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.

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!!!

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.

All Four Seasons

How will I know?
How can I tell?
Which side of the bed she takes when the day begins
She can be kind
She can be cruel
She's got me guessing like a game show fool

If it's a sunny day I take my umbrella Just in case the raindrops start to fall You could say that I'm just a cautious fellow
I don't want to be caught in a sudden squall
That's my baby
She can be all four seasons in one day
That's my baby
She can be all four seasons in one day

My ex husband used to swear that All Four Seasons by Sting was written about me. If it wasn't, well I can at least relate, and so could he. I am the "artsy" type, a Gemini, a woman, with a mood and anxiety disorder. Yeah, it in short I am moody, and my whole life functions around those moods. I am very emotion based. I don't see it as a bad thing, but it also has not always proven to be an asset either. Let me clarify here by saying that, while it does occasionally make me seem a little flighty, I am not unintelligent. I am just more inclined, than some, to give someone the benefit of the doubt, or consider what they might have been feeling before making my final judgement. I have always been this way.

At any rate, I, and others, have several thought on why I am this way. There is the idea that some people just come hardwired this way. The idea that I am a Gemini, and there for my disposition was written in the stars. I could have a hormone imbalance. It could be part of my depression and anxiety disorders. Maybe it is all of the above. I may never know. Here's what I do know. It is exhausting! Especially during times of high stress, I often feel like I am an emotional pin ball. Getting bounced around, lights and noises, smacked and zapped until I finally fall through a hole at the bottom of the day. I don't know what to do about it any more. I had a boyfriend who used to fight with me. He believed you had to be "in control of your emotions". Believe me when I tell you that I wish I were! Do you have any idea what it feels like to go through a whole rang of emotion in a few hours time? Each new emotion brings on a new view of the world. Sometimes, I even feel the swing coming, but I can't stop it, and I am not saying this as an excuse for my bad behavior or lack of self control. People who know me well have watched me ride the waves of emotion, lash out in rages, begin to cry for no reason, get so nervous and anxious that I have a hard time letting my own daughter touch me, then be fine a few hours later. It often makes me feel out of control and crazy.  It makes it difficult to make decisions. Especially, big decisions. I become very confused, and overwhelmed, very quickly, and my head begins to spin. It mixes together logic and emotion until I loose track of which is which. It's dizzying. I will literally make a decision, and hours later FEEL differently, and begin to second guess myself. I wish that I was more able to detach from the emotion of my life and the emotion of those around me. All of the back and forth, up and down it wears on me, increases my anxiety, makes me lack self confidence.

Does anyone else have this problem? Is this something common with depression and anxiety? What techniques work to help you disconnect and begin to de-emotionalize an experience or decision? Can you detach some, or is it just a part of who you are and you have to learn a work around? How do you keep you constant mood changes from wearing you out?

Kids teaching parents

Read Madam Bipolar's blog, Plan B and the comments that followed it, makes me think a lot about my mental illness and its effects on my daughter. (Both genetic and environmentally) I, in fact, just today call a family therapy group so that we can deal with her anxiety. (Daddy was kind enough to provide his own anxiety disorder to her genetic make up, in addition to my disorders.) As well as, to help her deal with Chuck and his daughter moving out. It is something I am constantly aware of. For example, the other night I had a particularly bad anxiety night and my daughter wanted to climb on me, snuggled with me, the normal stuff, but for some reason every time she touched me I got jumpy and felt like I was going to crawl out of my skin. She was doing her normal 6 year old thing, but the wiggling, and talking, and bumping me....I just couldn't take it. It made me feel like a horrible momma's. She just wanted some attention. Now believe me when I say my child has NO lack of attention! She is an only child, and the first born grandchild of 3 sets of grandparents. But the fact that I knew MY disorder was causing me to not be able to hold her, snuggled her, and be the affectionate mom I usually am bothered me. As a lot of the comments left on the Plan B blog said you become so aware of moments like that. Instead of yelling at her and telling her to leave momma a lone, we talked and she understood that momma's needed some down time. It helps some to see her understand and reflect that. She will tell her dad when he call that she "thinks momma's newest some alone time because she is really frustrated and upset"
These things, these example, show not just the negate side of a mentally ill parent, but they also show a little girl with a kind heart. She is always willing to help and always wants to make people feel better. I once told "No, no honey momma's is the adult. I will take care of it." She rubbed my back, whiles my tears away and said, "See momma's even little people can help too." And she was right. I needed to feel love and cared for that night.
I have struggled from clinical depression and anxiety since I was 19 (least that's when I was diagnosed). My 20s were spent in a lot of turmoil. Skipping class, sleeping a lot, then the panic attacks started. Then I stopped caring. Stopped eating, stopped wearing make up, started cutting, got my first tattoo. I cycles though the depression, the self destructive behavior for the next few years. Then once I had mocked with my ex down south, I found people who began helping me. I kept up with my medications, as well as my counseling. As did my ex. I went to counseling 8month pregnant, I went 9 months pregnant, and I went with a new born. I did NOT want to fail now that I had a little life at stake. Just having her makes me want to be a better person, makes me want to maintain my level of being high functioning. She pushes me to do that. When I am to depressed to get out of bed I get up and get her to school, every morning. After I get home I lay down again, but damn it she is at school. When Chuck lived here and he was non-stop on me about something and I wanted to grab my keys and go, but I didn't I didn't want to leave me daughter here without me. She sees that I am down or "Don't feel so well", and she generally let's me rest. She understands a lot for a kid her age. We talk about our feelings all the time. But most of all she makes me stronger. She makes me feel I can do things for her that I can do for no one else. The bus stop, every morning. Some times just get outta bed.
If I lived alone I would not get up, but she needs her momma's. So I push myself and I do it. Basically what is am saying is that without her I don't know that I would try so hard, or push myself as hard, or ever have know unconditionally love! And since I, and pretty much I alone, made my girl everything wonderful, compassionate, smart, independent. I gave her that and she gives me a reason to push on.

