So I really thought I shouldn’t leave people hanging after that last post and write a follow up. I did a podcast for a friend’s show recently and she asked me to talk about it.
I discovered that part of the last blog post was at least somewhat of a social experiment. Allow me to explain.
When someone dies by suicide, we are quick to post the hashtags, the condolences, the prayers, and posting those God awful 1-800 numbers and “please copy and paste to demonstrate someone is always listening.” Ughhhh. I cannot express enough that when you are that low, you aren’t reaching for the phone and you’re not reaching for Facebook. I had a few friends who called and texted. THAT. That is what’s needed. The human contact, the love, taking my mind off the horrible circumstances in which I found myself. That’s not really the first time. Typically the small, insignificant feelings come during the in-between. When I can’t see the light and the path is not even dimly lit and I can’t gather a spark of hope. Who was there during the in-between and not the after the fact?
People checked on me for about a week. I guess they think I’m fine now. I guess that I am.
This experience also taught me to be a better friend and check on those who I love. I have some friends going through some stuff, but sometimes I need to lean on you, to borrow your strength and rationality when I can’t find my way out of the dark forest of my mind. It’s not often my mind retreats into the dark corners, but when it does, I need you. My promise to those who love me, I know you’re listening, no copy and paste needed.
Tuesday, March 19, 2019
Sunday, March 3, 2019
The Day I Decided to Die
Today is not a good day. I want all of my friends to be aware. I cannot stop crying, the tears keep coming, and I feel embarrassed and stupid and I want to die.
I lay on the stairs in my ratty, purple bathrobe trying to hug my dog. I need someone to care, anyone. Through my tears I see dust and dog hair in the crevices and I realize this is the moment when people choose to end their lives. I realized I am like that dirt and dust, small and insignificant. I believe there is a song with the words “we are but a speck of dust within a galaxy.” This plays inside my head and I cry fresh tears realizing that no one is thinking about me as they go about their day. This is the moment I believe we want to die.
We all talk about mental illness and suicide like it’s simple enough to reach out. We post 1-800 numbers that are supposed to help if we feel sad. I am not in a place to call a 1-800 number. That is not the way it works. I am drowning today. I have no giving left in me. The dog pooped on the carpet again, the dog is barking to go out, my toilet is clogged, my children need me, my job needs me, people reach out to me with their problems, I’m tired of seeing snow and ice. Some of you know my husband has been gone in California. He tells me how great it is there and how much I’m going to love it, but all I can see around me is cold, and dirt, and needs. “I need to” starts every single day. That’s great California is lovely but that is not my reality.
So you ask, how can we help those in need? Your 1-800 numbers are not helpful. Posting memes about “checking in” are not helpful. You look like you are doing a big PSA, but where are you when I am contemplating the belts in my closet and realizing that I guess thank God nothing in this house will hold my weight because new homes are made of crappy, overpriced materials. Where are you when I cannot see the dust anymore because the tears won’t stop falling? You would come to my funeral and talk about how great I was, you’d ask the big question, “why?” I am telling you why. This is my PSA.
My children saw my raw, honest pain this morning. I tried to pick myself up off the stairs before they could see me like that, but I couldn’t do it. I hurt too much. I tried to make myself get up and pick up the dog poop, but I felt paralyzed. I prayed, not for God to make me stop feeling. I wanted to die because in heaven I will no longer feel this way. Believing in God doesn’t guarantee us a pain-free life. It doesn’t mean crappy things will never happen. I feel crappy, but I’m human and this really is our downfall. Moments of pain bring enlightenment.
Will I die today? No.
I made myself get up and get dressed. I made myself take my medication. I live with OCD and the terrible thoughts that come with it, but I wouldn’t say I’ve had active “mental illness” for quite some time. Sometimes it’s not about mental illness.
So you ask, how can you help? If my daughter hadn’t come to wrap her arms around me, I might be worse off right now. Love is powerful. This is what God tries to teach us but as humans we’re too wrapped up in self-pity and “why me” to love others.
Again you ask, how can you help?
Love. Love those around you, love those you call your friends and family.
You never know what a difference you make until you try.
