Out of the Mouths of Babes

This week I learned something so important to me. All this time I have thought of myself a weak. Because of the depression. Because of my failed marriage. Because my current marriage is not very stable. Because of my anxiety. Because I am not always as assertive as I should be. Because I just don't think of myself as the Joan of Arc type, though I wish I were.

Well, this week that changed a little. This week had been really beating me up emotionally, as well as, physically.in the midst of that was my baby girl. My wise beyond her years, little wonder. She spotted me crying and immediately wanted to run to my side. Her grandmother said "your Momma is ok. Sometimes even grown-ups need to cry, but she's ok" and my daughter responded with "but you don't understand, Momma only cries when she is really hurt". At that moment I realized that, not only do I have the sweetest child on the planet, but that in her eyes I am strong. I am strong until I can no longer be strong, and even then I'm strong for a little longer. In her eyes, her Momma was not weak, not clinically depressed, but a strong woman. And if he Momma was crying, it was not for no reason, someone had hurt her.

Wow, what a wonderful feeling to not only feel how much your child loves you, but that she thinks you are strong enough to stand alone most of the time. To feel that to see me cry meant someone or something bad must have happened, because her strong Momma would not cry unless she was really hurt. Made me proud of myself, and proud of her. Out of the mouths of babes, as they say.

Connecticut Shooting

Our society needs to take a long, hard look at how we deal with the mentally ill. They are not "crazy people" on the fringe of society. They have a real illness, that needs real medical treatment. Until we take mental health seriously, and stop stigmatizing those who have it, we will continue to see an increase of violents. Like anyone else with a life threatening illness, the mentally ill need access to quality doctors and medications. Promote health, not stigmas

The Black Dog

Damn you black dog, damn you
You killer of of hope
You stripper of self confidence
You suffocater of joy
You eroder of spirit
You destroyer of ambition
You avalanche of sadness
You enabler of defeat
You shader of light
You devourer of energy
You tourcherer souls

Perspective

Really great article & exercise. Wish it could be tried by everyone.


It’s unreasonable to expect others to accept or consider our perspective if we’re not willing to do the same for them. The truth is that the world isn’t really “as it is,” but as we see it, and we all see it differently!

http://www.positivelypositive.com/2012/09/25/the-power-of-perspective/

Love Thyself, Honor Thyself

I used to look in the mirror and see shapes, colors, good hair days, bad hair days, flaw, flaw, flaw. Now, I am 36, and I see myself more clearly than before. Not in a book smart way, or a scientifically accurate way, but in the sense that I have come to know ME.Some people claim that we are born with basic personality traits. Others, believe we become who we are based on experiences we have in our lives.Still others, believe we are born with traits that are switched on or off based on our personal experiences. No matter how you get there,shouldn't we KNOW what makes us, us? I think we do, but we allow ourselves to be lead astray by self-doubt,and the words of others. At what point did this happen? At what point did my voice become confused, mixed, over powered by the voices of others? At what point did I become what others thought of me, instead of who I wanted to be? When was that moment. Maybe it wasn't a moment at all. Maybe, I was worn away over time, like stone worn down by wind and rain. Reworked, and reshaped, by the elements around it until it only partly resembled its original appearance. Maybe, I too was reshaped by the voices and the elements around me until slowly, without realizing it I lost me. Now, years later, I am found. I no longer see what the mirror reflects back to me, but I see value in the uniqueness of then shapes. I see shades in the colors. I see good hair days, bad hair days, fun hair days, and days when what my hair is doing just doesn't matter. The flaws are still there. I still see them, but I also see good. I see strength, resilience, and power. Lines formed from years of laughter and tears. The voices, the elements, they are still all around me. They still creep into my head. Echo in the canyons of my mind. Trying to change my shape, challenge my shape. At times, I feel them beginning to alter me, and I must look deep within myself. If I close my eyes, quiet my mind, and repeat to myself "Love thyself, honor thyself”. Then, then the voices become whispers on a much gentler breeze, and I remember me.

Art Therapy/ Walk

For Michelle, ok more for me at Michelle's suggestion.

The Fog

It is.one of those nights again. It feels heavy. My chest is heavy, myhead is heavy with thought, my heart is heavy, and most of all my mood is heavy and gloomy. Could i be tired? I could. Is it a passing mood? Maybe. but it seems to me that ot has been moving in on me for a few weeks now. Like a slow thick fog rolls across a mountain, thwn settles into a valley to stay for a spell, encompassing and covering all that dwells there. So too has this heaviness rolled in over me and my every day, encompassing all of my thoughts, and deeds. There is a hopelessness that comes with it. A, sort of, surender to the commonness of this feeling. And yet in this serender, this lack of fight, there is a sense of freedom. A sense that this heaviness is familiar, and that the sheer knowledge that there is no use in fighting, makes it more tolerable. when the sun rises and its bright warm rays heat the valley and all with in it, even the thickest of fogs burns away.

Life Journey

Tonight I am trying to remind myself that life is a journey, and that every day, no matter how difficult it may seem, is part of a bigger picture. It is all happening as God's way of preparing you for what is yet to come.

What Do You Hear In These Sounds

I had forgotten this song by Dar Williams, but as soon as I heard it again, it hit home.
My favorite line:

And when I talk about therapy, I know what people think That it only makes you selfish and in love with your shrink But Oh how I loved everybody else When I finally got to talk so much about myself............

What Do You Hear In These Sounds
Dar Williams

I don't go to therapy to find out if I'm a freak I go and I find the one and only answer every week And it's just me and all the memories to follow Down any course that fits within a fifty minute hour And we fathom all the mysteries, explicit and inherent When I hit a rut, she says to try the other parent And she's so kind, I think she wants to tell me something, But she knows that its much better if I get it for myself... And she says

Oooooooh,aaaaaaah, What do you hear in these sounds? And... Oooooooh,aaaaaaah What do you hear in these sounds?????

I say I hear a doubt, with the voice of true believing And the promises to stay, and the footsteps that are leaving And she says "Oh", I say "What?"...she says "Exactly", I say"What, you think I'm angry Does that mean you think I'm angry?" She says "Look, you come here every week With jigsaw pieces of your past Its all on little soundbytes and voices out of photographs And that's all yours, that's the guide, that's the map So tell me, where does the arrow point to? WHO INVENTED ROSES?" and.......

Oooooooh,aaaaaaah What do you hear in these sounds? And...Oooooooh,aaaaaaah What do you hear in these sounds?????

And when I talk about therapy, I know what people think That it only makes you selfish and in love with your shrink But Oh how I loved everybody else When I finally got to talk so much about myself............

