If someone tells you they want to hurt themselves or end life it means that that is where they are. That's what they see as the only best choice left. I think the best thing to do is just say you care and that you are there for them. I don't even think at that point that pointing out other options will work. In my depressed mind when someone says: You would be missed or It hurts others is what you can say. Depression tends to happen when you are "stuck in your own head."... It really is internal. It's extremely hard to get out of one's head. Movement does help. Trying to get that person to think outside of that internal conflict is hard. I justified others' grief by saying - In time they will get used to it. They'll forget and get on with it. I couldn't truly empathize with another's plight because what was within was so encompassing. I used to get to a point where I was nearly catatonic. I'd curl in a ball and sit in a spot in the corner of my room. It wasn't "for attention." There's rarely someone here to give it to me. It was literally being "stuck." But movement works. Before I get that stuck I start to tell myself - stand for ten minutes...now sit...now stand. Once when I was stuck I was in a program. I'm not sure how my helper got in my place - maybe I had given them a key when I was healthy. But suddenly I heard: Amy. You're "Stuck" I heard it. And I realized I was in a ball, on one knee, in my living room. Who knows how long I was that way? In 2007 I did that. I lost 40 lbs in a month because I never ate. And guess what - my cat died too because I forgot to feed her for that month. Stuck. But that worker somehow got me to stand. Then we walked. And then I started saying whatever it was that bothered me. At first it was little, insignificant, strange things like not liking my car. Seemed so superficial. But then I burst. I had learned on the news that a child had been beaten to death. Helplessness! Anger for someone who was defenseless. I shut down because I literally felt how insignificant I was in that moment and nothing I did would have/could have mattered. I couldn't save Dean is a HUGE thing that haunts me 25 years later. But it's OK. And I know more today what I need to do to prevent dark days like that. And I do know those who just "listen" and get me to move.
https://www.facebook.com/ajplusenglish/videos/645905782217599/?fref=nf
Thursday, November 19, 2015
Friday, September 11, 2015
My Life Video - what I need to see to mend
I made this last December after my sister died on December 24. I made it as a way for me to show how my life has been. This video really isn't complete because I know there's so much more that it just does not say. But it says the most important of it.
All of my life is and always has been about my family. My life has been about a picture perfect life. I grew up knowing both sides of my family grandparents. That's where life began - those people in certain walks of life, certain kinds of history and social/economic setting, certain kinds of perceptions produced to very unique people who really were very OPPOSITE in some ways. In a town where there was German and Irish - even separate churches - the two came together and created this HUGE family.
The first song of this video reflects that family. We were - I thought - close, loving, down-to-earth people. We were innocent, carefree, invincible. The idea of something Over the Rainbow was reality because life already was perfect and it could only get better.
And then tragedy strikes - from nowhere - and destroys all I ever knew and believed. I lost Dean on June 2, 1990. I have never been the same. He took his life. He left me, betrayed me. He left me with unanswered questions. He made me feel less than perfect. He made me feel OUT-OF-CONTROL. He made me see that there is darkness and that I am vulnerable to it too. Life isn't always over the rainbow. He also taught me that taking one's life really is an option - whether good or bad; right or wrong - it can be done.
I lost my dad in April of 2008. I had yet to have one really good last story with him. Did you know that? He told the best stories. He got me hooked on telling stories. OH...he and I could argue crazy-like. I'm not sure which of us has the worst temper. But I'm sure of one thing. I'm my father's daughter (and I miss him.)
The video has an error! I hate making errors. My mom died on December 1, 2014. Two conflicting emotions settled in me: 1. She's at rest now. I'm ok with that. She had a good life. It's ok for her to be at peace. 2. THIS ISN'T FAIR! I miss my mom. I have missed my mom for three years. I want her here.
Judy - the one sibling I could always go to for solid advice, a warm voice, to hear a genuine "I love you" died on December 24, 2014. Abandoned! Robbed! CHALLENGED! HALTED in time! DEVASTATED!
And then there's the "go to song." When all is done and said - life keeps going.
Last song - Let It Be - means just that. Call on what faith I have left in Heaven above. See the nieces and nephews - and THEIR children - to know that life keeps going.
And in the end - I hope the video shows that I RESURFACE. I'm OK! I have two new pets. I can still smile. I am still living. AND...I have remembered this:
And then one day she remembered that the only one who could make her happy was HERSELF. So she took back her power and shined like never before.
https://youtu.be/CDaTMkt93Nk
All of my life is and always has been about my family. My life has been about a picture perfect life. I grew up knowing both sides of my family grandparents. That's where life began - those people in certain walks of life, certain kinds of history and social/economic setting, certain kinds of perceptions produced to very unique people who really were very OPPOSITE in some ways. In a town where there was German and Irish - even separate churches - the two came together and created this HUGE family.
The first song of this video reflects that family. We were - I thought - close, loving, down-to-earth people. We were innocent, carefree, invincible. The idea of something Over the Rainbow was reality because life already was perfect and it could only get better.
And then tragedy strikes - from nowhere - and destroys all I ever knew and believed. I lost Dean on June 2, 1990. I have never been the same. He took his life. He left me, betrayed me. He left me with unanswered questions. He made me feel less than perfect. He made me feel OUT-OF-CONTROL. He made me see that there is darkness and that I am vulnerable to it too. Life isn't always over the rainbow. He also taught me that taking one's life really is an option - whether good or bad; right or wrong - it can be done.
I lost my dad in April of 2008. I had yet to have one really good last story with him. Did you know that? He told the best stories. He got me hooked on telling stories. OH...he and I could argue crazy-like. I'm not sure which of us has the worst temper. But I'm sure of one thing. I'm my father's daughter (and I miss him.)
