piling on

i feel like i should write something tonight but i have no idea what to say.  i'm overwhelmed.  that's all i feel...overwhelmed by everything:  life, the bookstore, upcoming choices, the past, my present, the future, grief, hard facts that have to be faced, going through life with a mental illness, looking at everything through the lens of trama and loss.  

how would one not feel overwhelmed?

i am, by no means, alone in this.  most of these things are faced by an awful lot of people on this green and blue planet hurtling through space.  but one thing i really struggle with is that people offer me very little comfort.  i'm not a people person.  i want a deserted island and the comforts of life but NO people.  knowing i'm not alone is, most often, a very cold comfort to me.  i wish i were alone...most of the time.

i don't wish i were different in this but i feel like maybe it would be easier at times.  community and all that.  i know that's what God created us for; it's one of the things i can't wait to ask him about on the new earth.  here on this earth i struggle with it so very much.  

i'm gonna try to get a little extra rest tonight so i'm headed to bed early (at just after 11:00 - it's very early for me).  

grace and peace and rest

so it goes

the rain continues.  here i am...nearly 10 years from the flood and i'm so anxious today because of all the rain i can hardly breathe.  it's going to rain all night so that sets me up to have to try and get any sleep possible with music playing (or the tv on) loud enough to keep me from hearing the rain.  i like total darkness and quiet at night as i'm already a raging insomniac!

i've grown weary over these last 10 years of trying to explain anxiety to people who think it is controllable or that it is situational.  it isn't.  yes, there are situations when the acute symptoms present themselves but mostly it is a chronic state of being.  the anxiety i feel when it rains hard for long periods of time doesn't happen in isolation.  it is added to the underlying, steady anxiety i feel all the time.

it's exhausting.

i have acquired some coping mechanisms over these years and they help.  i rarely have a panic attack anymore.  that is a blessing.  but the point is that the aftermath of trauma is long-lasting for some of us.  the calendar has counted off many days since may 2, 2010 but my body and brain spend a lot of time surviving that day. still.  

grace and peace

reflection

as this year/decade comes to a close i realize that i haven't written on this blog in more than a year.  it's been a blur.  the life of a small business owner, i suppose.  december is so busy that christmas comes and goes without my noticing (except that i get a day off on the 25th).  so, i didn't even consider that a new year was upon us until i started seeing social media posts about the decade ending.

that's when it hit me - this decade has been a bitch and i'm glad to see it go.  but it has also been ten years of...growth...maybe.  it begin with me in a job i didn't love but that provided me a good living, i owned a home, had a couple of dogs and a cat.  it was okay.

the flood in may of 2010 changed everything - i lost everything.  every thing.  but the most important thing i lost was me.  the trauma changed me.  it damaged me.  i know now that it also set me free.  in the best way it taught me to have no attachment to things but in the worst way it taught me to have no attachment - period.  

may-oct 2010 we rebuilt the house.  oct. 2010-june 2012 i was nearly paralyzed with anxiety and rarely left the house.  in 2011 i lost an aunt to cancer.  i started working in june 2012 at a local used bookstore and while i still suffered from severe PTSD i was able to go to work.  in 2013 i lost my 3 remaining grandparents and a great-aunt in 7 months.  i stayed there until 2014 then went to work at a friend's jewelry store where i learned a lot about sales and business and customer service.  

in august 2015 daddy was diagnosed with stage 4 lunch cancer and he died in april of 2016.  it was, is and remains the hardest thing i will ever go through.  i'd often heard people talk about the "club" you join after losing a parent.  i've heard people say you don't really become an adult until you lose a parent.  i'm afraid it's true.  it's the most untethered to life i've ever felt in a life that has felt full of floating just out of range of most people around me.  

almost immediately i opened my first bookstore (daddy never got to see it open but he was there when we painted the walls). upon reflection it's obvious i wasn't capable then of the stamina or drive i needed.  it's also obvious that i opened in a neighborhood unprepared to sustain a used bookstore. i was incapable of taking care of myself at the time and stopped paying all my bills and called my mortgage company and told them to take my house.  i didn't want it anymore - it had tried to kill me and i wasn't staying there one more night and i wasn't paying one more dime.  i was lucky that my mother had inherited a house from her aunt that was sitting empty so i took the dog and 2 cats and moved.  i left behind about 3/4 of my meager belongings because i didn't want anything that had ever been inside that house. i eventually filed bankruptcy (on just one credit card a credit union line of credit) to avoid foreclosure.  they foreclosed anyway. 

