LIVING WITH CHRONIC PAIN

For the past 20+ years I've lived with chronic pain. Now, I'm faced with having a few new additional pains added to all my other "normal" ones. Several months ago I injured my left shoulder doing yardwork. When the injury happened I knew immediately that I had done something to it, but failed to get it examined until November which was several months after the injury. My rheumatalogist order X-rays of both shoulders and an MRI of my right shoulder. I didn't realize until I went to get the MRI done that the order for the MRI was for the wrong shoulder. The facility wouldn't call my doctor and get a verbal change to the order, so I just went ahead and had an MRI done on my right shoulder.

Shortly after that I got an appointment with my primary care doctor because getting back into see my rheumatologist on short notice isn't an easy feat to accomplish. My primary care ordered a MRI for my left shoulder which revealed a complete tear of my rotator cuff, bone spurs and something wrong with my biceps. After jumping through all the necessary red tape to get cleared for surgery, my surgery was finally scheduled for February 20th. The results of the MRI on my right shoulder revealed tears in my right shoulderas as well.

Yesterday, my surgeon's office called to tell me that my surgery has to be postoned until April 3rd. This delay is due to the biologic (Skyrizi) I take for Psoriatic Arthritis. According to my rheumatologist surgery can safely be done 13 weeks after my last shot. Needless, to say I'm bummed out that the surgery had to be postponed. I was actually looking forward to putting it in my rear view mirror so I could address the other shoulder.

Chronic pain can be one of the most difficult things to accept and learn to live with daily. It can be a constant reminder of our physical limitations, making it hard to stay motivated and keep up with our daily lives and relationships. Pain can also affect our mental and emotional health, creating a downward spiral of depression and exhaustion. Fortunately, there are strategies we can use to help us accept our physical limitations and learn to live with pain. 

It's important to be aware of the signals your body is giving you and listen to them. I failed to do this initially when I first injured my shoulder. I tried to power through it hoping whatever was wrong would eventually heal and go away. It didn't! If you're feeling pain, don't try to push through it. Doing so can lead to further physical damage and more chronic pain. Instead, take a break and find out what is causing the pain. Pay attention to feelings of fatigue or low energy, as these can signal an underlying health condition or depression. Also, monitor your mood and be mindful of your reactions to stress or changes in your environment.

When listening to your body, pay attention to the little things that bring you happiness. Take time to relax, try something new, or just spend time with loved ones. These activities can bring joy into your life and give you energy. Achieving balance between your physical and emotional needs can help you better understand and accept your physical limitations. Connecting with yourself and your emotions will allow you to assess how different activities affect your energy levels and happiness. This may help you become more mindful of any potential triggers for depression or other mental health issues.

Additionally, staying active even if only for short periods of time will boost your energy levels and help keep depression at bay. Taking care of yourself in small ways each day such as going for a walk or reading a book can also contribute to overall happiness. Finally, seeking support from friends, family members, or healthcare professionals can make all the difference when trying to cope with physical limitations. Surrounding yourself with positive people who are understanding of your situation can help you stay motivated and supported during difficult times. 

NOTHING MATTERS MORE THAN OUR STORIES

This post is a rather old one, but it cried out to me again today for a repost so here it is.

I love surfing around the blogosphere because I like crave that feeling of finding that one special blog worthy of mention, of recognition, of deep introspection. After wading through a multitude of cute family-related blogs, yummy cooking blogs, breath-taking photography blogs, reactionary religious and political blogs, unfeigned poetry blogs and all rest of the infinite spectrum of blogs that reside out here in cyberspace, I occasionally stumble upon a blog that speaks to, screams at implores me personally to say something about it and its author. Unfortunately, most of the blogs I "discover" are ones that the authors have abandoned and their voice is lost. Abandonment is something I completely understand. Most people who have blogged for any length of time have either contemplated fading into the cold, darkness of cyberspace never to be heard from again or have taken a "vacation" from time to time.

The Rest Is Still Unwritten was last updated in 2012 with a post titled Nothing Matters More Than Our Stories. David Stehle was absolutely correct in stating nothing matters more than our stories whether we know it or not. We all have a story to tell and no one ever knows what type of impact our words will have on someone else or when that impact might happen. I have a blogging kindred spirit (you know who you are) that is hands down the most talented person I know. He claims he has nothing of value to say, but I disagree. I have read his "stories" and I have felt his words. He "hooked" me a very long time ago! I can only hope that he always returns home from his "vacations" and that he never permanently fades into the darkness of cyberspace. Over the years I have grown to love him and when he is absent, I feel the void.

