The new Laura?

I'm working on being positive. I met a couple virtual friends in real life over the weekend. (It was awesome to meet you both, Elizabeth and Amy!). Among other things, a couple things that came up in conversation were people and their energy, and facebook. (Not necessarily together). As we talked I realized I sometimes often like to antagonize people who are generally negative. One example: I had a friend on facebook from high school. We weren't friends back then, but we got in touch through facebook. At first it was fun, but over time I got sick of her constant negativity. She is the prime example of an attention-seeker. And an energy vampire. Finally, I had enough and I started to call her out on her dramatic status updates. She would say, "I have the worst job ever- shoot me now!" I'd say, "Then quit. Find a new job". She would say, "Holy Hell! Everyone in this world SUCKS". And I'd say, "Really? Everyone? Do you really think that?" And on and on...but what kind of person does that make me? Not only was it annoying and unnecessary, but I was drawing in her bad energy. So, on Monday, I finally deleted her as a friend, along with a couple others that seem to suck my energy. It's not that I don't like these people- I actually do- but I don't need their bad energy right now. I need to stay positive to keep going in my life right now. Things have been rough, and it's best for me to surround myself with good energy, and let the bad go. And I have to say, it's already made a huge difference! Of course, I'm Miss Sarcastic, and that often comes across as negative. I'm working on that- it'll probably take awhile because I've been like that FOREVER, and besides, it's not always bad. I have to sort out what sarcasm is okay because it really is part of my personality, and what has got to go.

Final thought for now: I will never be a constant Miss Positive. I acknowledge that I will always have bad days- even if I weren't prone to depression, I would still have bad days. After all, I am human. And I may even will sometimes vent about it. But, in general, I am choosing to keep my head up with a smile on my face. How does that sound? :)

Deep thinking hurts my head...

...or it may just be because when I read a book, the words blur and jump around on me. Glasses, you say? Nah, I'm sure I don't need those...

...segway into my serious thoughts...

Much of the past ten days have- for a lack of better word- sucked. When we initially lost Kiya it was much harder for Davin than for me. But toward the end of last week it hit me like a storm. I felt so much pain and eventually broke into tears that seemed would never stop. Which led to the thinking. Thoughts that weren't always straight, or even complete. More than anything, I fear for Kiya's well being. Her mom is meth addict. We had done our research. I had read articles and studies. I had talked to doctors. I even talked to someone who was once addicted to drugs- not meth, but she knows a lot about meth addiction. The positive right now, today, is that Kiya's mom is in a long term treatment center. That's good. But meth is an ugly, ugly drug, and its addiction is a serious disease. ...I should make it known right now that I do not blame Kiya's mom for her addiction. For some people, all it takes is one time using, and that's that. I do, however, worry about her decision to parent a 3 yr-old son and a newborn daughter when she leaves treatment. From what I know, she does not have a solid support system. ...I should also make this known- in all parenting cases, I believe if the mother wants to and is able to provide a healthy life for her children, then that is where the children should be.

So, what happens if Kiya's mom relapses? She has before. And one thing I have read and heard several times- part of meth recovery includes relapses. That scares me for her children. At the same time, I can't blame her for wanting her kids with her if she feels that she can in fact take care of them. I talked to her last Friday. I hadn't planned on calling her, but I just did. As the phone rang, I had no intention of actually speaking to her- I assumed she would not want to speak to me. But she did. She has Kiya with her in treatment, and says she is doing well. She said we could come see her on a Sunday during visiting hours. I told her that would be too hard for us right now, but maybe in a couple weeks. I told that we love Kiya, and we hope she calls us if she ever needs us...

That was Friday. On Sunday I read Beautiful Boy, which Leanne had said is a great book. It is. But it made me see this whole situation differently. What if Kiya's mom does change her mind? In the worst case scenario, what if she loses custody, and wants us to take her? And in "best" case scenario, what if she remains sober (I hope and pray every day that she does), but still changes her mind? In both cases, I see ourselves losing her again. If she slips, all she has to do is get clean to get her back. If she just changes her mind, all she needs a few good night's sleep, and she'll want her back. I know that sounds negative, but in everything we've been through with her, the one thing we know for sure, is that she is not reliable. I know some reading this are thinking I am just thinking the negative, but these are the realities, and they are things we have to consider.

So what will we do if Kiya's mom changes her mind? I am coming to accept that we need to let Kiya go. It is so hard, because we love her so much, and we worry about her safety. But Davin and I both know we can't be taken on a wild ride of possibly having her, only to have her taken again. I don't think we could handle losing her again. I hope to talk to her mom again- to ask her about what happens when she leaves treatment. I want to hear her plan. I want to know that Kiya is going to be okay. Then I have to walk away. I hope that will be the end- that we won't ever face the decision of having her again...how crazy does that sound? But we will just pray. Pray that Kiya has a happy and healthy life- that's all we can do.