Update 12/7/11- I apologize for the earlier typos. I was writing on my cell phone and after taking my Paxil and Ambien.   

I Don't Know

One of the things I find the most frustrating about my depression is constantly have to answer the questions "What's wrong with you?" "Why are you so upset?" "Are you ok?" "Why are you crying?" Let me see. What IS wrong with me? Why AM I so upset? There is a lot of stress in my life right now, but the plain and simple truth is that I DON'T KNOW what is wrong with me. I DON'T KNOW why I am so upset. I am ok, but I am not good, but I do know there is no amount of advice you can give me to change that. Yes, I understand it sounds strange, but no I DO NOT know why I am crying. It reminds me of when my cousin was little and would get in trouble. When my aunt would be upset he would ask "Mommy happy?" "She would reply, "Nooooo mommy is sad." And he would say, "No mommy happy. Mommy happy" as though if he believed hard enough he could will her to being happy again. Even Chuck, who understands what depression the illness and not the mood is about, after seeing me down for so long, begins to say things like "Why aren't you happy, Honey?" Or "What's wrong baby? Cheer up. I love you. Doesn't that make you happy?" Well, of course I feel happy to be loved, but that doesn't mean I feel happy at that moment. I know he means well, and I know my friends are concerned about me. BELIEVE me if I knew why I was so sad, or what would make me happy I would be all over it. Just like my cousin with my upset aunt, no amount of someone else wishing happiness upon me will help me either. I am depressed clinically depressed. I mean I guess technically I DO know what's wrong with me. What's wrong is the chemicals in my brain are different than those of a "normal" person's brain; therefore, I have to take a medication to alter the chemicals in my brain in order to feel better. Because of this deficiency I am not able process stress and anxiety the way other people do. That does not make it easier to live with, nor does it make it easier for other people to watch me go through. But it is a road I have traveled before, and a road I am sure I will travel again. It is a road with a lot of peaks and valleys, and THAT is all I know.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1 annnnnnnd Melt Down

I left work feel pretty depleted. I start the car and before I reach the stop sign at the end of the road I have started to cry. I can't seem to stop myself. I drive home the back way in order to avoid the traffic in town. It is slightly longer but I am in no hurry to get back to the house. Yesterday, Chuck had a bad day with his daughter and was not handling it well. I had been fighting another migraine most of the day and was struggling to keep my head together. It all came to a head after his daughter was in bed. (My daughter is thankfully visiting her father.) I flew into a rage. I am ashamed, hurt, and angry and having trouble wanting to face going home. The more I drive the harder I cry. I get to the intersection of my road, I turn away from our house. I search for my Swiss Army knife in my purse. Drive the other way. I feel myself becoming hysterical. I begin to tell myself "it's ok". After a short time I am crying and repeating that phrase over and over out loud now. "It's ok. It's ok.  It's ok..."  I convince myself to turn around. I feel a sense of panic knowing I have nowhere else to go. I put the blade of my knife on my arm. I feel it burn as I pull it across my arm. I don't really cause any more damage than a scratch. I keep crying, and head home. I pull in the driveway, still crying. All at once I stop crying. I just sit there in the car staring first at the yard, then the house, then the yard, and back to the house. Snippets of last night play through my head, along with mounting worries about having to call the landlord about the rent, the tree that fell from our property on the neighbor's garage, and the leaking roof. I begin to cry again. I look at the house again. I make myself get out of the car and walk slowly toward the house. I walk into kitchen and freeze. I don't know what to do. I hear Chuck and his little girl in the next room. I stand there. Eventually, I walk straight through, up the stairs, and into the bathroom. Stopping only briefly to take my anxiety meds. Sitting on the side of the tub I become hysterical again. My head on my knees, the more I try to control it the harder I cry. Chuck comes in asks what's going on? What the hell is wrong with me? I don't answer and cry harder. He starts to ask if I can watch his daughter for awhile. I just continue to cry. I have no idea how long it goes on like this. All I know is my head is beginning to ache and Chuck is getting twitcher by the second. Saying he needs to get out of here for awhile. I come down stairs and sit with his daughter. Chuck hands me a beer. I still have tears streaming down from time to time. I can't control it. Chuck leaves and I sit on the floor while his girl talks to me. She is sweet and tells me how its ok to cry some times. We talk about numbers and toys. Chuck comes back home and tells me to go lay down. I don't argue and just head to bed. I am woken up at dinner time and Chuck gives me more meds. So here I sit sedated, but no longer crying or shaking. I am ashamed. Ashamed of the raging fit I had, ashamed of needing all these meds, ashamed to have hurt myself, and ashamed I have lost control of my emotions. I hate that I don't know if I will be ok tomorrow or not.