And I wake up and I ask myself what state I'm in And I say well I'm lucky, cause I am like East Berlin I had this wall and what I knew of the free world Was that I could see their fireworks And I could hear their radio And I thought that if we met, I would only start confessing And they'd know that I was scared They'd would know that I was guessing But the wall came down and there they stood before me With their stumbling and their mumbling And their calling out just like me...and...

Oooooooh,aaaaaaah, The stories that nobody hears...and...

Oooooooh,aaaaaaah, and I collect these sounds in my ears...and

Oooooooh,aaaaaaah, that's what I hear in these sounds...and...

Like a Little Girl

Suddenly the flood gates broke and I began saying the things I've been holding back for months. My father responds with the stuff he's been holding back. Suddenly I'm 10 years old again and I'm sobbing. I feel myself get light headed and the words begin to choke me again. I hear him and respond in my head, but all that comes out is tears. A constant flow of tears and my head spins. I occasionally try to defend myself or make him understand, but mostly I just cry. I feel trapped, and little. I am thankful when he ends it and says he is leaving. I wanted to stop arguing, stop hurting each other much before that, but again the words just stuck there. They swirl through my head at such a rate that I can hardly make sense of them, but they never escape my lips. As he leave I feel myself crumble. Once shin feeling like I have failed them. Feeling like I have failed me. Like I have just plain failed. I cry harder. I am still 10 years old, I feel disloyal, dishonest and cowardly. What I want most, is what every sad little girl wants. I want someone to scoop me up, wrap me in warmth, and make me feel safe. I look around and find no one there. Now I have failed and it has left me alone, unloved, and crying like a child while I wait for someone to come rescue me. But I am not a child, and knowing this makes me feel even more like I am not ok. Like there MUST be something wrong with me. Why am I crying like a child? Why am I sitting there alone in a dark store? Why am I so unlovable that I deserve to be sitting there alone when I have a husband, parents, and children, a family? What on Earth is wrong with me? What have I done that makes it so hard for someone to be compassionate toward me?

These feelings and questions overwhelm me, and by the time my husband arrives, I am beyond needy. I am a little girl, sitting in the dark, alone, scared, and feeling unimportant, unloved. He does not see this little girl though. The one who is scared and alone. What he sees is a grown woman who he expects to know and understand that he loves her. So the girl is once again alone, feeling like she is unlovable, unsafe, unimportant.

I tell the little girl. I love her. I hear her, and she gets quiet. But I know she is still inside of me. Still full of self doubt, and fear, and blame. She is still scared and lonely, just praying and waiting for someone to wrap her in warmth and safety.

Under Water

Over the last few days, I have lost more and more ground in my battle with my depression. Every time I fight my way to the surface, I seem to get pulled back down some how. I am getting to the point where I no longer want to fight. It seems there is no escape. Like there is an imaginary rope tethering me to the bottom of a deep, and angery ocean. I am left feeling frustrated, stressed, and strained. Barely, able to catch a breath. I keep looking around for something to hang onto. A hand to grab, something to just keep me a float, a kind word, a loving look. I see it all there, just beyond reach. No matter how I try to hold on, my grip slips away. It feels like I can go days without having someone utter a positive word to me. I am retreating into my own mind. I remind myself daily to love thyself, honor thyself, but it seems to only get me to the surface, not keep me a float. Warm salty tears roll down my cheeks again as I feel the ocean waves wash over me once more. I pray, I pray everyday, that I am able to reach the air again, and stay there for a little longer this time. I pray that I am able to see light, to feel loved. I pray that I can find something to hold me, shelter me. So that I can have a few moments to float there, steadily, relaxed by the gentle rocking of the water, instead if knocked around by a raging sea.

self-compassion-how-value-yourself

This is something I absolutely fall short on, but not only does it have a good article, but actual exercises on how to improve yourself. I am going to try it. I'll let you know how it goes.

36 years of pain

Wed is my birthday. I will be 36 years old and I will have spent the majority of those 36 years trying to make people like me, love me, or at least respect me. Hell in some cases I'd settle for just seeing me, me as I really am, without changes, or conditions. Lately, it has all come to a head. I got married to someone my family disapproves of. This new act of disloyalty, as it has been seen, has brought on a fresh bout of rejection, and pain. See, I have know for some time that my parents and sister love me out of family duty, but, for the most part don't like me, or see me as very capable, or strong. While I am sure I have played that roll at times, I am not the girl they think I am. All of my life, I have tried in vain, to find that unconditionalness I want so badly. Romanticly, always choosing the guy that keeps me at arms length. I have battled depression and anxiety for a long time because of this constant feeling of rejection. Lately, it feels as though it is breaking me though, like I am turning into that unstable, easily wounded little girl that my family has always seen me as. I lash out in rage at anyone who reminds me how "unimportant" I am. How unworthy of love, respect, and acceptance I am. Friends, my new husband, even my daughter and step daughter are feeling the after shocks. Afterward, I am ashamed. I hate the way I act, the way I drive people away when I need them the most. I hate myself for giving in, for losing control of my actions and emotions. I hear the voices from the past echo in my head
"you are over reacting"
"you are too sensitive"
"What is wrong with you?"
"it was a joke, knock it off"
"I never know how you are going to interpret what I say to you."
All of it implying I am the problem. I am the one to blame. I have begun to believe it now. I have begun to believe I am out of control, emotionally disturbed, unstable, and at fault. It has eaten away at me for 36 years, and now I am unstable, and I do hate myself. I blame myself, and I am convinced I am not deserving, or able to get the type of love and compassion I crave. I am in an endless cycle of hating myself for becoming the person they told me I should not be....I am weak. I scream and cry like a child throwing a temper tantrum, but in the end, no one comes to comfort me, and I feel less and less important or ok with each tear, and I have begun to fall apart.