I lay on the stairs in my ratty, purple bathrobe trying to hug my dog. I need someone to care, anyone. Through my tears I see dust and dog hair in the crevices and I realize this is the moment when people choose to end their lives. I realized I am like that dirt and dust, small and insignificant. I believe there is a song with the words “we are but a speck of dust within a galaxy.” This plays inside my head and I cry fresh tears realizing that no one is thinking about me as they go about their day. This is the moment I believe we want to die.
We all talk about mental illness and suicide like it’s simple enough to reach out. We post 1-800 numbers that are supposed to help if we feel sad. I am not in a place to call a 1-800 number. That is not the way it works. I am drowning today. I have no giving left in me. The dog pooped on the carpet again, the dog is barking to go out, my toilet is clogged, my children need me, my job needs me, people reach out to me with their problems, I’m tired of seeing snow and ice. Some of you know my husband has been gone in California. He tells me how great it is there and how much I’m going to love it, but all I can see around me is cold, and dirt, and needs. “I need to” starts every single day. That’s great California is lovely but that is not my reality.
So you ask, how can we help those in need? Your 1-800 numbers are not helpful. Posting memes about “checking in” are not helpful. You look like you are doing a big PSA, but where are you when I am contemplating the belts in my closet and realizing that I guess thank God nothing in this house will hold my weight because new homes are made of crappy, overpriced materials. Where are you when I cannot see the dust anymore because the tears won’t stop falling? You would come to my funeral and talk about how great I was, you’d ask the big question, “why?” I am telling you why. This is my PSA.
My children saw my raw, honest pain this morning. I tried to pick myself up off the stairs before they could see me like that, but I couldn’t do it. I hurt too much. I tried to make myself get up and pick up the dog poop, but I felt paralyzed. I prayed, not for God to make me stop feeling. I wanted to die because in heaven I will no longer feel this way. Believing in God doesn’t guarantee us a pain-free life. It doesn’t mean crappy things will never happen. I feel crappy, but I’m human and this really is our downfall. Moments of pain bring enlightenment.
Will I die today? No.
I made myself get up and get dressed. I made myself take my medication. I live with OCD and the terrible thoughts that come with it, but I wouldn’t say I’ve had active “mental illness” for quite some time. Sometimes it’s not about mental illness.
So you ask, how can you help? If my daughter hadn’t come to wrap her arms around me, I might be worse off right now. Love is powerful. This is what God tries to teach us but as humans we’re too wrapped up in self-pity and “why me” to love others.
Again you ask, how can you help?
Love. Love those around you, love those you call your friends and family.
You never know what a difference you make until you try.
Sunday, August 6, 2017
S*it or Get Off the Pot
Well, now it's time to keep up with the blog. I have two blogs now. I started something this week that was something I wanted, but also something I'm nervous about. I wanted to take that step and start my own business, but I felt like something was holding me back. Some of you who know I quit my job as a residential drug counselor in June. I was immediately offered a job doing e-therapy about three days later from another company. I was ecstatic! I wasn't going to need to start my own business because everything I wanted was going to be right here. I could work at home, I could work in my pajamas, it was going to be great and I couldn't believe my luck!
So...some of you know the details on that, but for those of you who don't, let me fill you in. The guy was psyched to hire me. He acted super excited. He kept promising to send the paperwork to get me started but days would go by with me obsessively checking my email, only to find nothing. I'd send him a text, "Hey, psst...over here. Did you forget something?" A week later, "Psst...hey. Don't forget me!" and he'd promise to send it. So he calls me one day promising to send it, a month later.
I finally get it after several reminders to him. I mean, far be it for me to point out that had he had the paperwork on his computer, this mess could have been avoided in two clicks with an email....But I was determined to be ecstatic, it was my dream job, right? Now it's been 8 days and I've heard nothing. Not a peep after sending back the paperwork. I often would think to myself, why do I have to wait on someone else? I'm desperate here! Why do I need to be desperate? I'm smart, I have a Master's degree, why am I waiting at the mercy of someone else? Well...I figured that one out pretty quick. I find I operate best inside rules and regulations, although I despise them. My last job decided to take our two 15-minute breaks away and I have to say, I was not comfortable with that rule at all. I was done with other people's rules.
I went back and forth. Positive to negative. Just do it or just don't do it. I took a brief course in life coaching and realized it's what I was doing everyday and they weren't teaching me anything I didn't already know and that I already wasn't doing with my clients. I noticed that I began to sleep, eat, and breathe my potential business. I Googled things like, "How to know if I should start my own business." I prayed. But without all my comfortable rules and regulations, I felt like a piece of algae being swept along by the river with no tether to the shore.