Below are David Stehle's heartfelt words from his abandoned blog:

                           Nothing Matters More Than Our Stories

In times of national crisis we often think, "My stories don’t matter – this isn’t about me" or "I'll stay quiet because I'm somewhere in the middle of the obnoxious people raging on TV." The truth is that in the midst of tragedy nothing matters more than our stories. Our complex, nuanced stories are the path to healing and change. They are the truth and there's no better foundation for change than the truth. I'd love to hear your thoughts and stories. - Brene Brown

This isn't working.

This.

What we are doing as a society, a country, as human beings. It is NOT working!

And when things aren't working, shouldn't we change things?

When people talk about school shootings they talk about guns. But I don't want to debate gun control. I'm not pro-gun anymore than I'm anti-gun. I've never owned a gun and thank God my parents never have either. Because if they had I wouldn't be here today writing this post.

"He was fearless in his pursuit of happiness and life.

He earned his ripped jeans and missing two front teeth."

Daniel Barden (age 7)

I attempted suicide at age 12 - with a steak knife of all things. But I searched the house first for a gun. If I had found one, you better believe I would have sucked on that barrel and squeezed without giving it a second thought. After all, even at age 12 I knew it was the best tool for the job.

While I had no intention of hurting anyone else, I had every intention of hurting myself. And I did. Without a rational thought. That's what happens when you are in the midst of making a deadly, permanent decision. All fear, sadness, and anger disappears. You become oddly calm. And thoroughly numb. Or at least I did.

If we're going to talk about gun control, it's just as important we talk about mental illness.

While I don't see any logical reason why a person needs to own an assault rifle and feel they should be banned, I'm not about to rip a standard rifle out of a hunter's hands (punishing him) simply because other people can't act responsibly. But let's face the facts. There have been over 70 school shootings since 1994. 70! Obviously there's a lot of sick kids out there. I should know because I was one of them. And what we are doing now as a society, a country, as human beings…it is NOT working!

According to NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness), mental illness typically strikes young people in their most productive years, 16-25. Families from all walks of life are affected regardless of age, race, income, religion, or education. Most shocking, 1 in 4 American families has a relative who has a mental illness. 1 in 4!

So what was my deal? Not much. I was just a deeply depressed kid who didn't know how to open up. I don't think that fits the crazy label. But depression is considered a mental illness. And medically speaking, one could have labeled me mentally ill. And that's the problem. Because mental illness has such an ugly stigma attached to it, I was terrified to get help. I was terrified to tell anyone how I felt. I was terrified of being seen as C-R-A-Z-Y!

It's easier to get an assault rifle than adequate mental health care. And for shooter Adam Lanza it was easier to slaughter 20 kindergartners and 1st graders than to say "hey, I need some help." Like most, I'm still processing the horror that took place at Sandy Hook. I'm heartbroken for 26 families of victims I've never met and for a community I've never visited. And of course, I'm furious at the killer!

Now I'm going to ask you to do something you'll hate me for. I want you to send light and love not just to the 26 victims and their families, but to the killer and his family too. To the entire Sandy Hook community. To every community that has suffered a mass shooting. To every victim. To every victim's family. And yes, even to every killer and their family.

Praying for a murderer is hard. Honestly, it's damn near impossible! But in doing so, I realize I'm also praying for the mentally ill. Praying for every kid like me who was/is terrified of being seen as crazy and didn't/doesn't have the strength to ask for help. Helping them (and myself) today when I failed to help them (and myself) back then. Making right MY wrongs. Making right OUR wrongs. Healing together.

If that is asking too much, and I know it is, then please consider doing one random act of kindness in memory of one of the 20 children lost. That way you can put back in the world the same light and love each of their short lives brought into it. I'm choosing Daniel.

Because as we all continue to process Sandy Hook, one question in particular weighs on my mind…

What if we tackled mental illness the same way little Daniel tackled things? Fearless in the pursuit of happiness and life.

As Brene Brown said above, I too would love to hear your thoughts and stories.

Posted 18th December 2012 by David Stehle

Labels: Taboo Topics

30 TRUTHS IN 30 DAYS - DAY TWENTY-FOUR

Truth #24: I found a few quotes about depression I found fitting especially for this time of year since so many people seem to struggle with depression and anxiety during the holiday season. If you know anyone who battles these demons, please be mindful of them and reach out to that person. You may be that person's saving grace! 

