Saturday, Saturday, Saturday

All those Saturdays are to be read in an Elton John rhythm. That'll be stuck in my head for a while!

Anywho. Our Saturday had some ups and a big down. It's been a little rough moving on so I haven't posted about it til now.

The initial plan was for the hubster to go down to my folks' and meet up with my dad and a family friend to kill a bottle of whiskey in honor of their acquisition of said top 3 whiskey of the year. (the hubs and my dad and this guy have turned into whiskey collecting aficionados) It turned into a house party with BB and I coming along, along with the wife of family friend (another family friend).

***Yes, I understand three grown men killing a bottle of whiskey can sound pretty awful. They have a great time together but yes, my dad was a hurtin' unit the next day. Thankfully doesn't happen often at all***

I hung out with my mother and family friend for most of the night and then joined up with the boys for a fire and some extra desserts later in the evening. We ended up swapping birth stories somehow and it was nice to see my dad reminiscence. I always like talking about BB's birth too,

SO, the big down. While we were in the kitchen scrambling around desserts the family friend (husband not wife) touched my ass in an inappropriate manner. Not sure there is an appropriate manner.... He grazed a knuckle across me as he passed by. These ass-centric violations have happened a couple of times before. It always makes me feel disgusting and violated.

I wasn't sure how to broach the subject although I came very close to blurting out something. The hubs didn't see what happened and didn't offer much support. He admitted later that it was a mistake for him to say, "Well, it was your fault for being in the 'firing zone' around the desserts." Last I checked, I have a right to stand wherever I want at least when desserts are concerned.

Ugh, such nasty feelings. So much anger. The day after I didn't want the hubster near me or touching me. Hubster didn't quite understand what my agitation was related to so he suggested a road trip down to Kalama and my favorite restaurant. Gorgeous. Still didn't stitch me up emotionally.

The hubs and I were talking for hours that evening until I felt like he finally understood me. We stood up and I did to him what this family friend did to me and he finally admitted how horrible it was. His equating awkward shoulder holds or lingering handshakes fell apart.

Still sad. I know this man will try it again and I know that I will have to do something. Avoiding him will be difficult since these are family friends of three decades just about. Thankfully the hubster understands and will run interference, even back me up if and when I say something, but it's up to me to be courageous in the moment.

And it's so difficult.

Never No Change

I wouldn't say things have been "shaky" lately, but they've definitely been "squishy." Not quite walking across a rockfield on the side of a steep hill. More like squelching through a muddy riverbank riddled with those rounded river stones. Those stones that seem slightly more friendly than the sharp-cornered mountain rocks that are less forgiving when you fall on your ass.

Not convinced that I'll be falling on my ass soon. I do know that the fear of losing all traction is sitting comfortably in my mind. Whenever physical injury, sickness, or exhaustion forces me to slow down my self-judgment seems to pick up. Even if lying on the couch with a heating pad crammed under my back is the best thing that I can be doing, my mind brings up the 5+ lbs I've accumulated the last few months or the classes that I've yet to peruse for my online degree and-of course-the dishes in the sink or laundry in the hamper.

The fear is familiar. I become agitated, teary, and anxious and can't quite place the source of my discomfort at first. It's the fear. So familiar that it sneaks back into the forefront of my mind with little fanfair.

I may not have caught on, unsure of the source of my anxiety and excess tears, but the fear knows what it's doing. He goes right to work plucking those loose seams from our recent encounters. Those frays so susceptible to those classic judgments he brings with him. I've heard it said that addicts need only one hit to be sucked back into their drug addicitions. I can see how that could be when those hurtful digs start streaming through my mind with renewed gusto. It's difficult not to fall back into the darkest darkness immediately, but I've grown and fought for distance and when I saw those thoughts encroaching-I SAW THEM.

It didn't just happen. I wasn't just taken. I was sitting in bed, getting ready to retire for the night with the hubs beside me. I shoke my head, tears welling in my eyes, a quick inhale, shaky exhale with a shuddering shrug.

"It's not completely unexpected. Is it?" I looked forward, to the corner of the room between our light grey curtains and the mirrored doors of the closet. "Everything, lately. Not just throwing out my back but friends at the gym leaving, coming back from the observation schedule to so much free time. I just haven't figured things out again quite yet."

"It's another transition." His fingers fluttered over my elbow, not quite able to reach my arm for a hand hug, just a whisper of support. "We know these changes get to you. Noticing it is a big deal. It's really important. It's going to get better..."

"Gotta get back on those skills though. I'm running wild with these judgments lately." A few tears escaped and my nose began to run. "Been having those, 'Why me?' thoughts a lot. I know it's pointless. I feel so pouty and off-base."

"It's temporary. We gotta get you back into those DBT tricks and it'll get better."

I nodded. Breathed deep and let myself brush the doubt aside. Even if it were just for now, it would do. I'd done enough thinking. I just wanted to cuddle up with my husband and feel the cool spaces between the duvet slowly warm around us.

Of course, it took some anti-anxiety medication to help me meet that goal, but it worked exactly like it should. A good night's sleep is usually won in my case!

Anyways. The doubts are still stalking me. I'm worried. Unsure. But going at it slowly and trying to think less about the scary signs and more about the tools I can use and the people that need me.

And if I fall on my ass... at least their the smoother rocks and we know exactly what to do if I do.

Honestly.

I had ECT this morning. Now, it's this afternoon and I'm recuperating on the couch, watching a movie called "50/50." If you haven't seen it, I'd recommend it-just, maybe not on a day when you're keenly aware of your own illness.

Not too long ago I paused the movie and lurched off the couch and creaked down the hall to the bathroom. The boys had been playing for a bit and somehow I couldn't put it together where they were... Mind you, we live in a three-bedroom apartment. 

Standing in that hallway there was an open door to our bedroom on my right, a closed door ahead of me, and an open door on my left to the bathroom. They weren't in our bedroom or the bathroom and I couldn't remember what was behind the door in front of me.

I couldn't visualize BB's room. I could hear the boys playing and I couldn't imagine where they were. I forgot where his bed was, the blue mini-trampoline by the toy box and his bookshelf. I could hear their voices and had no idea the space they inhabited, the physical plane where they existed, what they could possibly look like behind that door.

My breath caught and the tears came. I stifled sobs and ducked into the bathroom, collapsing onto the floor in the dark. My nose ran. I wiped away tears and tried to keep quiet. Sucking air as I scrambled onto BB's plastic IKEA stool, I swiped at the door until it was mostly closed and slumped against the cabinet.

I was sick. I am sick. 

It's not usual for people to forget what their son's bedroom-a room they're in everyday-looks like. It's not usual for people to be getting IV sticks more than ice cream cones. When I can't remember what I read on the gym whiteboard or any part of the Super Bowl that I watched with the hubs, my gym friend, and our sons... it's not average. It's not a personality trait. It's a side effect. 

I'm sick. I'm sick and there's no cure. I can-I have-achieved remissions. I won't always be experiencing such dramatic side effects. I'm still sick. I'm still hitting up the pharmacy more often than most people visit The Olive Garden or some shit... I mean, you should see my medicine "cabinet." Honestly, I should be upgrading my storage options, 'cuz it's a cluster, I tell ya what.

Honestly. That word. It's a tough one for me. I have a difficult time gauging what's "honest" and what's "dramatic." Maybe that's because sometimes the honest truth is dramatic. Well, I don't want to be dramatic and I want to honest, so not only am I writing this post-I'm sharing some pictures that I've only ever shown to the hubs (well, he's not even seen some of them!).