A Prayer From Psycho Momma for Parenting Tips

I would say this pretty accurately sums up how I have been feeling lately. Apparently it is how Chuck has been feeling to because I heard him yell for the first time in over 2 years this morning. So here is a brief little synopsis of our morning. (beginning last night)
8:00PM-Both girls in bed (yeah go me)
8:35PM- I realize I was supposed to drop my car off at the garage to be worked on at 6AM
8:36PM- Chuck and I argue about how to handle this. I suggest he go ask the neighbors if they mind running him to the garage then. He disagrees and says we should ALL get up at 5:30AM to get the car to the garage.
8:45PM- Yelling (mostly by me) about how Chuck is all wrapped up in all this stuff with his ex and his daughter and how he is creating problems where there are not problems (and there are PLENTY of problems already) He gets angry with me tells me that is not true. How he made dinner and took care of the kids while I had a migraine... You can guess how the rest plays out. Finally I just tell him to go upstairs and leave me alone, and he does.
9:30PM- I sit on the couch trying to decide what to do next. I feel the heart palpitations start and I am fighting the impulse to grab the car keys and run off, just for the sake of running off. (fight or flight I guess)
9:45PM- I decide more anxiety meds, muscle relaxant for the migraine, my Paxil and some quality time with my book are in order
9:47PM- I enter our room to get my meds. I feel my heart race as I walk past Chuck
11:00PM- I fall asleep on the couch reading The Help
11:00-3:00AM- Off and on sleeping on the couch
5:30AM- My alarm goes off
5:35AM- Snooze goes off
5:40AM- Snooze goes off I roll of couch and walk upstairs to wake everyone else
5:45AM- I push open the bedroom door to find our geriatric dog has pooped in the middle of the night, and in the middle of the bedroom floor.
5:46AM- Wake my daughter. Through on shoes, sweatshirt, pants
5:50AM- Chuck wakes his daughter
5:55AM- we load everyone (now awake and chatty) into cars head for the garage
6:04AM- Keys in drop box, we head back home.
6:16AM- I instruct my daughter to head straight upstairs and begin getting ready for school. I begin to look for her clothes.
6:20AM- I give up on looking for matching socks in the clean laundry and head upstairs to search her room.
6:25AM- Still looking for socks, slightly more panicked now (I remember having 2 clean pair in my hand this weekend. WHERE THE HELL DID THEY GO?)
6:30AM- Start yelling to Chuck to help look for said socks as I do my daughter's hair. She screams that I am pulling too much.
6:32AM-Psyco mom makes and appearance and begins freaking out about the missing socks (We have like 5 pair of school socks, how have we lost ALL 5 pair in 2 weeks?) As I look I knock my daughters 20 little "swishies" on the floor and begin yelling about the state of her room.
6:35AM-Both girl put on shoes to drive to bus stop (one to get on the bus, the other because she likes to do whatever the older one does) There is MUCh talking and question asking. "Patty is this the right foot? Patty do I have the right foot? Well is this the right foot?" "Where is my breakfast?" "Mom are we taking the dog to the bus stop"
6:40AM- Chuck and his daughter begin to argue over whether she needs a toy to keep her from getting bored on this 5 minute car ride. (this is where Chuck yells) "I SAID NO!"
6:41AM- She returns to the kitchen and is quickly distracted by the dog, who knows its time to go and is in his create whining and spinning hoping to come also.
6:45AM- Jackets on, leash on dog, we head out
6:47AM- Attach dog harness to seat so he stays put. Buckle in the two girls.
6:48AM- Head to the bus stop. Girls constant chatter the whole way.
6:55AM- We are there (damn it! the bus doesn't come until 7:05-7:10 we are too early)
6:56AM-7:07AM- The girls bicker about sitting with the dog, and then take VERY timed out turns sitting with the dog.
7:08AM- Load kid on bus. Head home with other kid.
7:20AM- Walk dog
7:28AM- Tell Chuck I am going back to bed until I need to get ready for work.
7:32AM- Oh yeah, the dog poop.

When I first became a single mom 4 years ago. Psycho Momma made regular appearances. I mean after all, I was suddenly live 5 minutes from parents I had spent 7 years being 8 hours from. I was a stay-at-home mom and was suddenly a working full-time AND taking care of a 2 year old. She was suddenly in a new house, in daycare, and...well...2. Now that she is 6, and I am well medicated...I mean more together, psycho mom only creeps out at times of extreme anxiety or stress. She now knows psycho mom though, and when she is told that momma is about to loose her temper and we don't wanna deal with crazy momma. She will say uh oh momma, ok. (I don't know if that is good or bad.) This is often followed by her quoting the movie Madagascar and saying "momma is psychotic" "the penguins are psychotic". Let me clarify that I DO NOT believe in yelling. I DO NOT believe in yelling at my child. I DO NOT believe yelling is an affective means of disciple OR communication. I do, however, believe that even the best parents do it in times of frustration or fear. As proof by Chuck's "stern daddy" voice this morning.

Now anyone who has children, and even most people who don't, knows that parenting is hard. It sucks to have to be the bad guy, kids find new and creative ways to test your limits, they are natural curious, naturally messy, they develop little I know everything attitudes. You gotta learn to go with the flow, choose your battles, and be ready for constant change. It's challenging, but what do you do when you have an anxiety disorder? How do you deal with all the punches and battles, especially at times of stress. Our family dynamic has changed so much since the arrival of Chuck's daughter it is hard to describe. There is the additional needs of another child to take care of, there is her constant need for attention, movement, or talking. (We assume because she had to fight for attention from her brother and not noticed by her mother who was self medicated and manic.) Also, she seems to have had little to no rules or guidance. So there are constant battles of will between her and Chuck. All of that coupled with the fact that she does not sleep through the night, has made the anxiety level in the whole house rise. Of course, that is expected with the unexpected arrival of a 4 year old into an already established home. The question now becomes what DO we do with that anxiety. I know, I personally, am beginning to question how good of a step-mom I am going to be. I am tired, I am frustrated, I miss time with Chuck where he could concentrate on what I was saying. He and I are having trouble getting on the same page about how to handle his daughter and her special needs. I am getting scared that maybe, despite me best intentions, I can not handle all of this, Chuck's mental health issues (PTSD, anxiety, depression, and ADD) and my metal health issues.

My migraines are more regular, my sleep is less regular, my temper is high, and my tolerance low. I don't want the girls to feel like it is them. Nor do I want to turn into screaming, yelling, fit throwing psycho mom/ fiance. No one really likes her, most of all me. I have a temper that beyond what is normal. It embarrasses me. Of course I leave whatever room the kids are in to throw my little fit, but I have a hard-time when I am in that fight or flight state of mind to not doing one or the other. If I resist the urge to "fight" then I instantly, desperately want to run. Anywhere. The more I try to control it, the more it bubbles up later. I am not sure how to parent with all of this going on in the back ground.