Thursday was my depressed day. I have to allow myself a couple days to be antisocial and sit under a blanket on the couch doing nothing. I don't know if it's a holdover from my mental illness days, but I still do it on occasion. I didn't shower, I sat on the couch in my p.j.'s under a blanket. I took naps, and didn't answer anyone's texts. I was convincing myself I couldn't do it. I'm not good enough. I'm comfortable where I'm at. Blah blah blah.
Friday I rolled out of bed, showered, and got dressed. I began to make a website. I felt great, and I knew I had to do it or stop talking about it. These were skills I already had. I had to take it and run with it, or continue to let others decide my fate by waiting for employers to get back to me.
I worked on the website a little more today, it looks pretty good. Worked on the Facebook page. Wrote three blog entries, and now here's number 4 for my other readers.
I'm doing it!
If you feel so inclined, you can check out my new baby project and book appointments. I also am doing free 15-minute consultations to see how I can help you work through any issues that are holding you back, and you do not have to live in the same state since I will do over the phone, email, or text. I do not provide therapy or diagnosis.
http://kmassey09.wixsite.com/website
So...some of you know the details on that, but for those of you who don't, let me fill you in. The guy was psyched to hire me. He acted super excited. He kept promising to send the paperwork to get me started but days would go by with me obsessively checking my email, only to find nothing. I'd send him a text, "Hey, psst...over here. Did you forget something?" A week later, "Psst...hey. Don't forget me!" and he'd promise to send it. So he calls me one day promising to send it, a month later.
I finally get it after several reminders to him. I mean, far be it for me to point out that had he had the paperwork on his computer, this mess could have been avoided in two clicks with an email....But I was determined to be ecstatic, it was my dream job, right? Now it's been 8 days and I've heard nothing. Not a peep after sending back the paperwork. I often would think to myself, why do I have to wait on someone else? I'm desperate here! Why do I need to be desperate? I'm smart, I have a Master's degree, why am I waiting at the mercy of someone else? Well...I figured that one out pretty quick. I find I operate best inside rules and regulations, although I despise them. My last job decided to take our two 15-minute breaks away and I have to say, I was not comfortable with that rule at all. I was done with other people's rules.
I went back and forth. Positive to negative. Just do it or just don't do it. I took a brief course in life coaching and realized it's what I was doing everyday and they weren't teaching me anything I didn't already know and that I already wasn't doing with my clients. I noticed that I began to sleep, eat, and breathe my potential business. I Googled things like, "How to know if I should start my own business." I prayed. But without all my comfortable rules and regulations, I felt like a piece of algae being swept along by the river with no tether to the shore.
Thursday was my depressed day. I have to allow myself a couple days to be antisocial and sit under a blanket on the couch doing nothing. I don't know if it's a holdover from my mental illness days, but I still do it on occasion. I didn't shower, I sat on the couch in my p.j.'s under a blanket. I took naps, and didn't answer anyone's texts. I was convincing myself I couldn't do it. I'm not good enough. I'm comfortable where I'm at. Blah blah blah.
Friday I rolled out of bed, showered, and got dressed. I began to make a website. I felt great, and I knew I had to do it or stop talking about it. These were skills I already had. I had to take it and run with it, or continue to let others decide my fate by waiting for employers to get back to me.
I worked on the website a little more today, it looks pretty good. Worked on the Facebook page. Wrote three blog entries, and now here's number 4 for my other readers.
I'm doing it!
If you feel so inclined, you can check out my new baby project and book appointments. I also am doing free 15-minute consultations to see how I can help you work through any issues that are holding you back, and you do not have to live in the same state since I will do over the phone, email, or text. I do not provide therapy or diagnosis.
http://kmassey09.wixsite.com/website
Sunday, June 18, 2017
I Can't Even
I'm not sure if I'm the world's worst parent or my kid is a genius. I'm pretty sure I'm not the world's worst parent, but today, my mind was blown on a nuclear scale.
