Been a while again…

Sometimes coming back to write is hard.  For so long it was the same thing day in and day out.  I was angry, irritable and grouchy or I was sad.  I was yelling or I was crying.   I was resenting my life, wishing for a new one.  Playing the “if only” game.  Angry at our circumstances, angry at the world.

The past week there has been a tiny shift.  Almost imperceptible.  I wasn’t angry every day, I wasn’t sad every day.  I didn’t cry every day. Am I still depressed, yes.  Am I still angry/sad yes.  But I am not as deep in the pit as I was.  Will it last? I don’t know.  I don’t have any expectations for that anymore, I always thought I would have been “better” by now.

My new counselor is great.  I can’t even describe what it is I like about her, but she seems to get me.  She listens to me, she gives me homework assignments that I can actually do- the first time was watch “What about Bob?”, and this week it was to watch “Comedians, in cars, getting coffee”.  Really funny! She also had me read a book called, “Taming your Gremlin”.  It talks about the little voice inside of you, the one who tells you that you can’t do something, that you are a failure, that you are a loser… all the negative thoughts, that it’s a gremlin, who’s sole job is to make you feel awful. It was a great book, it gave me a lot to think about.  It talks about mindfulness, about just noticing that voice, not fighting against that gremlin.

And I have to say, as I was reading the book, it was a lot to take in, a lot to think about.  BUT I did take something from it.  I have noticed the gremlin’s voice a couple times.  It hasn’t helped me not believe the lies, but I notice- and that’s progress.

I found some old letters, and a scrapbook from when my husband and I were first together.  I found some things I had written, and I was reminded of my love for writing.  It got me thinking about my dream to write a novel.  My dream to be an author.  I started dreaming again, but of course the gremlin had to throw in its two cents and tell me I am not good enough, no way I am going to be successful, that I just can’t do it.

I start DBT group therapy in a couple weeks, (dialectical behavioral therapy).  I am looking forward to seeing what it’s all about, but at the same time I am nervous, I’m not great with groups of people.

Tonight my oldest is at his first school dance.  It’s so hard to believe he’s in high school, time passes so quickly.

It’s nice to not have posted so much doom and gloom for once.

Until next time….

Broke, broken, all the same to me.

I feel like a broken record when I come here and post.  I feel tired, that bone weary weighing you down tired.  I am sick of being broke.  I am sick of everything being so hard all the time.  I am tired of life in general. I am sick of being me.  We have 3 beater cars, all in terrible shape, and no money to fix them, but the are necessary to get to all our appointments etc.  I feel like we are never going to get out of this mess we are in.

Hubby talked to a lawyer last week and he said he couldn’t help him, but referred him to another firm that probably could.  That lawyer was supposed to call Friday, today at the latest…. no call. Of course.  This is just another hit.

I literally feel like I am being beaten with a baseball bat- thwap hit to the back, thwap hit to the gut, thwap to the legs and I fall, thwap, thwap, thwap.  I feel beaten and broken. I don’t know how much more I can take.  I know people say that all the time, but I am just so beat down.

We are due for a 2 day winter storm starting tomorrow- they already cancelled my counseling appointment for tomorrow morning, and I needed that SO BAD.  I have med management tomorrow afternoon and I am worried they will cancel that too.

Well I have to get my kids to bed so I can mope in peace.

Life block?

I started a post last night about why I haven’t written much lately, but it isn’t so much that I haven’t written lately, it’s not writer’s block- it’s life block.  I am barely living my life.  I am not someone I have ever been, or ever dreamed I would be. Part of me wants to be curled up in bed, or watching TV or reading.  And part of me looks at that part of me with disgust.

That part of me, looks at me and how I am living my life right now and wants to scream “wake the hell up”.  You have two wonderful children- yes they have issues, but they are amazing human beings.  Stop yelling at them for making messes, for wanting to play with slime, for being a typical teenager with earbuds in.  You have an amazing husband who stands by you no matter what.  He’s picked up the cooking when you dropped it, he doesn’t feel well either and yet he humor’s your breakdown.  He listens to every bit of whining you do about your past, or how you look, or how much this isn’t the life you dreamed of.  This isn’t the life he dreamed of either.  He didn’t expect to be unable to work at 38 years old.  He didn’t expect to have to depend on the “system”, he expected to follow in his father’s and grandfather’s footsteps, and work hard all his life, to come home and be a jack of all trades, to be able to take vacations, and be able to do things he wanted to do.  That part of me, looks at me with disgust and disappointment.  Thinks I am selfish.  Hates me.  That part of me knows I am a disappointment to my family, that I have never done anything or accomplished anything.

