My husband always tells me that one of the reasons he married me was
because I was not normal...normal is boring. Yes, my husband thinks
normal is boring. I suppose he is right, but I don't even know if we
have any "normal" to base our opinions on. We have never really felt
"normal" and have always been pretty abnormal.
When we first met we were both running from different things, different people, different situations. I had just spent my first year in college and had accomplished nothing except the "freshman list". You know, the freshman list: gain 20 pounds-check, get stoned for the first time-check, check, go on an alcohol binge that induces memory loss (wait, how many days have I been drunk?)-check, check, check, AND fail at least one college course-check, check, checkity check. So when a friend asked me to join her for a summer in Alaska, of course I said yes.
Josh was running away from his own reality. He had married young, his high school not-so-sweetheart, and started a marriage which allowed him to have 2 beautiful kids and a list of regrets that he too could put into a checklist, but let's not. So he found himself separated and working for a carnival (they provided a paycheck and a place to sleep).
I arrived in Anchorage in May, feeling anxious and excited for the journey ahead and I remember being confused...it was late at night, yet the sky was dusk, not black. The next morning we prepared to depart for Kenai and I met Josh for the first time. He was rude. My friend and I were being introduced to the rest of the crew, being polite, trying to remember names, and Josh was one of the names I remembered...because he was so rude. He just made it so clear that he had no interest in meeting anyone or talking to anyone, let alone becoming friends with anyone. Challenge accepted. I set out on my own little mission to get to know this guy who just seemed to be pissed at the world, who wouldn't even look me in the eyes when he spoke, and who didn't even stand in front of me long enough to hear my name. Of course, he tells this story somewhat differently. But this is my recount of the tale.
The next week was spent getting to know everyone, working long hours and having tons of fun doing it. I was in love with Alaska...the country, the people, the rain, the sun, the ocean. Head over heels in love. I was being pursued by another guy, nice guy but "friends" material. I was never good at letting a guy down easy. We moved on to Homer where we began the process of loading the carnival onto the ferry...I persuaded Josh to stay in my camper (with my two friends and I) rather than in a tent. The next day I knew I had my teeth into him. We boarded the ferry and headed to Kodiak. I was hiding from my male friend who wouldn't give up yet and Josh was also hiding from a female friend who wasn't ready to give up. We forged a rapid friendship, having spent several hours over the past week talking to one another...Josh just kept finding himself stuck in my company. He gave in, quickly, without putting up much of a fight. We found ourselves running out of places to hide...so we went into the cargo hold. Oops, not supposed to go there. We hung out in the RV and talked until we fell asleep. The next morning we emerged late for breakfast, with the rest of the crew suspicious and grumpy, as we pulled into port.
So, you get the picture...summer romance began. When it was time for me to return to Nebraska for my brother's wedding, I had been struggling with a decision. Josh, although separated, still had to make some major decisions regarding his family. I did not want to alter his decisions in any way...I wasn't sure if I should go home to Nebraska and stay or come back after the wedding. I told Josh two days before I flew out that I was going to go home for two weeks and then return. I told him I would be finding a place to rent, for myself. I wanted him to return to his family, make his decisions, and I would be his friend. I loved him, but I didn't want to be a homewrecker.
He bought a plane ticket. Josh ended up with a plane ticket to come to Nebraska with me. I left. He flew out 3 days later. We never returned to Alaska that summer. We have never been back. We worked in the hayfield in Nebraska. We took a bus to Idaho to stay with his parents. We got pregnant. We had been discussing marriage and family, pending the finalization of his divorce, when I realized my period was late.
Once again, I tried to leave. I wanted to go home, to Nebraska. I wanted Josh to finalize his divorce and I did not want him to jump into a new marriage right away. I was so scared that he was going to marry me out of a sense of duty.
He rode the bus back to Nebraska with me, we got our first apartment together and settled into our lives. We weren't "normal", by any means. We had so many complications. Child support payments, a divorce that was taking forever, pregnancy complications...to name a few. Our daughter was born. We were married in front of a justice of the peace when she was 6 months old. We were so excited to elope that we didn't even remember to take pictures.
Life continued...it was about as "normal" as it would ever be. Marriage, family, work....we went through all the motions and were blissfully happy. We never thought anything was unusual until we looked back, ten years later and remembered little things. The waves of sadness, the moments of insanity, the crazy that we both hid as deep as possible. Eventually it would all emerge...
It did. And so far, it is still here. We have realized that it is much harder to pack all that crazy inside and hide it away when you have no more storage places left. We became so full of crazy that we had to let it out. Now we are learning to cope, to accept, and to love each other all over again.
We both exhibited a million telltale signs of some form of mental illness from the very beginning. Josh told lies to help himself hide from all his regrets. I buried my crazy with antidepressants, letting numb become comfortable. But when I ran out of refills or made a decision to stop the meds, convinced I didn't need them, Josh would have to hold me together. He would take the brush out of my hand to stop me from beating myself with it. He would hold me for hours, sometimes days, while I cried.
We knew we weren't "normal". But we weren't ever going to admit it.
Today is different...we know we aren't "normal". Now we accept that we need help. We want to change the way that "normal" is viewed. We love our kids, more than life. I will not stand by and watch them go through any of what I have gone through and not be willing to admit that it is not their fault. The worst pain I ever felt was thinking that I was not normal, that I never would be, and that everyone who loved me didn't understand.
I accept who I am today. Tomorrow I am prepared to stand beside my child, if need be, and help him/her through any feelings of abnormality, through the anger, through the sadness. I will be the change that needs to be. Too long we have lived in a society where people have hidden their "abnormality", feeling ashamed or afraid of what others will think. It is time to realize that the feelings that we all have of "abnormality" is what NORMAL really is.