the presidential election later that year sent me into months of depression and grief that i had not had time to process.  i went to work but i talked to no one.  i moved my store to a temporary location in april 2017 for 6 months at the end of my first year-long lease.  i worked at the bookstore 1-2 days a week, at the jewelry store a couple of days a week and for a jewelry designer 3 days a week. i moved my house in may 2017.  i went to bed each night exhausted, sometimes hungry and always in mourning.

in novemeber 2017 i opened full-time in my permanent bookstore location.  my lifelong dream realized!  it's been a difficult run.  the neighborhood, in fact the city, is changing so fast and all retail is having a hard time adjusting.  the retail book business is especially hart-hit. in april 2018 i moved houses again. in april 2019 i lost my perfect, sweet, hilarious pug winston and i wanted to stop.  i wanted to refuse to go on.  i wanted to shout to the heavens that i'm tired of losing.  that last one i did.  the others i can't do.  that lost was the only of the many losses that made me feel as hopeless and as helpless as the loss of daddy.    

just last month the building in which i rent for the bookstore was sold to the university across the street.  my days/months are numbered.  there isn't any affordable commercial rent in nashville in the areas i could make a go of it.  i'm faced with another loss that doesn't feel possible to survive.  

i do know that i will survive it because i've survived all the rest but i'm sure beaten down by them.  i don't always know what to do with myself over them.  i'm not sure why i've suffered so many.  i try to repeat to myself a line from M*A*S*H that is 100% true.  BJ, in despair over what he's missing with his wife and daughter while away in a war, lashes out at margaret and hawkeye because with them being unmarried they can't understand his pain.  margaret says, "maybe you do have the most to lose but that's only because you've got the most." 

maybe i've lost so much because i had the most.

this is a long haul; thanks for sticking with me.

grace and peace

7 years and counting

i didn't write this year on the 7th anniversary of the flood but i had the same kind of day as every other may 2nd i've had since that fateful one in 2010.  i would be remiss in not saying a few things.  i clearly remember being at work and hearing construction going on in the studio next door and feeling my nerves jump inside with each swing on the hammer.  i cried a lot that day and talked about the anniversary with a couple of people.  they comforted me and cried and said all the right things and i felt like i always feel, "this will never be over for me!"  this is not my past.  this is right now.  this is PTSD.

i recently read a few studies that talked about the renaming of PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) to PTSI (post traumatic stress INJURY).  this renaming does not change the classification of either acronym from a mental disorder or illness but it acknowledges that it is not only that but also an actual brain injury.  by whatever name, the stress response to trauma changes the very shape of the brain and changes how those of us who are affected by it respond and cope.  

one part of my brain, the left side, the logical, chronological, fact-based side knows that this is 2017 and that i survived the flood.  while the right side of my brain, the jacked up side, the feelings side that says, "fight or flight or freeze!" is bigger and stronger and much more powerful and in the grip of panic and stress and anxiety.  the right side almost always wins.  it says, "it's may 2, 2010 and you are about to die...now run..."

i am far and away better than i was 6 years ago when i couldn't leave my house and 5 years ago when i was sure i would never be able to work again, etc.  i have infinite hope that by year 9 and year 10, etc. that improvement will have been made.  trauma happens to everyone in this life but we don't all process it the same.  grief is different for everyone and joy is too.  i want to believe that i am not defined by my mental illness but i know that it is part of me just like my DNA and my name.  i can't escape it but i continue the struggle to make peace with it.  

grace and peace

watch your mouth

just can't help but write about an interaction i had with a lady in the bookstore today.  she was talking to her friend and me about a trip she took and the friend asked, "when?"  she responded, "the same time as the nashville flood.  when was that?"  i said, "may, 2010" and she looked at me like i had 2 heads.  i said, "i lost everything in that flood."  she then looked at me with pity and said, "at least you were able to rebuild." 

now, how she knew i was able to rebuild and why she thought it was okay to assume such a thing is baffling.  i said, "it's only stuff, right?"  she quickly agreed and then sensed i was being facetious and added, "i'm sure it's more involved than that."  i replied, "if only it were as easy as replacing things."  she quickly went on with her story and talked about a few books, etc.