Having anxiety and depression is like being scared and tired at the same time. It’s the fear of failure but no urge to be productive. It’s wanting friends but hating to socialize. It’s wanting to be alone but not wanting to be lonely. It’s caring about everything, then caring about nothing. It’s feeling everything at once, then feeling paralyzingly numb. 

A human being can survive almost anything as long as she sees the end in sight. But depression is so insidious, and it compounds daily, that it’s impossible to ever see the end.

It’s so difficult to describe depression to someone who’s never been there because it’s not sadness.

People think depression is sadness. That it’s crying and dressing in black, but people are wrong. Depression is the constant feeling of being numb. It’s being numb to emotions, being numb to life. You wake up in the morning just to go back to bed again.

You don’t understand depression until you can’t stand your own presence in an empty room.

If you feel everything intensely, ultimately, you feel nothing at all.

There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds. 

Depression is like a heavy blanket. It covers all of me, and it’s hard to get up. But there’s comfort in it too. I know who I am when I’m under it. 

I wanted to talk about it. Damn it. I wanted to scream. I wanted to yell. I wanted to shout about it. But all I could do was whisper, “I’m fine.”

Sometimes, all you can do is lie in bed and hope to fall asleep before you fall apart. 

Depression is living in a body that fights to survive, with a mind that tries to die.

It’s not always the tears that measure the pain. Sometimes it’s the smile we fake. 

I think the saddest people always try their hardest to make people happy because they know what it’s like to feel absolutely worthless, and they don’t want anyone else to feel like that.

Are you struggling?

If you’re having a hard time, know that there are people out there who care! Reach out to a friend, family member, or seek out a mental health professional.

If you’re in crisis, here are a few resources to help:

If you live in the United States, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800- 273-TALK (800-273-8255). They have trained counselors available 24/7. Stop a Suicide Today is another helpful resource.

Befrienders Worldwide and the International Association for Suicide Prevention are two organizations that provide contact information for crisis centers outside of the United States.

MAGIC MUSHROOMS: FRIENDS OR FOES?

In this rather long article in Medical News Today treating depression and other mental health disorders like PTSD, anxiety and alcoholism by micodosing  psychedelic mushrooms and other psychedelic drugs is discussed in detail. If you or someone you know is considering this avenue of treatment, you might want to read this article.

30 TRUTHS IN 30 DAYS - DAY TWELVE

Truth #12: Many times people who struggle with chronic pain become adept in covering it up. You may never see the magnitude of actual pain the person lives with daily and if you did it would shake you to your core. Chronic pain is exhausting and it touches every aspect of a person's life. Chronic pain sufferers are chronically sleep deprived. Sleep would be a welcome relief, but unless heavily medicated a chronic pain sufferer will also suffer from insomnia. Many chronic pain sufferers have addiction issues and ride that roller coaster in search of relief. Chronic pain will drain a person both mentally and physically changing a person over time which can lead to other health problems. Often times this person becomes irritable and dislikes being around people, commotion and noise. Chronic pain damages a person's concentration and makes doing even simple tasks a challenge at times. Most chronic pain sufferers try to ignore the pain and live a normal life, but doing that is next to impossible. Chronic pain damages a person's self-esteem and self-worth because the person cannot do the things they have done in the past. A chronic pain sufferer sees themselves as damaged goods thus less than everyone else around them. They are forced to accept their limitations and this causes great internal strife. Often times they feel like everyone is disppointed or mad at them for not being 100% anymore because they feel that way about themselves. Chronic pain breeds isolation and severe depression and sometimes chronic pain sufferers take their own lives when the mental and physical pain becomes unbearable. 

A SILENT OVERGROWN PATH

By George, I think I have it all figured out! Now, all I have to do is figure out what to do with it... I have given great thought to what I lovingly call my serotonin–norepinephrine–dopamine crisis aka The Big D (depression). Socrates would be so proud of me for leaving no stone unturned in my continuing crusade to examine my life. Yes, after close scrutiny, I'm quite sure my brain has always lacked something that others seem to have. I've always wondered why someone who is highly intelligent doesn't function at a level that reflects their intelligence while others who appear to be quite dense rise to the top like cream. Sure, the lack of support and guidance early in my life probably didn't help, but others who have been products of dysfunction have overcome great obstacles to become successful and happy. So why haven't I? Am I lazy? Am I simply unmotivated?