Anatomy of a Breakdown

I have been delicately balancing sanity verses insanity, busy verses overwhelmed, and emotional verses hysterical for several weeks now. Then I collapse on the bed, sobbing and gasping for air, then sobbing some more. I am scared and desperate to get myself under control. Finally, I become numb and am able to move again. The panic comes in waves now, and without warning. My mind is spinning and I am overwhelmed by it all. I try to reach out for help, but the worlds I have fail me, and new words can not be pulled from memory as my every thought becomes jumbled. I feel like the weight of the world is upon me, and I am crumbling beneath all the things that used to bring me happiness. I am angry. I am scared. I am frustrated. I begin to lash out. My temper becomes short and I am not able to tolerate noises, and my skin feels like it is crawling. "Why does no one see me? Why does no one help, offer me comfort, offer me safety?" I am angry with them all, and I am yelling more loudly now, then I am SCREAMING. It is as though I am sitting helplessly as I watch reason and ration escape me. And all at once, I am screaming as loud as I can and I am hitting someone I love. The rage fills me to a degree I can not explain. My words are full of hate and venom. I am full rage. "SHUT UP! I HATE YOU! YOU ONLY CARE ABOUT YOURSELF!...." The words escape my lips almost before my head comprehends them. In my head there are screams of frustration. Screams of pain, and the overwhelming need to feel loved and important. Yet, yet I can not stop the rage that is pushes people away. I go to the only coping mechanism I have left, and I turn my anger on myself. I begin to cut myself as a form of release. As the flames begin to die, the anger turns to shame, and pain, and fear. I begin to sob, and just like the rage, the sorrow overwhelms me quickly. In no time at all, I am hysterical. The following day, I feel the physical affects. My arms are cut and stinging, There are bruises I don't remember getting, and all of my muscles ache. My head pounds from the tension and strain of all the emotion. I replay scenes in my mind and fill with guilt over the things I have done and said. I wonder what is wrong with me? Why can I not control this? I feel weak and crazy. I am embarrassed, and I don't want anyone to know how out of control I am. This is not me. This is not who I am. I am better than this. I am stronger than this. Why can't I do this? Why can't I control this? I am terrified now. I desperate as I am to control these emotions, I am terrified of my own darkness. I have been done this path before and it made me feel pathetic and sad. People took pity on me, or saw me as someone who needed to be handled with kid gloves or someone who needed to be fixed. I am NONE OF THOSE THINGS and I refuse, I REFUSE to allow myself to be seen that way. Now, what I ask myself. I know I can need help. I know I will continue to spin out of control until something interrupt my momentum, but asking for help will let other people know I am weak. So I continue to walk that line of sane verses insane, busy verses overwhelmed, and emotional verses hysterical, knowing that any little shift will throw me off balance once again.

Bad night

No one cares about what I need or what I want. They just take what they can from me, without regard to returning any help. I am scared, anxiety filled, and feeling alone. I cut myself for the first time in almost a year. At the moment, I got that temporary release, that adrenaline high. But now I feel ashamed, and I lie awake feeling empty, guilt, and cut off from anyone who loves me. Blood on my arm and the mild sting of the razor blade. Along with the more pronounced sting of rejection. 
I though things had changed & I was FINALLY able to see light, but it passed, slowing only to give me some parcels of advice. So I lay here alone, blood on my arm, and tear stained streaks running down my cheeks. God what I wouldn't give for a hug, some love & understanding.

Shakey Ground

I am trying so hard to hold it together, but the truth is I feel like I am melting down. I want to lock myself away and cry. My family, my daughter, my current job, my new job,my bills, my lawn, and on and on. Splintering my thoughts and making me feel overwhelmed, and as though no matter how hard I try, I can not keep up. Each time I forget, each mistake I make, disappoints someone, angers them, or is pointed out to me. I am at the point where I don't know who to trust or who to ask for help. Not in a paranoid, delusional way, but in the sense that I know long know my own truth. Everyone is talking at me, just talking at me, constantly. My thoughts are spinning, and I am unable to stop them. The recordings in my mind play over and over. Anyone, who deals with distorted thoughts knows these recordings. They are not voices, or schizophrenia, but the thoughts you play in your mind. The what ifs, the, the I should haves, the you still need to's that roll around in your head when your anxiety level is high. I have begun not to recognise what recordings are mine and what are other people's, based on other people's own insecurities and issues. I in a constant state of evaluating and analysing myself. It's not my fault. It can't all always be my fault! I am exhausted, I am empty, and I am confused.

I am beginning to show physical signs of my illness. My hands shake and my body is tense and aching. I am taking more medication than I ever have before, and I still feel my foundation crumbling. I have no idea how to prop myself back up. It gets shakier, and shakier each day. I am a single mom, with two jobs, and two pets, and bills, I can't afford to shut down. I can't afford to not function, emotionally or financially.  I hold up in the bathroom at work crying, or at home by myself pretending that my stomach is upset so because I can not face any more that day, and I have nowhere else to hide. Still they find me. The people, that demands in my life. They find me no matter where I hide. Needing something from me even when I have nothing left to give. Oh Lord please don't let me fall apart. Please don't let me end up in a hospital somewhere. Please don't let me look week to the people who already think I am not capable of taking care of myself. I am stronger than this, I am more resilient...I hope.

The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree

I watch my daughter fidgeting in her seat as we go over her spelling words. I see her cover her ears and shake whenever there is a loud noise. I recognized her panicked expressions, her need for distraction, and her heighten sensitivity to what's around her. We do not celebrate Halloween, we DO NOT use auto flush toilets, we avoid masks of all kinds, and until this year tall slides or play tubes were completely out! Every teacher, and several of her doctors have said what I already know. My daughter has an anxiety problem. Since she is only 7 I will not call it a disorder. However, seeing as her father and I having both been diagnosed with, and are being treated for, general anxiety disorder, I feel certain this is not a phase. I see her suffering, feeling genuine fear and anxiety and I want to make it better. I want to fix it for her.

I know all to well how she feels. The crawling out of your own skin feeling anxiety gives you. The butterflies in your stomach over the littlest things. I experience it too, while I have tried to hide my anxiety from her since she was a baby, I know that she sees my reactions, and she feels my tension. The worst part, and the hardest part for me to control, is my heighten sensitivity. The littlest noises, or motions will make me literally feel jittery, nervous, or tense. Oh and crowds, large crowds of people will make me feel like my head is going to explode. So, amusement parks, malls, festivals, concerts, all anxiety ridden for me, and in turn, for her. Once I feel like crawling out of my skin, my sensativity to being touched also increases. I feel so much guilt when my child wants a hug or a snuggle and I pull away. I seats try to explain that mommy is having a hard time right now, or mommy needs some space, but I see her expression drop each time and it breaks my heart. And it breaks my heart to know that some day she will understand EXACTLY how I am feeling.

Mental health days

Just like so many people with anxiety and depression disorders, I can get easily overwhelmed and run down. I push myself to keep going, but ever now and then I just can't. I end up calling in sick and staying home most of the day. But I work for my father who is not always forgiving when I am sick. I end up with a double helping of guilt. One, because I am not physically sick, and two because I have now lied to my father about why I am not coming in.

Do other you take mental health days? Do you feel guiltily when you take a day off work to rest your mind and not your body? Do you think people with mental illness should be allowed to take sick days to rest or deal with their depression, just like people with physical illnesses do?