Saturday, January 17, 2015
Friday, January 16, 2015
The FOG
I took a nap today. Insignificant, yes, mostly. But today I took a nap which for me was a huge feat because I hadn't actually slept in over 60 hours. I get so confused by the insomnia versus fatigue cycles that I can't really know what to expect. I am miserable when I can't sleep. I am awful to those around me and even more awful to myself. The worst part is trying to sleep...you know that feeling that is often described as drifting or falling? People have said they remember feeling peaceful and just floating or falling and then suddenly WHAM! they feel frightened and are awake. I do that, a lot. But it isn't falling for me...I am just hanging out, trying to sleep, almost asleep when suddenly there is a heavy weight on my chest, it must be someone attacking me! Or there is a weight on my legs...I can't move! It's a snake! Or some psycho axe murderer jumps out of nowhere in what was once a peaceful dream. When I have trouble falling asleep, I have seriously odd visions that scare me awake and then I can't stop visualizing it...so I lie awake while my husband, my kids, the cats, the dog, the neighbors, the city sleeps. They all sleep. I drift in and out of states of peace and fear throughout the night. When morning comes everyone wakes and starts to get ready for the day while I just lie there, exhausted and frustrated. Oh how I wish I could just SLEEP, deeply, without dreams.
I long for good healthy sleep, the kind that makes you feel refreshed, energized, and ready for the day. I don't remember the last time I slept like that. The reality sinks in when I try to go through a day without having a desire to crawl back into bed. I am just so stinkin' tired all the time! I am not the person I have always pretended to be on the outside. Inside I am a wreck. My mind spins in a million different directions, constantly. I struggle to organize my thoughts into one subject or to maintain a conversation that doesn't end up with me apologizing (at least 10 times) for talking too much or digressing. I can only imagine how difficult it must be for someone to follow my thought processes in a conversation. The conversation may go something like this:
1st subject.....blah, blah, blah and oh....2nd subject (related to 1st subject).......and then 1st
subject...then 3rd subject (unrelated to 1st, related to 2nd)......then 1st subject.....then 2nd
subject.....then 4th subject (unrelated to any of them)....then back to 2nd.
By then even I am somewhat confused about what the original conversation was about and have to ask a leading question "what we were talking about?" or "what was I saying?" Perhaps this happens to many people, but I feel like I am constantly asking people to fill me in on what I was just saying. My disorganized thoughts are drowning me.
I feel as though I have so many different thoughts going through my mind these days that I just can't organize them. I picture placing them into thought columns, organized by subject and prioritized according to relevancy. Oh if only I had a librarian for my thoughts!
Weird...I just...never mind. Yeah, I just thought about what it would be like to have my own personal brain librarian.
So, as you can see, the fog consumes me. It jumbles all of my thoughts into this mess. It is almost like taking the pages of ten different books, all the same size with identical print, and shuffling them and dumping them into a pile on the floor. Sort that! It's a mess...that mess describes my thoughts. There are so many going through my brain that I can't stay on one subject with digressing.
So....what was I saying? Oh yeah, my nap. Naps help, they seem to decrease the thickness of the fog, slowing down the thoughts for a little bit once sleep has come aboard. But only if I can actually get to sleep.
I long for good healthy sleep, the kind that makes you feel refreshed, energized, and ready for the day. I don't remember the last time I slept like that. The reality sinks in when I try to go through a day without having a desire to crawl back into bed. I am just so stinkin' tired all the time! I am not the person I have always pretended to be on the outside. Inside I am a wreck. My mind spins in a million different directions, constantly. I struggle to organize my thoughts into one subject or to maintain a conversation that doesn't end up with me apologizing (at least 10 times) for talking too much or digressing. I can only imagine how difficult it must be for someone to follow my thought processes in a conversation. The conversation may go something like this:
1st subject.....blah, blah, blah and oh....2nd subject (related to 1st subject).......and then 1st
subject...then 3rd subject (unrelated to 1st, related to 2nd)......then 1st subject.....then 2nd
subject.....then 4th subject (unrelated to any of them)....then back to 2nd.
By then even I am somewhat confused about what the original conversation was about and have to ask a leading question "what we were talking about?" or "what was I saying?" Perhaps this happens to many people, but I feel like I am constantly asking people to fill me in on what I was just saying. My disorganized thoughts are drowning me.
I feel as though I have so many different thoughts going through my mind these days that I just can't organize them. I picture placing them into thought columns, organized by subject and prioritized according to relevancy. Oh if only I had a librarian for my thoughts!
Weird...I just...never mind. Yeah, I just thought about what it would be like to have my own personal brain librarian.
So, as you can see, the fog consumes me. It jumbles all of my thoughts into this mess. It is almost like taking the pages of ten different books, all the same size with identical print, and shuffling them and dumping them into a pile on the floor. Sort that! It's a mess...that mess describes my thoughts. There are so many going through my brain that I can't stay on one subject with digressing.
So....what was I saying? Oh yeah, my nap. Naps help, they seem to decrease the thickness of the fog, slowing down the thoughts for a little bit once sleep has come aboard. But only if I can actually get to sleep.
Thursday, January 8, 2015
Anger, Regret, and Fear
So here it is, the low down on depression. At least on my depression. Today I am angry. I am angry that the kids didn't do their chores. I am angry that the dog has to be taken outside. I am angry that the trash can is full and the only one who seems to notice is me. I am angry that the toilet seat got left up and the dog drank out of the toilet because now I have a wet butt from sitting on a wet toilet seat. I am angry that I am so tired. I am angry that the TV show I started watching is not what my husband wants to watch. I am angry that my husband doesn't grab my hand and pull me to him and just hold me...you know, like they do in the stupid TV show.
I am JUST SO angry.
I am full of regret. I regret being so angry. I regret all the things I say when I am angry. I regret being angry at my husband for not doing exactly what the TV husbands do. I regret being so angry about the overflowing trash can when I can't get off my butt to take it out, I just sit here, being angry and full of regret. I regret not getting up and taking the dog outside because someone else had to do it after I got angry and screamed at them to do it. I regret being mean, and saying so many awful things.
I am FULL of regret.
