You Are Not Alone

Just a reminder to all of you.

 

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Read stories of others here:

Not Alone at NAMI

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Reclaiming My Childhood

For a long time, my memories of my childhood were vague and felt very, very distant.  In part because I actively shied away from fully remembering.  I’ve spoken of  being raped when I was nine years old.  However, as I approach 50, I find myself remembering happy times and a loving family.  Memories of great adventures with cousins, large family gatherings and celebrations, church family, friends at school and in the neighborhood; all crowding forth in my mind lie whispers.  It has moved me to look at the one family photo album that I managed to salvage after my mom’s death.  So many great snapshots that made me smile and laugh.    I want it back.  I want it all back: the fun, the struggle, the pain, the love.  All of it shaped who I am today.

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I have reached out and reconnected with some family and friends on social media and will continue in my efforts.  I’m enjoying seeing these amazing people and learning about who they are now.  I really hope to return to NC sometime in 2018 to see them in person.

I feel like I was missing a part of me and now I am working to reclaim it. To make myself whole.   Yes, it includes some really painful and sad parts but it also includes some really amazing, happy and loving parts as well.

To my friends and family, please share stories with me.  I may not remember them all clearly but the more I hear, the more I remember and the more I feel myself.

 

Coping

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Still waiting from a decision on my disability claim.  Feeling frustrated and discouraged.  Felt myself about to drown in the dark pool of depression.  My wolfcub suggested we make real all the talk about selling our crafts.  So I have an Etsy shop!  He makes chain mail jewelry and I, as you know, make beaded stuff.   My shop is Dragon Wolf Crafts 

I am slowly adding inventory to the shop.  Taking good pictures has been a challenge but I think I have some decent ones.

Making is wonderful and each completed piece brings me fulfillment.  I have a reminder set so I can spend some time every day working on either crafting or on the shop.  It’s good to have some structure to my days. I was getting lost.

So that’s the good.  I’m still fretting about money because bills need to be paid.  I added up how much it would take to make me current and it’s over $2000 with interest adding up every day.   Each company offers help if you have some small income but they don’t have anything if you are flat ass broke like I am.  Hopefully, the shop will allow me to pay something.

I am in a weird mental state right now.  Hopeful but not.  Really discouraged by politics and what feels like lack of social change.  Discouraged by having no money and not hearing  about my disability claim.  But I make things!  Pretty things.  And I have a shop that may generate some income.  I have friends and family who love and support me.  Plus it is Secret Santa season!  And I get to send out nifty holiday cards all over the country.   But I’ve been sleeping poorly.  And I’m tired all the time. And my hands hurt.

So, yeah. Weird mental/emotional state of late.

 

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Semicolon

So, last Thursday was the perfect storm of just too many things gone wrong.  I’ve been having very bad pain days I think partially due to winter finally arriving to the Valley of the Sun(winter being relative but it is a change in weather nevertheless).   I had finally made contact with a therapist and I was nearly giddy at the prospect of getting into therapy and on the road to better mental health. The appointment was originally set for early December but a cancellation allowed me a chance for last Thursday.  Giddy!  Glee!  Unfortunately, I failed to ask a vital question when setting up my appointment.   They didn’t take my insurance and as y’all know I am broke ass.  I didn’t have the $225 or really, any money for the initial appointment.  So I thanked the front office person and left.

I sat in my car and cried.  I started off back home and my gas light came on.  I cried some more.  It’s a miracle I didn’t have an accident.  I did make it home though.

I felt so overwhelmed with what I felt was failure.

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I took a deep breath. I put the pills away.  And then I took a nap and cuddled with my kittens.

I still feel fragile.  And I’m cranky. Moody.  All of that fun stuff.  Dreading the holidays and feeling isolated.

I have $0.51 in the bank.  I would like to treat myself to Moravian sugar cookies.  A taste from home.

But I’m still here.  My story continues.

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How To Be a Good Mental Patient, Part 1: Before You’re Medicated

Very useful! Will have my own thoughts on recent events in my life up soon.

