Giving Thanks

This Thanksgiving week for me has been interesting, relaxing, and eye-opening. As many of you know, holidays are not quite what they "should" be for my family. My brother has been in prison for ten years, and since that first holiday without him, which was a Thanksgiving, the magic has left most of these annual celebrations. Also, yesterday would have been the birthday of a dear friend who passed away last year.

Last year, I would have looked at the situation a little differently, but the way I approached the week has helped me to realize the progress I have been making. There are so many stars in the darkness of my sky, and I can see them now. I am engaged to a beautiful man who loves me unconditionally. I got to spend a week with both chosen and given family and realize how truly lucky I am to have such grounding and supportive people in my life. I may have had my moments over the week, but I am okay. I can feel love. I can feel safety. I can feel, and that it so much more than I was capable of one year ago. I am thankful for the return of my ability to feel human.

I may be a day late, but I am thankful for the struggle that led me to this point in my life. I am thankful for being me. And while that may seem selfish, I have not been able to say that in a long time. I am beginning to love myself again, and to me, there is no better gift in the entire world.

Thank you all for continuing to be a part of the many journeys that make our lives both connected and interesting. 

Mental Health, Part II

Although I was less than two weeks into trying to live a functional life again, I thought things were going fairly well, even with the growing pains, which tend to come with all major life changes anyway. My friend and I decided to go for a late-night leg day at the gym, which always makes me feel better, but there was something extremely important that I hadn't thought about since the first day I got my prescriptions from WPIC. There are side effects! (Now is the part where you think about how I slapped myself in the face when I became coherent again.) The side effects in question involve balance, coordination, etc. 

So I thought nothing of putting two plates on (225 pounds total) after our warm-up set, which is typically something I can rep 8-12 times, depending on what set we're talking about. It was just another day at the gym with only a moderately heavy weight on the second set of the night. But something happened on rep five. I didn't feel right--definitely not like myself. In that instant of feeling off-kilter, I nearly ended up with a much worse injury than I did. I felt the forward lean, the bar shifting, and I just let it take me down to the safety guards that were placed just a little too low, unfortunately. Imagine your spine bending into a backwards C, then getting compressed with 225 pounds of weight. Not fun. I knew something dreadful had happened the instant I let go of the bar. My knees came to the ground, and that was the last time I was able to stand without pain. That was the last time I would walk for three days, and in those three days, I thought for sure that there would be surgery, and I began thinking of the then great possibility that I would never walk again. Someone like me is not meant to be kept still. 

After the 10-hour ER visit that itself included buttloads of minimally effective narcotics--one of which made me see writing appearing across the walls a few times--the next 12 days included more narcotics, various other medications (laxatives, stool softeners, steroids, psych meds, etc.), hospitalization, and even more hospitalization at an inpatient rehabilitation facility, where I spent four hours every day doing intensive therapy. Each day, there was progress...along with a fuckload of pain. I'm home now, and there is still such a long way to go before I can ever go back to how my life used to be. I'm still terrified that I won't get to do that. 

What does this have to do with mental health? 

For me, everything. Again, I am not one to be kept still. My body is my tool of expression, whether that be through lifting weights, dancing, or playing music. My body is my ultimate project, and the gym will forever be my home--the place where I found my true self and can connect with that self on the deepest level. I am at peace when I am alone with those weights. There is pain and struggle, but it is for a purpose, and the progress that comes with that kind of hard work and dedication is doubly motivating. There are bad days, of course, but persistence always wins. Always. I am a physical being. I am so much so a physical being that when I cannot express myself in these ways, my mind unravels. 

The meltdowns and periods of "not being okay" went to the extreme this weekend. Think somewhere about level nine, in a public place. All I have been thinking about is getting back to being myself. I physically do not feel right when my body is restricted this way. I feel uncomfortable in my skin when it is not allowed to move freely. I cannot look at myself without feeling that same level of discomfort. I see my body changing before my eyes because I am not allowed to use it the way I know I need to. It's disheartening to see all of your hard work disintegrate right in front of your face. Not only was this my life, but this was my livelihood, as I was scheduled to begin transitioning back to work next Monday. Obviously, with such a severe injury and limited mobility in my lumbar spine, personal training is kind of impossible at this point. (Now is when I attempt to avoid getting sucked into thinking about all the implications this has on my future and my life's ultimate purpose, in order to avoid thinking further about career options/opportunities that I may or may not have missed.)