I am afraid. I am afraid that my marriage will not survive this. I am terrified that one day my husband will look at me and tell me he has had enough, that he can't keep listening to me complain that he doesn't hug me enough or that he doesn't do enough to help out around the house, or that he doesn't do whatever it is I am angry about at the moment. I am fearful that one day my kids will look at me and tell me how much they hate me for all the times I yelled, for all the times I couldn't get out of bed, for all the times that I couldn't be the mother that they deserve.
I LIVE in fear.
So, let's assume that I was properly diagnosed when I was 19...Major Depressive Disorder. My life has been good. I have been happy, mostly. I fell head over heels in love at the age of 19, making the high school romance that I thought I couldn't ever recover from seem so ridiculous. I fell HARD. And it felt AMAZING. Then along came baby, and life got even better. Who knew it could? I didn't think it was possible to be more in love than I was until I met my daughter. She made me see EVERYTHING differently and I fell so much in love with her and even more deeply in love with her daddy that nothing else mattered. We were living a fairy tale romance, in my mind anyway. Along came our second daughter and then our son. Each child filled our home with more love than before. I kept thinking that I could not possibly be able to have more love than I already had, but it just kept coming. And our third daughter brought even more love into our home. How BLESSED! What a gift to have 4 healthy children and an amazing husband that loves me so much and is an amazing father to our children. What more could I have ever wanted???
Well, what I wanted was to continue on with being blissfully happy. Truly, I did. What I did NOT want was for my happiness to be slowly chipped away by every little thing that happened in my life. I never anticipated that we would still be struggling to make ends meet when the kids all started school. Honestly, I thought that we would both work and everything would just fall into place. I mean, at least we wouldn't have to pay for diapers anymore, right? How foolish I was. I didn't foresee going into a career that would suck the life out of me. I went to school because I was so full of love, I wanted to share it. I wanted to care for others, I mean truly care for them.
I began working in the nursing field and fell in love with the people, with caring for them. I went to school to do more of that, hoping to better support my family doing what I loved. Schools out, time to go from the full time student and full time employee to being the full time and overtime employee. They teach you to accept nursing as a "thankless job". I did. I accepted that the people I cared for would most often not say thank you and that their families would secretly resent us. (The family can't help it, they resent the care provider for being able to be there day in and day out for their loved one. They love us for it, but they resent us too, most of them don't even realize it. But we, the care providers, we sense it from time to time.) Anyway, we accept that. What they don't prepare you for...your coworkers. They teach you about the importance of showing up no matter what because if you don't, the care still has to be provided. They teach you what to do in the incidence that something prevents you from going to work...call your own replacement and when you can't find one, you show up anyway. And they teach you that you will have to go to work on your days off to cover for someone else who couldn't fulfill the responsibility of showing up. Feeling burned out, I quit and accepted a part-time position somewhere else, still in nursing. Part-time was never part-time. I was still working full-time and overtime... What burns you is the politics involved. As a woman I realize that working with a bunch of other women will involve some amount of drama. But that does not mean I enjoy it.
We all work hard, we all go unnoticed, under-appreciated. We all signed up for this. But what I didn't sign up for was making my family take a back seat to everyone else's families. Not fair, not doing it! I worked hard to get where I was but I wasn't going to continue making my family suffer at home, alone, while I was working. No amount of money is worth not getting to see my kids every night. No money will ever be enough to make me want to skip out on school musicals or dance performances. No money will ever be more important than taking my child to the hospital...so I quit.
There have been so many things that have happened over the past 15 years that have set me back. My world has been shattered several times with marital struggles, hospitalizations of loved ones, death. I still have all 4 of my children and I am still happily married and madly in love with the same man who swept me off my feet nearly 14 years ago. But it has not always been blissful.
Don't misunderstand. I love my family with all that I am. But sometimes what I am is angry, afraid, regretful. Sometimes I am nothing. Sometimes I am just SO tired. Sometimes I hate me.
I say things when I am angry that I regret to the core. But I can't take it back. I can apologize a thousand times, but I can never take back the awful things I have said.
You know, the thing is, no one is doing anything differently today than they do every other stinking day. What is different is ME. I am having a bad day and therefore I am forcing my bad day upon everyone else. My husband DOES grab my hand sometimes and pull me to him and honestly, it is WAY better than anything you see on TV. My kids do their chores, usually, and if they don't, all it usually takes is a reminder to get them started. The trash...it is on the chore list, so someone will take it out. The dog, well, I have two legs and I can take him out just as easily as anyone else, except when I am in a bad mood, in which case someone usually tells me they were just getting their shoes on when I started yelling. The toilet seat...I probably left it up yesterday, causing someone else to get wet butt, so I probably deserved it today.
Here is what sucks the most.
I already know all of what I am angry about is ridiculous, but right now I am so angry that I can't see any of that until I scream and cry it all out.
All that is left to do is beg, and pray. I beg for forgiveness. Of course every single one of my family members forgives me right away, much too easily. I don't really deserve them. And they definitely don't deserve me, what I do to them. They are good people and I am typically a good person too, until I become consumed by the monsters inside me. I pray that my kids and my husband will continue to love me and forgive me no matter what. I know they will never forget what I have put them through and that sucks. I am not what you call normal and I am not what you call sane, at least not right now. A couple months ago, if you knew me, you probably would not have thought anything was unusual about me. I was the typical working mother who was stressed from "managing it all". And today I am not that person, today I am the one who needs managed. We all have a breaking point, a rock bottom, a dark place....
My family, whom I love more than anything else in this life...I am sorry for what afflicts me because I know it afflicts you too.
I am JUST SO angry.
I am full of regret. I regret being so angry. I regret all the things I say when I am angry. I regret being angry at my husband for not doing exactly what the TV husbands do. I regret being so angry about the overflowing trash can when I can't get off my butt to take it out, I just sit here, being angry and full of regret. I regret not getting up and taking the dog outside because someone else had to do it after I got angry and screamed at them to do it. I regret being mean, and saying so many awful things.