So I pray. I don't even know if I believe in God. I KNOW I don't think there is a "heavenly" place above me where HE looks down on me and judges all I do, but yet I pray. In fact the other night Chuck's daughter fell asleep on my chest as I rocked her. As I swayed with the rocker I repeated in my head "God bless this child. God bless this family. God bless this child. God bless this family." Lord knows that little girl has been through enough, and we all need some peace in our heads/ home tonight.

To Ben and Jerry's or NOT to Ben and Jerry's

Let's just put it out there, right out in the open. I am having a bit of trouble dealing with my current stress level, and in an attempt to lessen the spinning in my brain I find myself doing things I would have otherwise had more self control over. Like for example, I don't drink much maybe a few drinks every two weeks or so. Though recently I have noticed that when I do drink, it is a few more drinks than usual. A few weekends ago not only did I have a few more drinks than usual, but I also had my first cigarette in like 10 years. Just one, and it took me like 4 days to erase the taste from my mouth, but I had refused to allow myself even one for years out of fear that would start me down a slippery slope. Thankfully it did not, and of course my no, or limited coffee intake....RIGHT out the window! I am averaging 3 or more cups a day. Clearly not helpful in the shaking, panic attack anxiety arena, but I am so exhausted I truly need something to keep from passing out at my desk. The big thing that I am struggling with, the thing that I KNOW is the biggest issue for me personally, is... stress eating!

Body image and eating in general. I seem to be on a continuous pendulum of guilt. I feel fat, unattractive, run down. I start to get down and I stop eating. After a bit of that the low blood sugar, all the caffeine, and stress in general start to kick in and I begin to get light headed, shaky, and I begin to feel like I am STARVING. After going 12 hour stretches with no, or limited food, even the convenience store seems like a festival of edible delights! Candy, cookies, sandwiches, chips, I briefly eye some fresh strawberries, but decide that I have gotten enough food (none with ANY nutritional value) and move on, but not without also getting more coffee. Then I eat EVERYTHING. All the food I bought myself, the cookie I bought Chuck, AND the cookie I bought my new "step" daughter. (She didn't eat well and was told by her daddy that she did not get a cookie. So I ate it for her.) I think at the time that I am eating ENTIRELY too much, but I justify it. In my head I tell myself, well you have been really stressed out lately. Plus, you may have PMS. It's ok. But later, I feel awful about all of it.  I have to get ready for an event with my daughter's school and I find myself hating my hair, my body, my skin, my make-up...pretty much the whole picture. Again I tell myself that I am being hyper sensative, hyper critical of myself because my depression and anxiety levels are on the rise. And so I swing, holding on to the guilt pendulum as for dear life. Stuck between candy bars and my "fat pants". I decide to make today's blog about stress and the other excuses we use to allow ourselves to treat our bodies poorly.

So I Google stress eating and what I get is a pile of images of people looking forlorn about their situation, most of them skinnier than I am, several diet books and about a hundred images of really fatty, rich, greasy food, and I think YIKES, no wonder I feel all mixed up and guilty. So what's a girl to do? Clearly, the good affects of eating the ice cream and chips is short term, not to mention not helping me to stablize my mood by keeping my blood suger and guilt levels bouncing all over the map. But when I am in the middle of dealing with a work crisis, or dealing with a screaming 4 year old who does not stand why she is suddenly living in a whole new area and house with new (or in her case some) rules to follow, that cady bar seems like something abtainable, while 10 minutes of quiet menditation seems completely out of reach. And exercise, which was helping both Chuck and me stay on top of our depression and anxiety, seems like such a luxury at this point. I am hopeful that we will all settle in and that we can begin to funtion in a healthier way once that happens, but what do we do until that? How do I get myself off this horrible ride that I know is not doing much good for my mental OR physical health. Or do I just ride it and deal with the fatness when I am able to? Chuck keeps joking that I did just have a 4 year old, and that should take it easy on myself. Probably I should take it easier on myself, but I just don't know how to get myself to do that right now.



I am Well Thank You, But I will Not Recover

Yesterday I was reading Madam Bipolars Blog its just chronic, and it made me start to think about all of the talk in the mental health world about wellness and recovery. The wellness part I get. There have been times in my battles with depression and PTSD that I was defiantly NOT well, but recovery? So I did what anyone would do when they wonder about a subject, I googled it! NAMI says there is GOOD NEWS, recovery is possible. Ok but define it for me. Wikipedia has a definition of A Recovery Model. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Recovery_model

The Recovery Model as it applies to mental health is an approach to mental disorder or substance dependence (and/or from being labeled in those terms) that emphasizes and supports each individual's potential for recovery. Recovery is seen within the model as a personal journey, that may involve developing hope, a secure base and sense of self, supportive relationships, empowerment, social inclusion, coping skills, and meaning. Originating from the 12-Step Program of Alcoholics Anonymous and the Civil Rights Movement, the use of the concept in mental health emerged as deinstitutionalization resulted in more individuals living in the community. It gained impetus due to a perceived failure by services or wider society to adequately support social inclusion, and by studies demonstrating that many can recover. The Recovery Model has now been explicitly adopted as the guiding principle of the mental health systems of a number of countries and states. In many cases practical steps are being taken to base services on the recovery model, although there are a variety of obstacles and concerns raised. A number of standardized measures have been developed to assess aspects of recovery, although there is some variation between professionalized models and those originating in the Psychiatric survivors movement.