Perspective

And my sister said, "I can believe you're going to just let this girl walk all over you..." I have played it over and over in my head for several weeks now. Each time I feel the lump in my throat, as I think to myself, "What? Why would your sister think that? Why would you think that? How could I be walking all over you? Don't you see everything I've done for you, for us? How many times I tried to support you, help you, take care of you? Couldn't you see the pressure I was under, how much fell in my shoulders? Couldn't you tell I was crumbling under the weight of it all? And you, don't you see how badly you hurt me? How I would have done anything you needed? All I wanted was to be able to count on you when I needed you? To feel like you would also do anything for me? Why don't you see that? I am not perfect. I am not without blame, but walking all over you? Treated you badly? Is that truly how you see me? Is that how you view us? How can that be?"

"I can't believe you're going to let this girl walk all over you."
"What?"

Everyone has their own perspective, their own opinions, and their own feelings. But what do you do when your perspective and feels so far away from the other persons that it feels as if you are not even talking about the same event? It sometimes makes me question my own judgment and sanity. How could I have perceived things so in accurately? I don't understand. Are there other events in my life that are not what I thought they were? Is my perspective screwed on other people who feel have hurt me? Am I just getting what I deserve? I don't know any more.

"I can't believe you're going to let this girl walk all over you."
"What?"
"Well you did treat me pretty bad."

The pain, the guilt, and the anger clinging to me like the sticky strings if a spider web. Freeing myself of one feeling, just means I get caught up in another, and once free of that, I find that some little piece of that original web is still stuck to me. Sometime I can't even see the web anymore, but I feel it. I know that it is still there. I am not quite able to free myself of the past without unraveling the entire web of mistakes. I don't know how to do that. I thought that I had knocked this web clean and was free of it, but now I see that it was just so finely spun that I didn't see it until I walked right into it again.

"I can't believe you're going to let this girl walk all over you."
"What?"
"Well, you did treat me pretty bad"
"I did everything I could to help you..."

Goldfish Memory

"They say goldfish have no memories. I guess there lives are much like mine, and the little plastic castle is a surprise everytime."-Ani Difranco

I was going to write a blog on the affects of depression, anxiety, and psyc meds on one's memory...but I forgot! No, no, no I am not joking. I was thinking this morning that I wanted to write about my recent increase of meds, and how that, mixed with my depression and anxiety have made it really hard to form full thoughts. When I got to my computer I opened up Blogger, I looked at my dashboard to check my stats, and then sat here blankly staring at the screen thinking "What was it I was thinking about writing about today?" UGGGGHHHH

Sadly, this is not totally uncommon for me. I think of myself as a fairly intelligent person, but when my depression peaks, it is like my mind jut turns mooshy. If you add to that an increase in medications, a change, or addition of medications, ohhhh it's not good. I currently take 2 anti-depressants, 1 anti-anxiety med, migraine meds, Ambien for sleep, AND muscel relaxants from time to time. They just upped my anti-depressant by 20mg and doubled my anti-anxiety. Neadless to say, I have trouble remembering little things, like where I left my cell phone, or the name of the neighbor dog. Often times I will find my mind empty, I will be looking at the neighbor dog (I have had the same neighbor dogs for 4 years) I will know I know the dog's name, but I will come up with nothing, not even the beginning letter. This is especially problematic at work, where as a sales person in a small business, I am often juggling a number of things at a time. I am also a single mom. My daughter, now 7 will say to me, "Momma I didn't brush my teeth" or "Momma what about my hair." I try to remind myself that it is ok, that SHE is ok even if I forget to make her brush before bedtime, but I often feel a pang of guilt about it. Then there is the driving! Sometimes, I get to my destination and have trouble remembering the actual journey there. Or I loose my car in the parking lot. Interesting house, horses, signs along side the road...let's just say, I am grateful for rumble strips. I constantly feel like I am walking around in this weird hypnotic state.

And then there is talking. WOW, that can be tricky! It is like my brain, and my tongue are no long connected. I stutter. I stop mid-sentance. I forget what word I was going to use. I switch letters around so I am dalking the wog, intead of walking the dog. Sometimes mid sentance, I will trail off and just loose my thought all together. People that have to deal with me must think I am a total bird brain, while those close to me imediately reconise it. It is REALLY frustrating. Especially when I KNOW what I am trying to say, but can not seem to get the words out, or when I just trip over my own words over and over. I want to carry a sign around that says "I am NOT stupid, or drunk, but please speak slowly I AM heavily medicated. (trust me it's for the best for everyone)"

Does this happen to everyone? Is it a common problem for people with mental health issues? Good golly I hope I'm not alone in this!!!

Advice from Ani

 I often use music as something to heal myself, or at least relate to during times of depression. One of my FAVORITE "angry chick" music (as my ex called it) comes from Ani Defranco. Lately, I have been needing some extra strength in dealing with my family, and out of nowhere Joyful Girl popped into my head. So I thought I'd share, via my blog, some Ani songs that are speaking to me right now.

Joyful Girl

"Joyful Girl"

i do it for the joy it brings
because i'm a joyful girl
because the world owes me nothing
and we owe each other the world
i do it because it's the least i can do
i do it because i learned it from you
i do it just because i want to
because I want to

everything i do is judged
and they mostly get it wrong
but oh well
'cuz the bathroom mirror has not budged
and the woman who lives there can tell
the truth from the stuff that they say
and she looks me in the eye
and says would you prefer the easy way?
no, well o.k. then
don't cry

and i wonder if everything i do
i do instead
of something i want to do more
the question fills my head
i know that there's no grand plan here
this is just the way it goes
and when everything else seems unclear
i guess at least i know

i do it for the joy it brings...

Present Infant

"Present/Infant"

Lately I've been glaring into mirrors picking myself apart
You'd think at my age I'd thought of something better to do
Than making insecurity into a full time job
Making insecurity into an art

And I fear my life will be over
And I will have never lived in unfettered
Always glaring into mirrors
Mad, I don't look better

But now here is this tiny baby
And they say she looks just like me
And she is smiling at me with that present infant glee
Yes, and I would defend to the ends of the earth
Her perfect right to be, be, be, be

So I'm beginning to see some problems
With the ongoing work of my mind
And I've got myself a new mantra
It says don't forget to have a good time
Don't let the sellers of stuff power enough to rob you of your grace

Love is all over the place
There's nothing wrong with your face
Love is all over the place
There's nothing wrong with your face

 

Angry Anymore

 

"Angry Anymore"

growing up it was just me and my mom
against the world
and all my sympathies were with her
when i was a little girl
but now i've seen both my parents
play out the hands they were dealt
and as each year goes by
i know more about how my father must have felt

i just want you to understand
that i know what all the fighting was for
and i just want you to understand
that i'm not angry anymore
i'm not angry anymore

she taught me how to wage a cold war
with quiet charm
but i just want to walk
through my life unarmed
to accept and just get by
like my father learned to do
but without all the acceptance and getting by
that got my father through

night falls like people into love
we generate our own light
to compensate
for the lack of light from above
every time we fight
a cold wind blows our way

but we learn like the trees
how to bend
how to sway and say

i, i think i understand
what all this fighting is for
and baby, i just want you to understand
that i'm not angry anymore
no, i'm not angry anymore

Want

Sometimes I wish I didn't have to work so hard for everything I want. But I guess that's how badly you know you want something, right? If you're not willing to fight for it, you must not want it that much.