It starts with all that parenting advice telling you to reward your child. Well, I can't say that's never backfired before. Take for example my now 16-year-old daughter. When she was 2 and potty training, I thought it was genius advice to put a jar of candy on the back of the toilet so when she went to the bathroom, she could have an M&M. Leave a 2-year-old in the bathroom for 5 seconds with M&Ms, guess what, she's rewarding herself with the whole jar.
My now 21-year-old daughter was a negotiator. "Mom, I'd like 5 cookies please." Nope. 5 Oreos, I guess if I want a cracked out 3-year-old terror in the middle of Walmart that would be ok. So I offer 2. She haggles for 4. I say 2 or none, she says "Ok, 3." And she gets 3. Because I was a mom, in Walmart with a child whose ADHD had gotten us kicked out of Walmart when she decided to fly out of a shopping cart into a rack full of shirts like she was just launched from a catapult.
My son, he's 10 and he has Asperger's Syndrome so getting him to do anything has never been easy. But I remembered from all the parenting advice, rewards. Kids love rewards. When he was potty training, I'd read about using a treasure chest full of dollar store items for rewards. Yeah! I had this thing nailed. No more stupid M&Ms! I'm nailing this mom thing! I found if I wanted him to do anything, at that time he'd do it for a Matchbox car. Fast forward 4 years and he'd do anything for Legos. I think at that time I only had a job to pay for Legos. That escalated quickly.
Fast forward again to age 10. We've been trying to get him to be more responsible, clean his room, brush his teeth, shower. With Aspies, hygiene does not rank high on the scale of priorities. I bargained with him that if he'd just commit to 2 showers a week, I'd buy him a Roblox card if he followed through. So today I'm in Target with the kids, and I casually mention to my son, "Hey, I think it's time for a haircut."
The following conversation happened:
"No Mom, I'm not ready yet." (Here's me thinking due to his AS, he needs to be more mentally prepared)
"Ok, so when? In like a week? Two weeks?"
"Yeah, two weeks."
"Are you sure because it's overgrown and I'm sure you'd feel much cooler on your head. We can see if Helen is working."
"No Mom. Haircuts are valuable."
"Huh? What? I don't even know what that means."
"They're valuable."
BAM!!! The lightbulb moment....
"Oh my gosh!! Are you telling me that they're valuable so you can negotiate for STUFF????"
"Duh. Baths, brushing my teeth, showers, haircuts...they're all valuable"
(At this point I think I'm in shock.... my daughters are looking at me like I grew a second head.)
"Ok Mom, I'll get a haircut today. I figured out what I want."
I started to think about the level of genius involved in all this scheming. I don't think the so called "experts" saw this s*it coming.
Suck it Dr. Spock.
It starts with all that parenting advice telling you to reward your child. Well, I can't say that's never backfired before. Take for example my now 16-year-old daughter. When she was 2 and potty training, I thought it was genius advice to put a jar of candy on the back of the toilet so when she went to the bathroom, she could have an M&M. Leave a 2-year-old in the bathroom for 5 seconds with M&Ms, guess what, she's rewarding herself with the whole jar.
My now 21-year-old daughter was a negotiator. "Mom, I'd like 5 cookies please." Nope. 5 Oreos, I guess if I want a cracked out 3-year-old terror in the middle of Walmart that would be ok. So I offer 2. She haggles for 4. I say 2 or none, she says "Ok, 3." And she gets 3. Because I was a mom, in Walmart with a child whose ADHD had gotten us kicked out of Walmart when she decided to fly out of a shopping cart into a rack full of shirts like she was just launched from a catapult.
My son, he's 10 and he has Asperger's Syndrome so getting him to do anything has never been easy. But I remembered from all the parenting advice, rewards. Kids love rewards. When he was potty training, I'd read about using a treasure chest full of dollar store items for rewards. Yeah! I had this thing nailed. No more stupid M&Ms! I'm nailing this mom thing! I found if I wanted him to do anything, at that time he'd do it for a Matchbox car. Fast forward 4 years and he'd do anything for Legos. I think at that time I only had a job to pay for Legos. That escalated quickly.
Fast forward again to age 10. We've been trying to get him to be more responsible, clean his room, brush his teeth, shower. With Aspies, hygiene does not rank high on the scale of priorities. I bargained with him that if he'd just commit to 2 showers a week, I'd buy him a Roblox card if he followed through. So today I'm in Target with the kids, and I casually mention to my son, "Hey, I think it's time for a haircut."
