There's something about someone begging at the side of the road that brings out super angry feelings in some people.
"They should get a job."
"They're only going to spend it on cigarettes or beer."
"They can't be too poor. They have phones."
... and worse.
I guess I can see where the anger comes from. If people have struggled to get where they are, or if people are still struggling and are NOT where they want to be, it can be frustrating. It's very, very easy to look at that situation and not feel sorry.
***
But then.
It can be very easy to become addicted to something. Drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, sex, or anything. If you have an addictive personality, if life has been incredibly hard for you and you lack the proper coping mechanisms, if you are alone and scared and sad and just need to have it stop for the tiniest bit of time.
***
I've been thinking a lot lately about my friend, Caroline. She was part of my April 2007 birth group. We all became close friends and so many of us are still friends today. She had her April baby and then had another son a few years later.
She had a pretty good life, I thought. Loving parents and siblings. Great kids. A nice job. Only, there was something inside her that wasn't right or wasn't happy or wasn't ok. She got into a few relationships that were bad for her and she became addicted to drugs.
In person, and even online, she was happy and full of love and sympathetic. She was a joy to be around, honestly, and I was always able to talk to her about my feelings and how hard life can sometimes be.
She got clean and got herself together.
And then one day, seemingly out of nowhere, she overdosed and died. Her two boys were left without their mother.
And the people she left behind were heartbroken. And I doubt they (or we) will every truly know her pain. And that is awful.
***
Life is SO hard. Especially now. The country is having a rough time and it's creating a very dangerous situation.
Aside from that, though, is that mental illness is so prevalent and not enough people get the help they need. Either they can't afford it, it's not available to them, or they are too ashamed to ask for help. For many people, they don't even realize they NEED help.
***
And so.
That is where a lot of addiction comes from. When you lack certain coping skills, when your brain doesn't produce the right amount of chemicals, when you don't understand what is going on.
You become another person. You look for anything - ANYTHING - to help you.
"I have hard times, too."
"Everyone goes through shit."
"Pull up your bootstraps and get on with it."
"Being happy is a choice."
"Get over it."
I think, given the choice, that people who are depressed, or have PTSD, or post-partum depression (or psychosis), or bipolar disorder, or any mental health issue would LOVE to do any of the above.
***
And yet.
They simply can't.
***
A few years ago, I started leaning too heavily on one of my meds. I craved the way it made me feel. The way it "helped" me deal with the pain. The way I could take it and just relax. I felt sick without it. I wanted it all. the. time.
And it became a crutch.
I spoke to my doctor about it (because I knew enough to see the signs and I HAD HELP AVAILABLE), and now I am limited on how often I can get refills. And that is a good thing.
I have help. I live in an area that is saturated with mental help assistance. As soon as I moved to Cincinnati, I was able to get the diagnosis I should have had eight years earlier. I had doctors, and therapists, and group therapy, and psychiatrists at my disposal. I am able to get the meds I need. I am able to have an outlet.
I am lucky.
***
And THAT is what it all boils down to. Luck.
You may disagree, and that's ok. You may think people are not trying hard enough, and that's ok. You may think I am full of it and start too many sentences with the word "and." And that's ok.
***
No matter what, though, when I see someone at the side of the road, begging for money, or food, or help, or even a prayer, I try to help them if I can.
Even if they DO buy beer or drugs or cigarettes. Even if they use it to pay their cell phone bill. Even if they use it for McDonald's.
If whatever they use that money on helps to get them through one more day, I want to do it.
Because we all just want relief. We all just need help. We all want to love and be loved and to have someone SEE us.
Even at the side of the highway.
Sunday, August 19, 2018
Wednesday, August 15, 2018
Landslide
I've never been a fan of roller coasters. I went on some when I was younger, but it always ended up with me throwing up afterwards. The anticipation and the worry and then the literal stomach turning sensations were just too much for me. I didn't want to have so many twists and turns. I want a soft, gentle ride, knowing what to expect, easing into the next section smoothly and securely.
What a fantastic trick of nature to have then been diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. The grandest roller coaster of all.
Rapid cycling. Unexpected mood swings. Months of one emotion, then days (or hours!) of another. Highest of highs and lowest of lows.
And, yes. Throwing up.
No real warning, although "they" say you can recognize the signs before you're in too deep. I have not mastered that quite yet. I hope to someday.
***
Sometimes it feels as if everything is crashing down on me all at once. With all regard for Stevie Nicks, the landslide is truly bringing me down right now. I AM in danger of going under, and I feel with all of my being that I am halfway there.
These past few months have been very, very hard. I want so much to be strong and show the world that I am living and taking care of things and getting shit done. Only, doing that all the time has taken a toll on me and now I am too tired to even do that much.