And that part of me? Hates all of me.  Hates itself for not being stronger, for not being able to “snap out of it”.

I want so badly to wake up tomorrow and to smile, to be thankful for another day, to get up  and make breakfast, happily get my kids ready for school, or better yet still be homeschooling them, to cook my husband a good meal at dinner time.  To be the fun mom that makes slime, that let’s them cook in the kitchen and make a mess.  The mom who understands that her teenager pushing her away isn’t about her, that it’s about growth and independence.

But instead I am trapped in a prison of my own construct.  No matter how much I WANT to snap out of it, I can’t. I have mental illness.  It’s not laziness, it’s not weakness, it’s not selfishness.  It’s just as real as a physical illness.  I KNOW this is my logical mind.  In the part of my mind that Mary Poppins would say my insight lives.  But I can’t seem to accept any truth where I am not at fault for everything.

Another reason I haven’t written is that I just don’t seem to be able to muster up the energy most days.  For some reason that is unfathomable to me, February was a crazy stupidly busy month.  And what 2 years ago I would have scoffed at and completed with ease, makes me need a long nap.  My counselor and I were talking today about the fact that I am just drained all the time, I am grumpy and irritable, I have no hobbies anymore – even the thought of taking out my knitting needles makes me tired.  She told me about the “spoon theory”.  She explained it that we have a certain number of spoons everyday, and as a person with my mental illness has fewer spoons that someone without it.  So where someone without mental illness can get up at 6am, shower, get their kids off to school, make breakfast and maybe work out and only use a spoon, me just thinking about getting up out of bed to face another day uses a spoon.  And showering uses a spoon or two.  That by the end of the day I don’t have any spoons left.  So true. The only reason I have the energy to write all this out today is that I took a nap already, and I am home alone.  Hubby has taken little one to occupational therapy, and big one is still at school.  No one needs me at the moment.

Last night I was laying in bed thinking about how hubby has to take little one to occupational therapy and maybe I should surprise him and make dinner.  I want to do that so much, but just thinking about the work it will take makes me exhausted.  I am going to try.  Even though everything I cook lately comes out terribly, even though it will wear me out.  Sometimes I think I don’t express enough gratitude for all the does for us.  He is the unsung hero, here in the family, holding us up, when he himself can barely stand.   So while he might not be able to work, he is providing something so much more important than financial support, he is carrying the weight of it all on him. I will never be able to pay him back for all he does.  I just wish my family could see the tremendous amount he contributes to our lives.  I wish they would look at him the way I look at him and see a hero.


I met with my counselor today (she really needs a name)… and it was interestsing how my post from yesterday fit in.   We finally finished up the intake questions today.  Now we can really “start”.

But she always gives me time at the start of our visit to just “let it all out”.  The things I just have to say.  And today one of the most pressing things was asking her why I ask people impossible questions.  And I think the question might have caught her off guard, but she said there’s a lot more to get into but one of her hypotheses is something called the Pain Body.  It’s something that a person named Eckhart Tolle came up with.

Here’s an excerpt from a website explaining it:

The usual pattern of thought creating emotion is reversed in the case of the pain-body, at least initially. Emotion from the pain-body quickly gains control of your thinking, and once your mind has been taken over by the pain-body, your thinking becomes negative. The voice in your head will be telling sad, anxious, or angry stories about yourself or your life, about other people, about past, future, or imaginary events. The voice will be blaming, accusing, complaining, imagining. And you are totally identified with whatever the voice says, believe all its distorted thoughts. At that point, the addiction to unhappiness has set in.