after she left i realized i was angry.  i've mentioned ad nauseam that the physical things aren't the hard things to replace.  i've not mourned one tangible thing i lost in the flood.  the things i mourn are intangible:  my safety, my sanity, my very self. 

the point of this post is a reminder that words matter!  please, if someone you know is going through something: something big, something small, something you've endured, something you find unimportant, please think before you speak!  the clichés:  "i know how you feel", "it's only stuff", "it'll get better", "you'll be fine", "they're in a better place" are unnecessary, unfeeling and sometimes downright untrue. 

if you don't know what to say, say, "i'm sorry."  simple.  say, "i don't know what to say, but i'm here for you."  perfect. 

more on words about grief tomorrow.

grace and peace

bankrupt

today was the "meeting of creditors" for my bankruptcy.  it took about 30 seconds.  i did have to watch a 12 minute video, answer about 6 "yes" or "no" questions and pay $7.00 for parking.  i only have a couple of creditors and no one expects to have a creditor show up.  none of mine did.  it's simple, really.

i have no embarrassment.  i only wish i had done it sooner.  i wish i knew the statistics (there really aren't any) about the number of natural disaster victims who file bankruptcy.  there appears to always be a spike in areas affected by disaster but because the filings take place over such a long period of time it's hard to quantify.  it took me more than 6 years. 

i bought the house in 2005.  in 2010 i had a good job, i didn't make a lot of money but i made enough.  the flood came and i lost it all:  job, car, house and everything in it.  i got some FEMA money but it just scratched the surface.  i did not live in flood zone so i had no flood insurance.  home owner's insurance not only denied a claim but cancelled my policy. 

i spent upwards of $65,000 (most of which was borrowed) to rebuild a house i despised.  i had nowhere else to go so i did what i had to do.  i got a lot of help from family, church and friends but it was just a drop in the bucket. 

i worked 12-16 hours a day for 5 months to rebuild.  i was diagnosed with PTSD and suffered from debilitating agoraphobia (i was terrified to leave the very house that i hated.)  something that still rears it's ugly head more often that i like to talk about.  i was out of work for more than 2 years.

when i went back to work i made less than half my pre-flood salary.  now, i work 3 jobs and make less still.  for the last 4 years i have been spending more than 50% of my income on the mortgage.  when daddy died i decided to quit.  i filed bankruptcy shortly thereafter and left that house behind. 

i'm blessed enough to have access to a family home that was sitting empty afer it was left to my mother by her aunt.  i live here now and while it's hard to get over the feeling that i live in somebody else's house it's far and away an improvement.  i live far away from all 3 jobs so i spend a lot of time in the car and a lot of money on gas but, right now, it's worth it. 

i still have school loans that i will owe the rest of my natural life (those, of course, aren't dischargeable.)  other than that i have a clean slate.  the mortgage company will apparently give the option to sign over the deed to avoid a foreclosure.  i will take them up on it.  i can't wait for the day i can honestly say that i no longer "own" that awful house.  for the time being it's still mine but i'm under no obligation to pay anything.  i've officially "surrendered" the property.

i wish daddy were here to talk to about this.

grace and peace

good riddance

tonight is the last night i will sleep in this house.  i’m moving to a house my great-aunt left to my mother in 2013.  it’s not where i want to live but it’s infinitely better than living here.  in hindsight i wish i had not rebuilt the blasted thing after the flood. 

because i’ve recently opened my own business and because daddy died in april and because my money has run out i’m done paying for this place.  since the flood i’ve spent more than 50% of my salary on my mortgage (before utilities) i can no longer afford it and i’m past ready to be out of here.

i’d like to think that some of my anxiety will lessen when i no longer have to come home to the place where my trauma happened.  i expect to always experience some anxiety, as PTSD never goes away completely, but i think being away from here can only help.

i’m faced with the possibility of bankruptcy and having to get a “real” job while somehow still keeping the bookstore open (with the help of my mother who works for me a day or 2 a week for free!) but i think i can avoid foreclosure by letting the bank sell the house through a short sale.  since the flood the house has lost so much of its value that i owe a good deal more than it’s worth so the possibility of me selling it is nil.