 Anyone who knows me knows laziness isn't the culprit as reflected in my Wonder Woman status for much of my adult life. It always amused me whenever I heard, "Get Karen to do it. She can do anything!" Yes, Karen can do anything, but be successful and happy. My list of things I've started in life, yet never finished is so long it's mind boggling. That in itself would be a major cause for depression in most people. But unlike most people who have a fear of failure, I find failing to be a relatively easy thing to digest. For me, it's succeeding that throws me in a tizzy. Maybe it's confusing how someone can be labeled as Wonder Woman, yet feel like a failure. Sure, I can do anything, but I become bored and distracted easily and never feel as if I'm challenged for very long. Everything I've done in life to this point only seems like menial tasks to get by, when I know I'm capable of so much more. Okay, so why didn't I choose something that I felt challenged me? Ahhhhh, there it is! That's where the fear of success rears its ugly head. That's where the face of self-destruction comes into focus.

I've never found that one thing that feels like "home" my niche, that special place where I belong because I've always held myself back from exploring the possibilities by never allowing myself the luxury of completion or success. What an excellent way to punish ones self! And at this point I don't even know anymore why I feel punishment is necessary. The old demons appear to be dead, so is it just a lack of not knowing how to proceed or where to proceed from here? At this point is it habit more than anything else? I've always felt like I'm treading around in some murky mud puddle under a dark cloud awaiting impending doom, but I learned to build a convincing facade early in life. I became the class clown, the risk-taker, the first to do everything, the organizer, the one who questioned whether the sky is really blue. 

I always needed the feeling of being on the edge to feel alive. I needed to push all the boundaries and test all the limits except my own. All sensation I gathered were from external sources and never from within. Now, that I've distanced myself from the edge I feel a void in my life. I'm lost and feel as if I'm slowly spiraling down. The murky mud puddle is becoming increasingly more difficult to navigate. I think living on the edge was how I self-medicated to replace the lack of serotonin–norepinephrine–dopamine I possessed. I think engaging in risky behaviors and unhealthy relationships was my way of keeping the adrenaline pumping. It was my way of feeling normal because I've never had a clue as to what normal really is. Even the bad boys who were initially oh so delicious become predictable and boring after awhile. Now, everything has become predictable and boring and now... once where my demons treaded is a silent overgrown path. 

reposted from 10/24/2011

LOOKING THROUGH SOMEONE ELSE'S EYES

Many of you are already familiar with Klahanie Blog, but for those of you who aren't, I'd like to share Gary's story titled Twenty Years Ago. His honesty left me truly breathless, tearful and humbled by the pain and the helplessness he has struggled to overcome. Suddenly, my pain seemed minuscule and insignificant in comparison. Gary's story was just the reality check and kick in the ass I needed to start these rusty, old wheels grinding again so I can contemplate a life outside the cave in which I live. Right now that thought scares me, but I hope in time I can look forward to anticipating tomorrow as today ends. Please take a few minutes to pay Gary a visit and cheer him on as he continues to evolve.

WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS

When I was younger I had no worries.  I did as I pleased when it pleased me.  I always thought I'd be one of those cool old hippies as I aged. It makes me smile thinking about being laid back with a live and let live philosophy.  I guess for the most part I fit that description, but last year something happened to me.  I can't really explain it because I don't understand it.  It's like something short-circuited and made me a little crazy.

I started having panic attacks and they got so frequent and debilitating that I had to be hospitalized.   I do know one thing and that's that I never want to go back there again. It's just not a warm, fuzzy place to hang your hat in a time of emotional need. So regardless, of how bad things may get, I'll find some solution that doesn't include being someplace where I feel like I'm one of the herd. While I was there, I didn't see any people get the help they needed because the atmosphere promoted "let's get the hell out of here as soon as possible" instead of "I need to stay here and fix what needs to be fixed.  And when you get right down to the reality of the situation the doctors and patients have no real say on the length of any given admission thus making it extremely difficult for any doctor to do their job. 

It's the insurance companies that dictate what care you get and how long you get it.  While I was there I talked to several other patients who were visibly upset with their doctor for discharging them when they didn't feel like they were ready to go home. The attitude they had bred distrust and contempt towards anyone who was there to help them. The huddled masses sat bitching about the doctor and what an ogre she was. She didn't listen and didn't care...blah, blah, blah. I could see how detrimental that way of thinking was and like the stand up kind of person I am I started talking to the people who were upset and explained it wasn't their doctor who was making the decisions it was the insurance companies.  Once I explained how insurance works (I was a insurance billing specialist for several years) and that regardless of what you get admitted to the hospital for the insurance companies set how many days you can stay for that thing. Insurance companies don't see you as an individual, but as a bottom line and they want to pay the least amount for your health care they possibly can.

