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.

 

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'...

Purchase book here

.... 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.

Pull up a chair...

...and take me serious for a moment or two.

Today kicks off the beginning of National Suicide Prevention Week.  Please take a moment and educate yourself on the resources available to you and your loved ones.

This is a battle that is very personal to me.  There isn't a day that goes by that mental illness doesn't effect my life on some level.  Not every single day of my life is plagued with depression, anxiety, ptsd, suicidal ideation and/or other issues associated with mental illness.  However, many aspects of my life are effected.  From the types of medication that I can/can not take, to the disruption of our son whom we adopted, to the effects that my own illness has on my children/spouse, and the long lasting effects of abuse/trauma not only for myself but my children.  We live this every single day on some level.

If you were to meet me on the street you would probably never know that this 30something, wife and mother struggles with depression and suicidal ideation on a very deep level.  You may not even be able to tell that I've been hospitalized not once, not twice, not three times...but four times in a 9 month period of time.  When I'm not recovering from a shoulder injury...I hold down a full-time job.  All this to say....you never know who you are going to meet that battles the darkness on some level.

In about 10 days will mark the 1 yr anniversary of my Uncle D's passing.  I wrote this post upon finding out the morning after that he took his life.
  Please take a moment and educate yourself about the resources available to you and/or your loved ones.   GET HELP FOR YOURSELF - CLICK on this LINK for info on where to turn. Call the number on the screen above.

This week, as I am able, I will attempt to blog about the things that have/do help me get to the end of some pretty suck-ass-I-can't-do-this-anymore-moments.

Screaming

My body is screaming at me in a very loud way tonight.

Change in pain medication has been good and bad.  Currently my ENTIRE body hurts.  My hair hurts. My eye lashes hurt.  My good shoulder hurts worse than the shoulder I had surgery on.

Even though my body is screaming it hurts.  There is a little bit better pain relief with the new medication.

Silence the Mind

It has been 2 months since I wrote this post "Loss".  Interesting how time moves so slowly at times.  Then at other times it seems it moves so quickly.  At the time I thought the days would never end.

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.

Gets Better...

Reminded

This evening I was subtle reminded why...I get up every single day.  As hard and daunting as things can be and seem at the moment ..there is beauty in everyday.

My children.  Both of them in their infinite wisdom, their quirkiness, their anxieties,  and all around love for the things/people around them.  Give me hope when hope is lost.

As I dozed in the recliner this afternoon I got a text from my 13 yr old...who was in her room.  "Thank you for letting me switch my phone to your old phone.  I will try hard to take care of it.  I'm sorry you still hurt so much"

A little while later my 10 yr old came and plopped a cold diet pepsi down on the stand next to me.  "I was going to get a pop.  I saw yours was almost gone.  So I got you fresh cold one.  And I will finish yours and not waste a new one for myself."  Thank you sweet boy. Mom was asleep...but a fresh cold pop is great.

A short while later my shoulder slips out of place.  Again.  My son hears me in the bathroom as I was attempting to dry myself off.  Without being asked he tells his dad " mom is swearing up a storm in her room...her arm is out again."  My husband comes and puts or back in.  Again.  And the sweet boy comes in with my purse " mom...I can't find your bottle of pills to get you some meds for your pain.  They are not wjere they usually are at.  I know you have some in your purse.  Can I have permission to get in your purse and get you some medicine?"  I tell him no I am not taking any meds.  He asks what time I had them last.  His dad replies "when she woke up".  And the boy sweetly and sternly says.."You WILL take something...nit has been more than 8 hours".  Upset and in pain I ask him to get me a pain patch instead and thank him for his sweetness.

My daughter a short while later comes and shows me her outfit for her first day of 8th grade tmw.  And brings me a cranberry muffin she made earlier in the day.  Telling me she made them bc she new I wanted something soft for my stomach.  I was sleeping when she made them.

Each of these things and many more are small acts of love and kindness on their parts.  Each reminding me what special human beings they are.  Even on the bad days when I wonder where on earth they get their nastiness ...they are human just like me. 