Ahhhhh...ok. Doesn't recovery imply a a cure? So it makes me wonder, what IS recovery for someone who has clinical depression, bipolar disorder, a personality disorder, or an anxiety disorder? I surely do not consider myself recovered, though I do feel I am well currently. That being said, are we continuing to promote stigmas and misconceptions by choosing the word recovery? Wikipedia continues to say:

Concerns
Some concerns have been raised about recovery models, including that recovery is an old concept, that a focus on recovery adds to the burden of already stretched providers, that recovery must involve cure, that recovery happens to very few people, that recovery represents an irresponsible fad, that recovery happens only after and as a result of active treatment, that recovery-oriented care can only be implemented through the addition of new resources, that recovery-oriented care is neither reimbursable nor evidence based, that recovery-oriented care devalues the role of professional intervention, and that recovery-oriented care increases providers' exposure to risk and liability

I personally have dealt with my share of misconceptions about depression. I have heard all the "suck it ups" "it's just life" "get over it" that I care to hear for my lifetime, and I know people think it is more a personality trait, like pessimism than an actual illness. So is the idea of recovery, similar to the idea of homosexual recover? If you believe in nurture or nature, the plain truth is there is not one easy answer that will "cure" everyone. Also, promoting the idea that mental illness is not a lifetime battle seems wrong to me. My depression and anxiety are disorders I will continue to treat everyday, through therapy, medication, and  support everyday for the rest of my life. I have had people say "counseling is not something you do forever" but I wonder if that is true. For me my weekly check-in with my counselor helps keep me on track, teaches me new techniques to deal with my disorders, and helps to give me a gauge on what is "normal" thought and what is "distorted" thought. It also gives me an earlier indicate of when I start to backslide. An outside TRAINED eye is much more apt to see you more clearly than you see yourself when the darkness starts to creep in, or your hands begin to shake. That is not something I can get out of 10 sessions. I will have to continue on my medications. Forever, just like people with physical disorders. From time to time those medications will need to be adjusted and changed, as my body and hormones change with age. BUT if I do these things I can stay well. Wellness IS achievable. There is no reason with the mental health community shouldn't focusing more on wellness, and personalized treatments instead of just doling out meds or putting people in inpatient facilities. Wellness is measurable to a degree. It is something that to me as a consumer sounds hopeful, do able. Recovery does not seem that way to me. It sounds overwhelming, unachievable for someone who has been places very dark and very low, and who knows they will never qualify as "normal", nor will I ever function the way other people do. Madam Bipolar wrote:
The thing about chronic illnesses is they change the way people live, possibly forever.
My disease, bipolar disorder, has changed the way I have lived in many ways. Here are some of them:

• I have kissed my highly-flying public relations job goodbye. It was too stressful and my moods and behaviour are not stable enough to be thrown into a corporate environment. This is the thing that saddens me the most. I miss working.
• I have left the inner-city for a seaside town. This was partly for Miss Charisma's benefit but also because we needed the support of family and friends.
• I don't drink much alcohol anymore.
• I take loads of drugs every day and I cannot miss a dose. Lithium, Lamictal, Cymbalta and Abilify - the fab four of my nervous system. Without these drugs, I cannot function well.
• I don't deal with stress as well as other people. An example of this happened recently when a Mum from the school knocked on my door in a psychotic state, asking me to drive her somewhere. After the whole thing died down, I had to sleep for three hours. I just can't tolerate things like I used to.

As much as I wish it were not true, people with mental disorders just DO NOT deal with stress, change, or high emotion the way other people do. We do not function the same, but make no mistake we DO function! So please accept us, support us, and help us stay well.

What To Do With A Twitchy Elephant (twitchy as defined below)

Twitchy

AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! TODAY IS A BAD ANXIETY DAY!!!!!  I am literally having trouble sitting still. I went to the Psych doc this morning and she wrote me a script for antianxiety meds (clearly not yet filled) I am twitchy and edgy and about ready to cry at any given moment. I have not been able to concentrate on work for more than about 30 minutes at a time, which makes it hard to complete any given task. I am also beginning to not be able to speak in full and comprehensible sentences. this is a bad thing, a very bad thing for someone who works in the sales field. I am sure my anxiety level is elevated by a lack of sleep, a heightened anxiety level at my house, and some hormones. Today when I returned from taking my daughter to the bus, I found Chuck sitting in the living room while his daughter was in her room screaming "I miss my mommy! I miss my mommy!" My heart breaks for both of them, and Chuck is struggling to make sense of all that has happened in his own head. Making it twice as hard for it to make sense to me. So after only a week, of being a mom of two, I find my stomach in knots, my migraines returning, and my leg bouncing. The heart palpitations have not quite started yet, but I am familiar enough with the anatomy of my panic attacks to know they are not far off. However, taking the prescribed antianxiety medication will mean fatigue, slight loopiness, and the a warning against driving. Some how the constant twitching helps. It makes me feel a little better in some odd way, but it is almost contagious. The more it bounces the more I feel like I NEED to bounce it, and the quick, constant movement seems add to the anxiety.

http://thewvsr.com/index.php/i-live-in-fear-of-catastrophic-filter-failure/

Also the added stress and anxiety seem to have made my filter go all defunct...or maybe that's the lack of sleep. Either way it is not good, and I am pretty sure my co-worker is looking forward to being off tomorrow so as not to have to watch me twitch and listen to me spurt out random thoughts, noises, and humming to myself. It all just seem to slip right out before I am able to stop it. I guess technically I have a small amount of filter because I am not going AH, AH, AH, AH, AH, AH while my head and eye twitch. But hey there is always tomorrow right!?