For my mom too

Watch "Ani DiFranco - Joyful Girl (Live '99)" on YouTube

Except the woman in my bathroom mirror can NOT tell the truth from the stuff they say.

Wordless

Lately, I have just not had the words to describe how I feel. I guess that is why I have not been blogging as much. I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. Like a shell of myself. Some  days I feel completely wiped out. To emotionally, physically, and mentally tired to even figure out how I feel, let alone express those feelings. I have no ability to focus, remember, process the events around me. My thoughts are all incomplete. Other times, I know exactly how I feel and what I want, but the words will not come. I hear them in my head, but they stick in my throat as it tightens around them. I want so badly to shout them out. I want to wield them like daggers, but instead I swallow hard and keep them inside. It is exhausting and I feel the need for constant distraction from my thoughts. Outwardly, I continually hold back. I am kind to the customer in my store who is being rude to me. I am nonconfrontational to family members who have a VERY different idea of what is best for me. I talk nervously through the awkward silence between my mother and I when she is clearly unhappy with me without telling me what or why she is upset. I wait patiently for the seamstress who has been over booked, only to find out that it is "against company policy" to make my dress as short as I would like. I say nothing when my ex husband offers me $20 toward our daughters school tuition down payment. Each time, the responses in my head become more and more condescending, but they are never uttered out loud. Friends who have been loving and supportive I begin to keep secrets from because I just don't have the energy to explain why I am so depressed. I feel isolated, sad, angry, and tired. My whole body hurts. My headaches and migraines are beginning to become a daily occurrence. All noise seems to cut right through me. My skin seems to be crawling, and I can not sit still for long. I feel it eating away at me. I feel myself avoiding people. Choosing to talk only to a small group of people who I feel completely and totally at ease with. Even good events and feelings I find myself hiding. I dread each day. I don't want to deal with customers, coworkers, my family, anyone, really.

Meanwhile, life continues, like it or not. There are still a ton of things to get done at my job, a new job to prepare for, a child to care for, pets to take care of, and futures to plan. So I continue in silence. The to do list, the money, the anger, the exhaustion, the pain, the happiness, the excitement, all mixed together. I feel like the cluttered junk closet in an otherwise spotless house. Sure come in, make yourself at home, just don't open THIS door and it will all be fine.

Storm Clouds

While sometimes my depression sneaks up from behind and grabs hold of me with a cold, hard grip, sometimes I can see it coming long before it is full blown. Like a dark storm looming on the horizon, each cool breeze blowing it closer.

My last few weeks have been good, not in a mood sense, but in the sense that things are slowly turning around for me. I got a job, not just any job, but a job I am really excited about and that I think I will be really good at. My daughter and I chose a new pet. It's a bunny named Easter. She is friendly, funny, and low maintenance (at least compared to, say... a puppy). I took a week long vacation. Just me and one of my closest friends spending lots of time catching up, eating yummy food, having some drinks, and having all the conversations we have been saving up for each other. I had a parent teacher conference, and my child is doing really well in school, her whole class is ahead of where her teacher has ever been, in part because she had no snow days this year, but that's ok I can pretend. All of these things should make me happy, and truly they do. Yet...clouds. I see the joy in the moments around me and I feel almost robbed by my disorder, because I can not always rejoice in them.

Last week, the dark clouds broke and the rain started to pour down. I spent one full night just sobbing, literally sobbing and wanting to just give up and hide under my blankets for awhile. I am "high functioning" clinically depressed, meaning it has been years since I was so far down that I could not get out of bed, or go to work but weeks of going through the motions, walking around like a shell of a person while trying to figure out how to pay all my bills, trying to make a Easter memories, perfect birthdays, impress perspective bosses, smiling through uncomfortable, or flat out crappy, moments at work and with my mother. I end up taking on so much for other people, more than what they would ever ask of me, and yet no one can help lessen the weight of my own moods and worries. It sometimes feels unfair and it all caught up with me at once. I suddenly felt tired, tired of trying, tired of not being good enough, tired of fighting so hard to change the path I am on, tired of pretending that I am alright all the time, but most of all tired of day to day ups and downs of living with an anxiety and mood disorder. Why am I so damn tired all the time? Emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausted ALL. THE. TIME!!! Some days it feels like such a heavy weight to carry around, and I wish it could be lifted off for just a little while and I could have a break. I don't expect life to be easy, and I believe everyone has their cross to bare. I just want a time where I DON'T have to be strong, I DON'T have to struggle, I DON'T have to put "my best foot forward".

There was a time when I struggled with the idea of being labeled as metally ill. I believed it was situational, or some how temporary. Now, now I struggle with how permanent it is. I try to wrap my head around the idea that it is "ok" to feel this way, or that this is something that I will have to deal with for the rest of my life. I try to make sense of how I can not stop the moods, or the dark clouds and rain from coming, even when I see them on the horizon. All I can do is seek shelter, hunker down, and remind myself that I will survive the storm.

Pleasing All The People

I have a mood disorder, and an anxiety disorder, and probably some less than health self esteem. I take things in, I dwell on them, I roll them around in my brain over and over. It overwhelms me and often makes me feel sad. I play out worse case scenarios in my head, and worry about what I have done wrong. It's like having a home movie of your worst moment set on repeat in you brain. That feeling of disappointing, or hurting, someone I care about aways lingering just below the surface. It eats at me, even little things, little easily forgivable mistakes. I take to heart, because upsetting people is NOT what I do. I make people happy. That is what I have spent my whole life doing, or at least trying to do. My father once told me "You mother and I want to give you some money for Christmas, but I know how you are, so you have to promise not to turn around and use it to buy Christmas gifts for us." Because that's what I do. I give everything I have to try to make people happy, in turn making myself happy, feeling and loved.