So. Here goes. Some pictures. And more about my experience of being sick-not that I'm nearly as sick as some people! I know that it could be worse. I just want to be honest about how bad it is. I think a lot of it's about admitting to myself what I'm feeling... I've been opening up to some gym friends lately and it's a little confusing being so "chill" when I'm feeling so bad some days-ANYWAYS. Here goes.

I'm just gonna do it. (might've shared some of these before, just so ya know)

Heading into ECT w/ my hair net.
We put gowns over our street clothes
& cram all our belongings into bright green bags
that they leave at the foot of our bed during treatment.
Sometimes I'm lucky and get the Bair Hugger!

I got a butterfly IV today. Really easy stick too!
Took a picture to taunt the hubby-

Guess it's all about perspective, eh?
He's not one for needles-

Annual blood work does him in.
Kind of lucky that
I'm the "sick" one in that way!

Coming out of ECT.
This seems like my uniform of late-
striped cap, green sweater, Crocs!
It looks like I've been crying, although
I'm usually just misty-eyed post-anesthesia. 

Recovering last week at my parents' w/ BB
eating "yee-gurt" and watching Olympics.

Today.
Hard to see the goop on my temple from treatment-it's there.
Watching a movie about cancer made my cap feel way more "sicky!"
Hurt pretty bad post-treatment today.
Worst in a long time.
Getting a bit better now.

Found this from last month.
I can't remember exactly-I think we went
to the ER. The hubs claimed that he called
ahead and that they "had a room." Later
he admitted that he didn't know, he just told me
so to get me to the hospital.
Smart man.

So, I'm lying on the couch with a mass pillows and extra soft couch blankets (we're "couch blankets" people around here) and posting all these pictures... I feel like I've said something and not enough. Earlier, those sobs, that pain, I really, truly, deeply felt it. Now I feel numbed again. "It's not that bad" again.

Tapped for now.

Thank you. Love and hugs and gratitude and smiles. I'm getting back to "my life" more and more, hopefully that means more blogging. Even if it doesn't quite yet, know that I think of you all!

Bonus pic:

Made it to 29!
First official (29 yrs) bracelet :o)
PS: Good game in the background!

Hi Again

It's been a little over a week now since the hubster got laid off.

It's been rocky and at sometimes suspiciously smooth. A confusing mash of understanding and support jumbled up with grief and misdirected anger.

Already having been in the midst of a recovery period and trying to regain some of the balance I lost during the summer living with my family makes me feel more vulnerable. Not that unemployment at any stage of stability wouldn't be a nuke on anyone's life.

There has been some down swings along with a few upswings. The more problematic symptom has been anger. Outbursts, violence, bickering, and eventually the shame and sadness that usually follow my angry moments.

Thankfully the violence has been limited to slamming my fists on a table, flicking or throwing something (not at anyone or to break anything), and yelling. It's still embarrassing and I know that it stresses Baby Bananaface. The hubs and I aren't used to this level of... angst and expression. Being the types that don't just let things lie means that we struggle to shelve things in order to discuss them in a more appropriate way. Things just erupt wherever and whenever.

Even during these rough times, we know that we are committed to one another and strive to improve. We know things will get there. Baby steps.

The holidays are coming.

My nephew's birthday is Saturday. We haven't heard of any party or anything. Wouldn't be surprised if we weren't invited, or invited last minute with the hope of us not being able to make it sort of thing.

We are going to send him a gift and card in the mail tomorrow, just in case.

The journeys across state for Thanksgiving and Christmas are a little worrying. Expenses and potty training complicate things. Our little commuter car isn't something we like to drive over the pass-let alone put more miles on-and we hate to spend money on a rental right now. We shall see how things work out.


Off to errands and chores.

Thank you for commenting! I'm sorry that I can't respond to everyone lately or read around. I do miss everyone and look forward to catching up more thoroughly soon :o)

Acknowledge, Accept, Engage

Ya might think this will be a political post and it isn't. The truth is that I've been having a rough time and I haven't posted about it because I'm self-conscious about posting too often and/or posting incongruous posts. Well, that's life with mental health diagnoses. I can have glorious moments on family vacation and horrible lows all in the same week-or day.

So here goes.

The Friday before we left for our road trip I had my first full-on panic attack in months. My anxiety had been elevated for weeks and I think the pre-departure stress put me in a very vulnerable position.

The class that day was probably around triple the usual size because of an altered schedule that week. We were doing an exercise that involved many people dropping barbells almost in unison. That first round put me over. The tears came on, my body began shaking, my heart rate sky rocketed, and a flush came over me beyond my workout glow.

I grabbed my water bottle and purse, bounding into the front room to haphazardly open my emergency pill container that dangles from my wallet at all times. Between the shakes and my restrictive weightlifting wrist bands it was quite a task! After popping my pill I ran cold water over my hands and face before grabbing some frozen sponges and taking some time to walk around outside to calm myself. A friendly childcare/office lady talked with me during this time and helped me calm down as well.

Yesterday, I had to run out of a workout again.

I haven't been able to manage my anxiety the last several weeks and injuries preventing me from engaging in my workouts as I'd like have been quite upsetting. With the elevated anxiety I wasn't able to think straight and ask my coach for help scaling, instead I panicked when the workout began and subsequently walked out before a full blown panic attack struck.

I collapsed on the grass in the sun outside the gym and cried.

My coach hollered from the warehouse door to see if I was okay and I told him it was anxiety and that I'd be fine.

Later, after the workout, he asked if I wanted to talk about it. I started crying and shrugged my shoulders. He asked if the anxiety just "cropped up" and I told him that it had been a problem for a while. This time, it was more than anxiety though, the suicidal impulses have returned. I told him that I had some mental health diagnoses that involve anxiety and chronic suicidality. That these disorders require me to work out frequently at a certain intensity or things can get dangerous for me. My injuries have been gumming that up.

He thanked me for talking to him and I thanked him as well. A couple other folks inquired as to my well being and wished me well.

I love the support I've received there. It does freak me out that I'm experiencing such intense symptoms where I feel most safe. I can understand it, sure, I'm just concerned that I can't even relax at my relaxing place.



I'm very scared. The dips are persisting longer than they have in a long time. I've had suicidal episodes since moving here, they were acute though. This is a different animal. A slippier animal.

The hubs has pushed things into high gear looking for alternate housing. I've been trying to avoid my family as much as possible. I still need to pull out my DBT book and focus on really working some skills...

My brain is slow yet my thoughts are fast.

My body is weary yet I can't relax.

I have to acknowledge this isn't just a little dip. I've had a few intense episodes since the move and this isn't that. It's been a slow, sneaky descent. I find it more difficult to recognize the dark logic as my disease and I'm starting to romanticize suicidal ideations.

I feel like I'm walking a very dangerous line. I feel desperate. I am afraid. And I'm crying at the drop of hat-more and more in public and when driving (not exactly safe).

Moving here was a bad, bad idea. I came in with the best intentions, trying to tamp down the fear and focus on meeting the challenge, but I have to retreat.

Over and over I think, "my family is killing me," and it haunts me. I feel guilt. I feel anger. I don't think they mean to and yet a sense of victimization overwhelms me. It isn't fair. Why me? So many other people have it so much worse... It's so messy. It's so hurtful. They aren't safe. This can't be malicious, you can't hold them accountable for ignorance... I feel like they would be offended and confused to hear this and yet I can't deny it. I don't want to hurt them, I don't want to blame them (though it is so hard to delineate between fact and blame for me)... but a cut needs to be made. I need to excise this threat.

Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain for staying, pain for leaving.

I suppose my brain chemistry at the moment doesn't help either.



Hope this isn't too incoherent. Thanks for being here, from vacation to crisis :o)

Why does crap travel in a herd?

Bad day.

Diaper in the laundry machine.

Fucked up baking my brother's birthday cake.

Baby Bananaface won't nap and is escaping the crib.

And I'm feeling so worn out from trying to keep another episode at bay.

I'm so disappointed at how much progress I've lost, how destabilized I've become.

I know it's been rough lately. Now I'm feeling like I'm lost again.

Guess I'll be going for a drive to try and get BB down.

One step at a time.

I've been here before.

I'll be here again.

I'll get through this.

One step at a time.

One step at a time.

Commercial Breaks

It would seem that this MTV special (AKA my sister's life) is ongoing and trying to script in my family.

We had a wonderful trip to visit my in-laws. Parks, visiting old friends, good food, and good talks. It was relaxing and rejuvenating. Maybe just not rejuvenating enough.

Our weekend was marred by confusing texts and snaps from my family. My sister and mom would snap happy, silly, goofy stuff that would make me feel like everything was simmering down and everyone was moving on. Then we'd get texts about "I talked to my lawyer friend..." or "I really need to know if you or [the hubster] had anything to do with this."

It's like the good times were just short commercial breaks from all the shit! Confusing and stressful!

At one point we were out to dinner with the hubby's sister and had a great, in-depth chat about the CPS system and how investigations work. She had worked at APS for a while and knows people in CPS so she was a great resource.

That chat calmed me down a bit and then more crap came down the tubes. Some more texts freaking me out and pissing the hubster off. He ended up calling my father and telling him, "this needs to stop, Hannah is not handling the stress of this well and hasn't been very good overall the last couple months and we need to make sure she stays safe."

Apparently they seemed to reach a reasonable place of understanding and the next time my sister texted us the hubby took over and told her to stop harassing his family which seemed to shut that down.

Still, I was really anxious about coming back from our mini-vacay. I expected the Ice Queen treatment from my sister, what I didn't expect was my anxiety presenting in an overly chatty, outgoing type of way that was really confusing for everyone...

The hubs kept telling me I needed to get it together and then things spiraled a bit. It was a bad night. Thankfully not suicidal although there were definitely a lot of self-harming urges. I ended up sobbing quite loudly into my pillows at one point because I was so frustrated with the whole kit-n-kaboodle: living here, my sister, my parents, my nephew, my family's well-being, the pets.... The dam broke.

The next evening my mother returned from her trip outta state. I was very anxious to see her and confused a bit by the mixed emotions I sensed during the initial "welcome back" conversation. She was giddy and sharing all her travel stories and then took a break to go do laundry or something. After she returned, the atmosphere became darker, stressful and she said something like, "Well, I know there was some action that went down here while I was gone and we're gonna be talking about that."

It felt ominous and threatening and my already heightened anxiety stepped up a few notches. Thankfully I didn't cry and was able to say something like, "I can't talk about that right now. My anxiety has been really bad the last week."

It feels like a witch hunt. I haven't felt entirely safe here anyways and now I feel like I'm constantly on guard.

I don't know how things will work out and I'm trying to avoid replaying possibilities over and over in my head. That said, I think I've come to realize that living around my family just isn't healthy for me and waiting around for them to become safe to be around isn't a safe choice. I don't know what things will look like in the future, it certainly doesn't look like we'll be living around this area for much longer.

I'm okay with that. I'm okay with distancing, I'm okay with building a life that works for the hubby, BB, and myself that might not involve my family. It will probably be tricky and emotionally rocky, I think it will be worth it though. I need to get back on that positive progress path and keep moving onward and upward. I don't want to be stalling out and backsliding and getting entrenched in childhood muck over and over...

I'm moving on. It's a big rope tying me to this baggage and I'm starting to saw away at it. Come what may.



***Whew. That felt pretty dramatic.... talking about my sister's life being an MTV special and I just felt like I was in "Pirates of the Caribbean!"

I don't like living in an MTV special...

This morning was a tough one at the gym, especially when my left arch gave out during warm-up. I ended up rolling my feet on a hard ball for a while and when I did the workout of the day I scaled from the running into rowing. Anyways... it was tough. It left me a bit frazzled and without appetite which made feeding BB and staying focused difficult.

While I was grilling a grilled cheese my mother called. Her voice... was frosty. She sounded angry or scared, definitely more serious than I normally hear her. She said she needed me to listen very carefully and went on to say that my sister was in hysterics and that someone had called CPS on my sister and were coming by for an inspection that day.

I felt sick. I got lightheaded. I tried to hold the panic back and focus on one thing at a time. I got BB fed and called the hubster. 

The CPS folks were scheduled to come at 1:30, during BB's nap. Turned out that BB had a hard time getting down for his nap around noon and I had to drive him around for his nap today. I wasn't there for the visit. My sister, her boyfriend, my brother, my dad, and I think one of my sister's friends was there too... 

The investigators called me while I was driving home and I stopped by their office (the hubster happened to be able to meet me there) and they looked over BB and spoke with us. 

It was all so intense. So stressful. Watching my family in distress was surreal and distressing. Seeing my nephew so innocent and unaware of what was happening just heartbreaking.

Most of the time these sorts of things are unable to be properly substantiated and don't get beyond a "here's some resources, try to do a better job," so I'm not afraid of my nephew being taking away or "put in the system." I hope if anything that it will only improve the situation for him and my family. 

Living here these couple months I have noticed how much parenthood is wearing on them. I do believe my nephew could have a better emotional environment. I hope this is all for the best.

My family has been searching for answers and trying to figure out where the report came from. It feels a bit like an MTV special with all the drama... certainly doesn't feel like my "real life." Wow. Guess you never know, eh?

In the meantime I have to calm back down. Probably going to take my sleeping meds tonight!

In other news, we're heading over the mountains to visit my in-laws. We're very excited to see them and excited to have a mini-vacay. 

One of those "anger release" exercises...

WARNING: EXTREMELY LONG POST!

Seriously, it's really long.

If you have to pee, pee now.

So... I had intended to do a different anger releasing writing project and instead I found myself "gifted" with a new starting point today. I ended up mixing some of my previous complaints with the newer ones. It might be a little confusing-somehow in my process I blended multiple members of  my family into one. No matter. The process is the important part. 


DISCLAIMER: I tried to embrace my anger. I tried to fan the flames. I tried to dig up compacted rage. As intentional as this is, I am still quite uncomfortable with expressing my anger. I don't know if such phrases are effective. I don't know if it's rational or justified or something I can stand by... I'm trying not to judge myself and I hope you can withhold judgment as well :o) I don't like saying mean things. I empathize and I see both sides so much that I struggle to even own thoughts like these let alone express them on paper, screen, or out loud!

DISCLAIMER PS: The hubby has encouraged me to embrace a "go fuck yourself" mentality. Instead of being hurt and trying to figure out what's wrong with me or how to be good enough, reject the hurtful opinion. Think or say "go fuck yourself" instead of throwing myself under the bus or putting myself at risk for relapse. I don't have to analyze every comment... I can let it go. Push it away. So, I tried to embrace that. In real life I don't really say, "go fuck yourself." Ever. Very weird feelings... Anywho. Just sayin.


Here we go. Somehow an offhand comment set my off...