I hate feeling this way. That crawling out of your own skin feeling. The "if only I could escape from myself". I really hope that the medication takes the edge off because I don't expect to have a whole lot of quiet meditation time this week, and I know I will begin to become a total basket case if I can not get my nerves under control. I begin to do crazy things in order to try to stop that butterfly in my stomach feeling. I can not afford to be crazy this week. I have picture day, dance class, open house at my daughter's school, and a school picnic to attend, on top of the normal everyday functioning. As Dar Williams says:
I don't know how everybody makes it through the daily drill
Paint the nails, walk a dog, pay every bill
Sometimes I feel so overwhelm that just the normal daily "life" stuff makes me feel like I'm going to loose my mind. That's sad isn't it? That is when I feel the craziest. That is when I feel incapable, like "what the hell is wrong with me? Everybody else seems to do it just fine. It's just life chicka suck it up!" At least now I know I will not feel this way forever. Now I know if I can find a way to hold on a little longer things will be better. When I first started to have panic attacks I truly felt like I was just not going to deal with it. Like I was just weak, stupid, lazy, defective some how. Now I know I am only going to feel this way for a time. That helps me keep going a day at a time. But being Momma is in this state is really tough. And now with an additional child who is needing extra attention I am concerned about how I will hold it together. Chuck seems to be in pretty bad shape also and I have doubts that I can hold all of us together. I don't know what to do. How do you take care of 3 other people and two dogs while having panic attacks or while being sedated by medications? It will be ok right? I mean we can do this right? I can do this right, and It won't feel like this forever? (breath in, breath out, breath in, breath out)

 

Silencing the Screaming

Everything happens for a reason, right? Well I just spent an hour typing on my cell phone, what was in my opinion, a well thought out post. Only to have it disappear for no apparent reason right off my screen before I published it. So I am choosing to believe that it was because I can do better this time around. (Someday I will get regular internet at home and move into a carefree blog zone. Until that day, I will retype)

Everyone has heard the expression the squeaky wheel gets the grease. There is a line writen by Ani Difranco that goes something like "silence is violence in women and poor people. If more people were screaming then I could relax". In both these cases silence is the enemy. It is what causes people and issues to disappear, become invisible. It tolerates the intolerable. This was my definition of silence most of my life. Even as a child I would talk just to have my existence know. I would scream and through fits to be heard, to be taken care of. Then as a teenager I would talk to fit in, to feel important. I would talk to anyone who might listen, much to the annoyance of some, I am sure. My biggest fear all along, was being unimportant, forgotten, or ignored. Later in life, I had a mentally abusive boyfriend, and I talked about how horrible he was to any audience I could get. Yet, as with so many abused women I would go back to him over and over. Once I was aware enough to realize what was really happening, my screams for help and my yelling to the world about the unjustice that had been done to me by this boy, fell on deft ears. Much like the boy who cried wolf, my call for help seemed largely ignored. Reinforcing to me my unimportance. Soon I turned the screams inward on myself. I yelled at myself for being stupid, or crazy, bad. These" tapes" played at high volume in my head at all times. So I would try to drowned them out. Constantly surrounded myself with people, music, TV, whatever I could to not hear my own thoughts, and I continued talking, about important things, unimportant things, whatever just to fill the air. Then one day I realized that for all those years I was really just talking to the wrong people. Once I got a good therapist and a good doctor, I was heard, and began to heal. It has taken years for me to learn not to fear silence, not to constantly try to fill the blank spots up with "I am here! Hello, listen to me. Hello. Hello. Hello." But now I have a new relationship with silence. I have learned not to bog down the importance of what I have to say by constantly yammering on and on. I have learned the value of time spent alone, in quiet reflection. Now I find I yern for silence, even need it. So much so that I often find myself annoyed when in the presence of someone who can not allow a moment to pass without a comment. I become annoyed, anxious, frustrated without it. And now my life is filled with a young "talker" of my own, two needy pets, and a man who is a nervous talker and has ADD. All of this has added to the value of silence dramatically. I now use silence in the form of meditation to quiet my mind, to turn off the tapes I once worked so hard to tune out. I also enjoy a moment of quiet reflection. Time alone with my thoughs. Time to think things through, organize my ideas. Chuck claims he waits anxiously for me to finish my especially long showers because it seems I often come out of the bathroom with some type of brainstorm about how to make our life or the world better. Don't get me wrong the noise does occasionally sneak back in to my head under the guise of a quiet night. More often though silence allows me to enjoy a moment or idea I may have otherwise missed. This blog came out of one of those long showers. I now hear crickets, birds, and streams, all of which quiets my mind. But the best thing, the most important thing is that now I am heard more often when I need to be. I no longer drowned out the sound of my own voice, and I have not disappeared or become invisible.

I am Peppermint Patty

Dr Seuss

Since beginning There is an Elephant in the Room? I have been reading a lot of other blogs and articles on mental illness. I find so many of them so brave and so inspiring. I had two objectives when I started this blog. The first was to shine a light on mental illness of all types, and how it affects so many individuals and in turn so many families. My second goal, was to share some of my personal experiences with others so that they could know they were not alone, understand, and/or share their experiences. Well and I guess make myself feel more understood and less alone. I guess that means I had three reasons for starting a blog.

