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.


My dear brother has me hooked on a song by Ed Sheehan – Supermarket Flowers.  He wrote it for his grandmother who had recently passed. If you haven’t heard it, and are in the mood for a good ugly cry open youtube and have a listen.

When I hear the song I think about my mom. But I am not so sure it’s MY mom I am thinking about.  I think it’s partially her, and partially the mom I wish she was.  The mom who always picks you up when you fall.  Needless to say, every time I listen to it at the very least I get choked up, but usually I shed a few tears and often have a good ugly cry.

There is a line towards to the end of the song where he says:

You were an angel in the shape of my mum
You got to see the person that I have become

That bit of the song made me wonder every time. Obviously Ed’s grandmother had been proud of him, look at what he had accomplished.  But I wondered what my mom thought. My gut told me that I am an embarrassment.  On disability, poor, have mental illness, never finished college, never got that “big job”, never really did much with my life in term of success the way the world defines it. I have a husband who worked his butt off to support us for 20+ years, but then became disabled as well. We lost our house, our car.  We are not like anyone else in our family financially or career-wise.  My sister got a bachelor’s degree, a master’s degree and became a dually licensed therapist, with her own practice and employees.  Her and her husband make a whole lot of money, and live a life where they don’t have to worry that the next time her kid grows out of sneakers it will break their budget beyond repair.  She is not obese, and she is “the pretty one”.   My brother is what I would consider a big whig at one of the largest banks in America.  He is extremely successful and has climbed the ladder at the company from the ground up.

So after weeks of wondering what my mom would say if I asked her about “the person I have become”.

So the other day, on a particularly sad day, I thought what the heck let’s make it worse and ask her.

Me: (8:00am) Please don’t call me back about this- I’ll cry and I’ve cried enough today- are you disappointed in the way my life has turned out?  Disappointed in who I became?

Mom: (2:07pm) Am I supposed to answer this? U said not to call you.

Me: (2:08pm) Yes you can text, just don’t call, if I hear your voice I’ll cry.

Mom: (2:11pm) No I am not disappointed in you. I am disappointed you don’t have the support you need to shine.


What does that mean?  I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I can’t shake my feelings of sadness. My mom isn’t disappointed IN me, but she’s disappointed in my life.  She’s disappointed I don’t “shine” in her eyes.

Shine- what could I do that would make me shine in her eyes? Make lots of money? Have a really good job?  Have children without mental health issues? Not have mental illness myself?

I know at least a part of it she blames on my husband.  My sister, step-father and mother have all made comments over the years that make it obvious they don’t like certain things about him.  My step-father went so far as to say that my husband “mis-uses” me.

My husband doesn’t misuse me.  And it’s not his fault I don’t shine.  I made the choices that have made me who I am and if I don’t shine that’s on me.

I know I am fat and not as pretty as my sister. I got my dad’s genes, I was doomed before I was born.

I know I didn’t graduate college (not for poor grades or lack of funding – which my parents didn’t help me with AT ALL might I add) but because of different priorities- namely wanting to be a wife and mother.

I know we are poor and that’s an embarrassment. I know we drive beat up vehicles that are loud and ugly.

I know we don’t buy locally sourced organic food.

I know I don’t make my own soap, lotion, and deodorant.

I know we don’t grow 99% of what we eat.

I know that I have children with issues and I know you blame me and my parenting for them.  I swear if I could have done something that would have prevented, autism, bipolar, ADHD and anxiety I would have done anything. I would have traded my life for it, because my children will suffer their entire lives.

Shine.  The word just keep rolling over in my head.

I don’t shine… am I tarnished silver? That with a little polishing could shine again?  Am I a star that has lost it’s shine because it’s dying and it’s light is flickering?  Am I like flat or matte paint and no matter what I do, I will never become high-gloss?

I don’t think there was ever shine in me.  I think that shine was put out long before I ever became an adult.

But that doesn’t change the fact that I will never be someone my mom is proud of.  Ive talked to a friend and my husband about this, and they both tell me not to let it bother me.  My husband says it’s not an insult (sorry I don’t buy it).  My friend told me not to worry about it because she’s not the most supportive person in the world, and that money isn’t everything.  And yes she’s right.  But…


No matter how old you are you want your mother to love you, to be proud of you and to “be there”. No matter how old you get you want your mother.

I have had an extremely emotional week.  Not for any particular reason. I am just sad, and when I am not sad I am angry, frustrated or irritated.

Tomorrow I have to go to my mom’s.  My sister will be there too.  I offered to let my husband stay home.  He’s sore from falling down the stairs, and pretty much just from living and we both feel like he will be judged because of what he can and can’t do.  But the thought of going alone is terrifying.  I’m dreading it, I can’t wait for the day to be over- and it hasn’t even happened yet.

Well I guess that’s all, nothing really to say other than I am not doing well at all.


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.

Feeling Nostalgic

Today on the way home from church hubby was talking about a complement he received from someone who used to be a customer at his business. It made me sad, thinking about all the things that have been taken away from him because of his illness. Running 5Ks, Martial Arts, our Home, our car, his successful business, his ability to keep up with everything around the house- the maintenance of the house and the cars. He does his best to convince me he isn’t affected but I feel it for him.