It is not so much that you cannot stop your train of negative thoughts, but that you don’t want to. This is because the pain-body at that time is living through you, pretending to be you. And to the pain-body, pain is pleasure. It eagerly devours every negative thought. In fact, the usual voice in your head has now become the voice of the pain-body. It has taken over the internal dialogue. A vicious circle becomes established between the pain-body and your thinking. Every thought feeds the pain-body and in turn the pain-body generates more thoughts. At some point, after a few hours or even a few days, it has replenished itself and returns to its dormant stage, leaving behind a depleted organism and a body that is much more susceptible to illness. If that sounds to you like a psychic parasite, you are right. That’s exactly what it is.

Now, I don’t know enough about this man to know if what he says is right.  I haven’t done nearly enough research to see where this aligns with my Christian beliefs.  BUT it makes sense to me.

I was telling hubby today, it’s like I don’t want to get better, like I don’t want to be happy.  I find ways to punish myself, ways to prove to myself I am unloveable (the impossible questions would fall in here).  I explained it like this- I asked my mother a question that had 3 obvious answers:

  1.  No I am not – to which I would think she is lying and doesn’t want to hurt my feelings.
  2. Yes I am – which would prove I am “bad” an “embarrassment”
  3. The answer she gave- which proves to me (even if she doesn’t mean it that way) that I am “bad”.

You see, there is no right answer.  In all those answers I am the bad one. I don’t want to be like my dad, and yet- and I struggle to make my fingers type this- I have been unpredictable mood wise, angry over little things, resentful.

My fingers shook as I typed that.  It’s an extremely hard truth to face. 

I am living in a constant state of self-inflicted pain, in response to the pain I have already suffered?  the pain I am afraid I will suffer? I don’t know. I don’t know why I do this to myself.  I don’t know why someone as intelligent and as insightful as me can let this go on.  Why in over a year I haven’t gotten any better, and when I do start to crawl out of the pit I am in do I fling myself to the bottom again as if I saw something shiny down there that I had to get.

And that right there, that’s what makes me angry all over again- angry at myself. But guess what- I won’t do anything to change any of it. Like I said it’s like I don’t want to get better.  My husband tells me this isn’t an option.  And I want to scream, “don’t you think if I knew how to do it differently I would?”.  But I am tired.  I am tired of fighting, of feeling sad, of being angry, of being so irritable to those who I love most.  It kills me that I am hurting those that are closest to me.

There are days, a lot of days, I think about just leaving.  The thought kills me.  I love my husband and children more than anything in the world, but I can’t stand to make them live in this upheaval.  Hubby would say that should be incentive enough to change.  But I honestly have been trying and I just can’t get off this merry-go-round…..

I don’t know just more thoughts floating through my head.

*** I found this article that talks about why Eckhart Tolle is not Christian, and in fact teaching anti-Christian things.  And I definitely agree with what they say- I haven’t read Tolle’s book and never planned to.  So what I would say is take the passage above at face value.  Look at it through the lens of Jesus.  Those who allow the “pain-body” to hurt continually hurt us, are letting the Enemy attack us, and we are believing his lies.  And it isn’t until we stand up to him with the Truth that we are able to kick him out of our heads- permanently or not just until next time he finds us weak….. ****

Anyway that’s my take away.  And I can get on board with that, the pain-body is Satan’s influence in my brain.  He makes me forget “it is finished”.  That I am redeemed, loved, chosen and all the other wonderful names Jesus has for me…… now how to get his voice out of my life forever.

What’s wrong with me?

So I mentioned my newest diagnosis, and I mentioned that I weaned off the amitriptyline in hopes that would help with the symptoms of the Autonomic Nervous System Disorder. However, it didn’t help.  And they have started me on a new antidepressant- Doxepim. I am on a very low dose. And ever since we have started the Doxepim 10 days ago I have been angry, irritable, sad, frustrated. I haven’t been the nicest person, nor the easiest to be around.

I am unhappy.  I am not content.  I am tired of living hand to mouth with no end in sight. I am on disability, my husband is waiting for his disability decision.  We will never have financial security.