I am FULL of regret.
I am afraid. I am afraid that my marriage will not survive this. I am terrified that one day my husband will look at me and tell me he has had enough, that he can't keep listening to me complain that he doesn't hug me enough or that he doesn't do enough to help out around the house, or that he doesn't do whatever it is I am angry about at the moment. I am fearful that one day my kids will look at me and tell me how much they hate me for all the times I yelled, for all the times I couldn't get out of bed, for all the times that I couldn't be the mother that they deserve.
I LIVE in fear.
So, let's assume that I was properly diagnosed when I was 19...Major Depressive Disorder. My life has been good. I have been happy, mostly. I fell head over heels in love at the age of 19, making the high school romance that I thought I couldn't ever recover from seem so ridiculous. I fell HARD. And it felt AMAZING. Then along came baby, and life got even better. Who knew it could? I didn't think it was possible to be more in love than I was until I met my daughter. She made me see EVERYTHING differently and I fell so much in love with her and even more deeply in love with her daddy that nothing else mattered. We were living a fairy tale romance, in my mind anyway. Along came our second daughter and then our son. Each child filled our home with more love than before. I kept thinking that I could not possibly be able to have more love than I already had, but it just kept coming. And our third daughter brought even more love into our home. How BLESSED! What a gift to have 4 healthy children and an amazing husband that loves me so much and is an amazing father to our children. What more could I have ever wanted???
Well, what I wanted was to continue on with being blissfully happy. Truly, I did. What I did NOT want was for my happiness to be slowly chipped away by every little thing that happened in my life. I never anticipated that we would still be struggling to make ends meet when the kids all started school. Honestly, I thought that we would both work and everything would just fall into place. I mean, at least we wouldn't have to pay for diapers anymore, right? How foolish I was. I didn't foresee going into a career that would suck the life out of me. I went to school because I was so full of love, I wanted to share it. I wanted to care for others, I mean truly care for them.
I began working in the nursing field and fell in love with the people, with caring for them. I went to school to do more of that, hoping to better support my family doing what I loved. Schools out, time to go from the full time student and full time employee to being the full time and overtime employee. They teach you to accept nursing as a "thankless job". I did. I accepted that the people I cared for would most often not say thank you and that their families would secretly resent us. (The family can't help it, they resent the care provider for being able to be there day in and day out for their loved one. They love us for it, but they resent us too, most of them don't even realize it. But we, the care providers, we sense it from time to time.) Anyway, we accept that. What they don't prepare you for...your coworkers. They teach you about the importance of showing up no matter what because if you don't, the care still has to be provided. They teach you what to do in the incidence that something prevents you from going to work...call your own replacement and when you can't find one, you show up anyway. And they teach you that you will have to go to work on your days off to cover for someone else who couldn't fulfill the responsibility of showing up. Feeling burned out, I quit and accepted a part-time position somewhere else, still in nursing. Part-time was never part-time. I was still working full-time and overtime... What burns you is the politics involved. As a woman I realize that working with a bunch of other women will involve some amount of drama. But that does not mean I enjoy it.
We all work hard, we all go unnoticed, under-appreciated. We all signed up for this. But what I didn't sign up for was making my family take a back seat to everyone else's families. Not fair, not doing it! I worked hard to get where I was but I wasn't going to continue making my family suffer at home, alone, while I was working. No amount of money is worth not getting to see my kids every night. No money will ever be enough to make me want to skip out on school musicals or dance performances. No money will ever be more important than taking my child to the hospital...so I quit.
There have been so many things that have happened over the past 15 years that have set me back. My world has been shattered several times with marital struggles, hospitalizations of loved ones, death. I still have all 4 of my children and I am still happily married and madly in love with the same man who swept me off my feet nearly 14 years ago. But it has not always been blissful.
Don't misunderstand. I love my family with all that I am. But sometimes what I am is angry, afraid, regretful. Sometimes I am nothing. Sometimes I am just SO tired. Sometimes I hate me.
I say things when I am angry that I regret to the core. But I can't take it back. I can apologize a thousand times, but I can never take back the awful things I have said.
You know, the thing is, no one is doing anything differently today than they do every other stinking day. What is different is ME. I am having a bad day and therefore I am forcing my bad day upon everyone else. My husband DOES grab my hand sometimes and pull me to him and honestly, it is WAY better than anything you see on TV. My kids do their chores, usually, and if they don't, all it usually takes is a reminder to get them started. The trash...it is on the chore list, so someone will take it out. The dog, well, I have two legs and I can take him out just as easily as anyone else, except when I am in a bad mood, in which case someone usually tells me they were just getting their shoes on when I started yelling. The toilet seat...I probably left it up yesterday, causing someone else to get wet butt, so I probably deserved it today.
Here is what sucks the most.
I already know all of what I am angry about is ridiculous, but right now I am so angry that I can't see any of that until I scream and cry it all out.
All that is left to do is beg, and pray. I beg for forgiveness. Of course every single one of my family members forgives me right away, much too easily. I don't really deserve them. And they definitely don't deserve me, what I do to them. They are good people and I am typically a good person too, until I become consumed by the monsters inside me. I pray that my kids and my husband will continue to love me and forgive me no matter what. I know they will never forget what I have put them through and that sucks. I am not what you call normal and I am not what you call sane, at least not right now. A couple months ago, if you knew me, you probably would not have thought anything was unusual about me. I was the typical working mother who was stressed from "managing it all". And today I am not that person, today I am the one who needs managed. We all have a breaking point, a rock bottom, a dark place....
My family, whom I love more than anything else in this life...I am sorry for what afflicts me because I know it afflicts you too.
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
Doctors, Nurses, and Knowledge
Everyone wants to help. Everyone has insight. Everyone has experience.
So do I.
Here is the thing, it is inevitable that the things I am going to write in this blog will cause people to feel sorry for me and try to tell me all the different things I should be doing or that I should try. But the truth is, this is my therapy right now.