The following conversation happened:
"No Mom, I'm not ready yet." (Here's me thinking due to his AS, he needs to be more mentally prepared)
"Ok, so when? In like a week? Two weeks?"
"Yeah, two weeks."
"Are you sure because it's overgrown and I'm sure you'd feel much cooler on your head. We can see if Helen is working."
"No Mom. Haircuts are valuable."
"Huh? What? I don't even know what that means."
"They're valuable."
BAM!!! The lightbulb moment....
"Oh my gosh!! Are you telling me that they're valuable so you can negotiate for STUFF????"
"Duh. Baths, brushing my teeth, showers, haircuts...they're all valuable"
(At this point I think I'm in shock.... my daughters are looking at me like I grew a second head.)
"Ok Mom, I'll get a haircut today. I figured out what I want."
I started to think about the level of genius involved in all this scheming. I don't think the so called "experts" saw this s*it coming.
Suck it Dr. Spock.
Friday, March 3, 2017
The Experiment
So some of you may know that I was doing an experiment...on myself. I intended to make a blog post each day for it, but you know, life.
So I had read this book called "The Fear Cure" by Dr. Lissa Rankin where she talked about how fear and anxiety are really bad for your internal organs and immune system. This book made a lot of sense and I was hell bent on fixing my anxiety once and for all. Soooo about this experiment. I decided since I was going to fix myself, the first step was getting off my medication. I figured it wasn't helping anyway because hey, I was still anxious sometimes and I didn't feel super fantastic anyway on it. Day 1 was good. I felt great, on top of the world like I was going to take over the world! Day 2: Still great! No problems at all. Felt great, wasn't tired. I had so much energy. Day 3: Same. Great. This curing my stupid anxiety was really working! Day 4: I'm great! Why hadn't I thought about this sooner? Day 5: I passed the day 4 mark where I typically would've had a panic attack without so much as some chest tightness or nausea. Still feeling great! Day 6: Heyyyyy I'm onto something here. I'm going to the gym. I'm gonna actually run. And I never run. Day 7: Holy crap!!! 7 days!!! But I feel a bit off. Nope, I feel great! Anxiety: "No you don't." Me: "Shut up. Yes I do. I'm gonna go for day 8!!"
So I'm at work. Around 10am I'm sitting at my desk and I start to feel hot. Then I feel cold. Then I feel sick. I want to throw up. So I go to my supervisor's office to try to just shoot the shit and get rid of that feeling. Then she says, "Hey! Maybe you're pregnant!" What??? No. I am 42 years old. That is not happening!! Plus I have a Mirena, and if that happened, well, I mean it is expired by a month but they couldn't find it at the doctor to change it and I have another appointment next month but that's a different story....I won't ruin your dinner.
So I feel cold and clammy and I think I need to throw up. I don't, but I feel terrible. I go for a smoke break with one of my good work friends and I feel ok, but I confess to her what I've been doing. Like I'm not Catholic anymore but I joked that I gave up my meds for lent. We decided I should go see our nurse at work. The diagnosis: withdrawal symptoms. Our fantastic nurse crushed me up 25mg of Zoloft. I don't take pills, my meds are liquid but that's also another story. I started feeling better within 15 minutes!
Anxiety : "I told you!!!" Me: "Shut up."
I wanted so desperately to be "normal." I know my Zoloft makes me normal. I wondered what was underneath the "normal" and if I could control it since I have more tools in my toolbox. I guess the answer is no. I had visions that I was probably some 8 legged purple rabid octopus underneath. I don't know if I would've wanted to deal with that, but my curious nature at least wanted me to check it out.
What did I learn here? A) Not to give up meds for Lent, Christmas, New Year's, etc. B) Anxiety and panic are stupid. C) I can't control everything. D) What was I thinking???
E) Octopi don't have legs.