The video has an error! I hate making errors. My mom died on December 1, 2014. Two conflicting emotions settled in me: 1. She's at rest now. I'm ok with that. She had a good life. It's ok for her to be at peace. 2. THIS ISN'T FAIR! I miss my mom. I have missed my mom for three years. I want her here.
Judy - the one sibling I could always go to for solid advice, a warm voice, to hear a genuine "I love you" died on December 24, 2014. Abandoned! Robbed! CHALLENGED! HALTED in time! DEVASTATED!
And then there's the "go to song." When all is done and said - life keeps going.
Last song - Let It Be - means just that. Call on what faith I have left in Heaven above. See the nieces and nephews - and THEIR children - to know that life keeps going.
And in the end - I hope the video shows that I RESURFACE. I'm OK! I have two new pets. I can still smile. I am still living. AND...I have remembered this:
And then one day she remembered that the only one who could make her happy was HERSELF. So she took back her power and shined like never before.
https://youtu.be/CDaTMkt93Nk
How to survive another CRASH!
There are parts of my journaling that are so important. Yes - step 1 is to look at the event(s) - some call triggers - that started whatever emotions one is having. But then the rest of the steps say to identify those emotions, describe your physical condition, examine the way your thoughts are going, CHALLENGE those thoughts, DISTRACT yourself from anything negative or that isn't working, COMMUNICATE what is going on, and then DECIDE how to respond....All of this is SO IMP...ORTANT and I swear to God, Allah, Buddha, and the Door Knob it works MOST of the TIME. But sometimes it is SOOOO HARD. Here is my Emotional Continuum...My Journal....
Event(s) I can't pinpoint them. Maybe it's a combination of events. I've been working hard, the sun ducked behind the clouds for almost ten days, drama happens in the work place that I don't like, constant conflict with family members have put such rifts in our family they cannot be mended, AND I know I'm STILL GRIEVING.
Physical Sensations: My chest is so heavy, constricted. I can hardly breathe. My lower back hurts so bad it shoots pains down my legs and into my feet. I have this sharp, stabbing pain in the lower left part of my abdomen - right in front of where it shoots out like a sharp pain through my back, on rare moments I am certain I have to throw up. I'm jittery, tired but can't sleep, sick.
Emotions: DEPRESSION, ANGER, ABANDONED, TIRED OF IT, STUCK, LET DOWN, SICK WITH GRIEF, LONGING, LONELY
Thoughts: When does this - this whatever I'm going through - end? Why is it happening now? I'm a failure. I'll never, ever be free of my mind, pain, life. What would happen if I stopped breathing and died tonight? Would I suddenly, finally feel free? What if that doesn't really happen - that life and death are not LINEAR events but something else and it - this - can never really be escaped?
CHALLENGE: I can do this. I can help myself. I've done this. I've survived this. There will be another, better day.
DISTRACT: Write in my journal. Puke. Sob - it is OK to let it all out. Take a warm bath. Breathe slowly.
COMMUNICATE: I did talk to the doctors. I did call a worker. I am telling others through writing - even if it is social media. Keep talking to someone until someone listens - hears me. Talk to Mom, Judy and Dean. They aren't on earth but I bet they can hear me. I bet they can feel me. I bet they are doing their best to help me. They always have and they always will. I need to be open to feel them in my heart and hear their words in my head. I need to just go to them in spirit - that's what I need in truth. I need my spirit nurtured.
Decisions: Take that bath. Listen to music. Look at pictures. Cry.
Event(s) I can't pinpoint them. Maybe it's a combination of events. I've been working hard, the sun ducked behind the clouds for almost ten days, drama happens in the work place that I don't like, constant conflict with family members have put such rifts in our family they cannot be mended, AND I know I'm STILL GRIEVING.
Physical Sensations: My chest is so heavy, constricted. I can hardly breathe. My lower back hurts so bad it shoots pains down my legs and into my feet. I have this sharp, stabbing pain in the lower left part of my abdomen - right in front of where it shoots out like a sharp pain through my back, on rare moments I am certain I have to throw up. I'm jittery, tired but can't sleep, sick.
Emotions: DEPRESSION, ANGER, ABANDONED, TIRED OF IT, STUCK, LET DOWN, SICK WITH GRIEF, LONGING, LONELY
Thoughts: When does this - this whatever I'm going through - end? Why is it happening now? I'm a failure. I'll never, ever be free of my mind, pain, life. What would happen if I stopped breathing and died tonight? Would I suddenly, finally feel free? What if that doesn't really happen - that life and death are not LINEAR events but something else and it - this - can never really be escaped?
CHALLENGE: I can do this. I can help myself. I've done this. I've survived this. There will be another, better day.
DISTRACT: Write in my journal. Puke. Sob - it is OK to let it all out. Take a warm bath. Breathe slowly.
COMMUNICATE: I did talk to the doctors. I did call a worker. I am telling others through writing - even if it is social media. Keep talking to someone until someone listens - hears me. Talk to Mom, Judy and Dean. They aren't on earth but I bet they can hear me. I bet they can feel me. I bet they are doing their best to help me. They always have and they always will. I need to be open to feel them in my heart and hear their words in my head. I need to just go to them in spirit - that's what I need in truth. I need my spirit nurtured.
Decisions: Take that bath. Listen to music. Look at pictures. Cry.