Where much is given..much is received.  Confirmation to me...why I continue to fight this fight. Getting up when every ounce of my fiber says to give up!

Under Attack? Probably Not.

Over the last week everywhere I turn..I feel like those around me are constantly preaching at me.  Telling me what I should be doing or not be doing.  Everything from how I should GET to work....to how I should dress myself...to...how much pain medication I should be taking and how I should take it....to who I should vote for....to...everything I do....being told what to do and how to do it.

Maybe it is the medication speaking.
Maybe it is the depression speaking.

Maybe it is the pain speaking.

Maybe these people in my life...they know what they are talking about.
Maybe these people in my life...they don't know what they are talking about.

On Friday evening my Grandpa happened to be one of those people.  Telling me what to do. How to vote. What I should be watching on television.  I was in a rather bad space.  I hurt. I was tired. I was crabby.  So when he went on his political verbal diaherrea of the mouth...I put him in his place.  He is the racist person I know.  So, even if our current president was a Repug....he would hate him.  And....I told him that.  As the words came out of my mouth, I couldn't believe I was actually telling my Grandpa off...so to speak.  "You know...you are the racist person I know.  You don't like O.bama because he is black.  And you wouldn't like him even if he was a Repug...so shush it up to me.  This country offers me the freedom to vote for who I want and I will be damned if I'm gonna let you go on a tangent at 10pm on a Friday night because I don't like  the 'want-to-be' VP."  He continued and then told me "oh, I forget...you are a Union lover.  And so, of course you feel this way."  And then...I lost my shit some more.  Reminding him that not only do "I WORK in a service related field that is supported by a union.  HE RETIRED at "WHAT" age a detective?  And why did he do that?  Because he worked for a union.'  I ended our conversation shortly after on a rather abrupt note.  He had to have the last word of course telling me that when I feel better and am not in so much pain AND on so much pain medication I would feel differently.  I held my tongue from telling him to kiss my ass.

Earlier in the week my therapist told me she wasn't going to tell me what to do, how to do it...only that I needed to find it w/in myself to come up with a better plan for where I was headed.   Because she knows that by telling me I need to do XYZ will only end up with me turning the opposite direction and bulking at the matter at hand even more.  I get what she was saying. And I understand it.  F*ck, I'm living it. See my last post.  And yet, even though I know I needed to hear those things she was saying....it left me in a swirl of preaching. I know Jodi wasn't preaching.  Just like I know that my mom isn't trying to preach at me.  It is just how I'm taking it in at the moment.

This morning, I'm being told that I am doing to much and need to stay home.  If I am going to be able to work I need to lay low.  I call bullshit. I need to be able to be up and mobile and keep my strength up.  Sitting at home is not going to build my strength.  And so the battle continues to rage inside of me.

I'm being told over and over by so many people around me to cut back on the pain medication. And I do.  Until, I leave my house and start doing things.  Pain comes back full-force.  Which leaves me in a panic.  The pain is unbearable. Is it true pain from my surgery? Is it in my head? Is it anxiety induced?  I don't know.  As long as I sit somewhat reclined back...I'm okay and can do 'okay'.

 And then, as I cut back at night...it brings an entirely new set of problems with it.  For the last 5 weeks...the trauma issues that were rearing their ugly head, that were constantly flooding every moment of my day...have been on the back burner.  Simmering. Slowly...simmering.  Somewhat numb.  Actually, lots numb.  I've said it before a few weeks ago in therapy.  And I do believe I mentioned it in a blog post.  I've found myself more and more numb. Conflicted if it is a good thing or bad. NOt sure what to think about it.  Yet, as I cut back more at night...that numbness lessons.  Night terrors start slipping back.  Shame and disgust at so many things begin to creep in more and more.  