But the one thing we can count on in sickness and health, poorer and poorer ( 😉 ), is each other. As I edge closer to my 40th birthday in a couple months I am thinking more and more about my life past, present and future.

Tonight I am grateful for my husband. Whether he is healthy or sick, if we are broke or have a little extra cash, nothing changes – our love. Well- that’s not true the longer we are together the more I love him. I’ve been having the Amazon Echo play songs from when we were first together.

We were two kids, fighting against the world together- the doubters and scoffers, convinced that two teenagers would end up together. But we are coming up on 22 years together. That means I have been with him more than half my life. He has always supported me, in anything I do. Tonight at dinner I looked up at a frame we have on a table by the door and I saw this

For those of you unable to read his hen scratch ( 😉) it says I love you because- and he added you give all that you have to us. I wanted to cry. I looked at him and said – lately I haven’t had much to give, and he said “but you give what you have, that’s what makes it so special”.

He may not make grand gestures in front of the world showing how much he loves me- but I don’t need that- What matters is what he does here at home.

This past year has been hell. Or at least what I imagine hell would be like, but through it all we have held on to each other and to God and we are still here. We aren’t to the summit of this mountain we are facing, but it’s nice to know I have a partner who won’t let me fall.

And yet through the hell off this past year I had my biggest prayer answered. He came to Christ. He was born again and baptized. Despite attack after attack from the enemy, he has stood strong in that faith.

If all this was what we had to face for him to find his relationship with Jesus, then it’s all worth it.

On the cusp of 2018….

Here we are days away from a new year…. a fresh start?  I think that’s poppycock.  I will be the same person with the same problems on January 1st that I had on December 31st. I think New Year is just another stupid holiday that makes people set unrealistic expectations of themselves for the next 12 months.  And I admit in the past I have been no different…. some of my previous “resolutions”

I will lose weight

I will lose weight

I will lose 50lbs

I will lose 100lbs

I will work out

I will run a marathon…

And the list could go on and on. Well I tell you right now it’s all a bunch of BS invented by  weight loss companies, exercise equipments companies, the food industry, the gyms….

And I still fall prey to the whole thing.  I’ve been thinking I need a generalized goal – like find joy.  And then the steps I need to take to get to that destination of joy… of course I need to figure out what gives me joy…. and then come up with ways/things that will bring me there.  And to be honest it all sounds like too much work.

Honestly, I think my goal for 2018 is to make it through it.  And the only way to do that is to take it one day at a time.  Do I have goals? Sure.  I want to read more books, I read/listened to 31 this year, I’d like to make it 52 this year. And I would like to try to knit again.  But I am going to put that in the maybe column.  Other than that, I can’t make goals…. because goals like weight loss, exercise, budgeting I always end up failing at, and it makes things worse not better.

Maybe this all sounds like a big ole pity  party, and maybe it is, but I have been thinking a lot about it lately as I have been seeing all these posts about “New Year, New You” on Facebook.  No I won’t magically wake up as someone new on New Years Day, and if I could it would be someone in her 20s, who is thin, without gray/white hair, no mental health issues, happy, comfortable financially – not rich just comfortable, debt free, and ok with who she is… heck know who she is. How’s that for unrealistic.

Blah.  That’s all I can think right now.  I feel like crap.

First ECT

I had my first ECT treatment today. I got to the hospital and the first thing the nurse did (well after I changed into their stylish gowns ha ha) was start my IV. After that the doctor came in and dida little bit of a physical just to make sure everything was good and they checked out the EKG I had last month.

After all that was done they brought me back to the OR. My question is this why is it that the OR is so much colder than the rest of the hospital. The ride to the OR it’s like it’s getting colder and colder and colder.

Once I was in the OR they put and oxygen mask over my face while they were talking and said that they were going to be injecting my IV and I say yes with something that burns as I felt the burn, at this point I could feel my soul start to fade and as I was drifting off I felt them put the ciff on my leg. The cuff was intended to be tightened so the medicine that they give you that’s the muscle relaxer won’t get down there and so only your big toe wiggles and that’s how they tell that you’re having the seizure.

The next thing I remember is waking up in the recovery room with a really bad headache and feeling nauseous and panicked because I didn’t know how my daughter got to school I thought we had left her at home alone keeping in mind she’s only seven this is a very disconcerting thought. I made the nurse, husband on his cell phone and find out, and he reminded me we had dropped her off at a friends house.

The next little while I was been to recovery trying to get rid of the headache and the nausea with Tylenol and Zofran after they felt that I was stable enough and awake enough they brought me back to my original room where I recovered for a little bit longer and they let me have ginger ale and graham crackers and after that I was free to go.

After we left the hospital I felt ok. I wasn’t happy and kitty but I also didn’t feel horrible. I don’t know it’s hard to explain maybe a little better- so I had hoped that this was working. But once I got home and all the meds wear off the overwhelming sense of doom, those butterflies in your stomach and the anxiety that makes me shake inside came back. Along with a headache so I’ve been taking Advil and trying to relax.

But wouldn’t you know this is the day my kids decide that it’s time for World War III. My next treatment is on Monday I will definitely update again after that.

One funny thing was when I was explaining to my daughter that I had surgery and she said where and I said on my brain she was like on your brain? and I said yes they put electricity into my brain and she said oh you mean like Frankenstein. I had to kind a laugh at that.