So I had read this book called "The Fear Cure" by Dr. Lissa Rankin where she talked about how fear and anxiety are really bad for your internal organs and immune system. This book made a lot of sense and I was hell bent on fixing my anxiety once and for all. Soooo about this experiment. I decided since I was going to fix myself, the first step was getting off my medication. I figured it wasn't helping anyway because hey, I was still anxious sometimes and I didn't feel super fantastic anyway on it. Day 1 was good. I felt great, on top of the world like I was going to take over the world! Day 2: Still great! No problems at all. Felt great, wasn't tired. I had so much energy. Day 3: Same. Great. This curing my stupid anxiety was really working! Day 4: I'm great! Why hadn't I thought about this sooner? Day 5: I passed the day 4 mark where I typically would've had a panic attack without so much as some chest tightness or nausea. Still feeling great! Day 6: Heyyyyy I'm onto something here. I'm going to the gym. I'm gonna actually run. And I never run. Day 7: Holy crap!!! 7 days!!! But I feel a bit off. Nope, I feel great! Anxiety: "No you don't." Me: "Shut up. Yes I do. I'm gonna go for day 8!!"
So I'm at work. Around 10am I'm sitting at my desk and I start to feel hot. Then I feel cold. Then I feel sick. I want to throw up. So I go to my supervisor's office to try to just shoot the shit and get rid of that feeling. Then she says, "Hey! Maybe you're pregnant!" What??? No. I am 42 years old. That is not happening!! Plus I have a Mirena, and if that happened, well, I mean it is expired by a month but they couldn't find it at the doctor to change it and I have another appointment next month but that's a different story....I won't ruin your dinner.
So I feel cold and clammy and I think I need to throw up. I don't, but I feel terrible. I go for a smoke break with one of my good work friends and I feel ok, but I confess to her what I've been doing. Like I'm not Catholic anymore but I joked that I gave up my meds for lent. We decided I should go see our nurse at work. The diagnosis: withdrawal symptoms. Our fantastic nurse crushed me up 25mg of Zoloft. I don't take pills, my meds are liquid but that's also another story. I started feeling better within 15 minutes!
Anxiety : "I told you!!!" Me: "Shut up."
I wanted so desperately to be "normal." I know my Zoloft makes me normal. I wondered what was underneath the "normal" and if I could control it since I have more tools in my toolbox. I guess the answer is no. I had visions that I was probably some 8 legged purple rabid octopus underneath. I don't know if I would've wanted to deal with that, but my curious nature at least wanted me to check it out.
What did I learn here? A) Not to give up meds for Lent, Christmas, New Year's, etc. B) Anxiety and panic are stupid. C) I can't control everything. D) What was I thinking???
E) Octopi don't have legs.
Friday, December 16, 2016
All I Want for Christmas is...Anxiety?
So I've been on medication for a little over a year now for just about every anxiety diagnosis in the DSM-V. I'd been doing so well I thought I'd take it every other day to conserve until my doctor's appointment. Ok, taking it every other day wasn't so bad, I was still feeling pretty good. Then...I forgot to take it the next day. Still ok. Then today, THREE days without it. I mean, I was doing great! After all, I'd been thinking about coming off if it, I didn't want to be dependent on it.
So my husband and I went Christmas shopping today. Went to T-Mobile and they had the Fitbit Charge on sale! I'd been wanting to upgrade my Flex so my husband bought me a nice purple one. I couldn't wait to try it out. So around 4:00 I start feeling a little weird. I thought it was some extra caffeine. So we get home, I charge my Fitbit and I'm still feeling off. Finally it's done charging and I get to put it on and this one is cool because it has the heart rate monitor. Boy was I wrong.
Two hours later I'm obsessively checking my heart rate and then checking out Web MD for a normal heart rate. Then I'm asking all my family members to test theirs. I laid on the couch trying to lower my heart rate from 85. All I'm thinking about is my heart, and enlarged hearts, I swear I can feel my pulse screaming through my body and then I'm thinking, "Yeah, way to go three days off your meds!" I'm starting to feel the good old crazy setting in and my anxiety is through the roof. I'm pretty sure I looked all calm and collected on the outside but my hypochondria was tapping me on the shoulder whispering, "Hey...guess what? I think you're starting to feel a little sick."
Worst Christmas present ever! Anxiety and panic all wrapped up in a sweet purple wristband.
I asked my husband if he wanted to trade and give me back my Flex. He suggested I take my medicine.
I should've asked for a purse instead.
