up.
One thing and one day at a time. For today I focused on baking and cooking. Several different Pinterest recipes were made and tried today....some great and some not so great. For this week I'm focused on making it to work and physical therapy. Lessening the amount of pain medication each day. Today, I've had nothing. No Nsaids. No Tylenol. No narcotics. None. Doesn't mean I'm not in a ton of pain. Just means...I was able to deal with the pain without giving in. Without the anxiety around...when can I take the next dose. Regardless of it being narcotics or nsaids. I will continue to take one of the narcotics at bedtime in hopes that it will give me added help with sleeping. This is still a huge issue. And I need my sleep. We all need our sleep.
Going Up? Maybe!
I have not always felt like I am broken. I have felt from time-to-time that I've been broken to the point that I didn't deserve love from anyone, especially from my Father in Heaven.
Then I heard this song. Actually, it was introduced to me a long time ago. The message has changed my mind. It is my prayer this evening that I"m able to take the message within this song and continue going up.
And as J* would say....find ease with in this battle.
With having surgery and having been in such a deep slump many things around my house have been let go. Sure my husband does most of the cleaning and organizing. However, there are things that have just plain been let go for way to long.
Slowly beginning to think about changing the look in my house. Money is very tight. We are unable to purchase anything at this point. Keeping my thoughts and actions in line with moving up and forward will help me in my physical recovery. In the end...that will help me getting back to work full-time. And then it will only be a matter of time before we are able to add the little luxuries such as chalkboard paint to one of our kitchen walls. And expanding my daughters closet. Little things. Moving forward. Moving up.
One thing and one day at a time. For today I focused on baking and cooking. Several different Pinterest recipes were made and tried today....some great and some not so great. For this week I'm focused on making it to work and physical therapy. Lessening the amount of pain medication each day. Today, I've had nothing. No Nsaids. No Tylenol. No narcotics. None. Doesn't mean I'm not in a ton of pain. Just means...I was able to deal with the pain without giving in. Without the anxiety around...when can I take the next dose. Regardless of it being narcotics or nsaids. I will continue to take one of the narcotics at bedtime in hopes that it will give me added help with sleeping. This is still a huge issue. And I need my sleep. We all need our sleep.
Going Up? Maybe!
I have not always felt like I am broken. I have felt from time-to-time that I've been broken to the point that I didn't deserve love from anyone, especially from my Father in Heaven.
Then I heard this song. Actually, it was introduced to me a long time ago. The message has changed my mind. It is my prayer this evening that I"m able to take the message within this song and continue going up.
And as J* would say....find ease with in this battle.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
~Stillness~
I've blogged before about the positive effects that massage has had for me over the last few years. Initially, when I first started seeing someone for massages it was because my anxiety was sky high w/a new job promotion. Over the last 3.5 years, I've seen a handful of different massage therapist. About a year and half ago, someone suggested I look the possibility of seeing someone different. And after doing some research I found H*.....and I've not looked back since.
Sometime ago, I believe I blogged about this article "The Healing Effects of 'Massage Mind'". I did not really think about what I needed or wanted to get out of my appointment today. I knew my shoulder needed some TLC and so did the rest of my body. It's been a few weeks since I've seen her. (*insert ran out of flex spending and so I need to stretch it as much as possible*)
It didn't take long for my body to sink into the table. I believe strongly that my body knew what it needed...and finding the stillness that comes along with Massage Mind was exactly what I needed. For nearly 90 minutes, I was able to turn off the constant tape that was running in my mind. Okay...ALMOST 90 minutes.
I continue to struggle. Some days great. Some days horrible. Some days just numb. Some days I have no clue how I got from point A: to point B: w/o killing someone or myself.
Being able to turn off the clutter and background noise was healing. At that moment it was what I needed. The pain was still there. Still present. Yet, with each uncomfortable spot that H* would come across she held that space and did so in a manner that continued the space that I was in.
At one point, she needed to get my attention. I don't believe that I had fallen asleep. It was just a matter of being that incredible deep....in silence....stillness....quieting my mind! It has been a long time since I've been in this spot where I've been able to truly tune out everything/one around me. As mentioned in this article it states "I don't know where I was at....but I didn't want to come back." This is exactly where I found myself as H* got my attention. As I laid there I thought about it over and over...that spot where I was. Wondering exactly where I had been.