i’m outta here tomorrow with the pets and then my brother and i will move the big stuff (bed, dresser, dining room table) later this week.  the rest of the stuff:  all the other furniture, dishes, small appliances will go in the front yard for a yard sale when i can manage it.)  the large appliances—only 6 years old, like everything else I own—will live in my brother’s barn until i need them.

i hope i feel relief.  i can’t imagine what that must feel like.  i know i won’t feel any regret about leaving here!

i wish i weren’t having to do this without daddy!  he would know what to say to make it feel better (at least for minute.) 

grace and peace and goodbye!

thoughts about me

anxiety is a shape-shifter.  what i'm anxious about today may not bother me tomorrow and a new fear will rear it's ugly head.  there's no predicting it and no preparing for it. 

 

isolating is a part of who i am.  i'm an introvert to the nth degree.  i find people exhausting and infuriating.  i would much rather be alone with my books, my notebooks and my animals than be with anyone.  i've always been this way.  since PTSD it has become an even greater part of who i am - to an unhealthy degree.  agoraphobia is the term.  for the first year after the flood i was scared nearly to death to leave my house.  the very place i despise.  a vicious cycle ensued - so scared of what happened to me in this house that i found it impossible to leave it.  so mush so that stepping on the front porch would cause hour-long panic attacks.

 

now things are a bit different though i still struggle mightily with going anywhere.  it seems all too pointless and scary.  since daddy's been in the hospital(s) i've fallen into the familiar pattern of home, work, hospital, home.  no grocery store, no seeing my few remaining friends, no life but the small one i've been left with (or carved out for myself, i can't tell the difference).  the scary part, sometimes, is that i don't want to do anything else.  

 

i'm just wondering if this is all there is?  wondering if this is all i'll ever have?  i have so much work to do yet to manage my PTSD and i'm exhausted by having to do it.  part of me just wants to give up.  part of me can't imagine ever feeling better.  i know that's a symptom of the disease but it's an alluring one.

 

i touched base with my therapist today for the first time in weeks.  just today i realized that it's been at least 2 months since my last appointment and i think i'm feeling the result tonight. 

 

grace and much needed peace   

day 50 something

it's been more than a month since i've even thought about writing.  7 and a half weeks have passed since daddy went to the ER.  it feels like years to all of us i think.  since my last post daddy moved to a cancer treatment center where he received 3 weeks of radiation (5 days a week) and chemo (once a week).  now he's in a rehab center where he's getting physical therapy every day.  don't know how long he will be there.

 

then HOME.

 

we will meet with the oncologist later this month for test and reevaluation to decide on future treatment.  diagnosis is the same, of course, but prognosis is much improved.  i don't know how long he has and i find that rather unimportant at this point.  the important thing is that the time he has left, be it months or years, is as pain-free and as filled with love as possible. 

 

i want him here as long as i live.  that's obvious.  i can't imagine my life without him.  right now, though, i'm just glad he got to the hospital when he did and that we are in week 8 of the rest of his life.  had he not gotten there when he did i believe he would be gone now.  as hard as this is it is bearable compared to his dying untreated and in pain.

 

since this blog is in large part about my struggle with PTSD and anxiety i will try to address what i'm feeling as far as that goes.  it's hard to define, as i'm not sure i've stopped long enough to think about me during this, but here goes...

 

in some ways i've noticed my anxiety less in the past 8 weeks as i'm too focused on daddy to think of anything else and too tired to give a damn on the other had.  that being said, i'm shopping nearly 100% online because the thought of a store is terrifying.  not sure if it's exhaustion or increased anxiety but i have little to no ability to do even the few things i was able to do before. 

 

prayers please.

 

grace and peace

 

 



5 years gone

imagine with me, if you will, something significant that happened to you in 2010:  a special birthday, an anniversary, a birth, death, a book you read, a movie you love; imagine all that's happened to you since then.  now imagine that every day of that time - since that one special day or one memorable event - you have had to relive not that special event but the worst thing that's ever happened to you.  for 5 years every day has been a constant reminder of the worst time in your life.

 

that's the only way i realistically know how to convey what PTSD feels like.  PTSD steals your life, it steals who you are and keeps your brain stuck in the most terrible of moments.  intellectually i know it's 2015 and not 2010 but you can't convince my heart or my gut of that. 

