No Words

There are not many words that can describe the amount of pain, frustration, and complete brokenness of my heart at the moment. It's been brewing for months. Even years. 

Instead there is a montage if pictures that kind of speak if wht is racing in and out...

He is tired of dealing with me. With this illness.  With me not being what he expected. If I had cancer would he say same things that are just as hurtful?  Would he stop telling me he loved me?  

I've slept less tonight than any other. Ight in last year tht was a direct result from surgery. 

No explanation needed. 

I should have know ....

I will never be who he or my children need. I will never be good enough to fill the shoes that they need. He didn't need to tell me. I could read between the lines. And that I did. And then some. 

I'm not fine. Farthest thing from it. I will continue to do wht I do almost every day. Get up and wipe tears away. Say 'I'm fine'. Never mind the friendships lost. Those who've left because it was to much to stay. Never mind my husband is tired and ready to leave just like everyone else. 

And to add insult to injury...in 3 weeks my insurance changes. And I haven't found a new therapist or psychiatrist. Every clinic I've called either doesn't have a female therapist or isn't taking new patients. I've narrowed it down to a few. However they either don't have a psychiatrist on staff or the one they have is a man. 

Depression...hurts.

Depression...hurts. 

I hate that commercial with everything in me. Because, depression DOES hurt. And for some reason when see that commercial I see pharmaceutical company capitalizing on the pain and true hurt of those who suffer. 

Depression...hurts. It can and will and has robbed me/my family of so many things.

The hurt...it is raw. It cuts deep.

I long for the day when it was a minor pain. 

I long for the day when there was a glimmer of hope among the pain. 

I long for the day when depression...it was just a minor hurt among my life.

I long for the day when friendships were not lost only making the pain deeper. 

I long for the day when where my children had a mom who lived her life with them.

I long for the day...

When depression didn't HURT so fucking much. 

Random Rambling

I've laid here in this bed many nights unable to sleep. Unable to stop the whirlwind of thoughts racing in my head.Tonight will be no different. 

Write this post with tears stained cheeks and blurry eyes that burn from the steady stream of tears. The emotional pain is physically present. It is nearly 2am. 

Praying for reprieve. Just once. Yet the freight train continues. Prayers go unheard. 

The swirling takes on a new twist. Changes suck. Big changes suck even more. Finding comfort or any sort of positive isn't happening. 

I

Changes Suck

She knows my flaws.  She knows many of my secrets.  She knows most of my hopes.  She knows my core beliefs.  There are moments when I believe she knows me more than I know myself.  She hasn't been my first and she will not be my last.  She has been the first one that I've come close to letting in.  Not fully.  But close enough.  For nearly 6 years, I've seen her weekly or biweekly...sometimes more.  With the exception of about 3 months during her maternity leave shortly after I started seeing her.

I've contemplated for many reasons over the last several months about the possibility of changing to someone else.  After I returned home from my trip to Utah in September it became painfully obvious that there was gonna need to be a change.  She has put it out on the table on more than one occasion.  And everytime I think about changing or she brings it up; I go back to the same place This last week we discussed it in greater depth.  She gave me idea of someone w/in her office that I could see.  When I left I made an appointment.  There was still a very small voice in the back of my head that said "you could still go back to her if it doesn't work out with this new person."

However, a change in insurance will mean that I have to terminate this relationship.  It is bittersweet.  On many levels it is heartwrenching.  After almost 14 years of being a patient at this clinic I will have to break things off with both my therapist and psychiatrist.  It isn't setting very well with me at the moment...  normal everyday anxiety is increased 100%.  

Stigma

Every day this is the routine. 

Get up. Pretend. Attempt to go back to sleep. 

Over. And. Over. Again. 

I'm fairly dang good at the 'pretend to be ok' part. Even though it takes a huge toll. 

Today would be one of those day where it proved to be to much. Majority of my morning was spent in tears. Silent, wipe away from your cheeks and keep on working tears

Today would be yet another reminder that this illness...it has plagued so many aspects of my life. It has robbed me so incredible much. 

And it hurts. 

It hurts to breathe. It hurts to care. It hurts not to care. Every aspects physical and emotionally. 

Today the reminder has come in the form of my shoulders hurting. Not a little. But a lot. Today for the first time in several months I took pain meds during the day. More than tylonel and ibuprofen. I can't take ibuprofen for the next 10 days bc I'm having surgery. I took them when I was working. Which I've not done in several months.   That reminder has stung as I think abt the first surgeon and his words to me. 