Yet even as I read, and write, about the stigmas attached to people with mental illness and talk about bringing it out into the light, I myself hide behind a screen name. It often tears me up. I spend quite a bit of my life hiding my true self from the people around me. I have tried to be myself, tried to talk about counseling, or medications, and I have paid a heavy price for that. Part of my depression and anxiety stems from years of verbal and mental abuse when I was younger, often from the men in my life. Bringing the abuse and the PTSD, depression, and anxiety that followed into the open has cost me friends. At 19 and ER doc who was seeing me for a panic attack sent to crisis center in the middle of nowhere that had all male residents at the time. I have mentioned that my parents are often not supportive in my quest for recovery, they have stopped paying for my private counselor when I was in my 20s because they deemed me "better". My mother has withdrawn completely for weeks at a time. I have had relatives talk about me behind my back. Saying I was depressing to be around, and really down on life. My grandmother once told me she knew I was just "playing" my parents, and I feel I will be forever viewed as the families black sheep. What I want more than anything is to just be ok with that. To be able to say f'em and just be me, but I have never been able to do that. instead I have split myself into two different people essentially. There is the person Chuck, my closest friends, and counselor see who is not perfect. Is often depressed. Is often full of anxiety, and dramatic. Has ticks where the same panicked thought rolls through my head again & again. (Do other people have that by the way? the "I gotta get out of here. I've gotta get out of here". Or the "just be quiet. Just be quiet" rolling through your head over and over on really bad days? Just checking) The person who deals poorly with stress. Occasionally turning to cutting, tattoos, drawing, screaming, and crying to deal with all the pain inside. Then there is the person I present to family, co-workers, and anyone who may come into contact with my parents. THAT girl tries to always look presentable, even when all messed up on the inside. Smiles through the pain and depression. She does not cry in public, or cause a screen ever, or even hesitate at the drive through because the people behind us (or the 16 year old serving me) may think poorly of me. Seeing as I live in the same small town as my parents, and work for my father, that turns out to be quite a lot of people that I pretend around. Meaning that I spend about 75% of my time hiding my true feelings and thoughts from people. I often feel lonely, and unaccepted. I feel like hurt, angry, and sad that the people who claim to love me will never really see me for who I am, let alone accept me. How does one accept and deal with that? It has also rolled in to a form of social anxiety for me, and a lack of self confidence. So I guess technically I AM Peppermint Patty in my world, in my head, then the person my family created in their world. Don't get me wrong my parents and family are good people, but they do not know how to deal with things they don't understand, or can't control. Leaving me stuck in two worlds, sitting on the back of my invisible elephant, and feeling very inadequate, and lonely.

Don't Pretend My Elephant isn't Real

So I am wondering why no one seems to understand me. Am I not expressing myself well? Do most people not care? Do peopele expect me to be stronger than I am? Do I treat myself with so little self respect that it seems ok to talk down to me? Do people just not get how much anxiety and depression truly affect you? Whatever the reason, I feel like I am constantly trying to get people to understand what's going on with me. Yet they still seem to push, or disregard, or talk down to me for my "weakness" or "moodiness". When you tell someone close to you that you feel as though you are beginning to reach a limit on what you can handle before you reach self district they should take you seriously, right? Maybe I expect to much. Maybe I expect people to SEE I am falling apart and offer support instead of asking for support. It often feels to me like when I do ask for help (not from my counselor, but rather friends or family) that it is either not heard, or is more of a pat on the back and then it is forgotten. My father (who is also my boss) will say "go do some work therapy" meanwhile, I am proud of myself for even getting out of bed that day. My parents are the worst at understanding, and being supportive of my mental health problems. They don't believe in meds. They don't believe in counseling. They believe you suck it up and move on. It is hard to explain to people around you, even friends and relatives at times that you just can't. You can not just snap out of it. You can not explain why you are crying nor can you stop. No it is not "just life" (that's my mom's favorite) it is more than that for people who have issues with depression. And NO it is not acceptable to talk to me like I am incapable, or crazy. I understand the scope of things just fine. I am not weak or overly sensative. I have a real issueand I am really struggling. I will not just feel better tomorrow. And telling me those things only makes me feel worse, and if I say I am reaching my breaking point I mean it. Panick attacks, cutting, the overwhelming desire to hide away from some place so I can be left alone, I mean it! I am not looking for attention or being dramtic. I am very, very real!

Too Much Coffee????

Perhaps it is the 12 cups of coffee I drank today, the looming visit from Child Services, the total lack of money, work stress, raising a child, or hormones, whatever the cause I seem to be increasingly on edge lately. I have been trying to meditate, draw, blog, breath, anything that might help me keep it together. Yet today, when the tension rod thingy (yes that IS the technical term) from the toilet paper holder popped out shooting across the room and making a loud pop when I reached for it earlier, I jumped and shrieked loudly enough that my co-worker heard me at the front of the store. Oh yeah, did I mention this was at work? I go back to the Psych Doc in about a week. Last time I was there we changed my antidepressant from Cymbalta to Paxil in an attempt to help with anxiety. I really don't like meds like Xanex, but I am beginning to feel that if I do not do something my head might explode! Are there coping strategies I am missing, or do I break down and use meds temporarily just for my own metal stability? Chuck is a meds person. He has no fear of taking anxiety or depression meds, but I am more hesitant. In my early 20's I had a REALLY bad doctor who had me one a REALLY large amount of drugs and I did not do well with it. No I try to do everything I can to avoid taking anything beyond the minimal amount of medication I can. The problem with this is, that as anyone who has experienced anxiety or depression knows, when you are in the midst of it you don't always see yourself as clearly as you otherwise might. That means that occasionally I do not ask for help until I am literally loosing sleep, weight, and my already questionable sanity. So when do you say when? I know I am being short with my family. I know I am crying and awful lot, and I know I am incredibly jumpy, but I am scared that more drugs= more side affects + more money. How do you know what is best? How do you balance the side affects with the symptoms if it is something that is not black and white, not life altering? I do not want to feel like this all the time, but I do not want to feel "drugged" either. I have been drugged to the point where I felt like the drugs made me feel less sane rather than more sane. It is a scary feeling. I have a much better doc now, but what if the idea of anti-anxiety meds makes you anxious? How do you handle that?

Who Made This Mess!?