It's the reason so many people turn around and come right back to the hospital. Gall bladder removal? It's an outpatient procedure now...you go home the same day as the surgery regardless of how you feel. Now, you may have to turn around and go to the ER later that day because you have developed a complication.  With mental health issues, it's worse... Try to imagine someone who really isn't ready to go home because they're in the throes of a major depressive episode. They must feel helpless being forced to go back to the same surroundings that many times is unhealthy and lacks a support system for the person. Fragile people don't do well without structure and support.  For them, it's easy to turn their frustration and anger on the doctor...after all, it makes sense. The doctor doesn't care. Right? The doctor and the nurses are easy targets!

So that person with depression is started on an antidepressant and probably an antianxiety med as well just for good measure, but the kicker is that the meds don't start working for 4 to 6 weeks after starting them. What's that person supposed to do in the meantime? Twiddle their thumbs and sing Kumbaya? Nope...go home and tough it out. Just remember not to get too vocal or else you'll land up in a locked room on suicide watch. The key to success is to stay calm and learn the ropes so you don't rock the boat.

After my explanation of what insurance companies can and can't do, it diffused a lot of pent up anger.  I brought the matter up in the next group everyone attended and the response was great.  I could see the frustration start to melt away as people gained a realistic understanding about how the system worked and that they didn't have to be mad at their doctor.  I was as bold to suggest that the social worker incorporate this topic into other groups in the future because many people don't understand how the system works and it stresses them out.  They assume everyone is against them and it's rather difficult trying to reach someone who has built a wall for protection.  I'm sure my suggestion never went any further, but it felt good to help a few people. Hopefully, they'll be in the position someday to pay it forward and help someone else.

P.S. Writing helps even though I tend to ramble at times...

LET GO AND LET IT HAPPEN

Sometimes we have to let go and just let it happen in order to get past the difficult times and ultimately move to the other side where inner peace can be reached.  I know letting go is a frightening thing.  I also know how putting your life in other people's hands or trusting someone else's judgment is equally frightening.  I just spent a few days at a psychiatric facility.  I want to write about that experience and will do so as the words come to me.  I also want to write about the people who were instrumental in helping me through my crisis. 

I'd like to start with thanking an old boyfriend for reaching out to me shortly before I was admitted to Baptist Hospital's Behavioral Medicine Center.  I think it was his words that initially let me know that letting go was the right thing to do.  I had done it many years before at a time when I had retreated into a very dark place.  It was a time he had viewed firsthand. Due to the pain I had suppressed for many years as a child I finally lost my ability to function normally as a teenager.  I eventually found drugs numbed my pain and allowed me to live in a void absent of all feeling-both good and bad. Outwardly, it was a "safe" place to reside, but inwardly I was slowly headed towards total annihilation.  When I finally let go, I came close to dying, but I can honestly say that without letting go back then I would have definitely died at a very young age.  As defiant and hardheaded as I was way back then, on some level I allowed myself to trust people enough to pull me through so I could go on living and eventually learn to thrive.

Most people know my life is pretty much an open book no matter where I am.  I share things that most people try to keep tucked safely away in some dark, cozy closet.  I share things that cause others much angst and shame.  I use Facebook in much the same way as I use my blog only to a lesser degree because most people there don't like to read lengthy updates from people.  Somehow social media seems to have created a population of ADHD-minded people who like to "skim" through their friend's and their family's lives.  They get all the highlights without any real substance most of the time.

Sometimes I post links from my blog on Facebook so that my friends and family (those people who aren't in my everyday life) can remain "with" me.  I learned long ago that shutting people out is a very damaging thing to do and that relationships don't thrive on neglect.  Yes, I have slipped into becoming a hermit in the last 10 years or so, but my hermitude isn't completely void of people.  My problem seems to be that the people I'm closest to live the farthest from me with the exception of my children who live close by.  Through my written words I manage to stay connected to the people in my life who are most important to me and they never lack knowing what's up in Mildred's life.  