At one point, she needed to get my attention. I don't believe that I had fallen asleep. It was just a matter of being that incredible deep....in silence....stillness....quieting my mind! It has been a long time since I've been in this spot where I've been able to truly tune out everything/one around me. As mentioned in this article it states "I don't know where I was at....but I didn't want to come back." This is exactly where I found myself as H* got my attention. As I laid there I thought about it over and over...that spot where I was. Wondering exactly where I had been.
AND....wanting to go back!
Afterwards, we discussed how it was one of the first massages that I've had in several months where I've not been triggered by trauma, post surgical pain didn't seem to trigger trauma related stuff and in general there was an overall sense of relaxation...quietness...stillness....peacefulness!!
AND......I want it back!!!
AND......I want it back!!!
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Permanent Solution....
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...to a temporary problem.
Every 15 minutes someone in the US takes their own life. OUCH. That is a pretty stark statistic. One that makes me cringe.
Spend 1 minute learning the warning signs. I posted a link yesterday to warning signs. Here it is again: HELP A LOVED ONE or FRIEND.
I personally don't keep a crisis number handy. Nor do I keep any sort of crisis phone number handy. I'm not saying that is the way to go. I'm saying for ME..it wouldn't help. And if at anytime I thought it would help...I could get the number immediately. My therapists office is on my speed dial. I've been a patient long enough at her clinic that I know their phone number. I've used their after hours (not in several years) and am aware of how their process works. For me this works. I often will call my therapist, even if it is after hours or when she is not working, and leave her a message. Sometimes, that is all it takes. Something...as little/minor as a 'message check-in' that says "I'm struggling. Things suck. I'm not doing well..." or whatever it might be....that has helped. It leaves me accountable on some levels.
If you or a loved one is struggling having the following information saved in your phone may prove to be helpful. My husband is very aware of how to reach the clinic that we go to. And how to reach my therapist should the need arise.
Save the LIFELINE number, 1-800-273-TALK (8255) in your phone and encourage your friends and family to do the same. You never know when someone you love may need the number.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Forever is a Long Time
In the depths of a deep depression the thought of forever seems as though it is unattainable.
There were many blog and facebook posts on Monday about "World Suicide Prevention Day". I don't believe I need to post the stats. Or maybe I should. As a reminder.
More people die in the US from suicide than the death rate from War and Murder combined. Stop and think about that....Take 5...and think about that statistic. It is huge. If you take 5 min. of your time right now and learn the warning signs....you can make a difference. Knowing the warning signs is so very important. Even though I hate to admit it...I had a friend who knew the warning signs. Be that friend. Check out this link. You never know whose mother, father, sister, daughter...friend you might be able to help.
I don't wish this illness on anyone. Not my worst enemy. Ever. Monday proved to be a day from hell. I got myself up and to work. And that was about the extent of my day. I came home from work and retreated to my bed. Where I stayed for several hours. It was pretty folks.
I know most of the battle that I'm fighting at the moment has everything to do with the fact that I'm unable to work in my regular job capacity. The surgery and pain issues following haven't helped. The financial burden is huge. And I am feeling like I'm slowly drowning. The longer I"m off work. The larger the financial burden is.
Add into the mixture surgery related things such as...not taking the narcotic pain medication during the day so I can drive to/from work. By not taking the prescription, my pain is increased even more than it is with medication. And my coping abilities are less and less.
Guilt over not being a very good friend to my 3 closest friends and not being a very good wife/mother. All 3 have different things going on in there lives and I've not been able to be supportive in the manner that I should because I've been to wrapped up in my own shit. I know a 2 of you read my blog...and...PLEASE know that I love you, think of you everyday day um day, and wish somehow we could be closer so I could show you how much I truly love and adore both of you.
The list continues to get longer. And I continue to fall deeper and deeper into a hole that seems to be a familiar one.
No advice. No profound blog posts from other bloggers (that was my intent to share a few different posts from others that I have found helpful). No nothing. Other than random ramblings. It is way past my bed time. Yet...I'm wide freaking awake. Unable to sleep. Again. If banging my head on the wall was an option I might have done it.
There were many blog and facebook posts on Monday about "World Suicide Prevention Day". I don't believe I need to post the stats. Or maybe I should. As a reminder.
More people die in the US from suicide than the death rate from War and Murder combined. Stop and think about that....Take 5...and think about that statistic. It is huge. If you take 5 min. of your time right now and learn the warning signs....you can make a difference. Knowing the warning signs is so very important. Even though I hate to admit it...I had a friend who knew the warning signs. Be that friend. Check out this link. You never know whose mother, father, sister, daughter...friend you might be able to help.