Alright, one more post for tonight. (This one slightly more light hearted than the last) I pose a question to you. Yes, you anyone who maybe ready. I just saw an article on pets and anxiety level, and this is somewhat of an on going debate in my house. Do pets increase or decrease your level of happiness and anxiety? I am an animal lover! I have never NOT had a pet. At most points in my life I have had more than one for legged friend. I have an especially soft spot for dogs. They are loyal, they accept you for just who you are, and they are ALWAYS happy to see you. And over all, they are pretty simplistic in that if you love them and treat them well, they return that energy too you. Each dog has its own unique personality and issues, just like humans. So in our house we have pets, and I adore them. They make me laugh. They snuggle with me. They show me affection when I am lonely, and they watch over us as a family. Protect us from the evil thunder storm, or the dreaded neighborhood bunny. (We live in a pretty mellow little town) That being said our pets are what I call "special needs" animals. In other words they are rescue animals who have some issues. They both have some degree of separation anxiety making them ESPECIALLY needy all the time and constantly under foot. One suffers so severely that she become panicked and distructive when left alone (less so now that she is ederly and not as mobile) They other is super sweet but really not the sharpest knife in the drawer, so to speak. Also, needs constant supervision because he likes to mark things as being his. Once even went as far as to make me as his territory. Needless to say, there is often quite a lot of cleaning up after them to do. In combination with the added financial burden, you can understand there is some level of stress that goes along with this. Now Chuck never really had pets growing up, so this whole experience is new to him. He enjoys them and is attached to them, but let's be honest, he would probably not have a pet if it were not for me. They are definitely NOT his four legged babies like they are mine. His argument is that with kids and all we have had going on for the last year, that they are just one more thing to worry about, and they are. Some days I feel like he is right and it is too much for us, but the next minute one of them makes me laugh so hard, or feel so loved that I can't imagine not having them. It is hard to find that balance though, between work and enjoyment, and between pet lover and pet liker. So do they add to our happiness as a family, or our anxiety?

No Use Crying Over Lost Sleep...or Is There?

Why it is OK to lay on your bedroom floor crying

Sleep & Moods

OK so I had planned for today's entry to be about daughters and how our images of ourselves affect them and how they see themselves. However, by about 11AM today I discovered (quite accidentally) that I seem to be an emotional wreck today, and I am not entirely sure why. I just feel this overwhelming desire to burst into tears at any moment. While I believe there is nothing wrong with the occasional good cry, crying at work for no reason is often frowned upon. Also, constant crying with no real cause often make people wonder/worry about your stability and basic ability to function. Something, I too, worry about my own ability to do. Right now I may be a touch on the hormonal side, but over all I think it is lack of sleep. No matter how much I try to convince my mind and body that it is REALLY very simple, you get tired, you close your eyes and sleep, it doesn't seem to be that simple for me. So I have been taking Ambien for about a year now. While I now have occasional episodes where I do or say things I have NOOO recollection of, I do sleep more...except when I run out. Which is what just happened, and of course I had not noticed the prescription had no refills left. So it has taken several days to get it from the doctor, to the pharmacy, to me. In the meantime, sleep is alluding me. I know people who get all slap happy when they are sleep deprived, people who get cranky. Not me. I get cranky AND depressed. Chuck will tell you the 2 things that negatively affect my mood the most is not eating and not sleeping. I become quite the crazy person. I try my best to eat when I need to (not always easy working in retail and raising a small child) and to sleep. I take naps regularly.

When I went through the darkest period of my depression and anxiety, sleep was a huge issue. The antidepressants messed up my sleep patterns and the added anxiety made it hard to settle my uneasy mind. I began having panic attacks. My father began to pick up on the fact that the days where the attacks were the worst, the days the rendered me helpless, where often after an especially bad night of sleep. It is a vicious cycle for me. High anxiety makes it hard to settle down and sleep, no sleep causes increase anxiety, less sleep, more anxiety, less sleep...That's why I did eventually turn to medication. Though that has its definite cons as well. Memory laps being one of the biggest, but also, I have a young child. Anyone with young children knows that things come up in the middle of the night, sickness, bad dreams, thunder storms. I wanted to be sure I was able to be there if she needed me, especially when I was a single mom. But by not getting enough sleep at night I was not able to be fully there for her during the day. I was moody, distracted, and in a fog often. Using the TV as a babysitter while I napped, or zoned out. So I chose to try the meds. So far I have been ok enough to respond, though details are often fuzzy in the morning. It often feels like coping with my depression and moods is a constant balancing act though. One I am not always good at.

Introducing the Elephant

That is unless you are at one of my family gatherings, and then it is reversed. One in four of us is "normal" and the rest are insane! Actually, according to Mental Health America 54 million Americans suffer from some type of mental illness every year. That means millions of American families are affected by these mental disorders. How do we cope? How do you help a loved one who is having problems? THAT is the elephant in the room. It has been an elephant in my room since I was about 19. Often the elephant was dressed up, covered up, disguised as something else, and occasionally talked about but it was always there. So I am starting this blog. Part therapy session, part advice column, part comic relief, and hopefully something I will get some input from readers to help us all talk about the elephant. 

Let me start with what my elephant looks like. I have been diagnosed, and treated for clinical depression, anxiety, and self mutilation (ie cutting) and I threw in some standard "girl" stuff like an abusive ex and some body image issues, just to round it out. Writing it down is scary, putting it out there is scary, but over all I don't think I am all that "abnormal". However, what I have learned is that the people in my life who love me, can get pretty freaked out by all of this, especially if they don't understand all of it. And I am often concerned about the messages I am sending to my daughter. Will she hate her body because mommy hated to try on clothes or worried about looking fat all the time? Will she be able to be happy if she sees mommy on a constant mood roller coaster? I read books on child development, and raising strong girls all the time, but how much is nature and how much is nurture? At 6 there is already concern about her anxiety level. What does a middle class 6 year old who is healthy and has a somewhat charmed life have to be anxious about? Heredity, that's what! When you mix two parents with their own issues what does that mean for the child? My father is fond of joking that with my genetic cocktail I had no chance. While it makes people laugh I do wonder how true that is. And further more, how does the not always stable mood or actions of a parent affect a child? And what if BOTH parents are that way? 

I think that all too often families don't talk about these things. All too often mental illness, even mild cases IS the elephant in the room. So this is my attempt to call attention to it, find some support, help others, and explore family and relationship development when metal illness is present.

Here is the link to Mental Health America and their article about mental illness and families:

http://www.mentalhealthamerica.net/go/information/get-info/mi-and-the-family/recognizing-warning-signs-and-how-to-cope