I know what has (and has not) worked for me in the past. I have been in and out of therapy and on and off medications for my depression. I have also learned enough about my depression to be able to say enough is enough--pharmaceutically speaking, that is. And it does help to be a nurse...I have a little more knowledge about the way the medications work now. I also know more about neurotransmitters and how to identify side effects or adverse reactions. I do not know everything, do not misunderstand what I am saying here. I am not claiming to be a know-it-all.
Here's the thing about the medication I was just on-
I was on it for 3 years. When I first started taking it, I felt great (well, after a couple weeks). After about a year and a half I felt that it wasn't working as well. So, I went to the Dr. and got an increase in dosage, as I figured this was most likely an increased tolerance. Like the alcoholic who needs more booze to get drunk today than they did a month ago...I needed more medication to meet my brain's needs.
Withdrawal is awful. I was taking Effexor XR this time. It has some crazy side effects. If I took my dose even one hour later than usual, I felt like I had electrical shocks all over my brain. Withdrawal from this medication started immediately, at least for me. I have read testimonials from people who stated they had no withdrawal symptoms at all. Honestly, I didn't mind the first couple hours after a missed dose; the symptoms for the first couple hours helped me realize right away that I had forgotten a dose, therefore I could take it ASAP. But, there were the occasions when I ran out. Twice in 3 years I ran out of refills. I have much respect for physicians, DO NOT misunderstand what I am saying. I was as much responsible for the error in refills as my physician. Most physicians want to see you at least once a year to follow up on how the meds are working and to do a regular check up. The appointments are important and necessary. Be smart, schedule them well ahead, so you don't have to beg for an appointment or pray for someone else to cancel at the last minute. As a mother of 4, full-time student, and full-time employee I was not great at remembering to schedule my appointments ( or keep them for that matter). Things come up...life happens. Kids get sick, exams stress you out, and people no call-no show at work, leaving you to cover the holes because in nursing the show must go on. In nursing people still need to be taken care of, regardless of what is going on in your persona life. If I don't show up to work, the nurse that has been there for the last 12 hours has the luxury (BARF!!!!) of staying until someone else agrees to come in. Sometimes no one will come in. Sometimes no one will even answer the phone. And sometimes you work 16+ hours and all your boss will say about it is "well you aren't supposed to be here over 16 hours!" And what do we get to say? Simply put- the boss didn't exactly show up when you were nearing the 20th hour, so why would anyone else.
.....Ranting about the issues with staffing long term care centers would be another blog in itself.......
Back to discussing withdrawal...
The symptom I hate the most is the fog. The crying sucks, don't get me wrong. So does the anger-happy-sad-numb mood swing cycle. Sleeping, being unable to get out of bed, that is probably the easiest symptom/side effect of it all. At least when I sleep I don't say things I will regret instantly and I don't cry at the drop of a hat, for no reason that I can give because I don't even know the answer. But THE FOG. The fog is this feeling of complete hyperactivity of thoughts. There are so many thoughts going on in my brain that I feel like I am driving 200 mph in rush hour traffic...I can't make it slow down enough to see where I can change lanes or find my exit. The thoughts are so random and so fast and so unpredictable that I can't exit. And then someone asks "How are you?" or "How are you feeling today?" Well, if only I could shut down the freeway long enough to be able to say something normal. I would LOVE to look them in the eye and simply say "I'm fine, how are you?" But NO! I look at them with a dazed look and say "I..I...I'm fine." I say the words, but my appearance does not match the words and my words don't even sound remotely true.
Yesterday I ran into a classmate from high school, someone who has been a friend since before kindergarten, and the scenario played out. When I replied to his query..."I'm f..fi..fine. How are you and your family?", my lifelong friend looks at me with eyes that spoke louder than any words he could have said "WHY ARE YOU LYING TO ME?" So I simply said, "You are right, I am lying, and I can't do that well." And so the word vomit began. I explained things that didn't need explaining. I couldn't stop. I just kept talking, trying to explain that I have always been this way, but I am trying to stop pretending to be someone I am not. You see, I spent most of my school years being that annoyingly happy person, the cheerleader who just seemed too bubbly to put up with. I wanted to fit in. I wanted to be friends with EVERYONE, but truthfully wasn't allowing myself to be friends with anyone, because I hid who was inside. There were a few that I let in, those that were sworn to secrecy. But I didn't even tell them everything. But back then I didn't know that I was depressed. I actually thought I was just different, embarrassingly different...crazy. So I smiled, I laughed, I partied, I had fun. All the while I hated who I was and regretted so much. I remember the night my friend called me and asked me if it would be okay for her to go after my ex-boyfriend. It was so nice of her to ask. She didn't have to. The boy and I had been friends FOREVER and had attempted dating, only for me to discover that I couldn't do it...he was my friend, and although I loved him, I would never be in love with him. I had broken it off and felt horrible about it. So when my female friend called I felt like it was a perfect opportunity to make it up to my guy friend. That was so long ago. They dated the rest of high school and on into college. Today they are still together, blissfully happy with kids in tow. I love running into them, it makes me so happy to know that I did one thing right so many years ago. Not that I really deserve any credit...I think they would have ended up together anyway. But I do like to think I helped. If they read this I sincerely hope they forgive me for babbling...
Anyway, word vomit in the grocery store to a lifelong friend who had not clue that I was so weird... poor guy. No one deserves to run into ME in withdrawal. I have been in such a fog since I ran out of meds. But here is the thing, the reason I started typing this entry to begin with, I CHOSE this. It may be hard for some of you to understand. I KNOW how dangerous it can be to stop taking my medicine. That is why I am talking about it, being honest with everyone. I know the risks. But considering the adverse reactions I was dealing with and the fact that I wasn't feeling that I was taking a therapeutic dose anymore, I knew what had to be done. Typically a physician would have tapered the dose down to decrease the withdrawal symptoms, but as I said, I just lost my insurance. I can't afford to go to the Dr. right now. Plus, there is no guarantee that they will agree with me. If I go in and try to explain all that I think or know and desire, they may just decide to increase the dose. Or they may add another medication. Either way, not what I wanted. MY BODY, MY CHOICE. So, I choose to stop the meds. I will detox my way, cleaning my body of the medication that my body has been used to having for the last 3 years, experiencing all of the awful symptoms, begging my family to continue to put up with me, until I decide what I will do from here.