Maybe you thought it was a compliment today when you said I should be on that show, "American Grit." The thing is, when the host describes the show as a place for people "all who either have lost their grit or never had it" I don't take that as a compliment. 



A) How the fuck can you think that I don't have grit? Do you have that little appreciation for what I've survived? 


It's puzzling to me that you have never seemed to grasp my mental health issues. It's been over 15 years since my symptoms surfaced and yet it seems like you still struggle to acknowledge my disease. I mention something relating to my mental health and I'm greeted with a "deer in the headlights" stare. My husband says that he has given up on trying to explain that this type of illness can't be "cured," that it's part of my body chemistry and brain structure. Do you really think I'm not trying hard enough to "fix it?" Do you think that I'm lazy?

Maybe you don't appreciate the years of my childhood and young adulthood spent in quiet desperation. The years of self-harming and isolation. You pegged me as "the Eeyore of the family." Why does my mental illness define my personality? 

Maybe you didn't notice my instability. You didn't notice my disease sending me into months of darkness or jerking me into weeks of elation. Years of feeling like I couldn't be trusted with my own life; whether that meant wanting to kill myself or being aware that I was too starry-eyed to make responsible decisions. I was impulsive and unstable and trying to figure out a solution all on my own... I suppose these deep-rooted feelings of rejection and abandonment have grown from multiple seeds, I'm sure this is one of them though. You didn't know what to do, I get it, maybe if it felt like you tried I wouldn't feel this angry. I wouldn't feel this heartbroken. You turned away from me and fed my self-disgust. 


And what of the last couple years? Do you appreciate the fact that I spent months barely able to care for myself or my infant son? What about the period of time that I couldn't be trusted alone with my son? Surely you remember the weeks in the hospital. I'm told you visited. I know that you helped drive me to ECT treatments. Do you know how many times the hubster drove me? or drove BB north to daycare then drove south to work then drove west to see me in the psych ward before rushing back to BB and caring for our son throughout the evening-multiple wakings in the night-before waking early to do it again all on his own? (Hubby comment: he only got one speeding ticket!)

Do you see the scars we carry? The scars that bind us? That time broke trust and built trust. I couldn't be trusted with my life or with my son's life. He saved us. Why does the hubby ask so openly and abruptly if I'm safe? if I'm suicidal? if I feel out of control? because dozens and dozens of times I've been in danger. He's been rescuing me. That was our norm and we've made it through. We've made it through and are making a new normal from scratch. Your jokes and teasing about his protectiveness and adherence to routine aren't just annoying, they're insulting.

How can you imply that I don't have grit? Over a year of life-threatening postpartum depression, over a dozen medications tried to stem the crisis, over three weeks in the hospital, over thirty ECT treatments... I'm still here. I laid on a bed and waited for my last breath to try and spare my husband and son a lifetime of trying to save a life I thought wasn't worth saving-mine. My husband ripped that plastic bag off my face and saved my life that afternoon and despite having close to no resolve left, somehow I kept fighting. For him. For my son. And a little for me.

How much more grit do I have to have before I can believe you think I'm enough?

I can't count on that anymore. I can't wait to sense some change in you. I can't play these pussy-footing games of allusion and corroding criticism. I may have started my life in this game with your dangerous rules. I won't finish my life at your game. You can call me sensitive, you can tease me and imply that I'm weak, you can make me feel like I'm flawed beyond salvaging-and then you can go fuck yourselves. Just because you don't seem to realize the damage you cause doesn't mean you are devoid of responsibility. 

I don't need your apologies. I don't need you. I don't need more grit.




B) Do you have that little appreciation for how much I do everyday to try and avert relapse and continue to survive? What kind of grit does that take?


You give the impression that the most important aspect of my exercise regimen in my weight loss and being fit. Maybe all your comments about me "being in the best shape of your life" or "a sliver of what you used to be" are intended to be compliments. In reality? It feels like weight added back onto my shoulders. I feel pressure to lose more weight. To lift heavier weight. To tone more parts of my body and fit in smaller clothes and eliminate rolls and embody some image that you, society, and the shadowed part of me have deemed worthy of pride. 

It's not healthy.

My mental state is more important than the state of my ass. I exercise every day to try and maintain my mood stability or actively battle back anxiety and depression. I go to the gym despite my social anxiety, despite feeling inept and insufficient, despite feeling like an outcast and poser. I go to the gym and try to push myself hard enough to be able to push back the disease I will live with for the rest of my life.

It doesn't really matter how much I can lift. The kind of strength I need most can't be provided by regular exercise.


You tease me for my "OCD" while loading the dishwasher or trying to keep the refrigerator organized. Okay, that's not how you do things. Fine. I do it different and for a damn good reason. 

I'm not OCD-which is a  clinical disorder and not something to be joked about-I am sick. I am sick in such a way that I have to avoid any extra stress whenever possible. I am sick in such a way that I have to be mindful throughout my day about big and little choices-from doing dishes or taking medication. 

I am sick in such a way that unloading the dishes and finding several of them dirty because the machine was overloaded or loaded ineffectively can be unduly upsetting. I'm sick in such a way that having sharp knives scattered throughout the other silverware instead of contained in their own section can increase my impulses to self-harm. 

As for a disorganized and sometimes unsanitary fridge or a cabinet stuffed with mismatched Tupperware? If I'm having a bad day, opening a door and being confronted by these things can send me into a panic or distress me in a way that contributes to a depressive episode. Not to mention feeling the criticism and rejection from you verbal teasing in each carelessly placed item. And seriously-why would you want to put your fruits right by (or on) your raw meat!? 


I have to live this way to live. It's working for me and that's what matters-at least to me, my husband, and our son. Don't think that I resent it-it is a lot of work and it's also the greatest sense of stability that I've ever had in my life. My mental state may fluctuate and get dangerous from time-to-time; dinner will always be at 6:00 PM. The silverware will always be sorted and easily accessible. The yoghurt will always be on the same shelf. Baby Bananaface will always have a set bedtime. That stability, having something I can count on, gives me comfort and confidence that I didn't have before. It helps me cope, it helps me thrive.

You want to live in a hurricane made by your own hand? Go ahead. You want to swallow your feelings and eat your loneliness? Go ahead. You want to bury yourself in cheap trinkets in lieu hearing "I love you?" Fine. I'm sick of trying to satiate the needs you don't claim responsibility for or even acknowledge. I'm not interested in maintaining this legacy of delusion and self-imposed suffering. I take this heritage and try to set it aside day-after-day for my own good and for my husband and for my son.

Y'all can sit in your burning building on your own. I'm leaving.




Whew. I tried NOT to edit much. I tried NOT to hold back or censor. I'm sure that this isn't everything though. I have a hard time handling anger. I think this was a step in the right direction though.

What does this mean for the real relationship with me family? I have no clue. I do think that I can't expect them to change or expend too much of my energy fighting to change things. I have to take care of myself in other ways first and that takes a lot of my time and energy. I think it's all right to simply accept things and accept that I don't have to fix it. I can move on and live the best life that I can without making everything neat and perfect.

CONGRATS if you read this entire post.

 You have eyes of steel ;o)

Another Rough Day

So the hubster just got home a few minutes ago. At one point he requested that I look him the eyes and he asked, "How long have you been unsafe for?" I asked him to clarify what that meant. He said something about suicidal or self-harming urges. I took a moment to reflect on my day and guesstimated between 3-4 hours.

The suicidal aspect comprised of imagery flashing through my mind. Visualizations of holding a gun to my head. Drowning. Self-harming urges consisted of desires to bash my head on the counter, cutting. I did do some emotional eating. Overall, just not feeling well.