 

may 2 is the hardest day of the year for me in that the calendar is in line with my memory and my emotions.  it's about SO much more that one, long ago, may 2.  the date conjures the aftermath as well as the events of the actual flood.  it's not just the driving through water in my neighborhood and accepting that i would die or sitting on the side of briley parkway waiting to die after my car quit.  it's the shock, the visual of all my soaked belongings piled in my front yard, the cuts, bruises, scrapes, sore muscles, tears, rages, standing in line for 5 hours for a building permit, having to take daddy with me for a tetanus shot, the aches, pains, fears, the begging for money, the paperwork, the 16 hour days rebuilding, the many hours at lowes, the decisions, the  aloneness, the helplessness, the bills, bills and more bills.  

 

i didn't just lose 36 years of things - i lost the things that really matter:  peace, security, comfort, HOME.  i lost returning home at the end of the day to the one place that brings respite.  i don't have that anymore.  5 years later it's still missing.  

 

today i acknowledge and mourn the lives that were lost.  i made it out with my pets and for that i am eternally grateful.  11 lives were lost.  i'm glad i don't know the number of animals lost.

 

i am grateful i had a job to go to today (though i cried for a good deal of the day), i am grateful daddy came to check on me, i am grateful yesterday was payday so i could go to the bookstore after work (today is independent bookstore day - I won't tell how much i spent), i am grateful the pets are safe and happy.  i am grateful that the day is almost over, i am grateful tomorrow i celebrate the birthday of one of my dearest, i am grateful for all i have.  i pray that i never take one single article for granted.

 

don't get PTSD.  it's not worth it.  it hurts.

 

grace and peace.    

10 years and counting

10 years ago today i closed on this house.  i never thought i'd be here 10 years and i certainly never thought i'd be here 10 years with no way out.  almost 5 years after the flood the value is about half what it was beforehand.  it's still, though the saying hurts, "under water" about $25,000, meaning it's worth $25,000 less than i owe.

 

the bad part of it is that because of my anxiety i am relegated to spending nearly every waking minute here unless i'm at work.  my world has become so small as i cannot go but a handful of places.  i only have a couple of friends for which i am willing to venture out.  i can't go to the movies, i can't go to a restaurant, i can't go to church, i can't go anywhere and feel safe - though the worst part is that this is the place i feel the LEAST safe.

 

i wish i were a person who didn't remember anniversaries and wasn't so sentimental but that's not me.  i can't remember what i ate for lunch but i know every phone number i've ever had.  i can't remember how to get home a lot of days but i know every one of my ex-boyfriend's birthdays.

 

today was a busy day at work.  i'm tired and a bit congested.  i'm gonna pile up on the couch with winston the pug and try my best to look forward to tomorrow.

 

grace and peace

 

 

 

 

 

 



chip on my shoulder

can't get something i heard today out of my head.  this is likely to be a diatribe many of you won't want to hear but it's just something i have to work out.  what she said while speaking of her childhood/early adulthood:

 

"i didn't know people had bad lives."  

 

what i heard: 

 

"i have no idea what the real world is like and your experience is foreign and the exception to the rule."

 

i just can't believe it when i hear something like this!  really?  no idea that people hurt, that kids are neglected and hungry and abused?  no idea that not everyone has the same life you have?  no idea that not everyone is loved and adored?  wow.  that must be nice.

 

i realize, because of my experience, and probably because of my innate personality, that i am a pessimist.  i don't believe the world is basically good; i don't believe that people are basically good.  i believe THAT is the exception to the rule.  i believe we are born into a fallen, sinful world and being good is a choice and not everyone chooses it.  not everyone who has children wants them.  not everyone who has works hard gets blessed with a big, comfortable house in the suburbs.

 

some of us are born in to families with mental illness and neglect and poverty and anger and grief and fear and all those hard, bad things.  i try really hard not to let the way i grew up dictate the way i live and for the most part i think i do a pretty good job.  however, there is no denying the fact that what i experienced, not just in my house as a child, but the trauma of the flood, affect who i am.  i most likely will always be distrustful of people and be afraid of losing the few important things in my life. 