And it really ticks me off that you can’t be honest with even your therapist or else she thinks you are on foot in the grave to offing yourself. So I am resentful- of pretty much everything and everyone in my life (with a few exceptions).  I am tired of this life.  So yes I fantasize about ways I could die.  Today’s version in my head has me walking out to the car, slipping on the ice, hitting my head and never “coming to” again.  But I can’t tell anyone that, they try to make me think “positive”, “look for the blessings”, and to that I say (and please let me warn you have to take off my Christian hat for a minute) go to hell. Seriously.  Shut up and leave me alone.  Just go away. Leave me alone with my intrusive, unhealthy thoughts. I don’t think I want to change right now. I think I am better off being miserable, because my life sucks, period, end of story.

And then. Then… get this. I get a call from my PCP’s office.  From “my doctor’s” nurse (I have been seeing a different doctor in the office.  And she says “we got the results of your halter and you had a normal rhythm with some extra beats here and there, but it was essentially normal ok?”.  And I was like ACTUALLY…I was in there last week, and Dr so and so, read the draft report and reported that my heart rate was 150 several times, and ranged from 120-150 most often.  And that my diastolic blood pressure is ranging from 87-117 and she diagnosed me with Autonomic Nervous System Dysfunction. And she’s like oooooh yeah I see that here.  Dr PCP may not had seen that before this came across his desk.  And then she proceeded to explain to me how to increase the meds etc. UM HELLO I thought you said I was fine?  Yeah I know Dr PCP blames it all on the fact that I am fat. This is also the same PCP that said a vitamin D level of 15 was just fine (I guess I should just die because I am fat. I am so angry and sick of this BS.

Why do I even bother.   Maybe I should just go off all my meds and just see what happens because I am done.  Nothing I helping anyway, and maybe if I go off the heat stuff my heart will just get to be as tired as I am and be done too.  I am just so exhausted, hopeless and done.

Yesterday at church my pastor was talking about “spiritual Sahara”, and that’s where I am right now.  He said when you are there hope evaporates and dreams die. I couldn’t have summed up my life right now any better.  My hope is dried up and dead, and my dreams are ran through a garbage disposal, put in a trash compactor, flushed down the toilet and sorted out with all the other solids in the waste water treatment plant.

Yes this is a pessimistic post.  Yes, its me throwing a pity party.  Yes its me being angry, resentful and tired of living my life.  But guess what, it’s my blog and I’ll bitch if I want to.



Another Diagnosis?


I went to my primary care doctor today to discuss the results of my cardiac halter monitor.  So when I got there, they did my blood pressure and my heart rate, my blood pressure was 122/90.  90 not good.  They left my heart rate monitor for a while- it went up and down and up and down, the lowest was 120 and the highest was 141… not good :(.  Then they had me sit in the exam room FOREVER— like 30 minutes. Finally the doctor came in and she had the “draft” of my cardiac halter results…. because the cardiologist hasn’t “finished it yet”. But she was able to give me the results.  She said there was A LOT of fluctuations in my heart rate all the time. Nighttime it would go down to like 63 occasionally, but during the day it remained over 100 and went as high as 150 beats per minute.

She asked me if I had ever been diagnosed with a couple different things (I hadn’t) and then she asked Insulin Resistance, and I said yes to that one.  I have had that for 21 years.  Anyway, so she said they aren’t POSITIVE because there is no one test that you can do and say “yep that’s it” but from my readings and my symptoms, the believeI have Autonomic Nervous Symptom Dysfunction (ANSD).  How she explained it was basically you have your fight or flight side and your rest and digestion side, and they are supposed to be in a very specific relationship.  And when you have this issue the transition from one to the other is choppy and not smooth.

From the little bit of reading I have done it appears this is a life long condition that the doctor’s basically help to control the symptoms but they can’t “make it go away”.  If they can find an underlying cause of the condition (Parkinson’s – I don’t have, Diabetes- according to my endocrinologist I don’t have (yet)) and thats all I can remember then they can control those conditions and the ANSD will get better.  What it seems though is that once the nerves are damaged the don’t heal.  And what’s even “better” is that anxiety with this is not a good combination- YAY! (NOT)

I asked if my ECT treatments could have caused this since my heart rate and my blood pressure didn’t go haywire till after that.  And she said it’s not out of the realm of possibility, but there aren’t currently any evidence to support that.  And looking at the symptoms, some of them I have had for years.  But it wasn’t until the heart rate issue that it became more of an issue.

