Posted this on Facebook on Sunday night, but I wanted to re-post it here, so I can have all of these types of posts in one location. Who knows? Maybe someday I'll write a book about my adventure :-).

It really sucks to be sitting in my recliner, minding my own business, enjoying the stillness of the evening and suddenly feel the squeeze on my brain and know that soon my world will become a very, very dark place. I have been told that my battle is spiritual and that I need to get right with God (Been there. Done that. Standing redeemed and uncondemned before Him, thanks to the immeasurable gift

of His Son. You can condemn me if you want, but the fact of the matter is you're wrong.) I've been told my problem is emotional. Alright. Judge me for that then. I'm sure that will knock some sense into me and make it all better.
In all honesty, though, why is it so hard for people to accept that depression and other mental illnesses may be largely physical?! If you haven't struggled with it yourself and experienced firsthand the havoc one's body chemistry can wreak on a person's life, at least read up on it before you judge. You may be surprised at what you find.

Along my recovery journey, I have discovered that I have some pretty distorted world views. One of the major ones I have just recently become aware of is that I behave as if the world is as it ideally "should" be, rather than as it is.
In an ideal world, should people be loving and accepting? Yes.
Should they be forgiving? Yes.
Should they be kind? Yes.
Should I be secure enough to withstand any kind of personal attack because I know that my value lies in what God thinks of me and not in what others do? Yes.  

But the fact of the matter is that no one can truly love unconditionally. People are often not forgiving, and many times are unkind, and words and attitudes DO hurt me. So I can continue expecting the world to be a place that it is not, and try to force it into an ideal mold it will never fit it, bringing myself considerable grief and pain along the way, or I can accept the things I don't like as part of life, and take the steps I need to take to protect myself from them.

Gabby told me a couple days ago when she was upset because James was getting attention for something and she wasn't: "Mommy, I don't want to accept that life isn't fair!" Me neither, baby girl, but if we don't, it's going to chew us up and spit us out, because whether we want to accept it or not, it is what it is. We can chose to beat our head against a wall, or we can accept it and move on.

Anybody home?

I realized something tonight. I have always assumed that if someone is staring blankly off into space, there is no one home, that they are off in some world of their own and unaware of what is going on around them. I have learned, that at least in some cases, that is far from the truth.
Over the last few weeks, I have had times where I cannot speak. It's hard to describe because I do not understand it myself, but I will do my best to explain so that you can perhaps catch a glimpse of what it's like. Today, I was tired. I woke up, had breakfast, took a shower, then laid back down "for a minute". I fell asleep, dreamed pretty steadily, although I do not remember what I dreamed, woke up in a panic when Jason came into the bedroom for something and quickly went back to sleep, only to dream some more. Jason came back into the bedroom a little while later, around 1pm, and again I woke up. This time, I decided I would get up. I got up and struggled to make myself move. I vacuumed the living room (random thing to do fresh from a nap, I know, but I wanted to feel useful), then I decided to go for a walk to try to jump start some endorphins. I thought maybe if I got out in the sun and started walking, my energy would kick back in. Jason was talking to me as I was vacuuming and getting ready for my walk, and I heard every word he said, but it took so much energy to respond that my answers were short and monotone. Mentally, I was fully aware, but it took so much out of me to even speak.
I set out for my walk, but unfortunately, it did not have the effect I wanted. The leaves were so pretty, and I absorbed their beauty and watched as they fell like a downpour from the trees, but as I got about six blocks from the house, I noticed I was walking like a zombie. I wondered what the neighbors would think if they saw me shuffling my feet, with my arms limp at my side, but I kept walking. Then I got overwhelmingly tired. I just wanted to sit down on the edge of the sidewalk and, well, just sit there, but I knew I needed to get home, so I forced myself to keep walking.
When I got home, Jason tried to talk to me and once again, I completely understood what he was saying and wanted to answer, but I couldn't. I answered mentally, with full on sentences as I would if I could speak, but I did not have the energy, or the ability to get the words out of my mouth. Everything else in my body was working fine. I could walk. I could use my arms and hands. Nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. I could respond to Jason's cues to squeeze his hand, but I just couldn't get myself to speak. After a couple minutes, however, for whatever reason, my verbal ability came back and I was able to carry on a normal conversation and have been able to speak for the rest of the day.
As I was sitting in church tonight, it dawned on me that when I have met people who appear catatonic, or who answer with mono-syllables, or have a distant look in their eyes, I get really uncomfortable and avoid them, assuming that they aren't able to relate to their environment, but I have decided no more! No matter how people appear on the outside, I am going to assume that they are fully cognizant. I know that not all people have the same experience I do, and that not all people who appear distant are actually fully lucid, but some are, and I don't want to take the chance of hurting someone, or mistreating someone, who is already suffering as a prisoner in a body on the fritz. A little love and compassion can go a very long way.