 

for whatever reason when i hear people say the things like i heard today it hits me all over again that we are all so different.  we absolutely do not have the same experiences, the same advantages, the same backgrounds, etc.  for all my troubled childhood it was so much better than a lot of people and so much worse than others.  i just wish we could all, for the love of pete, take into account that some, if not all, of us are damaged in some way.  each of us fights a battle, big or small.  let's all be kind to each other.  

 

remember, not everyone came from where you came from.

 

grace and peace and understanding        

in like a lion...

haven't felt like writing much lately but here i am.

 

i've started working full-time so i'm adjusting to that while also trying to cope with the end of winter.  we've finally had some 70 degree days but winter has hung on much longer than i had hoped.

 

living with insomnia and PTSD is tiring enough without the gray skies and cold weather.  i'm looking forward to the days i can get to the track after work and breathe in the fresh air.  i'm so out of shape but i do look forward to the exercise, no matter how slow and laborious it may be.

 

i'm sure there was a time when things weren't so hard in my life but i honestly don't remember those days.  as i approach the 5 year mark (may 2) of the flood i can't help but think of all the days, weeks, months, years that i have all but lost.  if feels a lot like my childhood - lost years that aren't worth remembering.  ugh!

 

as a Christian i believe that hard times are a part of life and that we will all face them but there is a part of me that continues to cry out with the question, "how much?"  i would love to have something be easy for once.  for days not to just be survived but actually lived.  not sure i would know how to react to such ease.

 

grace and peace.

 

 

 



live blogging a panic attack

and here it is - panic.  i told myself i would write through it but it's really hard.  my hands are shaking so bad that every other word is misspelled and my tunnel vision prevents me from seeing the whole laptop screen.  i know what's going on:  i have a meeting with a friend of a friend tomorrow about a potential job/project.  i have to meet her at her house.  now, a HUGE part of my anxiety stems from going places alone and going to places i've never been before.  thankfully the house is only a couple of blocks from where i used to live so it's familiar territory but i'm terrified.

 

if this project didn't involve BOOKS i would back out so fast but i have to go.  i wonder if this lady would be shocked if i, as a 40 year old college grad with years of professional experience, showed up with my daddy?  it is the south, we girls love our daddys!  (i already made daddy go grocery shopping with me on friday.  i positively couldn't go alone and it was crucial that i stock the pantry.)

 

my heart hurts and my face and hands are numb!  i hate this!  the way i remember myself from BEFORE is that i wasn't afraid of much:  your garden variety spiders, loud noises and unease in parking garages.  now i'm terrified of running water, standing water, rain, sirens, flashing lights, kroger, passing cars, movie theaters, restaurants, people knocking on my front door, repairmen, mailmen, neighbors, outside - basically the outside world.  it's all so big and scary and risky.  i'm just not comfortable in it anymore.

 

while i dislike this house something fierce i dislike OUT THERE so much more.  breathing is labored and i'm starting to feel the numbness creep up my forearms.  and i have to go to this meeting tomorrow afternoon!!!!  

 

anxiety is not for sissies!

 

grace and peace     

commit me, please!

for more than 4 years i've been waiting for the one thing that would either kill me or drive me crazy.  i've mentioned before that i felt something inside me break when i suffered my last major loss, that of my siamese kitty, kentucky. 

 

i, along with my therapist, have decided that what i'm facing is some inpatient trauma therapy.  i had no idea that these places exist but apparently there are several of them around.  since i don't meet the level of "mentally ill" to check myself into a mental hospital, and since i don't have any addictions, i can't check myself into a rehab center but apparently with a PTSD diagnosis i am eligible for a trauma center.

 

there are several problems, of course, the first being that i don't have health insurance.  second, that means i have to hope and pray that one of these places will take me pro bono.  after several weeks of my therapist making calls it seems this won't be as easy as i had hoped.  the place nearest to home offers scholarships but it seems that's not what it sounds like.  they've turned me down. 

 

i feel like this treatment is necessary.  for almost 4 years i've been in therapy.  i've been seeing a psychiatrist and taking anti-anxiety medications for almost as long and i'm still fighting anxiety with all i have.  my agoraphobia is back with a vengeance since i've been out of work.

 

i started helping a friend at her jewelry store 3 days a week and that helps.  when i HAVE to be somewhere i can get there but on days when i have nowhere to go it's nearly impossible for me to leave the house.  some days i can't even go outside to walk the pug.  luckily for him i have a fenced-in yard.