The day as a whole went pretty well-other than mood issues. I was able to keep Baby Bananaface fed and mostly on schedule. He took a good nap. I got dishes, laundry, and some cleaning done. He was agitated and needy today. It wore on me. By mid-afternoon I was ready to be done parenting and get to my strength training class.

The hubster was staying a bit late at work to try and avoid traffic (some major accidents along our main corridor) so I texted asking whether he was close. He asked if I meant as far as completing his homework. I responded with a crying face emoji.

He called and we talked. I stuffed emotions. Avoided discussing how I was really doing. I kept breathing deep, trying to hold back my tears and desperate feelings. I sucked it up and forged ahead with dinner and getting ready for the gym.

Not even 20 minutes into the workout the childcare folks called me in to get BB. Apparently he was asking to be held, wouldn't take off his backpack, and crying when they set him down. At the old gym, no problem. Here, with the meek tweenage ladies taking care of the kids, too much to handle. After I cleaned up mine and my mother's workout stations I walked past the childcare area and saw one of the girls lying on the floor. She can't hold my kid cuz she has to lie down? WTF?

Anyway. My mom had took BB and said that I could finish my workout. I had started to and then I couldn't. I kept thinking about how my mom drops everything and takes care of my nephew so often for my sister and I didn't want to be like that. I can sense how poorly my mom is feeling-physically and mentally-and I just can't contribute to her pain.

There was a moment in my frenzied, sad thinking that I recognized that I have a disease and that I need extra help from time-to-time. I thought that I'm different from my sister and I don't abuse my mother's help. Then I thought about how wore out my mom is and I just couldn't do it... I couldn't give myself that grace.



When we got home I took BB into our room and gave him a bath, got him distracted with some toys so I could shower, then played with him until the hubby got home.

He knew I wasn't well. He knew I was isolating. He started problem solving. I'm still hiding in the bedroom. I used the excuse of needing "computer time" to avoid launching myself back into the family arena.

It's so stressful. Being immersed in this place... these people. I know they're family, it's just with my DBT training we talked a lot about avoiding dysfunctional relationships and I worked a lot on distance and perspective regarding my family. I'm losing that now. I feel myself sliding back into the dysfunction I lived within for so many years-so long not being able to see how it hurt me.

Most of the day I find myself contemplating the massive amounts of CRAP in this house. Every nook and cranny filled with stuff. Old clothes, clearance junk, "just in case" things of every nature. So much STUFF that the place isn't functional. To me, it's also depressing. For me, the stuff signifies so much unsaid, so much unacknowledged pain and emotion. I'm frustrated by the lack of efficiency and stressed by the emotional aspect as well.

Then there is the aspect of spending the day with my mom and observing her interactions with my nephew. Each teasing comment jerks me back to childhood and hurts my heart. "You're such a crankypants." "Knock it off, I can't take anymore." "Let it go." "Get over it." She claims over and over that my nephew is normally better behaved and not as hysterical. The fact is, whenever I've been around him (even before moving in) he's been whiny and crying-especially if my sister or mother leave. Talk about separation anxiety. He nearly passes out from crying so hard. It's awful.

The relationships between my parents and my sister, my parents and each other, my sister and my mother... Ugh. There is so much weight that I feel. My mom is so lonely and tired. Still coping with the death of both her siblings last year and pining for the husband she's continually waiting for to come home. He wasn't there when they got married and he was in the Army, he wasn't there when he got out and decided to pursue a slew of hobbies full force, with every spare minute it seemed. He said he'd slow down with the tennis thing once he got his goal rating and he hasn't. I love my dad. I always will. It breaks my heart seeing the hurt he gives my mom.

It also stresses me out seeing how much my mom defends my sister while simultaneously being wore out and slipping into angry outbursts when she finally hits her limit. Watching my sister ignore her son or sensing her emotional stuffing and bitterness spike my stress. Hearing the teasing and avoidance test my anger.



So much here is weighing on me. Then there is the fear. Is this a momentary struggle, a transition period-or am I backsliding? Can I adjust to this atmosphere or is the beginning of an end in regards to my hard fought stability? I don't know.

The hubby says I need to figure out how to accept help from my mom. That I need to figure out how to tell her when I need help and I'm not safe. I just don't know that I can. She throws herself under the bus so often... I don't want to be like my sister. I don't want to contribute to her demise. I don't want to her her saying what she thinks I want to hear. My family is such a huge part of my emotional regulation problem and history, I don't know that I can ever feel safe relying on them for help.

I don't know.

Baby steps. Tears. Fears. More baby steps.


Hope I didn't tire your eyes out too badly ;o) Thanks for reading friends :o)

Rough Waters

Been a wobbly couple of days... I think having a friend babysit Baby Bananaface for the first time and going out to a dinner with my folks stirred up some emotions and made me more vulnerable to a little dip in my mood.

I keep thinking about "27 days."

I asked the hubster how many days total I stayed in the hospital between the two visits and he replied, without a moment's hesitation, "27 days." It's seared into his memory. There's so many feelings and memories and pain and struggle. It wasn't just me falling apart, it was my entire family.

It's been pretty emotional and confusing having my brain awash with gratitude for being here and alternately shame for bringing so much distress, anguish even, to my family. Thinking about those I love most and how they stood by my side through all that madness and thinking about all the things they did to get me the help I needed as well as try to keep my little family afloat in the meantime... it's overwhelming.

Thinking about where we've been is one thing, but I'm also distressed thinking about where we are now. I'm doing better, don't get me wrong, but it feels like we're barely keeping our heads above water. The hubs is fraying around the edges trying to balance all the financial stuff, spending hours on the buses going to-and-from work since our other car broke down, working on his *hopefully* last class to get his degree, helping out with BB, me, and all the other spinning gears of life. I wish I could do more for him.

I want so much to do more for him but I also have to be careful not to send myself into a tailspin. I mean, hell, right now seems like a little tailspin! All these thoughts and feelings getting the better of me. Crying in yoga class, tearing up in interval training, losing my appetite and interest. I'm trying not to become too frightened and holding onto the hope that it's a temporary, little blip, but it sure sucks seeing myself floundering like this when all I want to do is be able to help my husband.

So as I sit here typing and crying, I can feel the sadness and anger but I can also feel the love. I know that I want things to be better and I know that there ain't nothing wrong with that. It ain't all roses but I'm here and I'm trying. My family is here and we're trying. We're just all gonna have to keep it up with those baby steps and soon enough the sunnier days will return.

<3

Bumpy and Confusing

No, I'm not talking about a skin condition! I'm talking about a few of my days this week being bumpy and confusing.

It all started out with a bit of snit between me and the hubby. He was hangry and I was feeling confrontational. It was a little fun arguing (we don't do that very often) but it was also out of my comfort zone. It's difficult for me to argue without taking things personally and exacerbating insecurities. We worked through things but I was left shaken and off balance.

The next day was rough for me. I started noticing my mood sliding and negative self talk flaring up. The hubs and I talked more and tried to work through it but I was down. No question about it. The confusing part? I was down without being bottomed out. It was a feeling bad without feeling suicidal, hopeless, or having the urges to harm myself-it was a more normal down. I had a bad day without having a crisis!

In a way it was good to be able to just feel bad and not feel in crisis, but it was definitely odd and confusing for me. I took things a bit easier and tried to simply experience the emotions without overthinking and worrying about a relapse. It was tough, a little scary, but I made it.

