Category Archives: Depression

I’ve Lost Myself

I feel like I’ve lost myself. My purpose. My what. My why. I don’t know the exact moment it happened, but it’s been slowly vanishing over the past year. Life has a way of reminding you that you’re not in control no matter how much you think you are. You’re not. But, kudos if you’ve read enough Anthony Robbins books to make you think you are.

I lost a friend to suicide in November. I haven’t really dealt with it or written about it in detail. I knew she was suicidal, but was so wrapped up in my own struggles that I couldn’t stop her or help her. We had lunch together and less than ten days later, she was gone. She wouldn’t accept a cat as a gift (my attempt as lessening her loneliness) because she “didn’t want it to starve” when she died. She had recently moved and wouldn’t let me help her unpack her boxes because she wanted it to “be easy for people to get her things together” after she died. She had dealt with debilitating depression for years and had sunken every dime she had into getting treatment. She could no longer work and was running out of money. She was alone. She was in pain. Her heart broken beyond mending. But, that day at lunch? She was smiling. She was sad, but she was smiling. I can only imagine it’s because she knew her pain would be over soon. She made a plan and stuck with it.

Part of me is envious of her courage. She was tired and knew she couldn’t continue living the way she was. That control thing I mentioned? SHE was in control. She’s at peace now, free of the horrendous visions of abuse she endured as a child and continued in her adult life. Part of me is really mad at her for selfish reasons. Did she think about what it would do to her friends (who shared depression and mental illness)? Did she care? She didn’t owe us anything, but still I wonder. I don’t know how she killed herself, but I imagine she overdosed and drifted off to sleep. I don’t know how long it took before someone found her. I hope she wasn’t alone for long. I imagine her beautiful blonde hair being coiffed perfectly and her lipstick applied as precisely as it could be. Did she wear colors other than the black or grey muted tones she usually wore? I’m glad she didn’t take the cat.

I write about this because I am tired and feel like I’ve been treading water for a long time. I feel like I know where she was in her journey. So tired. I struggle to find joy many days. I’ve put so much into getting Shane the help he needs that I’ve let my own needs go. I’ve stopped working out, gained 30 lbs with no desire to do anything about it. My own treatment-resistant depression needs more intensive treatment, but I can’t pursue it because the next step is TMS or experimental ketamine, both of which require a daily time (and significant financial) commitment for six to eight weeks. So, I’ll continue to struggle until Shane is stable and ready for the next step of his journey and we make it back home and to real life. That’s what we do for those we love immensely.

While away at treatment, Shane has grown leaps and bounds in many areas. But, some of the same bad habits continue to rear their ugly head. Aggression, defiance, “I hate you” when things don’t go his way. We moved here thinking it would make his transition from discharge easier. It’s only been a week, but so far, his behavior on the unit after a home visit is reminiscent of when he first got here. I hope it all falls into place as I doubt myself in my desperate attempt to be in control and lining everything up. See? I thought I was in control. I’m not. Neither are you. Remember?

There have been many moments where I’ve wondered if I would make it through the end of the day. I am no longer myself and know that the journey back will not be an easy one. Do I even remember who I was? Was that person so great, after all? Do I want to be her again (whomever “she” was)? I’ve made many mistakes in the past. I do have regrets (those who say they don’t are full of it). I didn’t do enough to help Pam feel loved and needed among many others. But maybe those mistakes have put me in the right direction of where I’m meant to go. I will die trying to do everything I can to help Shane and our family.

Finding yourself is not an easy journey. I don’t suppose it should be. I’ve been trying to find my purpose my entire life. I find it briefly then it slips away. I don’t suppose that should be easy, either, in an ever-changing world. I’ll delve into volunteering at Shane’s new school and being an advocate for kids who have no one to speak for them. Or, find a new job or a meaningful charity. Or yoga. Or tennis. Or, maybe start running again.

But, my why? I guess that’s easy. It’s seeing my monkey boy successfully finding his place in the world and going to school like a “real boy.” It’s seeing all of the adventures my beautiful daughter and John experience during their time as traveling nurses. It’s being here to give to and receive the unconditional love my dear sweet husband has to offer (even though our cramped quarters are testing our patience). See? The why is easy.