So my husband and I went Christmas shopping today. Went to T-Mobile and they had the Fitbit Charge on sale! I'd been wanting to upgrade my Flex so my husband bought me a nice purple one. I couldn't wait to try it out. So around 4:00 I start feeling a little weird. I thought it was some extra caffeine. So we get home, I charge my Fitbit and I'm still feeling off. Finally it's done charging and I get to put it on and this one is cool because it has the heart rate monitor. Boy was I wrong.
Two hours later I'm obsessively checking my heart rate and then checking out Web MD for a normal heart rate. Then I'm asking all my family members to test theirs. I laid on the couch trying to lower my heart rate from 85. All I'm thinking about is my heart, and enlarged hearts, I swear I can feel my pulse screaming through my body and then I'm thinking, "Yeah, way to go three days off your meds!" I'm starting to feel the good old crazy setting in and my anxiety is through the roof. I'm pretty sure I looked all calm and collected on the outside but my hypochondria was tapping me on the shoulder whispering, "Hey...guess what? I think you're starting to feel a little sick."
Worst Christmas present ever! Anxiety and panic all wrapped up in a sweet purple wristband.
I asked my husband if he wanted to trade and give me back my Flex. He suggested I take my medicine.
I should've asked for a purse instead.
Tuesday, October 25, 2016
Turning Over a New Leaf
So I gotta go to work soon, but I wanted to share something.
Change. Things we might not notice at first, but then one day we do.
For those readers who know me, you know I've struggled with several acronyms for anxiety, I think maybe every single one there is in the DSM V. I've had this long standing habit of feeling like I need to explain to people why I do things, why I did things, why I say things and I'd been thinking, how do I stop? I realize that I don't owe people explanations, and certainly not about any mental illness, but the explanations would just come out, I couldn't stop them. I'd say something and then feel the need to give the back story and let people know that I might be high strung because anxiety, I had to let people know about the tragic battles fought and the train wreck that was my life with mental illness.
But I wanted to stop.
After two years of treatment with a great therapist and a low dose of sertraline, I don't even feel like that person anymore. I don't know who that person is. I feel like when I talk about that person I'm describing someone else.
So I had a lightbulb moment last night. I was talking to someone at work and it was getting kind of personal. I was showing her pictures of my family, talking about our summer, and this is normally where I might've inserted, "Well, I was diagnosed with......(insert acronyms here)" and you know what? I didn't. I didn't feel the need. When I got in my car to leave work, I realized I hadn't once uttered a word about THAT person. Mind blown. I cried mild tears of joy that I had finally overcome something that was such a road block for me in my healing. I realized I guess that if I'm going to keep talking about it, then I'm going to keep "being" that person.
I'm hoping to continue now to be more aware and that people can know me without knowing everything. I believe last night was the turning point to when I stopped defining myself by those acronyms.
There's a person in here. And the acronyms are not part of that person anymore.
Shine on friends. Be YOU! You are worthy of all the love!
Change. Things we might not notice at first, but then one day we do.
For those readers who know me, you know I've struggled with several acronyms for anxiety, I think maybe every single one there is in the DSM V. I've had this long standing habit of feeling like I need to explain to people why I do things, why I did things, why I say things and I'd been thinking, how do I stop? I realize that I don't owe people explanations, and certainly not about any mental illness, but the explanations would just come out, I couldn't stop them. I'd say something and then feel the need to give the back story and let people know that I might be high strung because anxiety, I had to let people know about the tragic battles fought and the train wreck that was my life with mental illness.
But I wanted to stop.
After two years of treatment with a great therapist and a low dose of sertraline, I don't even feel like that person anymore. I don't know who that person is. I feel like when I talk about that person I'm describing someone else.
So I had a lightbulb moment last night. I was talking to someone at work and it was getting kind of personal. I was showing her pictures of my family, talking about our summer, and this is normally where I might've inserted, "Well, I was diagnosed with......(insert acronyms here)" and you know what? I didn't. I didn't feel the need. When I got in my car to leave work, I realized I hadn't once uttered a word about THAT person. Mind blown. I cried mild tears of joy that I had finally overcome something that was such a road block for me in my healing. I realized I guess that if I'm going to keep talking about it, then I'm going to keep "being" that person.
I'm hoping to continue now to be more aware and that people can know me without knowing everything. I believe last night was the turning point to when I stopped defining myself by those acronyms.
There's a person in here. And the acronyms are not part of that person anymore.
Shine on friends. Be YOU! You are worthy of all the love!
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