I am struggling, but tomorrow is my appointment with Sports Medicine at UPMC, and I am hoping they can help alleviate some of my concerns. Being active again will be on my mind until it is able to happen again. I think what makes this a little more challenging is that exercise has proven to be one of the most important factors in controlling my ability to regulate my emotions and increase my level of tolerance when it comes to overstimulation. I seem to be dealing with more than one demon at a time when my defenses are already down. I don't really know much about how to handle this, and I feel like it's taking its toll on those around me. I will hopefully be able to return to therapy on Wednesday when I return for a second intake session, but there might be some insurance barriers. Those same insurance barriers may prevent me from getting medical assistance from the state, food stamps, and the like, though I am not sure if they will inhibit my ability to obtain SSDI and SSI funds. (As you can see, I am finding it harder and harder to stay in the moment. I lose control so much more easily, and quickly.) 

This is why I want to study what I want to study, if I ever get the chance, because I know I am not the only one who benefits or can benefit to this extent from a combination of exercise and traditional psychotherapy methods. 

On Mental Health

Almost one month ago, I was taken to Western Psychiatric Institute and Clinic, ultimately for attempting to slice my own arm open, which would have occurred if not for the timely interruption made by my boyfriend. But there were other reasons that needed to happen anyway. I was non-functional in almost every aspect of my life, and my meltdowns were getting longer, scarier, and more violent, and they would leave me more drained than ever before. I had gone so long without knowing what it felt like to have a "good" day--or even a decent--one that I just didn't see the point in fighting with myself anymore.

I think one of the biggest realizations I have made in these past three weeks is that I am not fighting with myself; I am fighting for myself.

I've written every single day since coming home, and I had written eleven out of the thirteen days I spent as a patient on Floor 13. I wrote enough in those 13 days to fill almost 100 pages.

This weekend was not good. I had meltdowns each one of the last four days or so. I remember falling back into saying that none of it mattered last night. I wanted to run away and let something horrible happen to me. I wanted it to end. The meltdown would subside for a few minutes at a time as we practiced various techniques, but it would always come back just as intensely as before. Two to three hours of that is exhausting. It is understandable that I felt like a failure. (Notice how I am not saying that I believe it, but I am acknowledging that it is what I felt at the time, and that a reasonable person might come to a similar conclusion in those circumstances.)

I've had a bad couple of days, and we are still learning why. We might have made some progress today.

I had been getting on the bus, attending partial for six hours a day, getting on another bus, and then spending two hours in the gym before getting on another bus or walking/getting a ride home. Then I would end up having meltdowns or shutting down around 6:30 or 7:00 each night. The pattern became clear this afternoon when I started to notice that feeling of losing control of my mind, body, and environment. I made the choice to come home after attending the program to give myself a break from social interaction and even social presence. It's almost 7:00 now, and even though I felt the stress building and needed to lie here with my face in a pillow for about fifteen minutes, I am not anywhere near as overstimulated or overwhelmed as I have been at this time for the past week or so. My plan is to walk or get the bus to the gym at the time I had been going before, which is 8:30 or 9:00 pm. I am going to experiment with this to see if it affects my meltdowns in anyway.

Having to chart my own behaviors, even if it is just duration for now, is still very strange to me. But it keeps me honest about the progress I've been making. Having the schedule and checklist has helped me avoid the anxiety that comes with trying to decide what to do and when to do it, decreasing my overall level of anxiety so that triggering events are more manageable. The goal seems to be to create an optimally functioning version of me, however imperfect he may be, so that I have the capacity to handle my obstacles, regulate my emotions, and function as an independent adult in society. This is a long term goal in many ways. Right now, the goal is to make it there and be present each moment of the program.

The goal is to observe, describe, and understand.
Without judgment.

Having written about mindfulness for so long, I find it funny that--now confronted with working the philosophy into every facet of my being--I am having an extremely difficult time. But people are working with me, and they are also working to understand me. I haven't seen her in a few days, but I met a girl in my group that also has Asperger's, though she was only very recently diagnosed. Knowing that and being able to talk with her about things that no one else in the room really understood helped me feel much more comfortable, even on days when she wasn't there. I just needed that initial welcoming feeling, and it didn't come from the typical gestures offered by our society. It came from simply knowing there was someone else like me going through the same thing, sitting right next to me.