Saturday, August 1, 2015
Traumatic Brain Injury
I like to keep myself as informed as I can regarding the topics of mental "illness" or other mental health concerns. As a person who was diagnosed with a multitude of LABELS since she was 17, I've rarely found any scientifically based understanding as to why. For Pete's sake, I was destined to become a science teacher when I think the first major incident of racing thoughts, grandiose ideas, and impulsive shopping became a noted problem (and in truth it was only a problem when I stopped sleeping for days to 'get things done') I knew there was something up. I was energized without a focus; easily switched from extreme happy (even loud/exuberant laughing) to a sharp temper. Indeed I rapidly changed my emotions. And the ultimate thing that sent this woman to a doctor in hopes of finding a solution is based on several incidents with interesting connections:
The early warnings
1. Conflict at home. I was a teenager! Until the age of 17 I had been a fairly "good girl." My boyfriend situation was limited to a few dates with a couple different guys for occasions like Homecoming and I followed my mother's rules when I went out with friends. Though I think I "rebelled" at age 14 by stealing a pack of cigarettes from an older sister and smoking them when no one would catch me, I had never drank alcohol or stayed out past curfew. I was often called a "goody two-shoe" and destined to become a nun. At school I was active as a debate/speech team member, school plays, and cheerleading. My grades were good.
At age 17 I changed. I drank my first beers and was smashed after two. I had not crossed the line and used an illicit substance, but then it didn't seem I needed to. I was as high and unpredictable as my friends who were "strung out." Those friends!
I met friends who sometimes stayed out all night. I spent my paycheck from my after school job the day I got it. I dropped all extra-curricular activity, and my grades dropped from A's to C's and D's my senior year.
My mother didn't know what to do with this rebelling teenager! She had already raised 8 children so she was a veteran when it came to raising my age group. But I was extreme! My siblings (especially my brother one year older was EMBARRASSED to claim me as his sister. My dad and I argued nonstop. I threatened often to run away from home. I was always so close to death accidents because of my wild behavior and risky choices. I was out of control!
I got my first diagnoses at age 17: Alcoholic. That was it. I started a group therapy which talked about self esteem and they sent me to college.
2. Relationships outside the family. I was raised with parents who did not allow a person to go on a date until age 16. Sure there was flirting and hooking up at places like the theater or roller skating rink, but I was not allowed to be one on one with a boy until I was age 16. I followed that rule too. My best group of acquaintances consisted of a good group of girls who shared my interests. We went to school dances together where we hooked up with the boys to dance until it was time to go. Our focus stayed on school and we were such "goody two-shoes" we loved to volunteer to help our school whenever - cleaning it up, monitoring halls (lol), and running errands for teachers. But it all went away.
At 17 not one of my friends attended school with me. I had met a few through work but they were from another school and they were rowdy. Many of my friends were older than high school age; others were dropouts. My first "serious" boyfriend was a guy you couldn't trust any farther than you could throw him - but the status of dating (if being available for a booty call was considered dating) gave me a certain status amongst the others. I stopped knowing how to associate with my peers. Once I was sent to AA and forbidden to hang with the bad influences I found myself completely ALONE! Since that age, I still make bad choices in who I associate with (but it is better) and I still fail to make close relationships with those who would probably be parent/sibling-approved. It's like that aspect of my development stopped growing. (It may have had something to do with more labels which ostracized me and made me feel unworthy.)
In any event, I'm 47 and over the past 30 years I've been diagnosed at some point or another as:
alcoholic
bipolar
borderline personality disorder
psychotic
depressed
oppositional defiant
disassociate identity disorder
anxious
paranoid
I have been prescribed at some point or another:
lithium
paxil
Depakote
Effexor
abilify
zyprexa
Ativan
pristique
Seroquel
trazadone
and so much more I cannot recall right now
At first I fought it - because with mental health issues there's so much STIGMA - but at age 26 I got serious about wanting help. I was at an all-time low.
20 more years have gone by and I find I'm in a REALLY good spot in life. And guess what. I think it's because the science has been connected to what's behind the problems and I'm for the first time (since 2013) been on the right medicine and right therapy regime.
I have had more than one car accident in my life. Neuorscience is beginning to put the science behind mental health diagnoses. Sure. Alcoholism still exists. Traumatic abuse is still a culprit. But so are things like seizures and Traumatic Brain Injuries (TBI).
They are discovering that soldiers returning from the Middle East who suffer Extreme PTSD, depression, anxiety may have had their brains "shaken" when they stood too close to a loud explosion... http://www2.nami.org/Template.cfm?Section=Traumatic_Brain_Injury&Template=/TaggedPage/TaggedPageDisplay.cfm&TPLID=85&ContentID=52915
I myself suffered a severe blow when I was 17 as a result of a car accident. It was BEFORE airbags and I cracked the windshield with my head and ate the steering wheel.
The early warnings
1. Conflict at home. I was a teenager! Until the age of 17 I had been a fairly "good girl." My boyfriend situation was limited to a few dates with a couple different guys for occasions like Homecoming and I followed my mother's rules when I went out with friends. Though I think I "rebelled" at age 14 by stealing a pack of cigarettes from an older sister and smoking them when no one would catch me, I had never drank alcohol or stayed out past curfew. I was often called a "goody two-shoe" and destined to become a nun. At school I was active as a debate/speech team member, school plays, and cheerleading. My grades were good.
At age 17 I changed. I drank my first beers and was smashed after two. I had not crossed the line and used an illicit substance, but then it didn't seem I needed to. I was as high and unpredictable as my friends who were "strung out." Those friends!
I met friends who sometimes stayed out all night. I spent my paycheck from my after school job the day I got it. I dropped all extra-curricular activity, and my grades dropped from A's to C's and D's my senior year.
My mother didn't know what to do with this rebelling teenager! She had already raised 8 children so she was a veteran when it came to raising my age group. But I was extreme! My siblings (especially my brother one year older was EMBARRASSED to claim me as his sister. My dad and I argued nonstop. I threatened often to run away from home. I was always so close to death accidents because of my wild behavior and risky choices. I was out of control!