I still have a ton of reading and researching to do, and I start a new med tonight… WOOHOO another one to add to the regimen. Apparently this is a big deal- there are support groups and some people get symptoms so bad they are disabled.  Fun fun fun. When will I catch a break??????



People in Poverty: A part of the general population of a given area, who do not have adequate resources to live fully independent lives.  These people tend to need help in the areas of Food, Healthcare, Education and sometimes even cash benefits (as in TANF-Temporary Aid for Needy Families).  Also a part of the general population that many people discriminate against, make unjust assumptions about, and have attitudes that cause those in a state of poverty shame.

This was my definition.  I didn’t look it up.  I spoke from my heart and my experience. My family is poor.  Am I ashamed to say that? A little. Am I ashamed when I pull out my electronic benefits card (EBT- not sure what the T stands for) to pay for purchases of food, or other things because we collect TANF?  Yes.

I am mentally ill.  You all know that.  I have recently added personality disorder to my ever growing list of mental ailments.  So that would be major depressive disorder, severe, recurrent, treatment resistant; OCD; PTSD; Trauma; Severe Generalized anxiety disorder. I can not work. There are days I can’t leave my house.

My husband is sick.  Do we know exactly what’s wrong with him? No. He has seen so many doctor’s but it always ends up the same, herniated disc at L5S1, some sort of cyst on his S2 vertebra, desiccation of the L4 disc. Fibromyalgia, migraine headaches, major depressive disorder, and I can’t remember the rest of the list. But it’s long.

My husband first became sick in Oct 2013.  He continued to get worse until June of 2014, when he was working at a car dealership as a mechanic and almost dropped a mustang off the lift.  It was at that point he realized he shouldn’t be working.  His exhaustion and pain were too intolerable. He went out on short term disability, and eventually lost his job.

We looked at the bright side of it, and he started his own business in January 2015, and tried really hard to run it all alone for 2 years 2 months.  He was successful, turning a profit each of those years, however, the pain and exhaustion worsened, the depression at his situation worsened, he herniated the disc, and in March of 2017 decided he couldn’t keep up and he closed the business.  This was a blow to us.  Financially of course, but also emotionally.  I still tear up when I drive by the place, or think about the stack of business cards he has.

Today he went to see a new rheumatologist.  She was rude, condescending, unaware of his medical history, and made snap assumptions.  Just because she never received a copy of his two most recent MRIs she basically told him he was a liar.  She told him that “chronic pain” is subjective and he should go back to work, and work through the pain.  This all within minutes of meeting him.  He feels she looked that he was on medicaid, and out of work and therefore poor and lazy.  She said he doesn’t have fibromyalgia despite the fact that she didn’t even examine him or do the pressure point test.  Despite 4 other doctors diagnosing him with fibromyalgia.

To say I was angry about this appointment is an understatement.  But there isn’t anything I can do about it.  There is nothing he can do about it.  I am so sick of the rhetoric that vilifies the poor.  We are not all lazy, free-loaders.  Some of us are fighting physical or mental battles that you can’t see.  You all know what they say about assumptions….

We are still waiting on the decision for disability.  We’ve been waiting for almost a year. I know this can be a long process, but after today’s visit we are discouraged and just want this all over.

I know I have said it before, and probably a lot lately, but this is not the life we planned for.  Not the life we imagined when we were two young starry-eye kids planning their future. Never did we think we would be poor, we didn’t imagine to both be disabled in one way or another, we didn’t imagine so many things.

We are trying to adapt, to find new dreams, but it’s hard in the face of the adversities we have encountered.  We are trying to just trust in God and His perfect plan.  But when you are kicked repeatedly and you are already down, it takes it’s toll.

And for me that looks like indulging in one of my three compulsions- self harm, spending money we don’t have or compulsively eating.  Today my drug of choice was self harm.  The insides of my lower arm are carved up.  Im not sure why physical pain helps when I am hurting so badly, but it does, for a little while. And now a several hours later, the anger has subsided some, but a deep rooted, soul-crushing sadness has overcome me. I wish that we would catch a break, we need it.