One important thing I have finally stopped is allowing myself to write when I am in a cycle of negative thoughts. I have learned to put the pen down or close the computer. I come back to writing when I am in a space that is more neutral. Writing down negative, irrational, or catastrophising thoughts only serves to make them more concrete. It strengthens them, and I no longer desire to give strength to the negativity by which I have sworn for so many years. That doesn't mean I'm doing that well with it at the moment, but I am working on it.

I am working. And it really is like working every minute of the day. But hopefully, in time, it'll be like riding a bike, and I will never have to revisit those dark moments as the person I was when I lived them.

I want things in life, though I don't know how to get them. One of the hardest things for me to do is be 100 percent present. My brain runs in so many different directions at the same time, and this is hardly something I can control. I don't have one train of thought. I have at least seven, it seems. Sometimes it feels as if I am watching seven TVs in my head and still trying to pay attention to the world around me. Even if one of those TVs can be turned off, it's not like I can access them all at the same time. I feel like it'd be like playing Wac-a-Mole. But maybe there are skills I have not learned yet. Maybe this is something I actually can handle. (Again, as you can see, staying in the present is hard.)

My boyfriend has been helping me identify patterns, try new distress tolerance/distraction techniques, and he has even been writing quite detailed descriptions of my meltdowns when they do occur. That last one gets me every time. It's one thing to see it written about a seven-year-old boy who can't speak. It's entirely different to see that those words are referring to YOU. I've just never been able to put myself into the other person's shoes enough to actually visualize how my behavior appears to others. Having a partner so dedicated to helping you be the best you can be is absolutely incredible. I would not be able to do this without him.

I am beginning to be more comfortable asserting myself when I need something, though this is by no means predictable. While I sometimes feel that I am moving backwards, I know that adjusting to so many new things--especially new ways of thinking and approaching situations--will cause things to get worse before they get better in many ways. I am accepting of this. Change can be painful, and pain is not necessarily good or bad. Pain is just pain.

Nothing worth having is ever easy. And my life must be worth having if I am working this damn hard to make sure that it can be better.

Quiet Time

Today I've oscillated between being full of energy and drive and being so completely engulfed in my own anxiety/misery that my brain decided being asleep for 17+ hours was a more appealing option than staying awake and resolving whatever issues it's been having. In the last several months, I've noticed that I have been falling more quickly from a generally positive state to a rather miserable one, and the fall has been getting harder and harder to resist. I'm running out of energy to deal with this, all the while still fighting increasingly debilitating anxiety and the prospect of maybe getting one meal a day for an indefinite period of time.

My brain is all over the place anymore. I can't finish anything I start, and sometimes the anxiety I feel about having to do something completely overwhelms me to the point where I don't even begin whatever it was I had planned to do. Big or small, it seems that any task is enough to roll this snowball downhill, and it starts the instant I open my eyes every morning and doesn't stop until I pass out from exhaustion, long after lying down to attempt sleep.

Mere annoyances have become triggers, and triggers have become automatic switches that send me from zero to meltdown in about as much time as it took you to read this sentence.

I've more or less lost whatever it was in college that kept me so focused and able to be so productive and functional. Granted, I wasn't the best at coping then either, but I thought I had gotten past all of this. I only know part of the problem, and I know nothing of the solution. My brain is already several steps ahead, and I really can't trick it into doing anything once it gets going in a certain direction. I don't know how to bring myself back. Most of the time, it seems completely illogical that any of these skills will work for me--since I know how they work or what the ultimate aim is--so I get more upset when someone tells me what to do to calm myself down, refocus, etc. I just don't work that way, and I need to find things that really DO help. Maybe some of the issue is that things that help other people actually make it worse for me, or they make it more likely that I will exhibit some sort of behavior or have an outburst in the future. I've never really had a good chance to analyze myself because once I am removed from the situation, the feelings get locked away.
Every now and then, I am able to access that information and translate into words, often poetically, and I gain a little more insight into the puzzle of how this lump of cells in my head works. Unfortunately, that little bit just isn't enough most of the time.

I was able to get a decent workout tonight, take a nice long walk home, and sit here for a little bit before the noise came back into the picture. I feel close to the words I'm writing, and the silence I've had has been helpful. My head feels a little less like a whirlwind, and I don't feel like I have eight TV sets to watch at once in my head while trying to navigate my way through the day. (Maybe just two right now.)