My Village

A year and a half ago, when my mental illness started to really make itself known, I was very open about it. I think mostly because I was naïve and didn’t realize the cost of putting my “crap” out there for everyone to see. What I discovered is that when you put your crap out there, it sometimes gets flung right back at you and I was not ready for that. It hurt more than I care to admit, and I retreated into my shell.
I’m realizing, however, that I am not doing anyone any good by keeping my experience to myself. It is my hope that what I am going through will help others on both sides of the spectrum: those who are struggling with mental illness and those who love someone who is ill, but may not understand what they are going through or how to help.  So I’m putting on my poncho and my rubber boots, coming out of my shell, and putting my crap back out there. Feel free to fling it back at me. I’m ready for it this time.
Today is a good day for me. I seem to be coming out of my fog and am pretty close to my functional self again. This will likely last a few more days before I begin to gradually sink back down into the suffocating, life-sucking tentacles of depression again. My mental illness seems to be correlated to my monthly cycle, and if it follows the pattern it has been following for nearly two years now, I should be pretty miserable again within a couple weeks. But then again, some months aren't as bad. Maybe I'll get a Birthday/Christmas reprieve. We shall see.
Like I said, today is a good day, so I am making the most of it. My head is relatively clear and I have no desire to die, so I’ll take it, I will enjoy it, and I will put it to good use. I am hoping that over the next few days, I will be able to tell some of my story here, before I go back into survival mode for a few weeks.
I’m reading a lot about mental illness these days, trying to understand mine and give myself hope that I will be able to crawl my way out of this and become a fully functional human being again. I read something in Morning Has Broken, by Emme and Phillip Aronson, that actually prompted me to write this post. Phil writes:

Remember Hillary Clinton’s book, in which she talked about how it takes a village to raise a child? Well, it takes a village—and then some!—to help someone through a depression, and I was blessed to live among such loving, caring, supportive villagers. Sure, some of the natives got a little restless, and threw up their hands at what must have seemed to all concerned like frustrating behavior, but they were there for me the entire way, and I wouldn’t be here to write this account were it not for their amazing extra efforts.

I have been tremendously blessed by a group of friends and family who are supporting me on this journey. Some have been with me from the beginning and others have joined me along the way. Your support, love, encouragement and prayers have helped me more than I can say! I do not expect my friends/family to have all the answers. I do not expect you to even be able to point me in the right direction. And I definitely do not expect you to go through all of this with me without being fazed by my moods, my outbursts and the roller-coaster ride that comes with being part of my world. I know they are hard to take sometimes and I am truly sorry for the affect they have on you. But knowing that you love me even when you don’t understand, and knowing that you will forgive my weaknesses and pray for my strength is a huge source of comfort on this journey. The hugs, the prayers, the texts and conversations of support, and the help with the kids during doctors’ appointments and on the really rough days…I cannot thank you all enough. Thank you all for being part of my village. I am blessed.

Mush

My brain is mush today. I'm so frustrated with this. Counting the days until December 5th, when I get to see the psychiatrist. We've tried getting in earlier. I made this appointment as soon as I got out of the mental hospital in early October, and that was the first opening they had. My therapist even called them last week to see if there was any way to get in sooner, to no avail. So I wait, and eat lots of carbs and other serotonin rich foods in an attempt to stay functional. I don't even want to know how much weight I've put on. But I'd rather be fat and functional than skinny and rocking back and forth in a dark corner, holding my head because the "brain vice" is so strong. So I'm self-medicating with food, exercise and vitamins, and holding my breath until I can hopefully get some more permanent and consistent relief. I have tried handling this without meds, but I'm waving the white flag of surrender and begging, hoping, praying that the doctor will be able to find a medication that works for me. Please, Lord Jesus, please. I want my brain back. I want stability back. I want my life back!

Hush. Be still!

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What if I’m going crazy? Why did they leave me? Why does it still hurt so dang much?! “We don’t need your drama!” “You’re a control freak!” “Get off my phone!” “My problem is YOU!”
What if I’m wrong? What if God is angry at me? What if I never get over this? What if the medications don’t help? What if I end up like the naked old man on D block, crawling around on all fours, moaning?
What if I speak up and people hurt me? What if I don’t speak up and all this is for nothing? What if I speak up and find I have nothing helpful to say? What if people aren’t helped by what I’m going through? What if no one trusts me ever again when they know how crazy I really am?!

Shh. Be still.

Be still. Be still. How do I be still? How do I quiet myself? How do I get these thoughts to stop? Where is the off button? Is there an off button? Maybe there isn’t an off button. Maybe the shrink won’t be able to help me. Maybe I will be like this for the rest of my life. I can’t live like this for much longer. I just can’t! I’m tired. So very, very tired. Tired of hurting. Tired of struggling. Tired of trying to hold my head up each and every day. Tired of chasing the thoughts around in my head. Tired of wondering what others are thinking of me. Tired of waiting for the next blow from a friend and wondering whom it will come from. Tired…Tired… Tired…

“Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28

I’m here, Lord, trying to quiet my soul before you. Why can’t I quiet my soul? I am so very, very tired, and oh, so scared. I’m scared to be hurt. I’m scared the pain will never, ever stop. I’m scared I will be like the naked man on all fours. But I said that already. You’ve heard all this already, over and over and over like a never-ending record.