It's scary and a bit embarrassing to say to someone, "Look, I can't do it today. Maybe not even tomorrow. I can't give you an answer as to when. I am making it minute by minute right now. I hear you. I appreciate you. I want you in my life. I just can't do life right now. Please love me. Please be patient with me. Please be there when I am out of this."
Because I will, you know. Be out of it. I pray I will, anyway. Through past experiences, I know it doesn't last forever, and the logical part of me says, "Adrienne. It will get better. It will ease up. You WILL see the sun and hear the birds and WANT to get out and see them. Just know that."
And I do inside. I know it. It's still so hard and so paralyzing and so demoralizing.
There are very few things as shameful as mental illness. Not all people believe in it. Not everyone has the patience for it (and that is 100% understandable). Not everyone believes you are trying hard enough. I get it. I don't know how I would feel if I hadn't been in it myself.
***
Which brings me to my doctor's appointment yesterday. It was awful. It was booked six months ago and waiting those six months was unbearable. I wanted to scream out, "I need help! I cannot do it by myself. I am drowning."
But then I get out of bed, I get dressed, and I do what I need to do. For the most part. My house is an awful mess and my children have spent their summer eating whatever we could find in the fridge or pantry. I made a pot roast last night and felt like the king of the world.
But I digress!
***
I saw a new doctor as well as my own, because I have apparently reached the point where only one can't fix me. Two of them will have to work in tandem. I have broken them.
Bipolar depression is different from chronic depression (which is different from depression you feel when you lose a family member, or a job, or end a relationship). It needs to be treated differently. Mania is the main difference. Without mania, you basically just have depression. I am no doctor, so I'm being pretty basic. Don't take me at word value. I just know the treatment they have had me on for almost ten years is not doing it.
My mania is worse and is lasting longer and contains a LOT of anger. Overwhelming anger. Anger that scares me.
So here we are.
***
The goal is to change my meds. Currently, I am taking Wellbutrin, Lamictal, Lexapro, Klonopin, and the occasional Buspiradone (which does nothing for me, but is helping in the form of a placebo effect right now).
Our group plan is to slowly wean me off of Wellbutrin and Lexapro (not at the same time) and slowly bring in Latuda. Latuda is not covered by my insurance, but seems to be what would benefit me the most. My doctors (psychiatrist and family medicine doctor) are working with my insurance right now to see what can be done. If it's around $100 or so, I mean, I'm all for it. I am at least willing to try.
The weaning part is the part that has me worried the most. Wellbutrin has been hard to wean off of in the past. It's not that I am addicted, but that your body goes through withdrawal symptoms and they are awful. I want to take it as slow as we possibly can.
This will be an involved process. I may be worse for a while. I may be in pain. I may hate everyone.
If the benefits outweigh the side effects, I will happily accept it, because what is happening right now is just now working.
***
Also, I have a very addictive personality. I tend to ration my Klonopin and only allow myself to have it rarely because I had problems with it in the past and needing to have it. And yes, my doctors know all of this and we are very frank with each other.
***
The very worst part of my appointment yesterday was discussing things with the psychiatrist and remembering things from when I was a child that I hadn't remembered until now. And when something like that comes out - out of nowhere - it's hard to adjust to, it's hard to process, and it makes me question so many other things in my life.
Today is my birthday, though, and after 20 years of being medicated, attempted suicide, one mental health hospital stay, a three month leave of absence from my job because of a basic nervous breakdown (for lack of a better term), I am still here.
I am still working and trying and fighting and giving everything I can. God gives me that, you know. Whatever you feel or believe. I have faith in him and faith that he loves me and faith that he will help me cope.
He won't cure me. He won't create a magic pill. He will lend me his shoulder and help me when the burden is too much.
***
And I will try as hard as I can to talk about my issues. To be open and honest about it, even when I feel shame. Even when I know people doubt me or think I am being melodramatic or looking for attention.
I will do it because I know someone somewhere is in pain and someone somewhere needs to know she is not alone and someone somewhere has to be told that it's hard and it takes work and you need to force yourself a lot of the time, but you CAN get through it. You CAN get better. You CAN find peace.
Just hold on. Just give yourself a chance.
I love you. Whoever you are.
***
What a fantastic trick of nature to have then been diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. The grandest roller coaster of all.
Rapid cycling. Unexpected mood swings. Months of one emotion, then days (or hours!) of another. Highest of highs and lowest of lows.
And, yes. Throwing up.
No real warning, although "they" say you can recognize the signs before you're in too deep. I have not mastered that quite yet. I hope to someday.