...on a WAY lighter note, we met Stephanie and Oliver for lunch over the weekend! That will have to be another post- this one is getting dangerously long.

The dark days- part 4 (in conclusion)

NOTE: I once again hesitated to post this after I wrote it. So make the decision whether or not it is something you want to read about.

I previously mentioned that I threatened suicide several times as a desperate plea for help. There was one time that I actually attempted to end my life for that reason only. It is extremely difficult to talk about; however, it was an was a major part of this story, and I would feel dishonest to leave it out.

We were on family vacation, and I headed home early. My excuse was that I was starting to feel anxious- which was definitely true- social anxiety was (and somewhat still is) something I suffered with. On the drive home I felt agitated. I had just spent time with people who seemed happy, who seemed to have their lives together. I felt like I didn't fit in at all. I felt my mind was messed up, and everyone around me was completely sane. I started to feel like everyone would be better off without me. I had felt this way before, but for some reason it was very strong this time. I imagine the vacation alone wasn't what led to my thoughts- it was surely something that had built up over time- I don't remember how long I had felt this way. But early on the drive home, I decided I was going to end my life. The rest of the drive consisted of thoughts building on that idea, and I became obsessed in my head. I got home late at night and took about a triple dose of my sleeping meds. I tied a rope from a beam in the garage. I made sure the rope was secure. When I began feeling like I was going to fall asleep, I hung myself. I remember blacking out. The next thing I remember was waking up on the garage floor. The rope had broke. My first emotion was pure anger. I was so angry that I was alive.

This moment became a very clear fork in the road of my mental health. I could either hide what I had done and try again. However, once the anger passed, I realized how incredibly lucky I was to be alive. I wish I could describe this feeling. I had spent years doubting God. There were moments I flat out didn't believe He existed. Well, once that anger passed, that missing faith was stronger than one could ever hope for. It was an overwhelming feeling. In fact, I couldn't even deal with it at the moment. All I could think about was the fact that I was alive and not unhappy. This led to accepting myself, seeing the good in my life, and being able to throw away that mask.

So, other than that moment, what turned my life around? A lot of things- many that actually happened before I attempted suicide. Getting better was an uphill battle. I saw many therapists. I was taught skills to cope with stress. I learned to explore my life- to figure out who I was, and who I wanted to be. I went to school for massage therapy and found something that I loved to do and that I was good at. I started to feel comfortable. Most importantly, I started to have this feeling- one that took me awhile to learn what it was. Want to guess what that feeling is?

HAPPINESS. True happiness. For those who have a history of depression, you can probably relate. For those who are experiencing depression, please, trust me, it is possible. You may not believe me- I certainly didn't when people told me years ago, but if you can trust just one thing, please trust that happiness is possible for everyone. Yes, it may take work, and you may feel like you don't have the energy to do the work. That is okay. Don't think about the work. For one day- today- just admit to yourself that you are in this dark place. Tomorrow- or the next day, if you need one more day, please tell someone that you need help. Don't think beyond that. That's the best advice I can give. Don't think about the future and what you feel are impossibilities. If you do any work at all right now, just work on NOT thinking about the future. Worry about right now. You have to admit and accept that you are not healthy. I promise you don't have to be alone on the road of recovery. I promise.

I still have ups and downs, but I feel 'normal'. I can handle life. And I like life. That's all a girl can ask for. :)

P.S. Thank you, Davin, for never giving up on me. I love you so much.

ETA: I should have added before- Thank you also to all my family and friends who have always loved me, no matter what. I love you all.

The dark days- part 3

Right after I posted my previous entry (part 2) I wondered if it was smart for me to be sharing so much information. I debated taking it down. However, between the responses I got from it and the promise I made to myself, I kept it up and will finish my story. I will warn you, however, that like many things in life, my situation got worse before it got better.
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I want to talk a little more about the mask I wore. I felt like I was two people. On the outside I often times appeared "normal"- I often times could perform my day-to-day activities. I sometimes had a job. I hung out with friends and family. I lived my life. However, on the inside, there was a beast, and the longer I wore my mask the more restless it became and the more agitated I became. I always tried to push this beast to the back of my head. However, it would inevitably come to a point where I was battling myself in my head. I fought this beast, and it fought back. In the end these emotions of sadness, of rage, of confusion would burst out of me, sometimes with no warning. This is when I would get out of control. I could have been telling Davin that I was feeling good every day for the an entire month and suddenly I would explode. Which brought me to hurting myself.