I remembered to use my DBT skills along the way. Even reached out to a gym instructor to help battle back some of the negative self talk I was experiencing. (I was beating myself up for my chunky legs and not having perfect form or working the right muscle groups 100% of the time-classic Hannah hating on Hannah/perfectionism stuff)  It really helped hearing that I'm doing a good job and it was also really helpful to connect with someone instead of feeding feelings of not belonging and isolating like I was inclined to do.

So here I am Friday after a few rough days feeling like I'm coming outta the woods with a new victory to add to my books. I can have bad days without it being a crisis, or dangerous. I can experience emotions without things getting out of control! It's okay to take it easy sometimes and let things work out.

I can.

Booyeah!


In other news, it's been way cold and icy here. I'm over all the windshield scraping and slick parking lots! We don't usually have this many days below freezing and it's getting old! It's not normal for 40 degrees to feel warm, at least in our neighborhood.


Wishing everyone a happy and pleasantly warm weekend :o)

Sign of the times

Times are a-changin'! Here's the story...

The hubby had some big news Thursday night; he had an interview the next morning for a holiday gig at UPS to be squeezed in in the wee hours of the morning before his "real job." If he got it, it would entail me taking care of Baby Bananaface in the mornings and getting him to daycare on my own (big change). More immediately, he needed me to take care of BB the next morning so he could get to the interview.

Instantly I felt the panic lurking in my system. I felt the fear boiling up like big storm clouds within me. I managed to keep a relative cool (no panic attacks or tears) and coped with the news even though part of me was running around like a chicken with her head cut off. I've had extremely limited solo parenting time lately and taking care of BB can be a highly stressful proposition for me.

Yesterday morning the hubs got up and went to his interview early in the morning and I managed to get me and BB to our respective places (daycare and gym) on time and in order. It was a big shift in routine for me and while part of me wasn't sure if I was up to it I think a larger part of me knows that I can handle more hands-on parenting now.

That said, the fear is still there. I worry about taking on too much and setting myself up for a big fall mood-wise. I even feel a little part of me resisting the call to action and increase in responsibilities. It's embarrassing to admit but part of me that wants to stay in the patient role and not bother working up to handling what I used to handle. That shameful, whiny part is one thing but a larger part of me wants to regain the ability I had, the more balanced partnership with my husband and confidence that comes from partaking in life with more vigor and commitment.

The fact that the hubby would even consider applying for a gig like this and think that I'm capable of taking care of BB in the mornings on my own is a huge sign of the changin' times and progress I've made. Even though I recognize this, it's difficult for me to believe in myself and have faith that I'm strong enough to manage. I'm still in a place where I feel on the edge of disaster, fragile, and unreliable. Even as I say that, I know that I've made progress and that I'm stronger and part of this transition back to wellness is waiting for my confidence to build up again. It just takes time.

So while I'm navigating that transition and juggling solo parenting in the mornings (he got the gig) I will have to commit myself even more to managing my fear and giving myself credit. It freaks me out a bit but I also feel like it's a major opportunity to prove myself, to step up and reach for what I value. I really do want to help support my family and my husband and engage more with BB again; I've just been out of practice for a long time and harboring a lot of fear about getting back up to speed.

The hubster knows I'm afraid and he knows it's a big change but he believes in me and is also very assertive about the fact that if things don't work out he can easily drop the extra job, no worries.

Other than worrying about myself I'm also worrying a lot about him. He's already running ragged and not taking very good care of himself with his current level of responsibilities. I don't want him to get sick or not being getting enough sleep or injure himself wrestling packages.

I know he wouldn't be doing this unless we really needed the help financially (I don't get the full picture there, he takes care of that business and we keep me in the dark for now-he says we're squeaking by and just need more breathing room) and I know that if he can't balance things he will pull the plug, so I'm trying to trust in his judgment and not fret too much about him.

He's a grown ass man that knows his own limits! But oh, how I love him and wish things were easier <3

SO there's the story. I think it's a good sign that I'm making progress and hopefully tackling the challenge will give me a boost in confidence. It looks like we might be in for some exhausting weeks this holiday season, but as the hubster says, "It's temporary!"

Ooh, reminds me that I need to work on registering for my winter quarter class-gotta order ye olde transcripts! Times are certainly a-changin' and while it's scary, I also feel a little pride that I'm stepping out and getting back into the fray. I might not be 100% but I'm doing a helluva lot better than I was just a few months ago.

Feel like my baby steps are changing into something bigger, but I'm not sure what to call them... well, whatever they are it's progress!

I Did Good And I'll Do Even Better

I'm trying to focus on the positive right now but fearful, tense feelings throughout my body and anxious thoughts flashing through my mind are making that a challenge. I know that I did a good job today but a large part of me still feels bad about feeling bad.

What did I do today? This morning I went to the gym with Baby Bananaface and gave the hubster some time home alone. Then this afternoon I helped the hubster with a paper he's working on for school. After BB didn't sleep too well for his nap I took him for a drive so he could nap some more and the hubster could get more time to work on his paper. I even went to Target with BB without the hubster-two solo childcare excursions in one day! This is big doin's for me. It's a show of progress. It's an accomplishment.

That said, I still feel down about myself. I feel bad that I am not even better. I feel bad that these things are still a challenge for me and that I had to navigate anxiety and near-panic attacks throughout. I wish that it were easier. I wish that I was even more help to the hubster. I feel like he's carrying the family all on his own too often and at the same time I don't feel quite up to being an equal partner again yet. It's so confusing and sad to have these conflicting emotions as well as the fear and anxiety.

I recognize that I've come a long way and even though it's difficult to recall exactly how things were I know that things have been far worse for me than they are now. I'm contributing a lot more to our family by managing the laundry and dishes and cooking some meals. I'm taking better care of myself and am able to cope through many of my symptoms without medication or emergency services. I've even managed to taper off of ECT and that's no small feat.

I've come a long way and I've done good. There's still progress to be made and I can do even better and that can come with time. Over and over I tell myself that I can do this and that I am strong and that it's okay to feel bad sometimes, that I'm good enough exactly how I am. I so want to believe this deep in my bones someday instead of the fragile, confusing feelings I experience reciting these words now. Time will tell.

As we prepare to embark on another new week I feel scared of what symptoms I will experience and I feel pressure to perform as someone that is "getting better" would. As much progress as I've made and even with my tiny nugget of pride I still feel fragile and fearful each day. Part of me hopes that this will change gradually over time and before I know it I will feel strong and confident instead but there is also the weary part of me that wants to cry and collapse and give up. So many feelings, so many directions.

I'm still confused. I'm still trying. I'm still giving myself a gold sticker for today even with my doubts and nasty feelings! Baby steps got me here and baby steps will take me even farther to where I want to be, I just have to keep working at it and keep going even when these fears shadow my path.

I hope everyone had a good weekend and made their own victories-big and small! Gold stickers all around, I say :o)

Words for Wednesday

It's "Words for Wednesday" and I'm going to give another go :o) 

I got the prompts from Elephant's Child due to unfortunate circumstances as another blogger that was going to provide prompts had a stroke and can't participate. Please send healing thoughts to Jacqueline AKA The Cranky. Hopefully she will return some day.

I was able to use all but one of the prompt words in my writing this week. It's a personal, non-fiction blurb. I suppose a "musing" is a good way to put it? Not sure what to call it, but I wrote something and that's all that matters!