I got my first diagnoses at age 17: Alcoholic. That was it. I started a group therapy which talked about self esteem and they sent me to college.
2. Relationships outside the family. I was raised with parents who did not allow a person to go on a date until age 16. Sure there was flirting and hooking up at places like the theater or roller skating rink, but I was not allowed to be one on one with a boy until I was age 16. I followed that rule too. My best group of acquaintances consisted of a good group of girls who shared my interests. We went to school dances together where we hooked up with the boys to dance until it was time to go. Our focus stayed on school and we were such "goody two-shoes" we loved to volunteer to help our school whenever - cleaning it up, monitoring halls (lol), and running errands for teachers. But it all went away.
At 17 not one of my friends attended school with me. I had met a few through work but they were from another school and they were rowdy. Many of my friends were older than high school age; others were dropouts. My first "serious" boyfriend was a guy you couldn't trust any farther than you could throw him - but the status of dating (if being available for a booty call was considered dating) gave me a certain status amongst the others. I stopped knowing how to associate with my peers. Once I was sent to AA and forbidden to hang with the bad influences I found myself completely ALONE! Since that age, I still make bad choices in who I associate with (but it is better) and I still fail to make close relationships with those who would probably be parent/sibling-approved. It's like that aspect of my development stopped growing. (It may have had something to do with more labels which ostracized me and made me feel unworthy.)
In any event, I'm 47 and over the past 30 years I've been diagnosed at some point or another as:
alcoholic
bipolar
borderline personality disorder
psychotic
depressed
oppositional defiant
disassociate identity disorder
anxious
paranoid
I have been prescribed at some point or another:
lithium
paxil
Depakote
Effexor
abilify
zyprexa
Ativan
pristique
Seroquel
trazadone
and so much more I cannot recall right now
At first I fought it - because with mental health issues there's so much STIGMA - but at age 26 I got serious about wanting help. I was at an all-time low.
20 more years have gone by and I find I'm in a REALLY good spot in life. And guess what. I think it's because the science has been connected to what's behind the problems and I'm for the first time (since 2013) been on the right medicine and right therapy regime.
I have had more than one car accident in my life. Neuorscience is beginning to put the science behind mental health diagnoses. Sure. Alcoholism still exists. Traumatic abuse is still a culprit. But so are things like seizures and Traumatic Brain Injuries (TBI).
They are discovering that soldiers returning from the Middle East who suffer Extreme PTSD, depression, anxiety may have had their brains "shaken" when they stood too close to a loud explosion... http://www2.nami.org/Template.cfm?Section=Traumatic_Brain_Injury&Template=/TaggedPage/TaggedPageDisplay.cfm&TPLID=85&ContentID=52915
I myself suffered a severe blow when I was 17 as a result of a car accident. It was BEFORE airbags and I cracked the windshield with my head and ate the steering wheel.
I had another SERIOUS car accident in 1989 in which I rolled and flipped a car. (No picture)
That link had never been explored until recently. But boy is it making a difference in my recovery. I feel better than I have in years. I take one medicine to manage my emotions but other than that - nothing. I do use counseling. For 30 years a major element had never been considered - and therefore never treated. I do at this point have concerns that require more than just a connection to a car accident to resolve. 30 years of trial and error meant a continuation of that many years of making very bad choices. But I see hope and I see the science - that's important.
I hope two things come from this:
1. Understand that mental health issues are not just things a person can shake off - no one "chooses" to have such a challenge that clouds reasoning and prompts one to act in extreme ways regarding their emotions. Most people aren't simply deciding to have deviant behavior just to upset your day
2. With greater insight in to causes of mental health issues there will be better ways to treat the problem and secure for the sufferer a peace of mind.
Thursday, June 25, 2015
Euthanasia - No No No!
I am very opposed to euthanasia and I cringe every time someone says that's just what they want, that they want it legal, that it should be legal, that it fair, humane, and one's right to leave the world when they can no longer deal with it. Stop it!
It isn't a fair thing to expect. You don't have to be of any kind of religion to grasp this concept. It just isn't a fair thing to expect from another or even ask of another. It just isn't.
I wouldn't want to be the one to give someone - especially someone I love - that lethal amount of medicine. I would not want to be the one who had to live the rest of my days knowing I made the last call on whether that person should live one more day, forfeit all hope, "throw in the towel."
Suicide isn't a sure thing. People who attempt it often times FAIL! That person might simply be forced to stay in some kind of mental hospital until it is fairly certain s/he is stable. Sometimes that person loses all independence and is in 24 hour supervised care the remainder of his/her life. (What fun!) And then sometimes:
Permanent intellectual damage!
Permanent physical disability!
Permanent emotional struggle!
Loss of friends, work, trust, respect, family - fear can do that. Why get too close to a person intent of breaking your heart and abandoning you?
But guess what. Suicide is ultimately that individual's decision. That person is the one ultimately responsible for it. And it is LEGAL!
Assisted Suicide - Ha! call it what it is: Homicide - is not an individual's decision. It is in the hands of another and that other has to live with the fact that it worked (OR FAILED with serious ramifications) It's simply not fair to ask/expect another to do this. It is NOT legal.
I don't advocate suicide. I ADAMANTLY oppose euthanasia!
It isn't a fair thing to expect. You don't have to be of any kind of religion to grasp this concept. It just isn't a fair thing to expect from another or even ask of another. It just isn't.
I wouldn't want to be the one to give someone - especially someone I love - that lethal amount of medicine. I would not want to be the one who had to live the rest of my days knowing I made the last call on whether that person should live one more day, forfeit all hope, "throw in the towel."