About two weeks ago I posted a very lengthy update on Facebook (or at least lengthy for Facebook standards) that clearly let people know I was in emotional crisis and headed towards a place I should avoid.  I ended that Facebook update with what I thought was a little humor, a very "Mildred" thing to do... 

"One last thing...do I get a gold star for the longest Facebook status update?" 

 

I didn't expect anyone to address my question due to the nature of the rest of my update, but I received confirmation from a blast from my past that indeed the update was a little on the lengthy side.  That confirmation also came with many thought-provoking items.  Although relationships can change and people come and go from our lives, some bonds/connections/friendships are meant to last in strange, unexplainable ways. The private messages Wayne sent me brought me to tears for several reasons.  The most important one was that he cared enough about me to reach out to me in my time of need.  For that, I am truly thankful.  Without knowing it his words were the catalyst that opened the floodgates that needed to be opened so I could finally let go and just let it happen in order to get past this difficult time and ultimately move to the other side where inner peace could be reached once again.

WHILE OTHERS SLEEP, I WEEP

Since my asthma attack that landed me in the ER a few weeks ago, I've had ongoing, daily panic attacks.  My mental state has deteriorated and sleeping has become an increasingly difficult task. In the past my bouts of insomnia always seem to cycle themselves out, but this time it seems stuck on high gear with no end in sight. I keep asking myself where did these panic attacks come from. I've never had them in the past and why I'm dwelling on death.  It never bothered me before and now I can't seem to escape its clutches. These panic attack seem to come out of the blue with no apparent trigger and when they hit, I lose all ability to calm myself down or to think rationally.  My thoughts are completely focused on the panic attack like an obsession...it's as if I'm wearing blinders and what I see is a very narrow, scary view of life.  I weep, shake and pace.  I'm overwhelmed with the fear of losing control and slipping away forever in some psychotic world. I am, however, one of the fortunate ones because I have people who love me and who will help me regardless of what that help entails.  I know it's no fun sitting with me in ER's at all hours of the day and night and at doctor's offices.  By the way, why don't any doctor's offices have comfortable chairs or better reading material?  I try very hard to keep telling myself that I'm not being a burden to anyone.  My family loves me and wants to see me get well, but it's hard not to listen to all the negative dialog going on inside my head.  I wish I had an on/off switch and since I don't I'm at the mercy of going through some rather agonizing episodes of negativity.


In the last few weeks I've learned many things...most of them are things I'd rather have been kept in the dark about than to have learned them through first hand experience. 

1. It seems anything regarding mental health facilities are a huge clusterfuck.  Shouldn't it be organized and welcoming to set the patients minds at ease? Yet the places seem oppressive and upon entering it sucks the life from you.  Everything seems so sterile right down to the color schemes and layout of the rooms. Everything about it screams, "RUN!"
2. People using mental health facilities are scared, anxious and filled with many negative things and need friendly, helpful people working at the facility they use.  While Nurse Ratched was an integral part to the One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest story, she has no place in real life and shouldn't be working at any place involving mental illness.   
3. People using mental health facilities too easily lose their "human" status as soon as they become a patient. Why is suffering from a mental illness any different than suffering from a physical illness? The difference I believe is in the eyes and attitude of the beholder and of the caretakers.
4. Because mental illness carries such a stigma, it's easy to become just a diagnosis, a case number and nothing more.  People too easily lose their identity and become a page from the DSM-V.  Too many mentally ill people have lost their ability to fight or stand up for themselves.  When I look at myself I don't see the person I was 20 years ago...a person who had wind in her sails and was going places. 
5. Regardless of what mental state a person is in, unless they have a specific, detailed plan for suicide, the person will be sent home and referred back to their primary care doctor who in turn is supposed to refer them to a psychiatrist. The process for help is way too long and complicated!
6. Help for someone in crisis is not immediate and because it isn't immediate it makes holding on all the harder.  It makes having faith in the system nonexistent. 
7. It's difficult to believe and trust others especially strangers who don't seem sincerely interested in your welfare.
8. Things that happened 40 years ago can seem like they just happened. Grief, fear and pain comes in waves and sometimes those waves are like a tsunami.
9. While primary care doctors are good at what they do, treating mental issues is not their forte and they seem to be clueless as to what the person really needs and how to help them.
10. Public mental health facilities run by state or county agencies usually are a scene right out of One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest.  At best, my first impression was dismal and scary and I really did keep looking for Mildred Ratched until I found her. 
11. It's very easy to feel like one of the cows being herded through a system that seems surreal at best. I kept finding myself wanting to "Moo"....really!
12. Keeping a medication diary has been a blessing for me.  It's the only way I've been able to keep track of what meds I take and when I take them. Simple tasks have become confusing and meaningless for the most part.  I'm afraid it would be too easy to take an accidental overdose because I can't think straight most of the time.
13. If you're able to find something that helps calm you down, regardless of what it is, go with it and use it...self-help sometimes is a person's strongest ally.  For me and I know this probably makes no sense, my son takes me for a drive when I'm having a panic attack.  Somehow the combination of that and an Ativan helps. 
14. I've denied, ignored and covered up being depressed for years until it's gotten to the point of me losing the ability to function normally and do daily tasks like brush my hair, get dressed, go outside (I have to force myself to go places), take a shower and interact with people face to face in a meaningful way.  I've become a hermit because it feels safe being a hermit, but I hate being a hermit because it's not who I am.

