No Title Needed...

This picture says it all. There is no title needed. No explanation. Nothing. It says it all in one sentence. 

Times are rough all over. We all wade in and out of crap. Some piled higher than others. 

Time and time again I've seen the depths of friendships come and go. And some be gone forever.  Some hanging on by a thread. 

Over the last 8 years my ability to trust in true friendships has become less and less. I know we all have seasons in our lives that change. And with that the change in friendships wax and wane. 

Today I found myself in a spiral of trying to make sense of it all. Struggling with the fight or flight mantra. Knowing and believing vs push and run/fight or flight. 

For today...I am trying like hell to not push the one person who hasn't turned a blind eye. Who when things get tough and they are extremely tough right now...continues to not give up and not let me push her away.

Goodbye January

I've had enough of January for one year. I've never in 39 yrs wished a month to leave and be done with. Today...I am!

Enough is enough. 

January 1 was our 20th wedding anniversary. It also started new beginnings/relationships with therapist and doctors bc of an insurance change. It has been nearly 16 yrs since we had anything other than our previous insurance. 

As the last few weeks have unfoiled and we met our new doctors. We have learned things that the precious medical team overlooked. Serious things. Things that could potentially be life altering. As a result my husband will be having a repeat TURP surgery and surgery to remove 2 large kidney stones. Some of the largest stones this new urologist has ever seen. And he stated yesterday they have likely been there for sometime. They need to be removed ASAP bc they are closer to the opening to his ureuter than safely they should be. 

I've met and seen my new therapist a few times. From this side I think it will be a good match. My own 'issues' with trust are causing me more anxiety than is probably warranted. I met a new psychiatrist. And will most likely see her one more time for a follow up. I have an appt with a different psychiatrist in March. There were several things I didn't like abt this dr. And after much thought and prayer have decided to switch. Go out of my comfort zone and see a male psychiatrist. I don't like the idea. And an less than comfortable with it. However, at the moment I think this is what is needed. 

February will bring with it a repeat/revision shoulder surgery. And my husband will be having a repeat/revision TURP and will have kidney stones roved at the same time. 

I made the decision to not attend the Orlando BeTA retreat this year. And it is looking like that decision was for the better on many aspects. I'm not in a place or interested at this point in meeting new people. However, will miss the friendships and connections I've made in the past. This isn't my year and I'm at peace with knowing I made the right choice. 

Overall not much has changed and I'm not in that good of a space. Somedays I just want to tell life to 'suck it'. And quite honestly...I have!!

Round 2...Shoulder surgery

I've been hopeful a second shoulder surgery could be averted.  Even as I spoke to my new orthopedic surgeon on Friday, I was still hopeful.  Hopes and prayers were crushed.  There is no nerve damage.  Which was the only positive that came out of that conversation.

If I ever want to attempt returing to work and want an hope of not having constant pain in my shoulder than the only option left at this point is to do a revision.  Over the weekend the thoughts and anxiety of going through another surgery becaming higher and higher.  There is no way around it.

The surgeon told me his scheduler would call me yesterday.  She told me the exact surgery he was scheduling.  And it became even more real.  Round 2....

I made some calls today.  Setting up rehab to start a few days post op.  Sent a few different messages via email.  And called my surgeons office back.  i wanted to know more specically what my optio s were.  Is this absolutely mandatory?  The answer was simple and at the same time not very simple.  Nothing is mandatory.  It isn't life or death...so no not mandatory.  However, if I want to have quality of life without constant pain and limitations this is the option I have.  It will progressively get worse until after the things that need to be taken care of get taken care of and they are able to see what else is going on. 

 Suck.Suck.Suck.

I have tried like crazy to keep my head above water.  To hear the advice, love, and support of those around me.  To hear the positive and uplifting things.  Remaining hopeful isnt happening.  

I remember vividly how incredible horrible the first 3 weeks post op were.  The months of grueling therapy and here I am....18 months later getting ready for round 2!  SUCK!!!!

My support system has changed drastically.  The coworkers who have had similiar surgeries are back to work.  Without complications.  With little to no issues and it is clear their supportis limited.  They dont fully get 'why' I am still dealing with this.  I dont get it.  I cant expect them to.  I have a new therapist whom I have met once.  A new PCP who I meet tmw.  I have yet to decide on psychiatrist.  New physical therapist.  Everything....everyone....new.  I trust none of them.  

The slope is slippery.  Very slippery.  I have flucuated back and forth between feelings.  After getting surgery date yesterday I slid quickly.  This morning I had a small glimmer of hope and thus why I called my surgeons office. 

I left work early and drove aimlessly for abt ab hour before letting my husband know I was on my way home.  Sooo many things spinning.  

I have been here before....in a dark hole.  However, not feeling so incredible alone!  With everything feeling like it has been pulled out from underneath me. 

My Grandpa

It was a very cold Thursday in late December.

 One of my very best friends had come to stay with us. She is 2 yrs younger than I am. My Aunt J. 

I was 15. She was 13. My  brother was 7. Grandpa lived on our basement. 

My mom had left for the evening. To her weekly bowling league. 

My brother was asleep. J and I were laying in bed. Talking about boys and school. I missed her. When we moved to Wisconsin from Illinois there was a huge loss. We had lived next to my grandparents for years. And now we were 100 miles away. 

We both heard the crash at the same time. And then we heard a low mumble from my grandpa. 

When I was 5 my grandpa, my hero, had a stroke that left him paralyzed on his left side. I was his princess. He never called me anything but Princess. And it was ok. 