Suicide isn't a sure thing. People who attempt it often times FAIL! That person might simply be forced to stay in some kind of mental hospital until it is fairly certain s/he is stable. Sometimes that person loses all independence and is in 24 hour supervised care the remainder of his/her life. (What fun!) And then sometimes:
Permanent intellectual damage!
Permanent physical disability!
Permanent emotional struggle!
Loss of friends, work, trust, respect, family - fear can do that. Why get too close to a person intent of breaking your heart and abandoning you?
But guess what. Suicide is ultimately that individual's decision. That person is the one ultimately responsible for it. And it is LEGAL!
Assisted Suicide - Ha! call it what it is: Homicide - is not an individual's decision. It is in the hands of another and that other has to live with the fact that it worked (OR FAILED with serious ramifications) It's simply not fair to ask/expect another to do this. It is NOT legal.
I don't advocate suicide. I ADAMANTLY oppose euthanasia!
Friday, May 29, 2015
Grief!
GRIEF!
I'm a person who has been combatting a mental health issue for oh so many years. So much has been tried. Medications! Finally, three years ago I really learned that that is simply not enough.
I tried 1:1 therapy years ago but it wasn't effective for me. I had no idea how to "talk about" my emotions. I had no insight into them. I began to think they just were what they were.
Perhaps the therapist I worked with wasn't skilled. The topic of self esteem was the fo...cus of sessions. Without a doubt that is important. It just wasn't enough, Until I could manage emotions that negatively impacted my relationships with others my self esteem would always suffer.
At last I discovered a group of individuals just like me in a therapy group called STEPPS. STEPPS is essentially a very friendly-user approach to CBT/DBT. It requires group participation and feedback too. With others talking about things that bothered them, I started learning about concepts like "triggers' and "filters" which were events and thoughts that complicated my emotional response. It was such VITAL INFORMATION. All the sudden I started realizing things that would surely spell trouble. I was informed!
The beauty is that in addition to seeing the warning signs, I started learning ways to change how I'd react to them. It requires slowing down, registering the issue, and then applying some plan. On a bonus, I learned that sometimes that new plan backfired. I still became OUT OF CONTROL angry, depressed, even suicidal. I'd quit jobs, fight with others, give up. But all the sudden I was learning COPING skills.
In the event all my preparations for confronting a trigger failed and I did find myself in an INTENSE, non beneficial emotion, I could maybe do something about it. Good smelling lotions. Talk to a kind soul. A hot bath.
Right now I think my greatest obstacle is dealing with grief. I lost my brother (who was also a best friend) years ago. In December, I lost my mom and the surprisingly a sister on the 24th. I simply wasn't ready for that.
I've been doing the "right things" I think. But boy oh boy does it hurt sometimes. And you know what? It's OK.
Grief happens. It feels horrible. But today I planted a thought in my head. Grief is the normal, expected thing a person who has invested his/her heart would do. So...
I'm going to grieve.
When I'm ready I'll consider the tools I have in my coping skills. I'll take that bath. I'll write in my journal. I'll light a candle. And eventually I'll be on track. It's ok to take a moment though. It's simply OK. #mental health #grief #STEPPS
I'm a person who has been combatting a mental health issue for oh so many years. So much has been tried. Medications! Finally, three years ago I really learned that that is simply not enough.
I tried 1:1 therapy years ago but it wasn't effective for me. I had no idea how to "talk about" my emotions. I had no insight into them. I began to think they just were what they were.
Perhaps the therapist I worked with wasn't skilled. The topic of self esteem was the fo...cus of sessions. Without a doubt that is important. It just wasn't enough, Until I could manage emotions that negatively impacted my relationships with others my self esteem would always suffer.
At last I discovered a group of individuals just like me in a therapy group called STEPPS. STEPPS is essentially a very friendly-user approach to CBT/DBT. It requires group participation and feedback too. With others talking about things that bothered them, I started learning about concepts like "triggers' and "filters" which were events and thoughts that complicated my emotional response. It was such VITAL INFORMATION. All the sudden I started realizing things that would surely spell trouble. I was informed!
The beauty is that in addition to seeing the warning signs, I started learning ways to change how I'd react to them. It requires slowing down, registering the issue, and then applying some plan. On a bonus, I learned that sometimes that new plan backfired. I still became OUT OF CONTROL angry, depressed, even suicidal. I'd quit jobs, fight with others, give up. But all the sudden I was learning COPING skills.
In the event all my preparations for confronting a trigger failed and I did find myself in an INTENSE, non beneficial emotion, I could maybe do something about it. Good smelling lotions. Talk to a kind soul. A hot bath.
Right now I think my greatest obstacle is dealing with grief. I lost my brother (who was also a best friend) years ago. In December, I lost my mom and the surprisingly a sister on the 24th. I simply wasn't ready for that.
I've been doing the "right things" I think. But boy oh boy does it hurt sometimes. And you know what? It's OK.
Grief happens. It feels horrible. But today I planted a thought in my head. Grief is the normal, expected thing a person who has invested his/her heart would do. So...
I'm going to grieve.
When I'm ready I'll consider the tools I have in my coping skills. I'll take that bath. I'll write in my journal. I'll light a candle. And eventually I'll be on track. It's ok to take a moment though. It's simply OK. #mental health #grief #STEPPS
Saturday, April 11, 2015
Amy Winehouse VS Amy Goreham
Rehab! I remember so well the day I was pushed into the center of a group of family members who told me it was time to go to Rehab. I was so mad and embarrassed and scared and trapped. I absolutely refused the help that I was being told I needed. With dragging feet I embarked on the "road to recovery."