Except, it never seems to work. In the end, I am often sucked dry, out of money, love, and energy. Left sad, and unsatisfied. It is said that "You can not please everyone." So after all is said and done, it often turns out, that I am sad and someone in my life is STILL unhappy. Feeling like all my time and energy has gone to waste.

Funny thing about sadness, if you hold on to it for too long it can easily turn into anger and bitterness. Spilling out of me in mean little tidbits, or on occasion, firey explosions where I spew ugly words all over, at top volume, with no filter or restraint. There is nearly immediate guilt, and embarrassment from this loss of control and inablity to censor myself. Leading me back, full circle to feeling like a bad daughter, girlfriend, friend, sister, employee...you name it.  And so the movie begins to play again, only with a new scene added to the end, but never the happy ending that I am continuously working so hard to create.

What is "normal"?

This week, at counseling we spent a lot of time on normal, and what is normal. Is it normal to get upset when people move my things? Is my definition of love normal? Is my relationship with my family normal? Is it normal to feel this angry with my ex husband? What is normal, exactly?

Dictionary.com defines normal as:
normal nor·mal
- adjective 1. of standard type; usual - noun 2. the standard or average - Related Forms un·nor·mal - adjective un·nor·mal·ly - adverb un·nor·mal·ness - noun nor·mal·ize - verb

[nawr-muhl]

Origin: 1520–30; < L normālis made according to a carpenter's square

A standard type, usual, average. When you are talking about behavior, or thought process, it is hard to define what is standard, usual, or average. Many of us know what normal behavior is for us as individuals. As in "I don't normally do that". But how do you define usual for others? So much of what we view as "normal" or "acceptable" is defined by your experiences and individual beliefs. For example, in my family, we have large family gatherings, many of which you are expected to attend unless you live on the other side of the country, or are on deaths door. My friends from smaller, or less close families do not understand the this dynamic, and do not see the urgency to attend these events. Does that mean either of us is abnormal, or wrong? No. We are simple from different backgrounds, with different life styles, different circumstances. Yet, it seems so easy for so many people to define abnormal, or crazy. Worse yet, we (or at least I) all too often, view ourselves (or myself) through the lens of someone else's "normal".  That person maybe a parent, a spouse, a friend, or just an image that we have created in our minds based on what we read, see on TV, in magazines, or online. Allowing yourself to be defined by other's ideas of what is the norm, can make "normal" seem unobtainable.

I have allowed myself to be defined by other people's definitions of abnormal and crazy for so long, that I fine myself constantly wondering what normal is. For as long as I can remember, I have been striving to be "normal" and accepted. Since the first panic attack, since the first therapy session, since the first med, since the first diagnosis of mental illness, I have seen myself as broken. So much so, that I seem to have lost track of what is just me being me, and what is a symptom of a larger problem. I have lost the line between quirk and illness. Constantly evaluating, often rather harshly, my own behaviors, and thoughts, to try to figure out if they are "normal" or if they are distorted. Trying to define, in my own mind, what "normal" is and desperately wanting to achieve it. The strangest, saddest part is, that reading the definition of normal from above, I have no desire to be average, usual, or standard. Perhaps I need to remind myself that the next time I find myself longing to be seen as "normal". I saw a Facebook status once that said "Normal is just a setting on a washer." Dictionary.com says it originated as from the word normalis, meaning made by a carpenter's square. Maybe we should have left it at that.

What's are your feelings on normal verses abnormal, illness verses quirks? I'd love some input.

I'm Fine

Sometimes I feel as though depression is my wicked step-sister. Just as I feel like I am going to get to go to the ball, she rips apart the dress the mice and birds made for me, leaving me ragged an alone again. After over a year of having to "overcome" I had several good weeks. I was finding a new direction in my life, and taking real, and solid steps toward new goals. Then, out of nowhere, crying, and not just teary eyes, sobs, full fledged sobs complete with gasps for air in between.

Why? I'm not sure. My first mistake, was letting myself get too tired. Exhaustion, physical or mental, dangle me right on the edge of a meltdown, even if the rest of my world is all roses and sunshine. All it takes is a hard wind to blow me right over the emotional cliff, landed hard on whatever harsh reality waits below.

Second, I have, as usual, been doing the "I'm fine" game. This is a game I have mastered over the years. Sometimes I play it with friends, other times I play it with myself, but most often its both. I'm fine because I need to be strong for my daughter. I'm fine because I don't want to look like you are getting to me. I'm fine because someone I care about has a bigger problem than I do. I'm fine because I have a job to go to, a child to raise, a dog to take care of, work to get done, and a house and laundry to keep up with. I'm fine because I am telling myself I am fine, and that not being fine is just not an option. I, occasionally, convince myself that its true. I look around and think, "Huh, look at that. I feel ok." Right up until I have 5 minutes of quiet, alone with my thoughts. Suddenly, I get hit by an emotional tidal wave and crumb like wet paper.

So I let myself cry. I sobbed, and sobbed until I could pull it together enough to get out of the house. Then I got in the car, and turned up my "angry" music so load I couldn't hear myself singing along any more, and I let myself get really pissed. Pissed at myself, at the people who have hurt me, and just in general. After that, I spent some time just being me with the person who knows me better than anyone else, and that, again, made me cry. I spent a good part of the next day sleeping, recovering from the emotional exhaustion and trying to make up for lost sleep from earlier in the week. But at last, this magical thing happened. I was fine. Not just in words or fine like I'll be fine eventually, but really fine. And the glass slipper fit.

I Am Not Adrift, I Am Floating

I have been thrown around like a small boat a drift on the ocean lately. It is hard to live a stable life without a stable foundation. It seems, just as I fight my way up to the surface, and take a deep breath of fresh air, then the next wave crashes down and pushes me under again. At first it was very overwhelming. I was frantically trying to regain control, gasping for each breath. Trying to break the force of the wave, at least slightly, before it hit. But after awhile, I became tired, defeated by the endlessness of the waving ocean. Feeling like it was pointless to fight, pointless to try. Like the ocean was just to vast for me make it to shore. My emotions, depression and anxiety were at a peak, heightened even more by a falling out with a close friend, and then an incredibly emotional encounter with my mother. As I made my way into deeper waters, and the waves were more like wakes, I began to look around search for a direction. My tendency, at times like this, is to grasp at straws trying to find any, and every, way out of the situation. I go into panic mode and try whatever might make me feel less nervous, less afraid, less depressed. This time, though, I am not sure why (maybe because it has never worked before) I didn't do that. I began to look inside myself for the answer. I meditate on words of strength and faith. I have begun to float, calmly, just allowing myself to rise and fall with the waves. It was horrifying. I tend to be a person likes to have a direction, a destination, even if I fall short of reaching it. "Patience" a close friend preached to me. "Patience" he says, over and over, and amazingly I listen. The water seems to level out, and my world seems filled with signs to trust in God, trust in the universe, trust in myself. I am struggling to make peace with that trust. I struggle to not try and grab the ores and row my little boat in any direction just to feel movement. Amazing, suddenly, I realize I am not adrift, but in actually, I am able to row in any direction I choose. I am no longer held captive by the whim of the weather, or a chartered course. I can just float, until I figure out where I want to go, and that will be alright. Patience, and I just might be surprised at the direction that my little boat heads in, but whatever path I choose I will have faith that it is the path I was meant to be on.