I don't wish this illness on anyone. Not my worst enemy. Ever. Monday proved to be a day from hell. I got myself up and to work. And that was about the extent of my day. I came home from work and retreated to my bed. Where I stayed for several hours. It was pretty folks.
I know most of the battle that I'm fighting at the moment has everything to do with the fact that I'm unable to work in my regular job capacity. The surgery and pain issues following haven't helped. The financial burden is huge. And I am feeling like I'm slowly drowning. The longer I"m off work. The larger the financial burden is.
Add into the mixture surgery related things such as...not taking the narcotic pain medication during the day so I can drive to/from work. By not taking the prescription, my pain is increased even more than it is with medication. And my coping abilities are less and less.
Guilt over not being a very good friend to my 3 closest friends and not being a very good wife/mother. All 3 have different things going on in there lives and I've not been able to be supportive in the manner that I should because I've been to wrapped up in my own shit. I know a 2 of you read my blog...and...PLEASE know that I love you, think of you everyday day um day, and wish somehow we could be closer so I could show you how much I truly love and adore both of you.
The list continues to get longer. And I continue to fall deeper and deeper into a hole that seems to be a familiar one.
No advice. No profound blog posts from other bloggers (that was my intent to share a few different posts from others that I have found helpful). No nothing. Other than random ramblings. It is way past my bed time. Yet...I'm wide freaking awake. Unable to sleep. Again. If banging my head on the wall was an option I might have done it.
Monday, September 10, 2012
How I Stayed Alive...
........during a very dark period of my adult life this book:
'How I Stayed Alive When My Brain was Trying to Kill Me'...
.... was a very vital resource for me. I've blogged before about this book and how it helped me.
From time to time I still pull it out. Usually I will open it to a random page and begin reading. Sometimes it is helpful. Sometimes it is not. Often I find myself wanting to chuck the damn thing out the window or at something. BUT BUT BUT....if I'm chucking the book out the window...I am not hurting myself. And that distraction could be all it takes to change my thoughts from hurting myself to this is going to be okay.
My therapist at the time suggested this book and a few others. This particular book has a few different crisis plans. I like how they are layed out and how it helps you create one. Often people don't create crisis plans when they are not in crisis. I mean, I didn't. I didn't think I was in need of crisis. Hell, I didn't even believe I was suicidal. I was just extremely overwhelmed with the loss of our adopted son via a disruption and I had gastric bypass complications.
So when I was truly in crisis mode...I was able to sum up the energy and come up with a plan. One that would work for me. One that was doable. One that was personalized to ME. Not some standard form the damn hospital gives you and says "before you can be released you need to fill out this crisis plan". My response to their standardized, not-very-personalized-and-huge-joke-if-i-ever seen one....fill in the blanks crisis plan was....I threw it in the garbage. The psych that was seeing me wasn't to impressed. He told me that I had to fill out their form if I wanted to go home. If you have read my blog for long you will know that "Uh...I don't do well with being demanded to do anything...ever." And well...I pretty much told him where to put his crisis plan. And then I handed him this book..with my 'etched' out crisis plan wrote on a piece of paper. He said "did you tell the social worker you had this? Because this is much better than the one we gave you." I responded somewhere on the lines that "I am the crazy one...and your nurses and staff treat me just like that. They know I have wrote it, that I was reading this book, and if they gave a shit then they would have told you that I already had done a crisis plan...it just wasn't the one your staff insist on me doing."
The KEY is to find something that WORKS for you. I don't give a shit if it is on the back of a receipt with my phone number, your therapist phone number, the number to the local bar, whatever it is.....find what works for you. That ONE thing and hold on to it.
I did.
I'm still here.
'How I Stayed Alive When My Brain was Trying to Kill Me'...
.... was a very vital resource for me. I've blogged before about this book and how it helped me.
From time to time I still pull it out. Usually I will open it to a random page and begin reading. Sometimes it is helpful. Sometimes it is not. Often I find myself wanting to chuck the damn thing out the window or at something. BUT BUT BUT....if I'm chucking the book out the window...I am not hurting myself. And that distraction could be all it takes to change my thoughts from hurting myself to this is going to be okay.
My therapist at the time suggested this book and a few others. This particular book has a few different crisis plans. I like how they are layed out and how it helps you create one. Often people don't create crisis plans when they are not in crisis. I mean, I didn't. I didn't think I was in need of crisis. Hell, I didn't even believe I was suicidal. I was just extremely overwhelmed with the loss of our adopted son via a disruption and I had gastric bypass complications.