This week's prompts are:

noble
shine
expressive
charm
odd
biggest

And/or

passion
actuality
top
jar
elevator
angel

---

I ended up with a BA in English Literature after embracing the concept of living a life of passion. I was in college, working part-time at a bank, doing a lot of yoga, and my biggest problem was a sideways romance. With the help of armloads of self-help books and an overly optimistic therapist I found myself enveloped by a sense of faith in the world that may have been a little less than functional. 

In actuality, I wouldn't be a top-selling author by the time I was 25 and my life would include a helluva lot of stairs as opposed to a smooth elevator ride to health and happiness. I hope in time that distance will bring a charming perspective to these challenging times and I can look back at my life like a noble Johnny Cash classic instead of CNN coverage of a humanitarian disaster.

It's a bit odd being on the edge of in the thick of it. No longer a crisis but definitely not recovered. There are days when just making it through takes everything in me and then there are days when I feel my shine returning. Those days I can sense the hope and faith that used to carry me through my days before it was nearly battered to extinction by this postpartum depression.

I've been working at getting better for over a year. Like putting pennies in a jar, my baby steps seem to be adding up to something. People that haven't seen me for a while remark at how good I'm looking and I'm thinking ahead and making plans instead of barely being able to make it through each minute. The progress has been slow and hard to notice, like watching grass grow, yet I'm at a point now where I've clearly made some positive change.  

I've made positive change. It's a fact yet I struggle to believe this, embrace it, and lean on it. After so long going from one crisis to another I've arrived at a place where I can't trust the peace. It's no longer simply peace, it's the calm before a storm and I find myself paralyzed with the fear of my own mind. 

As demoralizing as this is, there is a small part of me that recognizes this as a trace of trauma, a temporary state of mind that I can overcome with more baby steps. When I can stay on top of the fear that perspective helps, when I can't I find myself floundering in that terrifying familiar darkness that has dominated so much of my past year.

While I'm still the creative, expressive wannabe-writer that I was years ago, I am more skeptical and less self-assured. Maybe that will change with time again as it has so far? Right now, instead of dreaming about book tours I dream of days where I feel at ease and am able to relax and enjoy my family. I dream of days where I can make it through without a panic attack or anxiety making me sick to my stomach. I dream of nights where I can cuddle with my husband without anxious thoughts hijacking my brain. 

It doesn't seem like much to ask for but at the same time seems like a lofty, magnificent goal. I know it's the negative, dysfunctional part of my brain when I wish for health and have visions of Indiana Jones snatching the golden idol and being chased by giant boulders enter my mind. My shaken confidence makes it seem that even when I think I'm home free I will be attacked somehow.  

But that is temporary. Like so many other awful symptoms that I've dealt with. I might not have the faith I did when I was younger, but I have enough to hold tight to my belief in baby steps!

---

As for a personal update, my Monday was pretty damn rough. The dark, suicidal thoughts were really sticky and things got pretty distressful rather quickly. Tuesday went a lot better for me although I felt some wobble and fears related to the day before that definitely raised my stress level. 

It's so disorienting having my life shift so abruptly and then feeling somewhat stable so soon afterward-I'm never quite sure how to relax and trust my mood because it's so unstable lately. Hopefully that changes and I get a more calm, stable status quo that I can trust. Baby steps.

Happy Wednesday to all, hope you are well :o)

Keepin' On

This week so far seems to be going well enough-although being "all right" feels strange to me!

I'm not in crisis and I'm not quite good. Though I definitely experience a lot of discomfort throughout my days it's not quite as much as it was and I even have noticeable moments of feeling "Hey, this is pretty good!" One example was just this morning when I was enjoying the brisk but sunny start to the day and admiring the clouds, blue sky, and this spider crafting their web:

I could've stayed and watched him/her at work for hours---oh! throw in some coffee and I would've been over the moon! but I had a schedule to keep and I went to the gym and threw myself into my workout there and enjoyed chatting with some of the ladies that happen to frequent quite a few of the classes I regularly attend.


Therapy this week went all right. I'm still feeling ill at ease and dissatisfied but I have not been able to work up to collecting my thoughts and feelings to bring it up with my therapist. I've been dealing with feeling pressured to achieve wellness and appear better and sometimes feel like I'm spending my time listening to her personal stories rather than utilizing time for my own therapy and she's made a few comments that make me feel she is anti-medication which is part of my recovery* and having her come across that way is giving me bad feelings. It's all grown into a sort of mental block against this therapist and I find myself feeling grouchy and resistant when it comes time for my weekly appointments! Not good...

Besides that whole gnarled mess there was an interesting coincidence this week in session when she brought up the fact that I might have PTSD. I had listened to a story on "The Moth" just a couple days before and been moved to tears as I truly related to this man's tale of PTSD and wondered to myself, "maybe I have some of that going on too?"   (Note: the hubster thinks it's just Generalized Anxiety Disorder and that's it, for the record)

The man was a combat veteran with 3 tours to the Middle East and when he spoke about the moment he realized that checking people for weapons and anticipating attacks around even corner wasn't normal I thought about my own fearful moments opening the door to my home and thinking that there might be someone inside waiting to attack me, or standing in front of my front door and fretting that bullets might shoot through it at any moment, or feeling vulnerable and scared in public, outside my condo, and even inside my own home... but relating so much to his examples and hearing him say that he made it to a place where he could recognize that being so afraid wasn't normal and he could relax with his wife and sip coffee in bed and just be-that gave me hope. That made me feel like I could get there too someday and I was so grateful for that.

That said, it sure sucks to be me right now in the midst of our family evening routines trying to surf my fear and anxiety and discomfort without getting too wound up or thinking about the future. I'm trying to stay in the now, trying to use my skills, trying to soothe and calm myself.

While I think many of my skills are helping, I also feel a heavy sadness to be dealing with these issues yet again. I feel a sadness for myself and the weight I carry. I feel a sadness as I yearn for a more comfortable and enjoyable "normal," but I'm just not there yet. Things are getting better though.

Things are getting better though.

Tomorrow is DBT class night which usually helps lifts my spirits. Thursday I have my regular TMS treatment and an office visit (check in with a doctor about every 2 weeks to make adjustments and check-in). That night we pack up and head east to see the hubby's family and celebrate his father's 75th birthday.

I'm excited to see my in-laws, especially my loving mother-in-law, but I'm nervous to see his siblings and be out of my routine and comfort (or semi-comfortable) zone of familiar gym classes and surroundings... I think I will manage, I think I'll do fine, and I'm planning on going for jogs and walks to keep myself energized-I'm just scared.

Oh the fear, so much fear.

Things are getting better though.

I will keep on keepin' on and keep y'all posted as much as I can  :o)



*Speaking of meds, I've been on Saphris for a week now and while I had some severe fears and anxiety the first few days I'm having a much easier time taking my med at night and I think it might be helping my sleep a bit. I'm still having wakings and panic attacks in the middle of the night-some that are quite difficult to get back to sleep after-but I think it happens less and I sleep deeper and without as many dreams/nightmares which I appreciate. It's a "wait and see" type of thing, so we'll see how things go!

Weekend Update

Tomorrow we have plans to meet my family for a hike to scatter my uncle's ashes on Mt. Rainier. I know it's a bit morbid, but I've been looking forward to this event all week as a chance to get out and do something with my family that we don't normally do-and I tend to enjoy hikes!

Yesterday I did a volunteer shift at the blood bank and met a lovely lady that was also volunteering there. It certainly made the time go by faster chatting with her between helping donors and doing little chores. I hope I get to work another shift with her in the future.