Modest Mouse-Float (My new theme song.)

Mishmash of Sad

It has been said that God never gives you more than what you can handle. I wish He had less faith in me. I look around, and I know I have many blessings. Things that other don't have, a beautiful healthy child, a safe warm home, plenty of food, clean water, medical care, an education, and those are just the basics. I see all those things, and I am grateful. Yet I am not happy. I still feel not good enough, not loved, not cared about. I still carry this deep sadness, and I can't seem to lift it.

I am working on my connection to God and my spirituality. I am reciting meditation prayers daily. Sometimes several times a day, if I find enough quiet. Maybe I will have a spirital awakening and my whole life will change. I don't know, that would be great.

But failing that, I am pretty much a wreck recently, and I can't help but wonder, what I could have possibly done to deserve to feel THIS bad. I hate to say it, but it feels a little unfair to me.

I realize life is unfair some times. That's just the way it goes, but every time I feel like things are starting to look up I get hit with another wave of stress, depression, or just plain bad luck. I am not sure how much more I can take before I go under. I try so hard. I take my meds, I go to work, I take care of my daughter, I blog, I go to therapy, I am even taking vitamins, and yet, I continue to get beat down by life. It seems to happen over and over, and each time it gets harder to get back up. I suppose, eventually, I won't even care, and I'll just stop picking myself up. But thankfully I am not there yet.

I am horrified of being labled as miserable person, a bad person, a crazy person, or a weak person. So every day I force myself out of bed and I put on my "pretend its all ok" face. Apparently, it is pretty convincing because no one around me (ok, not true, most people) don't seem to have a clue that, on the inside, I am completely falling apart. That I come home and cry (or hide in the bathroom or my car.) They don't seem to notice that I am fighting back tears, that my hands shake, or that I am taking more anxiety medication. Why do I care? Why do I let other people's oppinions impact me so much? Who are they? Well, often times, they are people who I believed loved (love) me. The fact that they don't notice my struggle sometimes hurts me more.

I sometimes wonder what would happen if I just gave up. What if I stopped going to work, just didn't show up. What if I stopped being people's friend. Stopped helping others, supporting them. What if I just disappeared for a week, or a weekend? Sent my daughter with her dad, and decided the hell with everyone else, I am going to draw, read, meditate, and not worry about a damn thing for awhile. What would happen then? How would my life change? What keeps me from doing that, taking care of me?

Unconditional

There is a quote by Marilyn Monroe that I love.

“I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.”

We all have quirks, insecurities, and imperfections, but we all deserve someone who loves us and accepts us exactly as we are. Unconditional love.

The challenge for me is accepting myself. I so easily remember the times I have fallen short. The time I have lost control. The time I was insecure, and allowed that to make me do or say something I was later ashamed of. I let those moments replay in my mind over and over like a bad movie. I relive them as though I am right there in that moment again. Often letting one bad memory trigger another, and another until I have reach full downward spiral. Until I no longer trust my own judgement. Then I allow myself to feel this disappointment in myself so strongly that it stops me from moving ahead. I become frozen in self doubt and fear. Weighed down by my own judgment and self-doubt. Sinking in emotional quicksand.

I am unable to see myself in any way other than bad or negative. I look past my good nature, my ablity to see the best in people (even when I souls not) my sense of & humor, my creative nature, my maternal ablities, my generosity, and most if all my courage. I am continuously looking at other people and think how couragously they are living life. Standing up for their believes, being whomever they want, in spite of what others might say or think. I can not see myself in this light. It depresses me, make me feel weak, lesser. I am striving to reach the end of that quote. Instead, continuing to feel my best is yet to come, and maybe it is, but what am I missing today by allowing myself to be held back by the past?

In order for others to love and accept me wholly, and unconditionally, I must do the same for myself. I must forgive myself, let myself go, move forward lighter, clearer, more confident, and happier. I need to live by the words of Miss Monroe.

Me verses The Illness

I am NOT a drama queen. I have an anxiety disorder. A real, diagnosed, and medicated disorder that makes the mole hills feel like mountains.

I am NOT a ditz. I take medications that make me forget things. Plus, stress makes every one's mind a little spotty.

I am NOT incapable, or lazy. I am depressed. Again, a real, diagnosed, disorder that is being treated with medication and psychotherapy.

I do NOT choose to be this way. Clinical depression is caused by a chemical imbalance in one's brain. It is not something that can be controlled or stopped. It is an illness, just like any other illness.

I am NOT weak, or feeling sorry for myself. A genuine feeling of hopelessness, or helplessness, is also part of my disorder from time to time. I can not think my way out of it, and it makes it very hard to stay motivated when you feel like nothing you do matters.

I am NOT a victim. I have an illness. I wish I did not, but much like physical illness, it is not a condition I could have prevented. In fact, it is probably LESS preventable than some physical illnesses.

I am NOT crazy for cry for no apparent reason. I do not always know why I am feeling sad. It is one of the symptoms of depression. I may not understand why I am crying, and I may cry at random. Again, brain chemicals, or sometimes hormones causing my brain chemicals, to get out of wack.

I am NOT over reacting. I have real emotions, and real feelings. I am allowed to have these feelings. To me they are real, and valid, even if they are exaggerated by my disorders.

I am NOT a out of control. I often realize my feelings are disproportional to an event. People with anxiety and mood disorders have mood swings. Again, a very common symptom of these illnesses.

I am NOT attention seeking. I would actually rather have you not notice me when I am struggling. The last thing I want is to be pitied. It only makes me feel worse about myself at a time when I am already low.

Like many illnesses, my metal illness requires life style changes that sometimes make me feel as though it has taken over my entire life. During the darkest parts of my depression I find that I need to remind myself what is me, and what is illness. Because the symptoms often effect my mood and personality, it is hard to remember who I am innately verses what is a symptom of a nasty desease.