Honestly, I have it easy. Really I do, and I am grateful for this gift. I do not struggle with suicidal thoughts. I did as a teen, but haven't since my early 20s. So many people fight battles with the suicidal thoughts and tendencies, and I know how awful that is, but I am fortunate to not have that struggle. I have too much to live for. I recognize that, I am selfish in that regard, actually. I don't want to die because I don't want to miss out on anything. I want to see my great-great grandchildren.
So, here it is....another written brain explosion that some of you will not understand and some of you will be freaked out by. It's me, it's my thoughts.
UNEDITED thoughts!!!!!!
I am certain that I will lose certain things (people) in my life due to my babbling, my word vomit. But I am also certain that I will gain much more. I feel connected, less foggy when I type these words. I could have written all of this in a private journal, and perhaps some of you will wish I had. But I want to help. I want to help myself and I want to help others.
The idea for this blog came out of the realization that when I am caring for someone else, I feel happy. I am a nurse. I want to help people. I am not able to get paid to help others right now, I am a stay-at-home mommy and I love it, but I can still help. I am hopeful that my honesty and my experiences will help someone.
It's Christmas Eve and I have been debating whether or not to leave early to go to Grandma's. The struggle is in my head--if I leave early I get to spend more time with family, which I LOVE. I am always one of the last to leave Grandma and Grandpa's house. BUT, if we get there early I have to maintain my emotions longer. I don't know if I can avoid crying for too many extra hours. I don't cry because I want to cry. I cry because my brain doesn't give me a choice. Grrrrrrr........
What to do, what to do.... I need the happy memories with my loved ones so much more than I need to maintain my sense of self control and pride. I'm leaving early!
Merry Christmas!
So do I.
Here is the thing, it is inevitable that the things I am going to write in this blog will cause people to feel sorry for me and try to tell me all the different things I should be doing or that I should try. But the truth is, this is my therapy right now.
I know what has (and has not) worked for me in the past. I have been in and out of therapy and on and off medications for my depression. I have also learned enough about my depression to be able to say enough is enough--pharmaceutically speaking, that is. And it does help to be a nurse...I have a little more knowledge about the way the medications work now. I also know more about neurotransmitters and how to identify side effects or adverse reactions. I do not know everything, do not misunderstand what I am saying here. I am not claiming to be a know-it-all.
Here's the thing about the medication I was just on-
I was on it for 3 years. When I first started taking it, I felt great (well, after a couple weeks). After about a year and a half I felt that it wasn't working as well. So, I went to the Dr. and got an increase in dosage, as I figured this was most likely an increased tolerance. Like the alcoholic who needs more booze to get drunk today than they did a month ago...I needed more medication to meet my brain's needs.
Withdrawal is awful. I was taking Effexor XR this time. It has some crazy side effects. If I took my dose even one hour later than usual, I felt like I had electrical shocks all over my brain. Withdrawal from this medication started immediately, at least for me. I have read testimonials from people who stated they had no withdrawal symptoms at all. Honestly, I didn't mind the first couple hours after a missed dose; the symptoms for the first couple hours helped me realize right away that I had forgotten a dose, therefore I could take it ASAP. But, there were the occasions when I ran out. Twice in 3 years I ran out of refills. I have much respect for physicians, DO NOT misunderstand what I am saying. I was as much responsible for the error in refills as my physician. Most physicians want to see you at least once a year to follow up on how the meds are working and to do a regular check up. The appointments are important and necessary. Be smart, schedule them well ahead, so you don't have to beg for an appointment or pray for someone else to cancel at the last minute. As a mother of 4, full-time student, and full-time employee I was not great at remembering to schedule my appointments ( or keep them for that matter). Things come up...life happens. Kids get sick, exams stress you out, and people no call-no show at work, leaving you to cover the holes because in nursing the show must go on. In nursing people still need to be taken care of, regardless of what is going on in your persona life. If I don't show up to work, the nurse that has been there for the last 12 hours has the luxury (BARF!!!!) of staying until someone else agrees to come in. Sometimes no one will come in. Sometimes no one will even answer the phone. And sometimes you work 16+ hours and all your boss will say about it is "well you aren't supposed to be here over 16 hours!" And what do we get to say? Simply put- the boss didn't exactly show up when you were nearing the 20th hour, so why would anyone else.
.....Ranting about the issues with staffing long term care centers would be another blog in itself.......
Back to discussing withdrawal...
The symptom I hate the most is the fog. The crying sucks, don't get me wrong. So does the anger-happy-sad-numb mood swing cycle. Sleeping, being unable to get out of bed, that is probably the easiest symptom/side effect of it all. At least when I sleep I don't say things I will regret instantly and I don't cry at the drop of a hat, for no reason that I can give because I don't even know the answer. But THE FOG. The fog is this feeling of complete hyperactivity of thoughts. There are so many thoughts going on in my brain that I feel like I am driving 200 mph in rush hour traffic...I can't make it slow down enough to see where I can change lanes or find my exit. The thoughts are so random and so fast and so unpredictable that I can't exit. And then someone asks "How are you?" or "How are you feeling today?" Well, if only I could shut down the freeway long enough to be able to say something normal. I would LOVE to look them in the eye and simply say "I'm fine, how are you?" But NO! I look at them with a dazed look and say "I..I...I'm fine." I say the words, but my appearance does not match the words and my words don't even sound remotely true.