Today I was able to hit the morning gym class and even managed to take Baby Bananaface with me and to the gym childcare totally solo! I get freaked out whenever the hubster recommends a little solo parenting action but I've been coping pretty well lately and it feels really good when I succeed so I'm gonna keep trying more and more while not overwhelming myself.

It's been an up and down day today and definitely have had some anxiety issues but only a few moments when I felt really crappy or upset. My skills have been working for me although dealing with anxiety for so long is frustrating and exhausting.

It's hard to explain what it's like to be on the "not great" spectrum near constantly, where feeling only a little bad seems like a pretty good deal and mild suffering is a normal thing. Then sometimes I just get pissed off and sick of feeling crappy and still other times I'm at that extreme of pain and suffering. It's so rare to feel really "good" or "fine;" the positive or neutral feelings seem strange and alien at times... I just have to remember that I'll have more of the better days as I get better overall. I have had stretches of happy weeks in my life and I can again!

Snapped a little at the hubby today (a rarity!). He seems to forget sometimes that my anxiety can be up for hours on end and I have to actively cope nearly all day and it can be very stressful and tiring. Sometimes he even asks why I just can't think of something else! *sigh* If only. I told him he just had to suck it up and deal with whatever deep breathing I needed to do to get through my anxiety and that was that. He said he appreciated my assertiveness and gave me a charming smile *blush* I felt like I was blowing up on him and he just took it like a tropical breeze! Oh, I sure love him.

Enjoyed sitting on the balcony watching and listening to the downpour this afternoon-even got to edit/revamp one of the hubby's essays which was really fun for me. So overall, a decent day, even bordering on good!

Wishing everyone wonderful weekends-thanks for checking in :o)



OH! Late breaking news, the insurance got sorted out for my new medication so I get to pick that up on Monday. Definitely nervous and afraid of side effects but hoping that it turns out to be a perfect match and helps me out somehow. I've never had anything but my anti-anxiety pills really help when it comes to my mood but it seems like it would be a wonderful asset!

Update/Words for Wednesday

This week I'm going to blend "Words for Wednesday" with a plain ole update. Never done this before, so we'll see how it goes!


This week the prompts were provided by Margaret Adamson and Sue Fulcher via Elephant's Child blog.

This week's prompts are:

Frantic
Lemon
Parasite
Spine
Pummel
Early

AND/OR

Staggering
Lies
Art
Naked
Preposterous
Windmill

I have been staggering a little of late. The past couple days have found me battling more sadness, tears, and fears than usual as hurtful thoughts and scary suicidal ideation plagues my mind. 

I am doing my best utilizing the skills from therapy and it helps a lot to simply label the hurtful lies as thoughts and dismissing them. Sometimes I use a visualization of a pleasant stream and casting my thoughts in the form of pretty white and pink blossoms to float away on the burbling flow of water.

We are still waiting for insurance paperwork to go through so I haven't started the new medication. There was a false alarm where I got texted that my prescription was ready and I assumed it was the Saphris but it turned out to be my thyroid. Well in the time it took me to get to the pharmacy I had worked myself up into a neat little anxiety fit. I wasn't able to use my skills and my fear of another bout of akathisia got the better of me. There is a chance of experiencing that side effect again but there is also a chance that this medication could work wonders for me (it seems that people love it or hate it) so I'm going to try it and hope for the best.

In other news, we visited my parents this Labor Day weekend and enjoyed playing games and getting a little break from childcare. I was, once again, more upfront about my mental state and it felt good to be honest and even better to get supportive responses from my family. On the downside, I barely slept the night that we stayed there and it was a little frightening having the hubster open the bedroom door on me when I was stark naked! In your home, it's one thing, but while a guest in someone else's home getting caught in the nude is much more troubling-at least to me!

*sigh* As I said, I've been having some challenging, dark thoughts. Unfortunately it seems to have infiltrated my dreams and I had some distressing, nearly-nightmarish dreams last night that upset my rest and spiked my anxiety this morning. It was not pleasant starting my day with such a dark outlook... there is such a strong belief in part of me that I just can't make it work, that I just can't survive. Evidence would suggest otherwise but it is still far too easy for me to believe those dark, preposterous thoughts. Old habits die hard and these bad thought patterns have been with me for a very long time.

That said, I am still fighting the good fight. It might feel like I'm tilting at windmills, but I'm trying to remind myself that I'm worth keeping around and that my pain is temporary and especially trying to focus on the positives instead of letting my mind get stuck on repeat, droning on and on with misery and hopelessness.

I hate to end on a darker note, so I will mention a silly little story from my morning today: I was walking back to the condo after giving Fio his morning break and I noticed a lot of raindrops falling from the maple out front and the leaves shaking-it was quite annoying, like the tree was specifically shaking it's rain off onto me as I passed! I looked up and saw a frantic squirrel racing along the upper branches with some bit of food in its mouth. I was still wet, but seeing the cute squirrel certainly gave the experience a more positive twist :o)

I'm sending out hope, love, and strength to all. My thoughts are with you even if I don't comment or keep up on my reading as I battle through this tough spot. Best of luck, be well <3

A Busy Day

Today I had appointments for TMS and meeting with my psychiatrist, the first of which was at 8:00 AM! Lemme tell you, driving into Seattle for an 8:00 AM appointment is something special, but I made it right on time and had a good treatment session.

I had some time to kill between appointments and enjoyed myself at a local mall even though I accidentally consumed a caffeinated coffee beverage (sometimes I just forget to mention the decaf part when I order!) and set myself up for some exaggerated anxiety in the afternoon. I was a little late to my psychiatrist appointment because I didn't leave soon enough to compensate for traffic but overall the appointment went well and I enjoyed seeing my doctor.

We've decided to give another new mood stabilizer a try although it all depends on my insurance giving approval. I'm a little nervous and afraid of experiencing the jittery symptoms again since this is another atypical and I've tended to have that reaction in the past but I'm willing to try and see and hope for the best.

I've been having challenging days but not terrible days and I'm grateful for the little perks and positive moments throughout. The anxiety has definitely been plaguing me but the DBT skills certainly help and I've been trying to keep busy and keep fighting back.

*sigh*

Feeling fearful anticipating the new medication and potential reactions and considering how I haven't been feeling super great and already wore down by anxiety but I'm also aware that I've been feeling a bit better and am holding on to at least a little bit of hope that I'll find a medication that helps me in some way... all I can do is keep slugging along taking things one day at a time! So many people tell me things will get better and I have a hard time believing it but I believe it enough to keep juggling all these treatments and therapies and coping skills and yadda yadda yadda! Ugh! I want to be confident in my wellbeing!



Also, I heard that Gene Wilder passed. I was sad to hear this but hope he's at peace. The remembrances on the radio have brought bittersweet tears to my eyes multiple times. He was a good soul in my book.

Just Don't Give Up

So I'm getting help from 3 main sources-a psychiatrist trying to help me through medication, other psychiatrists trying to help me through ECT, and a therapist trying to help me through DBT-and now one of my psychiatrists has suggested a different type of brain stimulating therapy instead of ECT called TMS. It's all so confusing and borderline overwhelming but I'm trying to hang tough and keep fighting. I don't know exactly what therapy or combination of therapies is going to help me most but I know that I can't give up and I have to keep trying...

Right now I'm in an awkward place where I'm starting the transition from ECT to TMS and trying to balance DBT and waiting to see how things are going to work out.

I'm scared and nervous and just trying to keep on keeping on.... as long as I don't give up I can't fail, right?