 

grace and peace

 

   

more of the same

job-hunting, interviewing, making decisions, accepting a job and then...one of my beloved cats, kentucky, got hit and killed by a car and something inside me BROKE.

 

 

whatever it was that's kept me hanging on slipped away and i felt my grip on everything let go.  for 4 1/2 years i've been waiting and worrying about one final thing what would break me, that would finally drive me crazy.  and that once i went crazy i would never be able to get back.

 

i worked for 2 weeks at a job that wasn't at all what they advertised.  the position wasn't the one they promised and my hours were not close to full-time so i had to leave.  i've interviewed at two companies since, to no avail. 

 

more loss.  LOSS:  one of my least favorite words!  that, and CLOSURE!

 

 

grace and peace

"to be, or not to be--that is the question"

 

there has much talk in the last 48 hours about the desperate and tragic death of robin williams - funny-man extraordinaire - by suicide. 

 

 

i have some things that i have to say:

 

1.  i pray for his family, friends and fans;

2.  if you are depressed to the point of harming yourself - please, i beg you, get some help.  national suicide prevention lifeline - 1-800-233-TALK (8255);

3.  if you've never been depressed...really, deeply, painfully depressed...shut your fuckin' mouth!;

4.  i don't think anyone should assume that he was a coward;

5.  none of us have any idea what another human being is going through;

6.  mental illness is real and it is NOT a character flaw.

 

now, one of the things that hurt me most of all was reading a blog or some such that boldly stated that robin williams didn't die because of an illness but of a CHOICE.  Please don't buy into that!  yes, we are all made up of the choices we make but i think that equating suicide to a simple choice is ignorant and harmful.  maybe it is a choice but, as i am prone to do i make a literary reference, it's on par with sophie's choice.  (spoiler alert) she had to make a choice between her children just off the train at a concentration camp.  her little girl or her little boy.  yes, she made a choice but was an unimaginable one.  

 

i tend to think of it like this:  you're driving down the street, following all traffic laws, and suddenly there is a child directly in your path and your choice is...swerve into oncoming traffic - most likely killing you and the other driver bearing down on you - or hit the child.  in this scenario either choice is acceptable and more than likely instinctual.  however, it is a choice, i suppose. 

 

saying that a person burdened with the "black dog" of depression chose something is, quite literally, ridiculous.  when you're really depressed you often go to bed hungry because you can't make the simple choice of what to eat for dinner - that is if you're hungry at all or if you have been able to make a trip to the grocery store when all you feel is that you are dying by degrees.

 

 

 

i think all the speculation that a suicide being committed while other family members are in the house or with the knowledge that a family member will find the deceased is more telling than "selfish."  i don't think the person can, in any way, see past the pain they are in.  depression, according to rollo may, is "the inability to construct a future." 

 

i lost a dear friend to suicide and it's AWFUL.  it's painful and it leaves so much destruction in it's wake but i don't think it is necessarily selfish.  i've had a couple of periods of deep situational depression that i was able to cope with through therapy and temporary medication but that is not my particular struggle now.  as you can tell by the name of this blog my struggle is with PTSD and the debilitating anxiety that accompanies it.

 

please don't dismiss mental illness as something that can be "cured" by more fresh flowers in the house, more hugs, more prayer, more wishing, more hoping or more begging for it to leave you.  yes, i am a Christian and i believe that God can relieve us of our sickness - both mental and physical - but how many of you have heard someone tell a cancer patient that they are dying because they haven't prayed hard enough?!  people with mental illness hear that ALL THE TIME. 

 

you see, God made us perfect, healthy and without sin.  we have all, save Jesus, chosen a life of sin.  He told us in the Garden (and in the New Testament) that we would bear hardship and labor.  mental illness is not punishment for one's faithlessness any more than MS or ALS is.  you can't pray it away.  STOP telling people to pray harder!  it's thoughtless and shameful.

 

reach out to people in pain.  don't judge them.  don't try to fix them.  just listen, be there, hold their hand, pray for them and with them.  let them know they are not alone.

 

(disclaimer:  i mention prayer and Christianity because that is my way of life.  i. by no means, exclude any faith.  every creed, religion and faith prays to God as they understand Him - whatever He is called.)