***
Sometimes it feels as if everything is crashing down on me all at once. With all regard for Stevie Nicks, the landslide is truly bringing me down right now. I AM in danger of going under, and I feel with all of my being that I am halfway there.
These past few months have been very, very hard. I want so much to be strong and show the world that I am living and taking care of things and getting shit done. Only, doing that all the time has taken a toll on me and now I am too tired to even do that much.
It's scary and a bit embarrassing to say to someone, "Look, I can't do it today. Maybe not even tomorrow. I can't give you an answer as to when. I am making it minute by minute right now. I hear you. I appreciate you. I want you in my life. I just can't do life right now. Please love me. Please be patient with me. Please be there when I am out of this."
Because I will, you know. Be out of it. I pray I will, anyway. Through past experiences, I know it doesn't last forever, and the logical part of me says, "Adrienne. It will get better. It will ease up. You WILL see the sun and hear the birds and WANT to get out and see them. Just know that."
And I do inside. I know it. It's still so hard and so paralyzing and so demoralizing.
There are very few things as shameful as mental illness. Not all people believe in it. Not everyone has the patience for it (and that is 100% understandable). Not everyone believes you are trying hard enough. I get it. I don't know how I would feel if I hadn't been in it myself.
***
Which brings me to my doctor's appointment yesterday. It was awful. It was booked six months ago and waiting those six months was unbearable. I wanted to scream out, "I need help! I cannot do it by myself. I am drowning."
But then I get out of bed, I get dressed, and I do what I need to do. For the most part. My house is an awful mess and my children have spent their summer eating whatever we could find in the fridge or pantry. I made a pot roast last night and felt like the king of the world.
But I digress!
***
I saw a new doctor as well as my own, because I have apparently reached the point where only one can't fix me. Two of them will have to work in tandem. I have broken them.
Bipolar depression is different from chronic depression (which is different from depression you feel when you lose a family member, or a job, or end a relationship). It needs to be treated differently. Mania is the main difference. Without mania, you basically just have depression. I am no doctor, so I'm being pretty basic. Don't take me at word value. I just know the treatment they have had me on for almost ten years is not doing it.
My mania is worse and is lasting longer and contains a LOT of anger. Overwhelming anger. Anger that scares me.
So here we are.
***
The goal is to change my meds. Currently, I am taking Wellbutrin, Lamictal, Lexapro, Klonopin, and the occasional Buspiradone (which does nothing for me, but is helping in the form of a placebo effect right now).
Our group plan is to slowly wean me off of Wellbutrin and Lexapro (not at the same time) and slowly bring in Latuda. Latuda is not covered by my insurance, but seems to be what would benefit me the most. My doctors (psychiatrist and family medicine doctor) are working with my insurance right now to see what can be done. If it's around $100 or so, I mean, I'm all for it. I am at least willing to try.
The weaning part is the part that has me worried the most. Wellbutrin has been hard to wean off of in the past. It's not that I am addicted, but that your body goes through withdrawal symptoms and they are awful. I want to take it as slow as we possibly can.
This will be an involved process. I may be worse for a while. I may be in pain. I may hate everyone.
If the benefits outweigh the side effects, I will happily accept it, because what is happening right now is just now working.
***
Also, I have a very addictive personality. I tend to ration my Klonopin and only allow myself to have it rarely because I had problems with it in the past and needing to have it. And yes, my doctors know all of this and we are very frank with each other.
***
The very worst part of my appointment yesterday was discussing things with the psychiatrist and remembering things from when I was a child that I hadn't remembered until now. And when something like that comes out - out of nowhere - it's hard to adjust to, it's hard to process, and it makes me question so many other things in my life.
Today is my birthday, though, and after 20 years of being medicated, attempted suicide, one mental health hospital stay, a three month leave of absence from my job because of a basic nervous breakdown (for lack of a better term), I am still here.
I am still working and trying and fighting and giving everything I can. God gives me that, you know. Whatever you feel or believe. I have faith in him and faith that he loves me and faith that he will help me cope.
He won't cure me. He won't create a magic pill. He will lend me his shoulder and help me when the burden is too much.
***
And I will try as hard as I can to talk about my issues. To be open and honest about it, even when I feel shame. Even when I know people doubt me or think I am being melodramatic or looking for attention.
I will do it because I know someone somewhere is in pain and someone somewhere needs to know she is not alone and someone somewhere has to be told that it's hard and it takes work and you need to force yourself a lot of the time, but you CAN get through it. You CAN get better. You CAN find peace.
Just hold on. Just give yourself a chance.
I love you. Whoever you are.
***
Monday, August 6, 2018
This is OCD
I want to do the dishes. The sink is full.