If I had cancer or diabetes...he wouldn't have dismissed me. Instead, because of the stigma associated mental illness he did dismiss me. The lasting effects 18 months later still replay themselves over and over. And I wonder if he would have taken me seriously...would I still be having the issues I  today. 

There isn't much compassion when it comes to mental illness. 

Those who judge....can kiss my a$$.

30 Days...

....came and went. 

Seemingly to the rest of the world it was just like no other day. The end of another 30 days. As is every single day of our lives. Reoccurring..day to day....calendar...month to month. 

It was an ordinary day for me. It started off hell and is ending in similar manner. 

It is the new normal one might say. 

But...it is far from normal. There is nothing normal abt living with suicidal ideation every single day of your life. There is nothing normal about being woke up from nightmares more nights per week than not. There is nothing normal abt constant internal battle between right/wrong, fear of loosing your family and the one thing that keeps you getting up every day. There is nothing normal about the constant internal battle and fight to figure what is YOUR own voice and which is the voice of trauma and mental illness. 

Today could and SHOULD have been the start of a new beginning. Not a beginning that would be filled with unicorns and rainbows. Not a beginning that wouldn't come without tears and frustrations. 

It very well should have been the beginning of renewed hope and HEALING...of myself, my marriage, and my family!

Instead, I cancelled my psychiatrist appt that was scheduled for tmw. There isn't much hope when it comes to keeping my appts with her. It is the first appt in many years I've cancelled and not rescheduled.

One month ago today...it was hoped and prayed for that the pathway would open up for myself to check into a 30 day treatment facility in Utah. After leaving the retreat I had spent the previous week at.  One of my very favorite people in the world was willing and ready to walk alongside and make that journey with me.  It didn't happen. 

 Instead, a very broken and defeated me boarded a plane in SLC and flew back home. Where My husband and I would be told over and over that 'without intensive treatment I can't accept your wide into my practice, where my therapist of 5 yrs admits she isn't so sure she has what I need, and ultimately any hope there once was...went to hell right along with the bastard who began it all!'  

I came back having lost nearly every ounce of my faith and testimony I've rebuilt in the last 6-7 months. Never feeling as if my Father in heaven hadn't abandoned me more than I did that morning of Sept 22. 

The 5 day retreat with 25 other moms had a very dark cloud over myself and another mom who has stood by my side come hell and very high water. Heaven only knows I've tried to push her away. She has planted herself by me (albeit 5 states away) and continued to be my biggest support. Her vacation away from her family wasn't what it should have been. Not a day goes by that I've not thought abt all she did and wished I could give those 5 days back to her!

And today...another 30 days have passed. With seemingly no end in sight. 

Mental illness sucks shit!

Doubt your doubts....

Ugliness and Trust

Ugly. This post very well may be ugly. I don't know wht it will look like. What I know is every single ounce of my inside and out feel incredible ugly.   There may not be much holding back when it comes to what I have to say. And if you are reading this post and you know me, know what has happened, know the udder despair and UGLY FUCKING mess life has been AND you are offended by what I have to say....don't say I didn't warn you. And please be my guest and don't let the door hit you in the ass on way out. 

Here goes....

First and foremost I owe so much thanks to one specific person. She knows who she is. She knows and has seen first hand the pure ugliness. She continues to love me. Regardless of how much I've told her to shut up. Regardless of how many times I've tried to push her away. She's held me up literally and figuratively over the last month and more importantly over the last 6 days... and for that I owe so much more than I could ever give.    

In my religion our clergy are called to serve by the area leaders. Bishops generally serve around 5 yrs. And 2 weeks ago we got a new bishop in our ward. He just so happens to be the dad of my dd so called 'boyfriend'. They are not 16 and thus not permitted to technically date. Whatever...they are both decent kids, she follows house rules and I'm lax enough of a parent to let it be.  Anyway. It has taken about 18 months for me to open up enough with my last bishop to let him know some of the deeper and darker things I struggle with. To be able to allow him into my world just enough to know i am struggling and need help. 

And then we get a new bishop. It was a devastating blow. One that I could have looked over and with time been able to gain an ounce of trust like I did with previous bishop. 