Predator and Prey

Sometimes my depression is like a relentless stalker. Lurking somewhere just out of sight, blending in with a blur of faces I pass at the grocery store. I can't see it, but I sense it there, just waiting to pounce. The same way a zebra senses the lioness watching it from behind the tall grass. There is an uneasiliness about me, a constant anxiety about what lies around each corner. I have a greater awareness of every sound, every movement, every person around me. I have a constant need to move, distract myself. It all begins to ware away at me. The tension in me builds until I become so overwhelmed and angry that I begin to show physical signs of anxiety. My hands visibly shake, and I appear tired. I have been trying to out run my own misery for so long that I begin to stumble. I become disorganized, my memory becomes spotty, and my energy level drops. I don't immediately see the changes in myself. I have no sense that I am beginning to make myself more and more vunerible. I am so wrapped up in the fear of the depression coming that I do not realize it is beginning to close in on me. Eventually, worn down by my own efforts to distract myself, the constant worrying about being ok, and the stress of life as a single mom with a crappy job, I am forced by my body to stop and breath. This is the moment, the moment I become the sick zebra who has strayed from the herd. And wham, like a sudden strike to the head it hits me. All at once the anger, the sadness, the anxiety, they become too much, and I go down. Feeling like I have been rendered helpless, I have nothing left to fight back with. Mundane, everyday tasks become more than I am able to muster up the energy or desire to do. Taking care of my child and sleep become my only goals for the day. I feel angry and weak for letting myself get overrun in such a way. That is when the the real damage starts. The recordings begin to play in my head, and with them comes all the memories. The memories of every time in my life that I didn't measure up or every time that I let my depression stalker overtake me. I fill with sadness, embarrassment, and fear. What if this is my whole life? What if I am not as capable as I thought I was? What if I need help? Who will help me? I don't want to be a burden to anyone, nor do I want to admit that I am not capable of keeping a home clean, working full-time, or being the best mom I can be to my little girl. Those are things I should be able to do. Those are things "normal" people do everyday. Why can't I? Why couldn't I just keep running? Why did I let myself get caught by this illness again?

And so it's been for the last few weeks. Constant need to run, distract myself, pretend not to feel the presence of my stalker behind me. Until two very bad days in a row knocked my feet out from under me, and down I came like an injured zebra, and the predator did not hesitate to snap me up in my moment of weakness. Looking back I can see so clearly all the little signs that I was in danger. I wonder if I could have stopped it some how. Cut it off at the pass. For now I sit here, wondering how I am going to get through the week, and even if I do what will happen next. How long will it long will it take to escape my captor? Once freed, how long will I be able to run before it catches up with me again?

Perception

I have not been writing much lately, and I have been missing it. So tonight I am posting two entries, AND recommitting myself to writing this blog more often. Now, on to entry number two!

I have written before about how, as someone who suffers from clinical depression and an anxiety disorder, I don't process stress the same way other people might. But I think beyond that, people with mental illnesses, live in a different reality than those who do not have a disorder. Which is not to imply we are delusional, but in fact, much of everyone's reality is based in perception. Just as three people can experience the same event at the same time, but recall it in three different ways. They all experienced it based on their own perspective. Each perspective is formed by your unique personality, past experiences, fears, and believes. For people with depression or anxiety, the world is often a darker, scarier place. Therefore, we often perceive events in our lives with more negativity or scepticism than others might. Because of this I have been called a drama queen or a negative person. I am sorry to say, I can not help it and having my bleak outlook on life pointed out to me as a weakness, often just makes me feel worse. My reality is that some days there is no light at the end of the tunnel, because...Well, mostly because my brain chemicals are off, and even though the light is still there, my brain is only allowing me to see the dark tunnel at that point.

I was recently told a story about a teenage boy with bipolar disorder. He was going through what most would see as normal adolescent insecurities and issues. But in his minds eye, it was so much more. He committed suicide. His pain was real, regardless of what other people's reaction to the same experiences were. He was unable to see his experiences as normal, or temporary because the were clouded by his mental illness.

Through the help of my counselor, and my medications, I am learning two things. First, that even if I can not see the light at the end of the tunnel, it is still there. Sometime I can just hold on long enough and it reappears on its own.  Other times, I have to push myself a little, keep putting one foot in front of the other, until I see light again. The other lesson I have learned (just recently) is that challenging your perception can change your reality.  I believed very strongly that many people from the small town I grew up in thought of me as crazy, because at 19 I went through a very dark depression, and began having panic attacks. However, with in the last few years, through the power of the internet, I began reconnecting with several people I grew up with. As people began opening up, I found that many of them understood what I had gone through, or had been through similar things. Nearly 20 years after leaving that town, I am finding my perception was wrong, and I am getting closer to that dark part of my life.

Drugging the Mentally Ill

One year ago this month there was a horrible event in Tuson, AZ. A man, with a history of drug use and disturbed behavior, opened fire on a crowd in a supermarket parking lot. It was a meet and greet for the local congress woman. Jaded Loughner was captured and assrested at the scene, but not before he killed 6 people (including a 9 year old who had come to meet the congress woman) and injured 13 others (including congress woman Gabby Giffords herself.) The case has been well publicized due to Gabby Giffords amazing recovery from the head wound, and AZ lax gun laws. Then fuel thrown on the fire by press coverage and the current political climit here in the US, which is highlighting more and more of people's differences, than their commonalities. For Gabby Giffords is a "liberal" and Jared Loughner is...well...not.

As I said, the shootings happened just over a year ago, and Jaded Loughner has yet to go on trial. He has been declared incompetent to stand trial. Instead he is in a facility, being forcefully give psychiatric medication, in order to make him fit for trial.

Now, the whole concept of this seems, just wrong to me. I do believe everyone deserves their day in court, but if you are not mentally competent to stand trial, are you mental competent enough to understand the crime you are accused of? And how moral is it to forcefully give psychiatric drug to someone, anyone? Is it different on a case to case basis? In this case, in particular, the accused was witnessed and apprehended at the scene. There is little doubt he pulled the trigger. So then the question becomes, did he knowingly and maliciously commit this crime? Based on his current mental state, I'm going to have to say, that there is no way he could have been mentally sound enough to understand the out come. Did he do something unspeakably horrible? Yes. Did innocent people get hurt, die because of it? Yes. Do I think he is a dangerous person? Absolutely! But how is forcing him to be medicated enough to sit through a trial helping him as a person or us as a society? What is the moral answer here? We do not want to go back to a time when healthy people were committed to state hospitals just on someone else, but if the accused can not pass a psych evaluation in order to stand trial, is it worth sending them to trial at all?  I'm just not sure, and is the bigger issue here how we as a society treat the mentally ill in general.