Snapshot of My Mental Not-So-Merri-Go-Round

Where to start.

Still getting used to how the world around me feels without any meds whatsoever. That's no perscription pain killers, no anti anxiety meds, no depression meds. Let me tell you, its not as much fun as it sounds.

I've always had a Hulk like temper when my long fuse finally burns out. For the first little while, that fuse was exceptionally shorter. I've gotten back a fair bit of my thick skin, so I can at least flip through social media without either immediately table flipping or dissolving into tears. But when something finally wedges under my skin, I still have no happy medium. Rage or Despair appear to be my only levels of 'affected'.

Any time I lose my temper, I feel like a failure. I worry that I'm being vilified, whether or not I deserve it this time.

And let's not forget the ridiculous back and forth malarkey from my medical team. The Head Dr's I'd been dealing with of late lack some serious bedside manners. For ppl who's job it is to listen for a living, their listening skills SUCK!

"So what is it that you want from us?" Guys. srsly. I tried to kill myself. Pretty sure it's more or less mandatory that I now talk to someone about that, What do you think????

And then there is the fact that the Dr's are not only disagreeing about my mental diagnosis, but also what meds to take. "Well you should be taking this because, and they nvr should have put you on that because...." I am trying not to blame anyone, but it seems that the particular cocktail they had me taking before may very well have contributed to my incident in March. Thanks so much for considering that before you added yet another scrip that can potentially cause/aggravate depression.

I've read a hundred blogs that talk about Dr's prescribing or over prescribing. I do my very best to be my own advocate when it comes to knowing about my illness, my history, and my list of meds. But come on guys, one of the primary reasons I quit my job is because my cognitive abilities are affected. I can barely do my own thinking, never mind do your thinking for you.

I miss the old me. The Me who had the self confidence to be an active sex worker and sw advocate. Hell, the Me that had the ability to be an anything advocate! I can barely stand up for myself when someone steps on a nerve, these days. I either feel like I'm over reacting, or that I don't matter. Or worse yet, I get negative feed back and crumbling into a blubbering pile of self doubt. That is so not the Me I've spend decades becoming.

Oh wow. Talk about a msg from the universe. Eminem's Beautiful just came on....

My biggest challenge right now, staying true to me.

I so badly want to shout from the rooftops about what I'm going through, because I don't want anyone to ever feel like they are alone. But it hurts. It hurts to admit that I'm broken. It hurts to be broken. It hurts to face the world while I'm broken....

That's enough for now. I'm going to go crawl inside the head of one of my fictional characters, either play a video game or do some writing.

Blessed Be.

TRIGGER WARNING! An Explanation For My Recent Absense

Greetings, All.

Some of you will have noticed that I have been out of touch for a while. Some of you will know why. For the rest of you, this is going to come as somewhat of a shock. So please, do what you need to do to make sure you are braced before you continue to read.

Monday, March 7th, around 3 in the afternoon, I went through the motions of the singular most stupid and selfish act I have ever committed. I swallowed an exorberant amount of pills - mostly painkillers, the most devastating of which what an entire bottle of tylenol.

I tried to kill myself.

Hubby had gone to work. When he came home, he tried to wake me. I was verbally abusive. He assumed I’d had a bad pain day, and was drunk.

In the wee hours, I woke up vomiting. I managed to get to the shower and ran the water while I finished puking. Hubby did what came natural, started cleaning up the mess I had made from the bed to the shower.

When the puking subsided, he came to check on me, and I admitted what I had done.

911, medics, police, and a couple of friends later, I was taken to hospital. I was there until Saturday, when my physical health was declared sound enough to be released. I’d also been under the care of a Psyche team while in the hospital, and they had declared me fit to be released, with outpatient follow ups.

Those are the cold hard facts.

Now to answer the largest, ringing question; Why?

It took me a couple of days before I could give the Psyche team, and those who’d been to see me at the hospital, anything even remotely close to an answer to that. For the first couple of days, I honestly didn’t know. After a lot of reflection, I was finally able to give an answer that was the breakthrough we all needed to start feeling better, to start feeling like I was going to be okay.

I still do not have an answer to why I did it. But I can at least answer why I didn’t ask for help. Why I didn’t tap any one of the myriad of resources that I have been a staunch supporter of for me and mine.

Because I didn’t know that anything was wrong.

Coming from someone who is very introspective, and very open and honest about her many challenges, about asking for help, or a distraction whenever she’s feeling upset, this seems very hard to believe. I understand that.

I will go into my mental state during the event, at length, at a later date, suffice it to say, that when I look back, yes, I can see evidence of a pattern. A sporadic pattern over a long term, that shows me that I’ve been unplugging from life. Things as simple as not chasing down opportunities to make myself happier. Things that I know light up my life.

But, like I said, it was spread out over so long a time, that it was so difficult to recognize that pattern. The good news is, that both myself, and the Psyche team from the hospital, agree that I will in fact be able to recognize if I ever come even close to that mindset again.

I promise each and every one of you, that if I’d have realized that something was wrong, before, during, or after, I would have asked for help. I would have reached out.

The whole thing is still very surreal in many ways. I’ve been asked over and over, “What were you thinking?” That’s the problem. I wasn’t. I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t feeling. I just went through the motions.

Everytime that I think about it, I feel the terror and horror that I’d like to think I SHOULD have felt in the moment.

I have always prided myself on the fact that I have no regrets in life. That is a claim I am pleased to relinquish.

I regret what I did.

I regret that I did it at all. I regret what it has done to the people closest to me. What it’s done to the trust in those relationships. There are not enough words in the English language for me to express my feelings of apology and gratefulness to my friends, during, and since all of this.

Let me make it very clear, here, that I do NOT regret that I failed. I am VERY happy to be alive! To be able to make the most of this second chance.

I am taking this seriously. I am doing my best to be a model patient. To be cooperative, open, and honest. To not resist suggestions by friends, family, and healthcare advisors. I am also working hard at balancing taking responsibility for my actions, but not beating myself up too much.

Everything is shiny and new. Everything is novel again. I’ve always been all about the silver linings, but certainly more so at that moment. I’ve laughed more in the last week than I have in the last 3 months!

Physically, I am doing well. My liver bounced back even faster than the Dr’s had expected. I was out of the hospital a full  two days sooner than we expected.

Emotionally, I am doing well. I’ve never been good at dealing with negative emotions, however, since coming home, I’ve been crying in healthy ways, and talking things out as they come up.

Spiritually, I feel amazing. My soul feels lighter than it has in years! I have a renewed perspective on life, new lows to measure against which make it so much easier to appreciate what I have. To make it easier not to complain. To be able to focus on the positives, the lessons, the opportunities.

Fibro-wise, I’m doing better than I’d have expected. I’m completely free of all meds. My pain has been much less than I expected. And my mental clarity has been remarkable. I am hoping to work with my Healthcare Team to stay off of as many of them as possible.

There is obviously a lot more to talk about. There are a lot more things to address or to get more in depth on. I am, as ever, an open book.

Please feel free to ask anything. Publically or privately.

Special thanks this week, to those who visited me in the hospital, supported my Hubby in this time of chaos, and those who have given in house assistance as I regain my feet both physically and emotionally.

I will field questions and comments as my  energy allows.

I will post updates also as able.

Thank you all for you love,  kindness, and understanding.

Monochromes

Featuring M'Lady Cat

Featuring Mad MiLash

Featuring Mad MiLash

Featuring Mad MiLash

Featuring Mad MiLash