It has been so hard at times. I lived in denial of its importance so long and as it had done for Amy Winehouse - my refusal nearly cost me my life.
Then in July 2013 I guess I made some other choices. It really wasn't this "bottomed out" time. I had indeed hurt myself and indeed was given 24 to 48 hours to live. I was prepared for that conclusion. Obviously, the clock is still ticking.
I had no one at that time - absolutely no friends left, no family any longer invested in helping (none had shown up on my deathbed even) and not even a professional worker still interested in my case. I was almost being considered a lost cause. Almost!
The doctor at where I stayed put the bottom line up front. He told me I was unfit to live on my own - I had to go to a facility where I'd be monitored 24/7. I WILL NEVER BE IN THAT POSITION! If I must live, it will be on MY TERMS! But I guess there is the law to consider.
This doctor gave me a last chance. He gave me resources I could tap into for counseling and time to find the last possible professional worker who wouldn't give up on me. But that meant I too had to commit to opening my mind to possibilities and to improving.
I vowed I would do this. I did NOT want to do this, but the alternative was not an option.
It's been one year and 9 months and I've experienced far more success than I have failure. I'm seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. I still screw up without a doubt, but the success outweighs the miss steps. I'm no longer doing this just to stay out of guarded residency - I'm doing it because it feels good. Rehab maybe isn't ideal and maybe it's almost incomprehensible at the time it's being pushed - but maybe it is a blessing in disguise too. Rather than Winehouse's position, "And I said, no no no" a person should consider - Maybe maybe maybe.
https://youtu.be/KUmZp8pR1uc
It has been so hard at times. I lived in denial of its importance so long and as it had done for Amy Winehouse - my refusal nearly cost me my life.
Then in July 2013 I guess I made some other choices. It really wasn't this "bottomed out" time. I had indeed hurt myself and indeed was given 24 to 48 hours to live. I was prepared for that conclusion. Obviously, the clock is still ticking.
I had no one at that time - absolutely no friends left, no family any longer invested in helping (none had shown up on my deathbed even) and not even a professional worker still interested in my case. I was almost being considered a lost cause. Almost!
The doctor at where I stayed put the bottom line up front. He told me I was unfit to live on my own - I had to go to a facility where I'd be monitored 24/7. I WILL NEVER BE IN THAT POSITION! If I must live, it will be on MY TERMS! But I guess there is the law to consider.
This doctor gave me a last chance. He gave me resources I could tap into for counseling and time to find the last possible professional worker who wouldn't give up on me. But that meant I too had to commit to opening my mind to possibilities and to improving.
I vowed I would do this. I did NOT want to do this, but the alternative was not an option.
It's been one year and 9 months and I've experienced far more success than I have failure. I'm seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. I still screw up without a doubt, but the success outweighs the miss steps. I'm no longer doing this just to stay out of guarded residency - I'm doing it because it feels good. Rehab maybe isn't ideal and maybe it's almost incomprehensible at the time it's being pushed - but maybe it is a blessing in disguise too. Rather than Winehouse's position, "And I said, no no no" a person should consider - Maybe maybe maybe.
https://youtu.be/KUmZp8pR1uc
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
Revising Books
Without a doubt I am new to the world of publishing my stories. In my efforts to get myself out there, I chose to self publish. I was just very determined to do this.
I like that I'm "in charge" of what I make available for others to read. It seems to give me more freedom in what I'm writing. Of course, I'm interested in what an established publisher would say about my works. Regardless, I'm excited about taking the initiative to do this myself.
Downfalls: My original efforts are examples of mistakes I made.
1. I admit I was shy about actually letting others see how my imagination works. As much as I tell stories, it has always been done with family and friends. Certainly I was in a comfort zone and definitely not too worried about the impression I'd make or the potential consequence of being judged. Therefore, I chose to change aspects of my stories to make them - hopefully - less revealing. I DO tend to include "dark" aspects in story telling and that was the element I guarded. To protect that thinking style, I chopped the content AFTER I had written it. It created a sloppy plot and numerous errors.
2. I had no editor or proof reader. I completely took on this endeavor alone. The result is that grammar and spelling and even formatting errors went unchecked.
Resolution: Two titles are being revised. I have on board readers who will give constructive criticism before the world has access to them. These two stories are extremely important. They set the stage for the book I'm currently working on. In this third installment of a series, I am not withholding. I'm telling it with much more confidence and certainly more in line with the actual story I dreamed up. It will not be served justice until the first two are improved.
Thus, I discourage readers from And Arizona...Jason and And Arizona... Sons and Daughters. Please give me the opportunity to create them as they should be created.
A safe book to consider is Jordan Knight. It has been a surprise to me all around. For starters, it sells. Secondly I receive kudos for it.
Lastly, I will tell you I've adopted a different penname. I will continue to use this name to publish titles, but I've rationalized that a penname will give me liberties I don't have under this name.
Thank you all who are considering and enjoying my efforts to date!
I like that I'm "in charge" of what I make available for others to read. It seems to give me more freedom in what I'm writing. Of course, I'm interested in what an established publisher would say about my works. Regardless, I'm excited about taking the initiative to do this myself.
Downfalls: My original efforts are examples of mistakes I made.
1. I admit I was shy about actually letting others see how my imagination works. As much as I tell stories, it has always been done with family and friends. Certainly I was in a comfort zone and definitely not too worried about the impression I'd make or the potential consequence of being judged. Therefore, I chose to change aspects of my stories to make them - hopefully - less revealing. I DO tend to include "dark" aspects in story telling and that was the element I guarded. To protect that thinking style, I chopped the content AFTER I had written it. It created a sloppy plot and numerous errors.