So it's clear that I'm depressed and that I have been for some time. It's also becoming more clear that it may not be depression alone, which would explain why medication hasn't ever helped that much. Severe anxiety, ADHD, bipolar depression, and the big one, of course. It's not surprising, but I always thought they were all part of the same thing. But now I realize that the reason I have never really been completely okay is that, at any given time, I am dealing with one or more of these things. Sometimes, I'm just fucking anxious. And sometimes, I just can't focus. And I'm talking can't focus long enough to finish brushing my teeth or get something out of the fridge, in addition to the more important tasks of everyday life.

I am unable to do this on my own, and I don't know where to start. And even if you told me, I probably wouldn't get to doing it anyway, which has become quite a problem for me.

The noise is coming back, and my heart is starting to race again. No reason, really. But I guess that means I'm done for now.

No Way Out

I am getting very tired of having more bad days than good. I'm also just tired. I haven't been able to eat even half of what I am supposed to on a daily basis, partly from lack of appetite and partly from not having food. I feel out of it all the time, and I sleep a good 16 hours a day at least. I've thought about doing some pretty stupid things, none of which are worth the time to repeat here. I have been anxious and in meltdown mode for a week straight. Anything and everything can set me off, and I don't like the person I become when that happens. Nothing is working anymore. I may have a job again in a few months if I can figure out how to be a normal person. I'm still not sure what "taking a break" means. I'm fired but not fired? It's not as if it makes much of a difference. My last paycheck wasn't even for 100 dollars.

We are apparently going to a food bank this week.
I almost started drinking maple syrup this evening.

I was told that there are some people at the DoD who are impressed with my resume. But I've been told that before, so I'm not expecting much to come out of it. Even if it did, given my history, I would probably fail at that too. Whatever it is.

I've already learned that I am just not capable of doing anything I have ever wanted to do, which is probably why no one wants to give me the chance. Maybe they all see something I haven't been able to see until now.

A normal person would take some menial job and just deal with it. But we already know what happens to me when I have to work in a customer service environment. I'd be okay with it if I could spend less than three hours trying to get myself out of bed because I am freaking out about whether I need to shower or eat first.

I feel like everything in my life is getting really out of control.
I really don't understand how this always happens or what I can do.

Am I just not capable of doing this? Of living and functioning like everyone else? Of doing what I need to do and being happy? I am starting to believe it more and more.

There really is no way out. And I don't want to live with that.

Connected

You are the most amazing person to have ever come into my life, and I never want to let you go. This time, I know for sure. But you were right, as you often are. It's one of the things I love about you the most. You are intelligent, and you are more like me than you ever realized before. I did think those things, briefly. I allowed them to play out in my head, over and over again, because I knew that resisting those thoughts and feelings would only make it more difficult for me to understand what I needed to do. I have learned to mostly allow myself to experience without analyzing--without passing judgment. That has been the most helpful skill in controlling my anxiety and meltdowns. But it is not always easy. There will always be days like today.

However, in allowing myself to experience that world in my mind, I came back to the same conclusion I had reached numerous times before. Of course I still felt things. But those feelings are for a person from a different time, and they come from a person from a different time. I have made the decision to love truly and completely the one person that is right for the me that exists in the here and now, not the past. 

I want to believe that I have grown into more of the kind of partner I want to be--that I have learned from my mistakes. 

I don't want this to end like all the others, and I know that it comes down to my actions in the end. I must choose to better myself. I must choose to fight all the time. I can't let myself fall into the same patterns as before. I'm learning how not to do that, and I am only succeeding part of the time. 

But you are patient. And I can hear everything I need to in the tone of your voice. And I don't get that with everyone. It's almost as if the actual words don't matter when I get that way.

I'm waiting for you to come upstairs, still feeling so connected to you after you read my cards tonight. I know this was difficult for you, and I am sorry I wasn't completely honest with you that night on the couch. I was (and still am) so afraid of losing the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. 

Three months

I really just want to be a better person.

He makes me want to do that. 

The person I have to fight the most is myself. I don't mean to be ignorant or selfish. Sometimes I just don't know. 

I can only hope that patience will serve both of us well. So far it has, and that makes me so happy.