The crash was the inevitable...he had fallen.  J and I laid in bed trying to decide who would go first down the stairs to check on him. It wasn't her grandpa. We were afraid to find him naked in the bathroom. Her mom, my grandma, was my grandpas first wife. Even though he wasn't her grandpa she always called him Grandpa. 

We decided to go down stairs together. We would find out if he fell in the bathroom together. 

He wasn't in the bathroom. Instead he was monkeying with his fish tank and fell on the tank. Little did we know at that time he had a small heart attack.  J and I earned up the mess. We were able to save a few of his fish. He had broken the tank and we were able to get the glass taken care of before my mom came home. 

Mom stayed up with him all night. She was a nurse and was able to care for his wounds and get him comfortable. 

The next day we went to town to get KFC. It was his request. It was New Year's Eve Eve...Before we left my mom made certain he was comfortable and okay. 

When we came home there were fresh snow tracks going up our lane. 

My mom immediately panicked. She was mad. Very mad. He called an ambulance and didn't need one she thought. There was a message on our answering machine from her boss at the hospit she worked at. She needed to come right away. She got the 3 of us situated and left for the nearest hospital 30+ minutes away. 

My grandpas dying words were "Win (my mom) you have for to call My Princess. I have to tell her what channels to tape so C can watch his shows. I need to talk to her.'

  My mom insisted he rest and not talk. He needed to rest. Instead he became agitated and upset. My mom called the house to see if we were still up. 

She didn't share that he was going to die. Just said 'G your papa needs to talk to you. Keep it short. He needs to rest and save his energy to breathe..'

She handed him the phone.

  'Princess turn tv to channel 8. My fish food is on floor by my chair. And always remember how proud I am of you for choosing to be baptized. And for making a choice at 14 that most children wouldn't consider...'  There was silence. And he was choked up and crying. 'Princess...I love you.'  He handed my mom the phone. He closed his eyes and never woke up. His last breathe was around 11:45 pm on New Year's Eve. 

I never heard my grandpa call me princess again. He was my everything. He was the first man in my life who loved without hurting me. He was there everyday after school. I didn't know it then, but the hole left in my heart would be unbearable for years to come.

What happened after I returned to school was a blessing and heart wrenching all in one. 

More on that in next post....

Until then Happy New Year. 

I am off to see Sinbad in Chicago and celebrate my 20th anniversary. It was almost a year ago when I wasn't sure this day would come...

End of Chapter...

UPDATED to change the # of therapist...I was a 'few' short.  

This isn't the first time I have walked down this path in the last 15 yrs. I pray it is the last. And somehow, my gut says it isn't anywhere near the last.  However, it is by far the hardest.

  Changing therapist sucks.

There have been many twists and turns along the way. Just as many roadblocks. Each have taught me something about myself, my relationship with my husband or children, and life in general. I'm going to venture to say that along this journey I've taught her a few things, also. 

I know I've spent a great deal of time testing her. Somewhere deep inside I've needed to know she wouldn't leave. I had 7 individual therapist in the 6-7 years before I started seeing her. Two of those therapist I had relationship for 18 months or so.  Two couples therapist. The 15months prior to beginning therapy with J there were 4 separate hospitalizations in 9 months. This doesn't account for the time I didn't see anyone bc I was burnt out on therapist leaving or retiring. So the testing was really about setting boundaries, but also finding out if she would jump ship like the previous therapist. I needed to know that J would stick with me when things got rough. When my true self started to let down my guard. I needed to know that through all of this she would be able to show her own humanness within our relationship.

By staying consistent with her reactions, regardless of wht I brought to the table, a safe space was created without me being fully aware of it. This allowed me to slowly share and show things abt me/my personality that no one had ever seen. 

There have been many roadblocks, when I couldn't communicate, and in some instances she has helped me make the connections. Begin to see a bigger picture. 

The connections have not been easy. They have been downright brutal. I've left pissed. I've heard words I didn't want to hear. I've heard words that make me cringe. And words that hurt so deep even  writing  them here are tough. A truth I need to hear. Words such as abuse, shame, hurt, and the worst of all - trauma. I've lived for many years in denial that my 'story' whatever it was - was. OT trauma. A truth I would still rather avoid. A truth, that deep down in my heart of hearts, I try to deny and don't realize it really is a truth. 

In the safety of her office, I've began to face that truth. Albeit not so much with J directly, but in general, have been able face the truth. Speaking these truths out loud so I can hear them...so her ears hear them is extremely hard to do. This is the reason I have verbally spoken so little about these truths. It is hard..it is devastating...and crippling for me to hear. 

There is a little hope that the little girl inside will have a voice one day.  That one day I will be able to acknowledge it loud and clear. And will not be afraid of the crippling truth within. 

I'm struggling with finding hope as this chapter ends and a new one begins. 

I know as the ending of this chapter comes to a close it isn't the end of the book. I know tht J has helped me in ways I can't begin to express. Most of a creating a place that was safe and trustworthy. 

I am grateful that J provided a place to 'just be'. That was safe. For the gentle guidance she's given. I've had to work very hard to letting her in. And still have a rather thick wall. However, it had been chipped away. 

I'm a different person than I was 6 yrs ago.

As I start this journey over with someone new in a few days...the range of emotions are huge. I'm paralyzed with fear of the unknown. And having to built the trust back again. 

I guess I could end by saying the next chapter is a new journey. 

A journey of healing...

Of learning to trust again...

And of discovery...

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$$.