The what? I have to learn to trust that I am where I’m supposed to be and what I’m supposed to be. Maybe I’m not lost. Maybe this is the new me…who has some work to do on finding joy in all that surrounds me. It’s there. I just have to open my eyes and heart to see it. As Kristen Bell says, choose happiness over suffering. Easier said than done, but I’m trying. Namaste, bitches.

Where Did I Go?

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It’s been years since I’ve blogged here. I always say that when I go back to read about our journey from the beginning. I have to start writing again. So much has happened. So much has changed. I’ve used Facebook to “blog” lately. I’m getting back to basics by starting here again. I’m going to go through the posts that describe where we are now and how we got here. Where did I go? That’s a good place to start and explains the long absence better than anything.

July 1, 2017/Facebook:

“After almost a month of being off of Facebook, I’ve decided to share the reason for my absence in hopes that it may help someone else who’s struggling. Not the most glamorous thing, but I’m trying to remove the stigma of mental illness.

On June 6, I entered a residential treatment center at HopeWay Foundation in Charlotte to help get my depression and anxiety under control. Changes in medication and therapy offered no relief. I was at a point where I didn’t care if I woke up the next morning even though I had absolutely everything to live for. Each night, I wondered how many Ativan tablets I could take and still wake up. I got up to six at a time. The thought of my family living without me was extremely painful and to be honest was what kept me alive. I didn’t want to leave a trail of devastation. I want to see Shane grow up and find friends, go to college, and find his soulmate and build a wonderful life on his own. I want to see Jessica get married to someone who tells her everyday how beautiful she is and makes her feel as special as Scott makes me feel. I want to celebrate 20 years of marriage to Scott.

On the outside to many, I had it all including confidence. It was a façade. Only a few knew the real struggles I dealt with daily. Shane’s increased aggressive behavior and the mounting pressure of finding a more intensive program for him among other “life” things were pretty much the debilitating blow. For the few months prior to my entering treatment, we’d scoured the country for a residential treatment center/therapeutic boarding school that will help our boy learn to manage his impulse control and anger. The last six months have been filled with physical aggression toward others and major property destruction. We’ve been through six televisions in little more than a year among other things. Watching one of your babies spiraling out of control is one of the most painful things I’ve experienced in life. Each day, he loses a tiny piece of himself and has asked for more help. He’s been getting in excess of 40 hours/week of ABA therapy since he was five. Although it’s helped in many ways, it has not in others. We’re on the waitlist for a program in Greenville, SC and expect for him to start in early fall. It’s a residential program for 9-12 months. We will be finding a place in Greenville to live for 3-4 days/week. He will get to spend every weekend with us, but will be at the facility otherwise. That is going to be the longest year I’ve ever had.

As I continue my journey to learn coping strategies and skills to manage my depression, I will be back home next week, but will remain in an outpatient setting at HopeWay in a three day/week program until I feel strong enough to let go of the constant support. The program has been extremely beneficial and I’m kicking myself for waiting so long to ask for help.

I share this with you guys to help you understand depression and other mental illnesses. It’s indiscriminate. It doesn’t matter how much money you have or what kind of house you live in. It doesn’t matter what kind of car you drive (even though a convertible is good therapy…so is a motorcycle if I had one 😀). It doesn’t matter how much your family loves and supports you. It doesn’t matter if you’re a classic overachiever at work. It doesn’t matter if you pull off the most awesome parties. It doesn’t matter if you have the opportunity to travel. It doesn’t matter how many random acts of kindness you do (even though that offers relief for a while). It doesn’t matter if you’re a size 8 or 14. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t care.

Scott has managed to keep things between the lines in my absence. I know it’s been difficult and I am forever grateful. Shane has managed as well as an 11 year old can and missed his mommy. Jessica has seen her rock falter and let her know that I’m not as strong as I pretend to be. Showing everyone that you’re not the strong confident person you pretend to be is not really something I revel in doing.

Please take what I’ve posted to heart. If you know someone you think may be struggling, talk to them about it. Don’t ignore it. Don’t be afraid to ask questions. I’m an open book. I’ll be happy to share more details of my experience to anyone who wants to know more for personal reasons. Feel free to share with anyone my words may help.

My mantra and reminder of Towanda’s strength is pounded into my head daily…SHE BELIEVED SHE COULD SO SHE DID!”
#depression #mentalillness #neverthelessshepersisted #towanda