That isn't how things turned out. He new basics from previous bishop but nothing in detail and that there were issues I am struggling with.   

Three days after our bishop was called and sustained in sacrament he received a text from my husband. It was personal. It came with it a ton of pain and frustration. We NEED(ed) his help and support moving forward. 

We met with him for two hours in his home. He asked very personal and detailed questions about my mental health, trauma, and life in general. Every ounce of my being screamed 'NO' you can't tell him, you don't know him, you don't trust him, don't tell him!!  And I did it anyway. I needed his support and help. Come hell or high water I knew I needed to give him the answers he was looking for.   Damnit I did. What transpired after meeting him needed to be cleaned up. And with the help of a loved one was able to try and clean up the pieces where possible. 

The ounce of trust I made myself give him...went out the window over the next week. With it he took not only the trust I had in him but the trust I had with my therapist by demanding to speak to her. I took my husband with me to an appt with my therapist before leaving for Utah last Tuesday. I wasn't in 'crisis-mode' when I saw her. I was headed out several hours later to spend the rest of the week with house full of other moms. I was headed out to spend the night with one of my best friends. I was holding my head up and keeping every ounce of the ugliness contained. Which is often what she sees. I took my husband with me to that appointment for the first time. I opened up a personal and private space by letting him in...trusted that in the end it would be helpful. Not hurtful. As mentioned I agreed to allow my therapist permission to speak with my bishop. In hopes it would be helpful not hurtful.  That release will be revoked as soon as I am able to do so. It wasn't helpful. It did more damage than good. The ugliness transpired ten times stronger. And left me even more vulnerable than I was before. 

I'm pissed. I'm more than pissed. I'm angry. Angry at so many people right now.  And the one thing that makes me the angriest is that no one will listen to me. That the people with the fucking pieces of paper and fancy degrees (and yes that includes my bishop bc when he isn't a bishop he works in medical field). Think that they know wht is best for me. They think I'm fixated on one thing and one thing only. They believe that they can play my husband against me by telling him they know what is best for me. I know me.  

Things have changed. I am not better. I'm angry. And I'm hurt.  I don't know if theses two relationships will ever be able to be repaired. 

Being able to verbalize to anyone...that I'm struggling with suicidal ideation on the level I am will probably not happen anytime soon. Being able to admit that self harm impulses are an issue..same thing. I don't trust that there will be any level of support and help.  I know I need to continue in therapy. However at the moment I can't even fathom walking back into her office. My husband insists that it is ok and he will go with. Which is bull crap. That space changed the minute I signed the release for her to speak to my bishop. He insisted on speaking to her. Ass backwards if I ever saw it. He KNEW when he asked for that permission he wasn't able to provide the level of support needed. And yet he did it anyway. 

I don't need to go to church. I can read my scriptures and say my prayers without going. I've been hurt by one to many bishops in the past. I totally get and understand that if what was asked of my bishop wasn't an option it would be ok. He should have told me that from the beginning. Telling me what he did is where the knife is cutting deep. And another example why it isn't safe to trust others. 

He knew before he drilled me over and over. I firmly believe he knew he wouldn't be able to offer support. And yet I heard the 'Help me understand ...'

When someone who is trying to understand and you are giving them personal info says to you 'I stay outbid the psychiatric unit at all cost. That way when a need arises I can say I don't have the experience to work in that department'...when you are told this by anyone..and you struggle with any level of depression or mental illness --- run fast!  Very fast the other direction. Itbin your clue and was mine that said person has no knowledge OR is as ignorant as the day is long about mental illness. 

I'm running the opposite direction alright!

Alone

This picture has came across my pinterest feed before.  I've probably even shared on this blog or my FB blog page before.  I frankly don't remember.

What I know is this:  this picture describes exactly what I'm thinking and feeling.

I've laid on my couch the last 2 hours in silence.  Staring aimlessly at a computer screen with nothing but mumbled up words, playing candy crush until I run out of lives, gasps of air in between the tears, pretty much sums it up where I'm at right now.

No words.

I posted this a few months ago. And for a variety of reasons took it down. This morning my head and heart are weary. 

Struggling with some pretty deep shit.   No words this morning. Just tears. Lots of tears. 

This post came to my mind. And so today I will repost it again. 