All but one time that I attempted suicide were pure acts of desperation- I needed help and I didn't know what to do. I believe the first time was about a year after we were married. I opened a bottle of Excedrin and began taking them. I just kept popping them in my mouth. After a while I got really scared that I might actually die that I went and told Davin what I had been doing in the bathroom. He rushed me to the nearest hospital. By the time we got there I was shaking violently from the caffeine in the pills. I was lucky enough to not have my stomach pumped. I was forced to drink charcoal which made me throw up over and over- all while my body shook. ...I didn't want to die. If I had, I don't think I would have told Davin what I had done.

Another time I went for a walk. I walked to a nearby overpass and thought about jumping. I ended up calling Davin from my cell phone- he called the police on his way over- the police showed up and pulled me away. Again, if I really wanted to die, I would not have called Davin. One might wonder why I wouldn't just take off that mask and tell Davin I felt out of control and needed help rather than resorting to suicide threats. The answer to that comes back to the beast I was battling. Part of me wanted to ask for help, but for whatever reason, that ugly beast was out to destroy me. There aren't always clear answers when it comes to depression- sometimes it makes no sense at all- that's what makes it so scary.

Being in the hospital mental health unit is a scary place to be. I was surrounded by ill patients- some that suffered from illnesses more violent than my own. People talked to themselves. People yelled at the voices in their heads. I remember thinking "I don't belong here". Which made me doubt that I was sick at all. I didn't hear voices. I didn't see things that weren't there. Therefore I must not be crazy, right? Of course I was there for a reason- for example, I was standing on the edge of an overpass. But when I was suffering from moderate to severe depression and was locked up with others who had schizophrenia or similar illnesses, I started to think maybe I was imagining my illnesses. I felt like I should just get a grip and get over it. This is another battle I had many times. I felt like I was just feeling sorry for myself, and I had better just get over it. I am telling you right now, one should never have to have that battle in their head. If you ever feel you are depressed- you have a hard time dealing with the little and big things in life, or want to die, don't second guess yourself. Ever. You deserve help just as much as the next person.

The hospital I was in also had an outpatient program called partial hospitalization. I went through it on two separate occasions, and it proved to be very useful to me. The program was 9-3, Monday through Friday. It involved many activities, including daily group therapy. The program is meant to get you back on track with your life. Patients learn skills to cope with stresses in their lives, and help them figure out exactly how they are going to handle day to day life when they finish the program. It also provided monitoring and 'tweaking' of your medications.

I originally didn't want to be on meds- who does?- but I gave in. I accepted that my depression was more than a bump in the road, that I had a chemical imbalance in my brain. Mental illness, for some reason, is often compared to diabetes. Basically, you do not choose to have diabetes, just as you do not choose to have depression. So I went on medication. It took a lot of tweaking. a couple years worth. But the correct medication and dosage was eventually found for me, and I take it to this day. I still see my psychiatrist every few months for maintenance, and sometimes, tweaking. I have accepted I will always be on medication. Why? Because today I am happy. Today I am stable. I live what I consider 'normal'- I have felt 'normal' for several years now. Why on earth would I mess with that? I want to be a healthy mom for my children. I want to be a healthy wife and friend. I have an illness, but with medication and the skills that I have learned it is no longer part of my life. If I go off meds, that beast will come forward again, and there is no way I am letting that happen!

...I have at least one more post coming. Once I re-straighten my thoughts.

The dark days- part 2

NOTE: I STRONGLY ADVISE YOU TO SKIP THIS POST IF THE PREVIOUS POST (PART 1) WAS DIFFICULT. (I did not sugar coat anything)

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The battle with my depression consumed almost four years of our marriage. Some things are vivid in my memory, while others are quite blurry. I can remember certain events but don't always recall when exactly they took place. So bear with my babbling...

I remember feeling an emotion, and feeling frustrated because I didn't know what that emotion was. I started getting worked up. My mind raced and my body shook. I felt like I was going to jump out of my skin. I felt like I was out of control and I didn't have a clue how to handle it. When I began experiencing this feeling of complete anxiety and rage I resorted to physically hurting myself. I would hit my head over and over against a hard surface. This became a sort of habit. It was a small release to feel the sharp pain, the skin breaking, followed my throbbing, and then numbness. (I have a permanent indentation on my forehead from this). This act usually ended with me exhausted and crying myself into a deep sleep. Of course if Davin was around, this 'release' wasn't so easy because he would obviously try stop me. This angered me, which led to me trying to push him away, yelling, hitting at him, and this exhausted me enough to fall asleep.