So when I was truly in crisis mode...I was able to sum up the energy and come up with a plan. One that would work for me. One that was doable. One that was personalized to ME. Not some standard form the damn hospital gives you and says "before you can be released you need to fill out this crisis plan". My response to their standardized, not-very-personalized-and-huge-joke-if-i-ever seen one....fill in the blanks crisis plan was....I threw it in the garbage. The psych that was seeing me wasn't to impressed. He told me that I had to fill out their form if I wanted to go home. If you have read my blog for long you will know that "Uh...I don't do well with being demanded to do anything...ever." And well...I pretty much told him where to put his crisis plan. And then I handed him this book..with my 'etched' out crisis plan wrote on a piece of paper. He said "did you tell the social worker you had this? Because this is much better than the one we gave you." I responded somewhere on the lines that "I am the crazy one...and your nurses and staff treat me just like that. They know I have wrote it, that I was reading this book, and if they gave a shit then they would have told you that I already had done a crisis plan...it just wasn't the one your staff insist on me doing."
The KEY is to find something that WORKS for you. I don't give a shit if it is on the back of a receipt with my phone number, your therapist phone number, the number to the local bar, whatever it is.....find what works for you. That ONE thing and hold on to it.
I did.
I'm still here.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Silence the Mind
The past trauma that resurfaced with my birth fathers death was never something I would have imagined happening. Interesting enough, I had fantasized many times (even in recent months) that he died. Sometimes, in those day dreams/wishes it was a horrible painful death just as hurt those around him.
I had the opportunity, and still do, to work extensively on the abuse/trauma at his hands. As I work with my massage therapist on the mind/body portion of healing and with my therapist, I am sure that healing will come in due time. When I am ready.
At this moment, I sit in my recliner trying to make sense of some of this stuff. I woke around 2am (pretty normal these days) in a world of pain. As I laid in bed, for the first time in a few weeks, I tried to make sense of what the thoughts and feelings that were surfacing. Initially thinking I woke because it was the usual time at night and I was due up for pain medication. I laid there for a few moments, noticing what my body was telling me. Trying hard to NOTICE everything about that moment...why I was awake.
This is just a 'little bit' of the thoughts that raced in and out of my thinking...
Is it positional?
Is it pain in my shoulder or low back? or both?
What kind of pain?
Do I really need to take pain medication? Would plain tylenol work?
Should I try to move position. No, medication is needed. Shit, I can't move my fingers again bc they are numb. Damn this is positional.
As I sit up there is pain EVERYWHERE. I hear R*'s voice.
He can't hurt you. He's dead. Remember?
As I continue to get out of bed...noticing the overall heavy feeling that my entire body has. I waited to take pain medication. Trying hard to silence the mind. Thinking over and over how incredible shit face that these feelings/thoughts are.
By this time I'm fully aware that I do need to take something for pain. My shoulder is screaming and it isn't just the mind/body/trauma piece that is screaming. It is...time for me to take medication. So I do. And I make my way to my recliner.
There are specific memories that woke me up. I'm pretty sure they are connected with the overall pain I experienced upon waking up. Which happens often. I'm not sure what to think or how to feel about some of the the different memories that continue to surface.
It is nearly an hour and half later and I am still wide awake. I shouldn't be wide awake. The combination of medication should have been enough to make me fall asleep.
Mixture of not feeling safe. I check the doors and make sure they are all locked. I have convinced myself that maybe R* really didn't die. He is a sneaky bastard. He's not been out of jail less than a year. I'm sure he had some other reason he got in trouble and was due back in jail. Why not fake your own death? Rational thinking, I know. What can I say...it is nearly 4am. And I've had 2 hours of sleep. I know he is no longer living. I have received the Medical Examiner's report and cause of death. And I'm reminded all the more reason why I really REALLY really need to stop taking narcotic pain medication.
I don't resort to taking a hot bath or any other sort self harm behaviors. Which, in many ways is progress. Regardless of the suicidal ideation, negative self talk, and all over hopelessness that comes along with the shame and guilt associated with this shit. I didn't resort to some of the things that easily numb out that pain.
Stronger by Kelly Clarkson comes on the radio that I have playing on my radio. I'm reminded as I listen to this song and write this blog post at the same time that I have a therapy appointment with Jodi in a few hours. And I really need to get some sleep and the need to silence my mind is really important.
Hopefully, this middle of the night random ramblings and purging of thoughts will assist in some of the silencing that is needed.
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