It's daylight now...it's time to go take more meds and let the dogs out.  At least they like going outside.  Maybe I need to become a dog so I can feel normal once again. 

THE MAMMOTH CAVE

When I first started Mildred Ratched Memoirs, it was as an assignment from my therapist who I always lovingly referred to as a "yoyo inspector". She wanted me to keep a daily journal and the only stipulation she made was that each journal entry had to end with a gratitude statement. The topics could be of my own choosing. Instead of doing a conventional hand written journal, I decided to do mine in blog form since I had been blogging since 2004.

Although I've kept Mildred Ratched Memoirs alive long after stopping my visits to the yoyo inspector, somewhere along the way I stopped doing my gratitude statements. I have to be honest and admit that I miss them. They made me end each blog post on a positive note. When a person is struggling with an emotional upheaval or maybe just tying up some loose ends that have been dangling for far too long having to find things to be grateful about isn't always an easy task. I remember I ended one post with a gratitude statement about being grateful I didn't have hemorrhoids. That one made my therapist laugh.


Reposted and edited from CAVE LIFE 101 (February 22, 2010)

People with alternative lifestyles or who have a different sexual orientation than the rest of mainstream America may reside in a closet until they decide to emerge, but depressed people dwell in a dark, dingy cave many times filled with items of convenience so they won't have to ever emerge. A few years ago, I purchased a small refrigerator and a microwave to put in my bedroom, so I wouldn't have to leave it. That was around the same time as I bought a 52-inch HDTV for my bedroom. I should have seen the writing on the wall, but like most things, I ignored the warning signs until the damage had been done. I simply didn't care that I was a cave dweller.

Hey, people I live in Florida and in an area where the beaches don't suck. As described in the following quote: "The gentle breeze is still soothing just as the crystal-clear waves roll in from the emerald sea. The flawless white sand is just as soft as before, and the sea oats still dance for a glowing sun". Pensacola boasts to have the whitest beaches in Florida. So why does a person who once was a sun worshipper no longer even venture out into the light of day? No, I haven't joined the ranks of the undead! Not yet, at least!

I think it has to do with having an addictive personality and being self-destructive. I always loved to binge and then I'd grow bored with the object of my addiction. This behavior held true in every aspect of my life even the small ones. For example, I loved to read, but unlike a normal person who would read a book and then go onto the next or perhaps take a break between books, I would read 10 books in 2 weeks and then be done for 6 months or more. I buy books now and never read them. I sit and look at the cover or maybe read the first page a few hundred times, but I never finish reading the book. I guess the same holds true with the beach. I burnt myself out on being sun burned beach bunny. Actually, that's probably a good thing!

Tomorrow, I have my next yoyo appointment. I know she wants me to start dealing with issues I'd rather just leave in the cave. I'd rather discuss how I've spent the last 2 days cleaning and rearranging my cave and how good that made me feel...physically drained, but mentally better. I'd rather talk about why I feel the need to throw something away if I haven't used it in 6 months and why I have so little in which I assign sentimental value. Material objects have never meant very much to me...easy come, easy go! I'd rather discuss anything other than sexual abuse and being self-destructive. I think I may be in a horribly foul mood tomorrow!

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful it's today and not tomorrow.

I read my words now and ask myself, "What’s changed?" and I have to admit that I'm still a troglodyte and the rut I was in has widened over time. I really don't know where or how to begin to stop this abyss.

Gratitude statement: I'm grateful for the self awareness I possess and hope that it eventually kick starts some motivation to change my life while I still can.