“Be still and know that I am God.” Psalm 46:10

I KNOW that you are God!! But what I DON’T know is why you are leaving me here! Why, God? Why have you left me in my pain? Why have you left me in the illness that seems to be descending heavier and heavier upon my soul?! Where are You?!

“Never will I leave you. Never will I forsake you.” Hebrews 13:5

No, Lord, and you never have.

“Sometimes God lets you hit rock bottom so that you will discover that He is the Rock at the bottom.” Dr. Tony Evans

Yes, Lord. You HAVE been my Rock. You have been my strength. Time after time you have carried me through, as you are doing right now, but Daddy, I’m running out of strength. Help me, dear Jesus! Make this all end! PLEASE give me your peace. Please give me relief. Please, dear God. I can’t take much more.

Molting

Have you ever seen a snake shed its skin? Me neither. Not in real life anyway. I've seen a few videos though.
Do you know why snakes shed their skin? Apparently, it's to get rid of their dead skin. We shed ours on a daily basis, but snakes do not. Instead, they shed their entire skin in one piece in only one day.
I've been restless the last few days. Not sad, and definitely not depressed. Just, well, restless. I'm walking a lot. Walked an hour this morning and another hour tonight, after putting in several hours of labor at CITP. My body is sore, but my mind needs the release that exercise brings. As I was walking tonight, trying to wrap my mind around what is going on in my head, in my heart and in my life, I felt strained, like I was trying to shed something old and bring in something new. And as I walked and prayed, the image of a moulting snake came to mind.
Did you know, according to the Forest Preserve District of Cook County (IL) that

For several days before a snake molts the eyes appear bluish or cloudy, the pupil cannot be seen, and they are said to be blind...During this period snakes do not eat but hide away as if they felt insecure.?

WOW! Talk about a powerful imagery! Snakes appear insecure as they prepare to shed the old and expose the new. The last year and a half have been brutal for me, full of changes and growth. I truly believe that part of the restlessness I'm feeling comes from the fact that it's time to move on. It's time to shed the old and expose the new. But as a snake molts, it crawls over rocks, rough surfaces and through narrow spaces to peel off the old skin. In the same way, as I shed the old me, the old habits and ways of thinking, there is the discomfort that comes from having to peal all that away. It would be nice if it would just fall off suddenly and be gone, but it doesn't work that way. I have to rub against rough surfaces and face the restless discomfort of peeling away the old to expose the new. When it is all said and done, however, oh the beauty!! The same site mentioned above says that once the snake has crawled over all of the rough surfaces and shed its skin, "The snake now is shiny, the colors bright, and the eyes clear."
I'm not done molting, but as I discussed this with God tonight on our walk, I got the distinct impression that while this may not exactly be a comfortable process, it will not be a painful one either and that no matter how frustrated and restless I may get, He will be walking through it all with me. When I get done, I too will be shiny, bright and my eyes will be clear with a new zest for life!
I'm tired of carrying around the dead weight of decisions gone bad, relationships gone sour and poor choices that have long since past. It's time to shed the old skin and expose the new, time to shed the dull, faded me for the vibrant colorful one that has been lying underneath this entire time.

Why a New Blog?

A little over a year ago, I started a blog entitled Tales of the Looney Bin. I was told I shouldn't call it that, but I needed to. At that time in my life, and months afterwards, I was defined in my mind by my mental illness and I needed to come to terms with that. I have realized recently, however, that I am much more than mentally ill. My depression/anxiety are a part of me, yes. And they affect my life and the lives of those around me, but they are not me. I am so much more than that, and so I have decided to tell the tales of my life without the shadow of mental illness staring at me from the title line :-).
I am not sure yet what feel this blog will take. I go through stages when all I want to do is write and then I go through dry spells when nothing coherent will come out of my fingers. I also have yet to determine how much of what I go through I want to put in the public eye and how much of it is better to keep to myself. One of my big struggles in life is one that I think many of us can relate to, and that is putting too much emphasis on what others think, so having my life as an open book in a public forum has proven to be very challenging in the past. We shall see how this all plays out :-).
I am tired today, so the myriad of subjects I wanted to blog about all week long have taken a backseat in my brain and do not wish to be expelled onto the computer screen for the time being. I would like to share, however, an excerpt I read in "Stories for the Heart", a book of short stories compiled by Alice Gray. The excerpt I read is entitled "If I Had My Life to Live Over", by Brother Jeremiah.

If I had my life to live over again, I'd try to make more mistakes next time. I would relax. I would limber up. I would be sillier than I have been this trip. I know of very few things I would take seriously. I would take more trips. I would climb more mountains, swim more rivers and watch more sunsets. I would do more walking and looking. I would eat more ice cream and fewer beans. I would have more actual troubles and fewer imaginary ones. You see, I am one of those people who lives prophylactically and sensibly and sanely hour after hour, day after day. Oh, I've had my moments; and if I had to do it over again, I'd have more of them. In fact, I'd try to have nothing else. Just moments, one after another, instead of living so many years ahead each day. I have been one of those people who never go anywhere without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, a gargle, a raincoat, aspirin and a parachute. If I had it to do over again, I would go places, do things, and travel lighter than I have.
If I had my life to live over, I would ride on more merry-go-rounds--pick more daisies.