Yesterday I ran into a classmate from high school, someone who has been a friend since before kindergarten, and the scenario played out. When I replied to his query..."I'm f..fi..fine. How are you and your family?", my lifelong friend looks at me with eyes that spoke louder than any words he could have said "WHY ARE YOU LYING TO ME?" So I simply said, "You are right, I am lying, and I can't do that well." And so the word vomit began. I explained things that didn't need explaining. I couldn't stop. I just kept talking, trying to explain that I have always been this way, but I am trying to stop pretending to be someone I am not. You see, I spent most of my school years being that annoyingly happy person, the cheerleader who just seemed too bubbly to put up with. I wanted to fit in. I wanted to be friends with EVERYONE, but truthfully wasn't allowing myself to be friends with anyone, because I hid who was inside. There were a few that I let in, those that were sworn to secrecy. But I didn't even tell them everything. But back then I didn't know that I was depressed. I actually thought I was just different, embarrassingly different...crazy. So I smiled, I laughed, I partied, I had fun. All the while I hated who I was and regretted so much. I remember the night my friend called me and asked me if it would be okay for her to go after my ex-boyfriend. It was so nice of her to ask. She didn't have to. The boy and I had been friends FOREVER and had attempted dating, only for me to discover that I couldn't do it...he was my friend, and although I loved him, I would never be in love with him. I had broken it off and felt horrible about it. So when my female friend called I felt like it was a perfect opportunity to make it up to my guy friend. That was so long ago. They dated the rest of high school and on into college. Today they are still together, blissfully happy with kids in tow. I love running into them, it makes me so happy to know that I did one thing right so many years ago. Not that I really deserve any credit...I think they would have ended up together anyway. But I do like to think I helped. If they read this I sincerely hope they forgive me for babbling...
Anyway, word vomit in the grocery store to a lifelong friend who had not clue that I was so weird... poor guy. No one deserves to run into ME in withdrawal. I have been in such a fog since I ran out of meds. But here is the thing, the reason I started typing this entry to begin with, I CHOSE this. It may be hard for some of you to understand. I KNOW how dangerous it can be to stop taking my medicine. That is why I am talking about it, being honest with everyone. I know the risks. But considering the adverse reactions I was dealing with and the fact that I wasn't feeling that I was taking a therapeutic dose anymore, I knew what had to be done. Typically a physician would have tapered the dose down to decrease the withdrawal symptoms, but as I said, I just lost my insurance. I can't afford to go to the Dr. right now. Plus, there is no guarantee that they will agree with me. If I go in and try to explain all that I think or know and desire, they may just decide to increase the dose. Or they may add another medication. Either way, not what I wanted. MY BODY, MY CHOICE. So, I choose to stop the meds. I will detox my way, cleaning my body of the medication that my body has been used to having for the last 3 years, experiencing all of the awful symptoms, begging my family to continue to put up with me, until I decide what I will do from here.
Honestly, I have it easy. Really I do, and I am grateful for this gift. I do not struggle with suicidal thoughts. I did as a teen, but haven't since my early 20s. So many people fight battles with the suicidal thoughts and tendencies, and I know how awful that is, but I am fortunate to not have that struggle. I have too much to live for. I recognize that, I am selfish in that regard, actually. I don't want to die because I don't want to miss out on anything. I want to see my great-great grandchildren.
So, here it is....another written brain explosion that some of you will not understand and some of you will be freaked out by. It's me, it's my thoughts.
UNEDITED thoughts!!!!!!
I am certain that I will lose certain things (people) in my life due to my babbling, my word vomit. But I am also certain that I will gain much more. I feel connected, less foggy when I type these words. I could have written all of this in a private journal, and perhaps some of you will wish I had. But I want to help. I want to help myself and I want to help others.
The idea for this blog came out of the realization that when I am caring for someone else, I feel happy. I am a nurse. I want to help people. I am not able to get paid to help others right now, I am a stay-at-home mommy and I love it, but I can still help. I am hopeful that my honesty and my experiences will help someone.
It's Christmas Eve and I have been debating whether or not to leave early to go to Grandma's. The struggle is in my head--if I leave early I get to spend more time with family, which I LOVE. I am always one of the last to leave Grandma and Grandpa's house. BUT, if we get there early I have to maintain my emotions longer. I don't know if I can avoid crying for too many extra hours. I don't cry because I want to cry. I cry because my brain doesn't give me a choice. Grrrrrrr........
What to do, what to do.... I need the happy memories with my loved ones so much more than I need to maintain my sense of self control and pride. I'm leaving early!
Merry Christmas!
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
Word Vomit
December 23, 2014
Lately my mind is definitely going too fast. I feel as though the thoughts in my head are just too overwhelming. Too much to think about, too much to try to sort. WORD VOMIT...what happens when I start talking to people about anything. I can talk to anyone about anything and the ten million thoughts that are circling in my brain will spill out...not all of them, thankfully, but just enough of them that people look at me with that "you poor thing" look in their eyes. Really, I don't want you to feel sorry for me. And I really don't want you to think I am crazy. THAT IS WHY I CAN'T STOP TALKING!!!! I will just keep talking to you until I realize that I have ruined any chance of you ever thinking I am even remotely sane OR until I am convinced that I have managed to make myself appear less crazy.
Reading material... If you haven't been able to understand the mechanics of depression, this is a great read. It makes things easy to understand.
http://www.drjoecarver.com/clients/49355/File/DEPRESSION%20-%20Causes,%20Symptoms,%20and%20Treatment.html
Lately my mind is definitely going too fast. I feel as though the thoughts in my head are just too overwhelming. Too much to think about, too much to try to sort. WORD VOMIT...what happens when I start talking to people about anything. I can talk to anyone about anything and the ten million thoughts that are circling in my brain will spill out...not all of them, thankfully, but just enough of them that people look at me with that "you poor thing" look in their eyes. Really, I don't want you to feel sorry for me. And I really don't want you to think I am crazy. THAT IS WHY I CAN'T STOP TALKING!!!! I will just keep talking to you until I realize that I have ruined any chance of you ever thinking I am even remotely sane OR until I am convinced that I have managed to make myself appear less crazy.