2. I had no editor or proof reader. I completely took on this endeavor alone. The result is that grammar and spelling and even formatting errors went unchecked.
Resolution: Two titles are being revised. I have on board readers who will give constructive criticism before the world has access to them. These two stories are extremely important. They set the stage for the book I'm currently working on. In this third installment of a series, I am not withholding. I'm telling it with much more confidence and certainly more in line with the actual story I dreamed up. It will not be served justice until the first two are improved.
Thus, I discourage readers from And Arizona...Jason and And Arizona... Sons and Daughters. Please give me the opportunity to create them as they should be created.
A safe book to consider is Jordan Knight. It has been a surprise to me all around. For starters, it sells. Secondly I receive kudos for it.
Lastly, I will tell you I've adopted a different penname. I will continue to use this name to publish titles, but I've rationalized that a penname will give me liberties I don't have under this name.
Thank you all who are considering and enjoying my efforts to date!
Monday, April 6, 2015
Stop and think! Suicide is a PERMANENT solution to a temporary problem.
I'll never forget the exact moment and time I was delivered the most severe blow to my life!
I had slept on the couch in my apartment. I must have fallen asleep watching TV. My boyfriend at that time was already at work. I had been in essence "shaking up" with him - after all I believed him to be that ONE person for my life.
The problem is: I was raised in a traditional Catholic family and we did not "shake up." We made vows, commitments in front of God. Then we lived together and created families.
I was awakened by that loud annoying ring on an old rotary phone. My thoughts: Who in the hell would be calling me at this hour? It's freaking 2:20 in the morning. Which of my friends was of mind to think they'd drag me out at this hour to party? It was the most likely call.
Then a thought: it's going to be a prankster. Damn! I'm annoyed
Lo and behold I answer with my perturbed, "Hello?"
Mother's shaky voice answers, "Are you alone right now?"
Thoughts: Is she checking up on me? Dang!
"Of course I am. Why are you calling me?"
"Dean shot himself." It wasn't excited. It wasn't exactly ordinary. It was like what she had said was a fact to be bluntly.
"Oh, God," I respond with a roll of my eyes. "Where is he?" I truly remember that what she said got put into this context: He was messing around, shot himself in the foot, and is now in the hospital.
"He's at Twits!"
Immediately the bile made it's way up my throat. He was at the funeral home???
A bit of the following becomes a blur. I hung up, threw up, grabbed my suitcase, threw in my piggy bank, returned to the bathroom to throw up again and experience the worse kind of diarrhea. What was I to do? It couldn't be right. He by no means could be dead unless I said he was dead. They were lying to me.
I abandoned everything and jumped into my car. I raced to campus (I was a college student at Iowa State University) to find my boyfriend and demand his help. He was working campus security.
His boss gave me resistance. That asshole! I told him "I need to see Keith. They say my brother has shot himself."
At last the boss calls Keith to come back to the office. Keith takes his sweet time. When at last he's there, I throw my arms around him and whispered, "Dean killed himself."
Keith takes off his belt and quits on the spot. With urgency it is decided to go to my hometown 65 miles away so I can see for myself if indeed it was true. I need to get there. I need to know.
I let my boyfriend drive. He is incompetent. He's barely driving the limit and threatening to fall asleep. How can he? I don't care that he's been up 18 hours. Given the circumstances, this is an emergency that should awaken every fiber in the body. I demand him to pull over and stop wasting my time.
Assuming control over the situation, I speed at a rate of 90+ mph to get home. I finally pull up the driveway at about 5 in the morning. I step from my car and the front door to my house opens and out walks my younger brother, Dave. He looks shell-shocked. My mother follows shortly thereafter. She's wearing an apron and there is blood on it - I think it's blood. I don't know. Others are there. I don't know who. It's all so surreal. I'm walking in a nightmare.
It's only Saturday morning. Suddenly there's so much to do and though I've asked repeatedly if I can see Dean (still need to 'sign his death certificate') I'm told I have to wait. I return to Ames to get that bag I had left behind (need nice clothes.) I leave my incompetent boyfriend behind this time. And then we're shopping for coffins. His had to be the best, coolest, finest! Why does this matter?
I wait and wait and wait!
At last it's Sunday afternoon and visitation at the funeral home is about to begin. Family is ushered in. From across the room I spy the coffin and MY BROTHER! I demand - GET HIM OUT OF THERE! I can't stand, can't swallow, can't breathe. Then I'm waking up in a chair with my sibling all around me. My oldest brother, Mike, is saying, "Amy, Dean is gone."
I had known for years that Dean was hurting. He spoke of it and though I tried I did not know how to help him. He made a choice in the end that has ripped me and my family to shreds. I'm so angry to this day!
I have lost loved ones to illness and old age. Twice more I have lost a friend to suicide.
When my mother of 87 years old died, I accepted it and in my memory have a last time just weeks before when we had talked, shared an expression of love, and smiled.
But this is all I see when I think back on Dean:
Death and confusion; abandoned; death and confusion; anger, death and confusion, RAW and TERRORIZED!
I had slept on the couch in my apartment. I must have fallen asleep watching TV. My boyfriend at that time was already at work. I had been in essence "shaking up" with him - after all I believed him to be that ONE person for my life.
The problem is: I was raised in a traditional Catholic family and we did not "shake up." We made vows, commitments in front of God. Then we lived together and created families.
I was awakened by that loud annoying ring on an old rotary phone. My thoughts: Who in the hell would be calling me at this hour? It's freaking 2:20 in the morning. Which of my friends was of mind to think they'd drag me out at this hour to party? It was the most likely call.
Then a thought: it's going to be a prankster. Damn! I'm annoyed
Lo and behold I answer with my perturbed, "Hello?"