I can fill the dishwasher, but only in increments of ten. Ten dishes. Ten glasses. Ten containers. I can do a mix, but it has to be ten. Two utensils count as one item. Large serving items or carving knives, etc. count as one each.
I load ten and go to do something else.
Maybe I'll fold clothes.
Ten items. Two underwear count as one item. Sometimes I can do twenty items at a time. I can also do fifty at a time. Thirty or forty is not acceptable.
If I forget my count, I throw them back in the hamper and start over.
I take a break between counts.
I can watch a movie or play a game for fifteens minutes before moving on to the next thing. If I don't have anything else to do, I can watch or play for thirty to forty five minutes. Never an hour all at once.
It's exhausting and things take forever.
****
We've gone out. To a store. To get groceries. To the movie theater. My hands have touched things that other people have touched. I panic. I have multiple bottles of hand sanitizer in my bag. I wash them as soon as I am done touching things. I get in my car. What if I've touched something in the past and haven't washed my hands before driving. Does my steering wheel have things on it?
Wash my hands. Wipe down the steering wheel with anti bacterial wipes that I keep in the glove compartment. It's ok to drive.
Throw the anti bac to the girls. Make them wash their hands as well. Don't eat until you've done this!
I am anxious. I am nervous and panicking. Wash my hands again. Temporary calm comes over me.
****
I sit in my car. I am in front of my house. I should go inside, but then I have to get out. What if there is something wrong? What if someone is watching me? Could there be an animal? Will it start to rain?
Stay in the car. Check out Facebook and Instagram.
Two hours have gone by. I should go inside.
People look at me as they walk and drive by. Will they think I am loitering? AM I loitering?
Get in the house before someone tells on you. Run up the stairs and lock the door.
****
I need to write a list. Where is my pen? There are twenty pens in my cup. I need MY pen. It hasn't run out of ink, yet. I need that pen. We need to search. Girls, please help. Where is the pen.
I've found a pen, mama!
Not that one! It's not the pen.
We find the pen. I am calm. I will use it until it runs out of ink. Then the next pen will enter the rotation. I cannot lose that pen.
****
THIS is OCD.
"OMG, I am SO OCD, I like things so neat."
"OMG, my OCD is going crazy over that picture."
No. No. NO. NO!
THIS?!?! THIS is OCD.
I am trapped.
****
I can fill the dishwasher, but only in increments of ten. Ten dishes. Ten glasses. Ten containers. I can do a mix, but it has to be ten. Two utensils count as one item. Large serving items or carving knives, etc. count as one each.
I load ten and go to do something else.
Maybe I'll fold clothes.
Ten items. Two underwear count as one item. Sometimes I can do twenty items at a time. I can also do fifty at a time. Thirty or forty is not acceptable.
If I forget my count, I throw them back in the hamper and start over.
I take a break between counts.
I can watch a movie or play a game for fifteens minutes before moving on to the next thing. If I don't have anything else to do, I can watch or play for thirty to forty five minutes. Never an hour all at once.
It's exhausting and things take forever.
****
We've gone out. To a store. To get groceries. To the movie theater. My hands have touched things that other people have touched. I panic. I have multiple bottles of hand sanitizer in my bag. I wash them as soon as I am done touching things. I get in my car. What if I've touched something in the past and haven't washed my hands before driving. Does my steering wheel have things on it?
Wash my hands. Wipe down the steering wheel with anti bacterial wipes that I keep in the glove compartment. It's ok to drive.
Throw the anti bac to the girls. Make them wash their hands as well. Don't eat until you've done this!
I am anxious. I am nervous and panicking. Wash my hands again. Temporary calm comes over me.
****
I sit in my car. I am in front of my house. I should go inside, but then I have to get out. What if there is something wrong? What if someone is watching me? Could there be an animal? Will it start to rain?
Stay in the car. Check out Facebook and Instagram.
Two hours have gone by. I should go inside.
People look at me as they walk and drive by. Will they think I am loitering? AM I loitering?
Get in the house before someone tells on you. Run up the stairs and lock the door.
****
I need to write a list. Where is my pen? There are twenty pens in my cup. I need MY pen. It hasn't run out of ink, yet. I need that pen. We need to search. Girls, please help. Where is the pen.
I've found a pen, mama!
Not that one! It's not the pen.
We find the pen. I am calm. I will use it until it runs out of ink. Then the next pen will enter the rotation. I cannot lose that pen.
****
THIS is OCD.
"OMG, I am SO OCD, I like things so neat."
"OMG, my OCD is going crazy over that picture."
No. No. NO. NO!
THIS?!?! THIS is OCD.
I am trapped.
****
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)