One night, less than a year after we were married, I had this feeling of anxiety and rage. Davin was home, but I felt determined to hurt myself, as I felt I needed to feel that pain. I don't recall the events exactly, but I this is one of the few times I cut myself. I was in a different room than Davin. I was hiding from him, but looking back I know this was a cry for help. I was out of control and I didn't know what to do. Davin came into the room and I believe I showed him what I had been doing- my 'cuts' barely broke skin- I felt the pain, but didn't want to die. This lead to a battle of him trying to get the knife away from me and me yelling that I wanted to die. Whatever happened, it was loud enough for a neighbor to call the police. When they knocked on the door, I tried to hold Davin back from answering it. He tried to drag me with him, as he didn't want me to be alone with the knife. By the time the door was opened I was hysterical. An officer physically sat on me on the couch to hold me still while they called an ambulance. This was my first of many trips to the ER. I don't believe I was admitted this time, but I did have three hospital stays in the couple years after that.

I went to counseling. Trying to pinpoint what was causing my depression, I started to blame my marriage. I shouldn't have gotten married so young. I felt tied down and suffocated. The truth is that Davin encouraged me to do whatever I wanted to do in life. For some reason I just wanted to be un-married. I thought that's what the problem was. And, wouldn't you believe, my counselor at the time agreed. She actually encouraged me to think about leaving Davin. Which I eventually entertained as an option. I one time 'moved out'. I think I lasted a weekend. Another time I decided to move to Arizona for a winter. I made it to Oklahoma before turning around.

...In a way, this is easy to talk about because I have accepted that this was my life, and I have been in a good, stable place for many years now. However, it is never easy to look at how bad I made life for Davin. When I fought him, he sat there and let me. When I blamed him for how I felt, he took the blame. When I wanted out, he gave me money and helped me pack. He just wanted me to be happy and was willing to do anything to make that happen as long as it meant me staying alive. I don't think most men- especially newly married ones, would have put up with what I put him through. I wish I could leave the parts about me hurting him out of this, but it was very real. And he never left my side. Not once. Not a day goes by that I forget that.

The dark days- Part 1

When I started blogging I promised myself I would share my past struggles with depression and anxiety. I am not looking for sympathy. I am not trying to entertain. So why am I sharing? Because mental illness is real. Although it was the hardest thing we (Davin and I) had to deal with, I was able to overcome it. There were times I didn't feel like I was going to be able to, but I did- with Davin by my side. And if this post helps one person it will have been worth my time.

As with any post, I cannot guarantee it will always make sense. It may come across as more rambly than most.

-deep breath- Here goes:

The first bout of depression I had was when I was in the 7th grade. I didn't know at the time that was what it was. I don't recall how or what started it. All I know is I hated everything. I was angry at the world and everyone in it. I literally cut my friends from my life. I ignored them, would not acknowledge them. I remember lying in bed every night wishing I was dead. I remember wishing I could get my hands on a gun. It was a passing thought- one that passed over and over in my mind. I cried myself to sleep, hoping that I wouldn't wake up. I didn't know it at the time, but my friends and parents worried about me. As with how it started, I don't know what ended this "phase". That's what it became known as- a phase. I somehow eased back into normal life. I even had close to happy times. However, looking back, that depression never completely left me- it was right there, in the back of my mind, lurking about.

It started to come to the front of my mind once again my junior or senior year of high school. Not the suicidal thoughts, or the hate. Just the unhappiness. Something was nagging me, and I didn't know what. I was with Davin, and I did know that I loved him. So I couldn't understand why I was unhappy. I thought maybe I just wanted to move on with my life. I wanted to get married and settled down with Davin. So I pushed to get engaged. I thought getting a ring on my finger would solve things. Nope. I just needed to get married, settled into life...nope. Everyone else (all 9 people) at our wedding had a great time. They thought it was a beautiful wedding day. I had a smile on my face, but I was not happy. I should add- I didn't realize how unhappy I was- I think it scared me that I would be unhappy getting married to the man I loved, so I fooled myself into thinking I was happy. I had become really good at wearing that mask- too good. No one knew I was miserable- often times, not even myself. I thought we should have kids- starting a family would surely settle my uneasy feelings. We both thank God now that we didn't get pregnant- I really believe God knew having a child back then would make the next few years harder than they were already going to be.

...this is a bit exhausting. Remember, no sympathy. This blog is about me, and I this has been a big part of my life. There a lot more to come, so if reading it brings you down, I encourage you to not read future posts on the subject.