This post has went no where. It is my own random ramblings.  Trying to sort the crazy's that are plaguing my ever waking moment.  I've never felt so under attack as I do right now...every where I turn. Afraid to ask for help in fear of being judged, critized even more, told it is my own fault (bc damn it all I know it...I don't need to be told it) and thinking back to Jodi's words from my last appt...I need to do it myself. And truth be told...I don't know that I want to find the answers myself.  If I had them...I wouldn't be where I'm at right now. 

I HATE THIS¡¡¡

These two things....Fear and Anxiety...

...have taken up residence within me.  An entirely new spin on anxiety.  And the same goes with fear.

I've found a cocktail that helps me fall asleep.
I'm out of part of that cocktail.
My husband would not go to pharmacy to pick any more up.
I'm in way to much pain to drive.
I've taken max dose of narcotic pain meds to drive.

If the timing is right. 
If the pain is not to intense.
If...
If...
If...then this cocktail works.

I have fought my entire adulthood to NOT take any sort of prescription pain medication.   Having had several surgeries it was the one thing I prided myself with. 

This time it hasn't been an option.

I have a strong family history of drug and alcohol addiction.  Never have I taken as much ad a sip of alcoholic beverage, used any sort of drugs, or smoked a cigarette.   Ever.  I joke that one day...it will all end.  But,  I know...based on the eating disorder that has plagued me my entire adult life ranging from over-eating to bulimia to anorexia to binging and so forth.  Don't start.  Stopping won't be pretty.

Here I am.

One day shy of 5 weeks post op from major shoulder surgery.

And I'm battling the beginning,....

Holy F@ck ...I can't even type it out.  Over and over I have looked at this screen.  Trying to type out the words.  To say them outloud.   To own...there is a problem.

My therapist,  J*, had every reason to believe this could become a problem.  I have bit my tongue trying hard to not show my anger for her bringing it up again....AND...again!

I was honest and forthcoming from the start ..it worried me to be on pain meds.  I had every right to be worried. Yet, there was/id not choice around the matter.

It is well after midnight.  
I sit her staring at the screen.
With tears stinging my cheeks....wondering WTH am I supposed to do? 

I have got to have pain meds.  I still can not use my left arm. I can not raise it.  Imagine NEVER moving it more than 2-3 inches from your hip...that is abt the extent of movement I have.

I have put my pain meds in a not so accessible spot.

Afraid to go to sleep.
Afraid to ask my husband for help.  Because I know there is no help he can offer.  I end up pissed at him.  Like now.  He is sleeping.   Clueless at the amount of physical and emotional pain I am.  That is not true...he knows I'm in pain physically tonight.

Afraid if I fall asleep a repeat of the last week plus at night will happen.

And so I sit.

No benedryl left in our house.
Unable to physically drive to get some.
Nor do I need it.
Afraid I will not have enough medication to get me to my next appointment.
Knowing I don't have enough.
And in pain.

Lots of pain.

The last dose didn't touch the level of pain I had.

I've ate shit till I'm puking.

This cycle is viscous.

The only thing that lessons the pain and anxiety and fear is...hot baths.  REALLY hot baths.  If you've read here long....you may recall hot baths do for me what cutting does go those who cut.

And..I watch the clock.  It hasn't even been 2 hours and the pain is extreme.

And...the sucidial ideation kicks in full force.  Because it is late.  I'm tired.  I hurt. I'll hopeless.   I hurt. 

And...I fucking hate this with every fiber of my being.

Hate it!  Hate it! Hate it!

Extreme Parenting Project

This video was created by parents of children with special needs.  The mom who started this project wrote these words for the familes who were going to be involved in the video"

"For the last two years I've said here and elsewhere that I'm going to make a video of still photos of YOU, parents of children with special healthcare needs and your wise words to yourself, THE DAY BEFORE YOU KNEW YOUR CHILD'S DIAGNOSIS. These words can be simple, complex, dark, light, positive, negative, funny, serious or everything all at once. I'm going to set the photos to music and hope it'll be helpful to new parents as well as inspiring. I imagine it'll be a healing testament for all of us."

Grab a kleenex.