MEDICATION TIME

I know sometimes I ramble on about being alone when in reality, I'm exactly where I want to be. I think I have moments of weakness when I actually do miss having a significant other and then something always knocks me back into reality. Usually, it's someone I know going through some relationship drama that makes me want to vomit and run for cover. At times like those, I feel thankful that my life is without that kind of drama. Unfortunately, my life has other areas that take up the slack. I just read an article today about diabetes and stress. HA! And people think carbs are what kill... First and foremost on my bitchfest for today is my elderly mother. I call her "mother" for lack of anything else to call her. You see, this woman who looks like my mother really isn't my mother at all. The aliens must have abducted her about 5 years ago and put a empty pod in her place. The empty pod doesn't like to do the things my mother used to like to do. In fact, the only activity this pod likes is sitting in the dark and rocking in the rocking chair. 

The pod won't bathe, brush her teeth or eat properly, but when asked about depression, "it" responds that everything is fine. I'm at the point of pulling my hair out because I don't know what to do to help change things. All this stress is effecting my health, but short of installing an on/off switch in my head, I don't know how to just accept the fact that there isn't anything I can do. Believe me, over the past 5 years, I have tried everything known to man to interest the pod in anything and any suggestion I make is met with instant resistence. I even went as far as one day saying to the pod, "Okay we're even!" (I felt she was paying me back for me being such a rebellious shit in my younger years) The pod knew what I meant without any further explanation and it laughed at my frustration! The second bug that has crawled up my ass are people who disappoint me...I know,BOO HOO! I figure at this stage of life meaning "adulthood", people should follow through on things they say they are going to do or else they need to just keep their well-meaning pieholes closed. 

I'm tired of doing things for everyone and in turn, feeling like I'm used and unappreciated. Yes, I know I allow this and need to be a little less giving, but to be honest with you, I don't know how to be any other way. And I really don't think it's me who has the problem! Being able to give to others is an attribute, but the longer I live, the more I see it's an attribute that's taken advantage of by leeches, emotional vampires and other bottom feeders. At this moment I just want to tell everyone to "suck my ass dry!" I NEED DRUGS! NOW! And the sad part is, I'll take a deep breath or twenty and just go about my business. 

Gratitude statement: I'm grateful for being able to tell those around me, the givers of stress to fuck off ocassionally. 

CREATURES OF HABIT

Long ago (and far away) I programmed myself to require "background noise" in order to fall asleep. Yes, I actually do sleep for short periods of time occasionally. If I fall asleep while watching television and someone turns the television off, I immediately wake up. Silence boggles my brain! Years ago, reading a book was like a sleeping pill for me, but now I can't read. Books are purchased and piled on my nightstand with the first page reread about a thousand times before I give up. WTF! I used to be an avid reader and now, I enjoy nothing.

Is that the depression stripping me of all pleasure? Does depression affect comprehension and our ability to retain what we read? I think I have come to know what adult ADD (attention deficit disorder) feels like. When I have the strength and stamina, I start one thing and before long I find myself doing some entirely unrelated task without finishing the first. Round and round I go until finally I come back to the first task and finish it.

This cycle used to happen quickly, but these days some tasks take months or years to complete. Procrastination? Not really! It's my distractibility that keeps me unfocused and unable to stay on task. Perhaps, I've always been this way, but unable to see it until I got depressed and started slowing down and really examining myself.

Gratitude statement: I'm grateful for the hundreds of television stations I have to choose from late at night.

MENTAL HANDCUFFS

I guess the hardest part for me to deal with is the acceptance of my own limitations. After being Wonder Woman most of my adult life, how can I go from that to being the Seahag on Popeye? I've always had a somewhat "negative" thought process (I call it being a realist), but I could always function. I never felt depressed until about two years ago and then POW!

I really didn't know what hit me. I lost my ability to bounce back from all the things life was throwing my way. I completely lost my ability to function normally. Perhaps the difference is due to the physical illnesses I have developed over the last decade. Those things which challenge me physically in combination with my negative thought processes seem to have created the Grand Poobah of clusterfucks. Every little thing seems tightly interwoven to the next and this intricate maze I run like a trapped lab rat has no end. I want my reward and I want it NOW! Damn it! Where's my hunk of cheese?

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful for the days I was Wonder Woman because I looked hot in that skimpy outfit and boots.

TO BE OR NOT TO BE

Once a person becomes depressed, do they ever really recover from it?

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful for the time to search for that answer.