--------

Not sure where to begin.  My head is reeling on this one.  It has been for sometime.  A few months ago, during one of my therapy appointments my therapist said something that I took as a somewhat flippant comment.  I didn't answer her. And if I did...most likely was a flippant answer back.  Wasn't the first time I've been asked and most likely will not be the last.

Taken straight from an email that I received today....

"If you are indeed choosing to stay where you are, what is the payoff?  What are you getting out of it?  There has to be one or you wouldn't keep doing it (referring to sabotage).  Is there some underlying twisted payoff or is there something else driving the cycle."

This friend has asked me this before. I've avoided her question, answered it flippantly.  Been rather distant and not really ready (or wanting) to really dig deep at the answers.  Just like my previous post discussing the fear of "not liking who I will find on the other side"....this particular question is just as tough. It is more than tough.  It is debilitating. It is a I can't stay present long enough to really think about it, dig deep inside, and untangle the mess debilitating.

I've mentioned before that depression and mental illness took on an entirely new role in my life after the birth of my youngest child 10 years ago.  And then 2 years later after having gastric bypass it took on another new level.  And then at the same time I had an emergency hysterectomy and we disrupted our adoption w/our son.  Many life changes that were huge.  REALLY HUGE with in a 24-28 month time span. 

For a long time I thought I would pull out of it.  That eventually things would get better.  And they did.  For a time.  For a season.  And then just like the trees change colors every fall...so did depression/mental illness.  Each year, each season, never fully getting back to 'what it once was..'

I have fought with depression since I was a teen in high school.  I used to think that everyone felt this way and it was normal.  It became my way of life.  When I got married the seasons changed and took on another new

level.

What I'm about to say feels and sounds incredible crazy.  Because it is crazy.  I am crazy. I know it. I own it.  It is what it is.  Crazy or not.  It may or may not be the answers that I'm trying to untangle.  It is however, the way I'm able to process it right now. 

This is normal and in a very twisted way comfortable.  Take away the fact I don't like feeling depressed, suicidal, and all around like shit...it has become who I am. On most days I don't want to push myself.  Yet I do.  I don't want to reach out to anyone. I want to sleep the day away with minimal energy and retreat into my little hole.  I have reached out to people from time to time and end up pushing them away.  When I have reached out, it takes a ton of energy.  And energy that I often don't have.  Ultimately, it takes on a huge risk. I've been burned before by taking risks.  I've been hurt beyond what I can even admit by taking those risks.  I beat myself up for feeling sorry for myself, for digging the hole a little bit deeper and deeper as the days, weeks, and months turned into years.  I got myself here.  Now dammit I can get myself out.

And not by taking risks of opening up to people.

And then I get upset at myself for trusting to deep.

And then when those closest to me attempt to reach out, to help, to put themselves out there regardless of how freaking hard it may for them....I pull back more.

And beat myself up for trusting to deep.

I hang on to that 3-4-5 year old little girl thinking that I don't deserve to feel my Father in Heaven's warmth and love.

I hang on to that 3-4-5 year old little girl thinking that I don't deserve to feel the warmth and happiness that my family and friends can provide.

because I'm bad...

Before anyone goes and tells me that this is untrue and crazy.  I know that. I'm an adult.  The adult in me knows it is not true.  The adult in me knows that it is the inner child voice screaming out and playing a roll in my life every single day.  Even though, I want to change and feel good about myself.....I fear I will disappoint people.  With disappoint comes the pain.  If I stay in the pain of depression I won't have to feel good and then turn around and feel bad again and again..

The ups and downs downs are so incredible painful that I believe strongly if I stay in the down at least it will be a consistent...what I know feeling.  I've said many times before how much I love roller coasters.  I hate the roller coaster ride of feelings.

As I've wrote this it sounds so damn crazy and bizarre.  I've deleted it a few times.  It comes down to that feeling I don't deserve to be happy.  I sure as hell can't make anyone else happy.  It as if feeling good, happy, in anokay place is wrong.  The need to punish myself kicks in way before anyone else can do it for me. 

I wish like hell I could say I'm in a better place.  I'm not.  I know I need to accept that as a human being, adult, mother, and wife...it is okay to have an array of feelings.  I need to accept that I'm not intrinsically bad.  I am not a sociopath.  I have the capacity to love others AND myself. 

I will continue untangle slowly. 

I will continue to untangle the incorrect beliefs that I learned from a very young age.

I will continue to untangle slowly...and it will continue to be messy.