Reading material... If you haven't been able to understand the mechanics of depression, this is a great read. It makes things easy to understand.
http://www.drjoecarver.com/clients/49355/File/DEPRESSION%20-%20Causes,%20Symptoms,%20and%20Treatment.html
Saturday, December 20, 2014
I had an idea to blog about my depression....
December 20, 2014
Today has been an awful day. It started out ok, had the Elders over for breakfast...which turned into lunch because I wasn't prepared. It was fun, we all went to the store, came back and prepared a delicious breakfast/lunch. Shortly after they left I felt so overwhelmed with fatigue and sadness.... Now I sit here, watching the kids fight about who did or didn't do what to whomever (typical sibling fights) and all I can do is cry. DON'T ask me what's wrong, please, because I will tell you now...
I do not know. There is no real reason for my tears. I am sad. I am depressed. To be honest, I laughed several times today. I truly laughed. It felt great to laugh. But unfortunately the laughter doesn't last. I wish there were a way to store up all of the happiness I feel when I am laughing, when I am good. I want to bottle that up so that when I am low, when the darkness consumes all the happiness, I want to drink from that bottle. It would be so much better than taking the pills. The pills that help, but then stop helping. Withdrawal........................................................................................................................
Withdrawal is what happens when the insurance is gone, you can't afford it. You can't afford the medication without the insurance. What you didn't know was how bad the withdrawal would be. I mean, I am sure that heroine addicts going through withdrawal would call me a big baby. I know that this type of withdrawal is nothing compared to what an addict goes through. I am grateful for that. I don't ever want to know what their withdrawal is like. I know that this misery I am experiencing is bad enough for me. I have quit smoking before, I know what that withdrawal was like. I wanted a cigarette so bad during those times...sometimes I would do things, shameful things, to get one. Begging the neighbor, scrounging pennies to buy a pack of the cheapest, nastiest cigarettes I could find. And then, after getting a cigarette, taking a drag....and wanting to throw up, it's so nasty. Snubbing out the cigarette, regretting having wanted one so bad. But then looking at what is left of the foul little demon, unable to throw it away...keeping it for the next time I break down.
But overcoming it, finally reaching the top of the mountain and moving past it, no longer wanting that cigarette. I HAVE DEFEATED YOU! I WIN! I DON'T WANT YOU ANYMORE! That feels so good.
If only this were like that. The medication withdrawal that I am going through is different. This particular medication is for the treatment of depression and anxiety. When I started taking the medication 3 years ago, it was because nothing else I had tried worked. I had hives covering me from head to toe. Antihistamines made them worse, more like an allergic reaction to the antihistamines. Now I can't even take antihistamines....let alone cold medicine or anything else that has antihistamine in it.
After being diagnosed at the age of 19 with clinical depression, I began the trial and error train. Take one med for 3 months....nope not working. Therapy, therapy, therapy. Take another med.....it works! Until it doesn't. The cycle has been repeated over and over. Some meds worked, some didn't. Some therapists were helpful, most weren't.
Anyway, I am tired now. I don't want to type anymore right now. So I end this now, to be continued.....
Today has been an awful day. It started out ok, had the Elders over for breakfast...which turned into lunch because I wasn't prepared. It was fun, we all went to the store, came back and prepared a delicious breakfast/lunch. Shortly after they left I felt so overwhelmed with fatigue and sadness.... Now I sit here, watching the kids fight about who did or didn't do what to whomever (typical sibling fights) and all I can do is cry. DON'T ask me what's wrong, please, because I will tell you now...
I do not know. There is no real reason for my tears. I am sad. I am depressed. To be honest, I laughed several times today. I truly laughed. It felt great to laugh. But unfortunately the laughter doesn't last. I wish there were a way to store up all of the happiness I feel when I am laughing, when I am good. I want to bottle that up so that when I am low, when the darkness consumes all the happiness, I want to drink from that bottle. It would be so much better than taking the pills. The pills that help, but then stop helping. Withdrawal........................................................................................................................
Withdrawal is what happens when the insurance is gone, you can't afford it. You can't afford the medication without the insurance. What you didn't know was how bad the withdrawal would be. I mean, I am sure that heroine addicts going through withdrawal would call me a big baby. I know that this type of withdrawal is nothing compared to what an addict goes through. I am grateful for that. I don't ever want to know what their withdrawal is like. I know that this misery I am experiencing is bad enough for me. I have quit smoking before, I know what that withdrawal was like. I wanted a cigarette so bad during those times...sometimes I would do things, shameful things, to get one. Begging the neighbor, scrounging pennies to buy a pack of the cheapest, nastiest cigarettes I could find. And then, after getting a cigarette, taking a drag....and wanting to throw up, it's so nasty. Snubbing out the cigarette, regretting having wanted one so bad. But then looking at what is left of the foul little demon, unable to throw it away...keeping it for the next time I break down.
But overcoming it, finally reaching the top of the mountain and moving past it, no longer wanting that cigarette. I HAVE DEFEATED YOU! I WIN! I DON'T WANT YOU ANYMORE! That feels so good.
If only this were like that. The medication withdrawal that I am going through is different. This particular medication is for the treatment of depression and anxiety. When I started taking the medication 3 years ago, it was because nothing else I had tried worked. I had hives covering me from head to toe. Antihistamines made them worse, more like an allergic reaction to the antihistamines. Now I can't even take antihistamines....let alone cold medicine or anything else that has antihistamine in it.
After being diagnosed at the age of 19 with clinical depression, I began the trial and error train. Take one med for 3 months....nope not working. Therapy, therapy, therapy. Take another med.....it works! Until it doesn't. The cycle has been repeated over and over. Some meds worked, some didn't. Some therapists were helpful, most weren't.
Anyway, I am tired now. I don't want to type anymore right now. So I end this now, to be continued.....
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