Mother's shaky voice answers, "Are you alone right now?"
Thoughts: Is she checking up on me? Dang!
"Of course I am. Why are you calling me?"
"Dean shot himself." It wasn't excited. It wasn't exactly ordinary. It was like what she had said was a fact to be bluntly.
"Oh, God," I respond with a roll of my eyes. "Where is he?" I truly remember that what she said got put into this context: He was messing around, shot himself in the foot, and is now in the hospital.
"He's at Twits!"
Immediately the bile made it's way up my throat. He was at the funeral home???
A bit of the following becomes a blur. I hung up, threw up, grabbed my suitcase, threw in my piggy bank, returned to the bathroom to throw up again and experience the worse kind of diarrhea. What was I to do? It couldn't be right. He by no means could be dead unless I said he was dead. They were lying to me.
I abandoned everything and jumped into my car. I raced to campus (I was a college student at Iowa State University) to find my boyfriend and demand his help. He was working campus security.
His boss gave me resistance. That asshole! I told him "I need to see Keith. They say my brother has shot himself."
At last the boss calls Keith to come back to the office. Keith takes his sweet time. When at last he's there, I throw my arms around him and whispered, "Dean killed himself."
Keith takes off his belt and quits on the spot. With urgency it is decided to go to my hometown 65 miles away so I can see for myself if indeed it was true. I need to get there. I need to know.
I let my boyfriend drive. He is incompetent. He's barely driving the limit and threatening to fall asleep. How can he? I don't care that he's been up 18 hours. Given the circumstances, this is an emergency that should awaken every fiber in the body. I demand him to pull over and stop wasting my time.
Assuming control over the situation, I speed at a rate of 90+ mph to get home. I finally pull up the driveway at about 5 in the morning. I step from my car and the front door to my house opens and out walks my younger brother, Dave. He looks shell-shocked. My mother follows shortly thereafter. She's wearing an apron and there is blood on it - I think it's blood. I don't know. Others are there. I don't know who. It's all so surreal. I'm walking in a nightmare.
It's only Saturday morning. Suddenly there's so much to do and though I've asked repeatedly if I can see Dean (still need to 'sign his death certificate') I'm told I have to wait. I return to Ames to get that bag I had left behind (need nice clothes.) I leave my incompetent boyfriend behind this time. And then we're shopping for coffins. His had to be the best, coolest, finest! Why does this matter?
I wait and wait and wait!
At last it's Sunday afternoon and visitation at the funeral home is about to begin. Family is ushered in. From across the room I spy the coffin and MY BROTHER! I demand - GET HIM OUT OF THERE! I can't stand, can't swallow, can't breathe. Then I'm waking up in a chair with my sibling all around me. My oldest brother, Mike, is saying, "Amy, Dean is gone."
I had known for years that Dean was hurting. He spoke of it and though I tried I did not know how to help him. He made a choice in the end that has ripped me and my family to shreds. I'm so angry to this day!
I have lost loved ones to illness and old age. Twice more I have lost a friend to suicide.
When my mother of 87 years old died, I accepted it and in my memory have a last time just weeks before when we had talked, shared an expression of love, and smiled.
But this is all I see when I think back on Dean:
Sunday, April 5, 2015
Happy Easter...First Great Day of Spring...or whatever you celebrate:
What a beautiful Spring day! Of course I worked my part time job but have to say that I'm so glad that I did. Met a wonderful, young college woman who studies anthropology and is striving to make herself known as a painter. Of course she works with charcoal too. When I hear this all kinds of creative bells go off in my head.
I have been working hard to find a local artist to design images and covers for me for my books. I am currently working with one on one project and I am excited to do so. However, life always happens. My current artist - and forever friend - is relocating to Puerto Rico in June. In our current situation, it makes it difficult to pursue future projects. Therefore, in her absence I am looking for another interested in working WITH me.
If you are an artist and would like to be considered, talk to me. I'm in particular looking for images/illustrations that would go well with stories I categorize as: dark fantasy, crime/thrill, romance.
Any artist hoping to be discovered or to launch themselves is also invited to talk to me. I can (and will) let you advertise on www.signedbyamy.com. One woman entrepreneur has already taken advantage of this opportunity. Her ad is simply an image of her business card. For $5 for thirty days, she's able to market herself. You, too, have this option. Simply email me at amygoreham@signedbyamy.com
I have been working hard to find a local artist to design images and covers for me for my books. I am currently working with one on one project and I am excited to do so. However, life always happens. My current artist - and forever friend - is relocating to Puerto Rico in June. In our current situation, it makes it difficult to pursue future projects. Therefore, in her absence I am looking for another interested in working WITH me.
If you are an artist and would like to be considered, talk to me. I'm in particular looking for images/illustrations that would go well with stories I categorize as: dark fantasy, crime/thrill, romance.
Any artist hoping to be discovered or to launch themselves is also invited to talk to me. I can (and will) let you advertise on www.signedbyamy.com. One woman entrepreneur has already taken advantage of this opportunity. Her ad is simply an image of her business card. For $5 for thirty days, she's able to market herself. You, too, have this option. Simply email me at amygoreham@signedbyamy.com
Saturday, April 4, 2015
Making dreams come true...
Established my website, FB page, and so much more. Recently added a new part time job and am anticipating another opportunity this upcoming week. Best news: my physical health is the best it has been in 8 years. Through diet, exercise, and mental health programs like STEPPS, STAIRWAYS, and individual appointments with two doctors and licensed professionals I can finally see the light at the end of the road to recovery. It's time for sustaining phase.
My life can be depicted in the following three pictures:
My life can be depicted in the following three pictures:
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