 

 

“Killing oneself is, anyway, a misnomer. We don't kill ourselves. We are simply defeated by the long, hard struggle to stay alive. When somebody dies after a long illness, people are apt to say, with a note of approval, "He fought so hard." And they are inclined to think, about a suicide, that no fight was involved, that somebody simply gave up. This is quite wrong.”
― Sally Brampton, Shoot The Damn Dog: A Memoir Of Depression

 



day after day

i feel like i should be writing more often but i've gotten to the point that i just don't know what to say.  it's all the same:  i'm anxious.  i'm exhausted.  i'm broke.  i'm scared.  i'm alone.  i'm angry.  i'm tired of saying the same things and feeling the same things but it's the way things are now.

 

one of the awful effects of PTSD and anxiety (as with depression and physical illnesses, i would imagine) is the inability to imagine life on the other side.  hopelessness:  what if it never gets better?  what if the therapy doesn't work? what if it makes me worse?  what if the medicine stops working?  what if i feel like this FOREVER?!

 

i would like to think that it's the anxiety talking but i've felt it so long that i've begun to think it's just who i am now.  i can no longer separate myself from this "disorder."  i feel like i no longer have PTSD but that i am PTSD. 

 

i hate PTSD!  (but i don't hate myself...so there's that.)

 

grace and peace

   

the anxiety strikes back

this morning i had my first panic attack in several weeks so i'm both overly anxious and overly tired tonight.  i'm weary of living with PTSD and severe anxiety.  the fact that it can take over my brain in a split second and bring me to my knees is something that is hard to accept.  i was diagnosed 3 1/2 years ago (6 months post-flood) though i've probably been living with PTSD since i was 9 or 10 and just didn't know it.  it's some better but it continues to hang on tooth and nail.

 

i did all i know to do to make the panic attack pass and felt some better while walking the pug.  i had no choice but to go to work (no doubt that makes me feel better anyway) but it was a struggle.  once i have an attack i live in fear of a worse one following closely on its heels.  rarely does that happen but with anxiety the constant fear of a panic attack is often much worse than the short attacks themselves.

 

because i know that God is a gracious God i know that He guided my cousin and her kids to stop by for a visit.  she is one of my favorite people alive!  she never fails to make me laugh and feel better about the world in general.  not to mention, her kids are 2 of the most adorable people in the world!  the rest of the day was nerve-wracking and long but i made it.  i am grateful that i have a bookstore cat to love on days like today.  petting an animal is PROVEN to lower your blood pressure and make you live a longer and healthier life.  thank God for orson!

 

 

grace and peace

  

 

 

inertia

STUCK! 

 

that's how i feel today.  i feel it most days in some sense but today it's worse.  i can't seem to find the energy, the wherewithal, the motivation or the drive to do much of anything.  i don't want to clean, i don't want to cook, i don't want to read or write or practice my guitar.  i just want to sit and stare at the tv without being able to pay the least bit of attention to the football game i've been "watching" since 3 p.m.  it's now halftime and i can't recall having seen one actual play. 

 

i had big plans for the yesterday:  take car in for oil change, run by and see the changes to my grandparents place, visit with a friend, buy a baby gift, shop for some clothes, buy books for the store.  those things i managed with the help of my dear friend, kelly.

 

today the plans were:  church, shop for mattresses, buy my bike, ride my bike, do laundry, return a few things i bought at goodwill yesterday, cook, clean, etc.  okay, that's WAY to much for me to do in one weekend but today so far i've finished a very short book and made myself a smoothie.  that's it.  oh, i picked out 1 or 2 songs on the guitar...

 

inertia.  when days like this come i become overly anxious that my post-flood like will never be free of days when i just CAN'T. DO. ANYTHING!  granted, because i've always been an insomniac, i had days like this pre-flood BUT now they come filled with the memory of the exhaustion, the panic, the fear, the numbness and the pain of those post-flood "down days".  the ones where all i could do was sit and stare at the wall completely disconnected from the world and living in a constant state of post-trauma shock. 

 

those of us living with PTSD usually have a handful, or more, of triggers that set off panic attacks or heightened anxiety.  i have several and one of them is being overly tired.  that's where i am today and i'm wishing that i were off for columbus day tomorrow.

 

grace and peace