Miss Misery

(Note: I am not a medical doctor and cannot give professional advice. All of the following is my opinion, based on my experience as a patient.)

Psychiatric doctors are fascinating people*. They, more than most, are able to understand human consciousness as a function of biology. They see right through the misconception that the mind is greater than what the brain is capable of generating.

And they also have a medical degree, so you should probably listen to them.

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The questions that are asked in this article are the questions I would have deeply benefitted from knowing the answers to when I first stepped foot into a psychiatrist’s office almost ten years ago. Hopefully, the answers I have provided (which are, at best, all partial) will aid you in your journey toward finding effective psychiatric help.

Q) Will taking psych meds change my personality?

A) The short answer is…

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Drowning

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On my rollercoaster ride of depression, I’m currently at a very, very low point.  I was finally able to connect with a therapist and my first session is tomorrow.  So there’s that.  I’ve been either sleeping too little or too much.  For the past several days, I’ve not been able to talk myself into getting out of bed until the afternoon.  I feel so useless.  Like why bother going through the motions.  I’ve been eating either way too little or too much of the wrong things.

Still waiting on a decision on my disability.  Meanwhile, I need food, gas, pet supplies. All of my bills are overdue.  I have no answers for the nice folks that keep calling me about them or sending me letters or email. Many of my clothes don’t fit anymore.  It’d be nice to have a pair of orthopedic slippers for around the house.  It’d be nice to go to a movie.

I’ve been trying to read or listen to music but that’s not really working on my anxiety.  It helps for a little while.  And I guess those small moments will have to do for now.  My dreams are full of all kinds of anxiety induced monsters.

I am hoping that therapy will help.  Except I am anxious about the added expense on top of everything else.  But I know I need the help.  But I will continue to fret.

As always, if you can help, here is my YouCaring page: A Helping Hand 

And my PayPal

 

 

State of My Head

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 Artist: TheHeadbanger93 Deviantart

 

Today I spent five hours sitting in a waiting room at the local DES office.  It was crowded and noisy.  Filled with all types of people: adults, singles, couples, parents with children.  All there because we are desperate and needy.  I saw dirty, unkempt people.  And neat, clean people.  And all those in between.  I saw people lugging all of their wordly belongings to this place in hopes of maybe getting help.

As well, I saw parents entertaining their kids.  Trying to make this long, often humiliating process a bit less trying and boring.  I saw people helping people.  Explaining the process to those new to it.  Encouraging worn down parents with fussy kids.

By the end, I felt as though I’d joined a fellowship of a sort.  I have a shiny new EBT card so I can now buy food and take some of the burden off my partner.

Sitting there, I was reminded of my childhood when we had to go check in with the government and assure them that no, we had not suddenly come into money and yes, we did still need food assistance.  Food insecurity is a terrible way to live.  Back then, we had actual color coded packets of vouchers.  It was embarrasing to go shopping and pull those out.  At least with the card,  you don’t stand out as much.

I sat in my car for a moment and felt…something..nothing.  I am dependent. Dependent on my partner. Dependent on my friends.  Dependent on the meager services provided by the government.  Dependent.

I’m Fine Redux

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I am very much not okay.  It’s why I haven’t blogged in so very long.  I am an emotional wreck.  Remember how I was having trouble sleeping?  Well, that’s over.  I’m now sleeping 10/11/12 hours a day or more.  I am making it to appointments.  I do eventually drag myself out of bed and take care of the critters.

My partner has been cooking for me.  Finding delicious ways to meet my restricted dietary needs.

I’ve been dreaming vivid dreams about old friends and places.

A dear friend gave us money when things got dire at the beginning of the month.  Really hoping my disability appeal will go through.  Though I think we’ve found a few things to cut expenses.  But medical stuff continues to stack up.  We’ve both had our medications tweaked.  We both need dental procedures.  My partner is getting a couple of other necessary medical procedures.  My orthotics cost more than expected. Not a lot more but still.  ~sigh~

I just want to disappear in a puff of despair.

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