Thursday, December 29, 2011

Pity Party!!

 I am certain there are many other people who are depressed and can relate to my tweet earlier this morning (left). Yet when I sent this tweet this morning I felt totally alone with this awful feeling of endless desperation. I was in a shit storm allowing myself to feel as crappy as possible. I was curling up with my awful feelings and preparing to deal with agony alone. I'm someone who isolates as a way of dealing with the symptoms of my illness. I won't be able to leave the house today. I won't even be able to go and check the mail. Even describing these limitations via my blog has my stomach in knots. I feel like I'm on a roller coaster, barely holding back breakfast, which was actually only a glass of water.

 Feeling completely alone and frustrated I forgot the army of people surviving this shit everyday. "They" say 1/4 have a mental illness. How could I be so naive as to think I am alone in my feelings of despair? It only took one quick reminder (right) and I was no longer a table for one. I was a bonafide pity party. I started to write a blog post how miserable and awful everything in my life is and I just felt terrible about writing that way. I have so much to be grateful for, how dare I take that for granted?! I must be a terrible person for wallowing in my self pity.... right? NO WAY.

The more I reach out and connect with others in my plight to find happiness and health the less my spirit resonates with pity and more with party. Kind people, who become friends, crawl out of the nooks and crannies of the Twitterverse and remind me of some important but easily forgotten facts.

This is my blog! I can write what I want. I don't have a boss breathing down my next telling me what is acceptable and what is not. I don't have deadlines or duties beyond those to myself and in this medium exploring the pain along with the pleasure will help me present myself more holistically to my readers (is there anyone reading?) and to myself. This is more or less an online journal. Sometimes journals have some not so fun stuff. That's okay. It's just life.

And sometimes self pity is a good thing. I didn't share all my pity points but it really was good to get the words out (right).

I really am lucky to have such a fabulous group of folks to follow. Alone, depression seems like an impossible battle. Together, depression is just the background noise to an otherwise tolerable mishap.

I can always count on my twitter folks to remind me:

Where is My Mind?

Friday, December 23, 2011

Turkey Time Self Care

A big delicious slice of dead turkey. Yum yum. I've been a vegetarian who cheats for at least two years now. That means at potlucks or family get togethers I eat what is offered rather than be a 'fuss'. In other words, I was a people pleaser not a me pleaser.

Now don't get me wrong, I love a turkey sandwich with crispy bacon. Well, I used to. That's the thing. I called myself a vegetarian who cheats because I'd have that plate of turkey at Christmas or a burger when on the run & in a hurry.

Lately I can't even stand the smell of cooking meat and to bite in makes me literally gag. It's only been within the last 3 months that I've been having this physical aversion to eating meat. I'm kind of nervous to avoid the non-vegetarian offerings over the holiday. It is time though.

There's nothing wrong with not eating what is served as long as what you can eat, you do. It's not impolite to have morals and standards that I hold myself to without the judgement of others. One of them, for me, is not eating meat.

Christmas eve the meal options are always sea food chowder or beef chili. So I am bringing some pre made veggie bean chili and cornbread. I won't cause a fuss and will be contributing to the meal with the cornbread.

The longer I've been depressed the more it is sinking in, if I don't take care of making me feel good- who will?

Sent from my iPhone

Thursday, December 22, 2011

My New Project

I am becoming a little more ambitious. It's been a really long time since I've wanted to do anything other then get through the day alive, not moving and barely breathing. I still feel that way many days. I try to take care of myself throughout the day whether it's feed myself, shower or get a drink. Some times I can't do all those things in the same day.

Some times I'm lucky and not only do I do all those things but I also manage to get some laundry or other household duty done. That's a big deal. I mostly just exist amongst remnants of someone else's life. A me I don't know anymore.

Lately I've been having a day or two here or there where I actually wanted to be *moving doing feeling*.

On those days I'm so disoriented from this feeling which is new. Not feeling hollow and numb is confusing and disorienting. I'm not used to it. So I've mostly squandered the energy bouncing from different activities to nothing- nervous of when this energy and contentedness will leave. Because it does leave, often quite suddenly without warning.

I know it will get better and I will become more aware of possible triggers. As I learn to dance with my disorders I won't spend as much time tripping over myself. And oh boy do I ever fall hard.

I tend to discount the positive and magnify the negative in my life. This creates ammunition for my poor self esteem to kick me when I'm already down.

Facts. I need facts. If I can't trust my mind to judge my behavior objectively enough to function like a "normal" human being... well, then I need data to review and physically see the truth.

I used to work labor jobs before I got into the bank (where I am on leave). Anyways- I used to have to create these "work orders" and log exactly how much time I spent on what activity so the big bad boss lady knew what to charge.

So now I am sort of doing that tracking with my days. I'm my own client and I want to reward (not charge, haha) my success as though that is my emotional currency.

It's a project that still needs a few details to make it as fun and easy as possible. Im working on that! I've started a log segmented in half hour increments and I'm just jotting down how I've spent my time. No big deal, it takes a couple seconds.

Sometimes seeing how I've really spent my time makes me sad. I feel like I'm mourning lost time and opportunity. I try to think as positively as I can muster when looking at my log or it can be discouraging at times. Thinking positive, lost time usually is really well spent rest and recoup time, as an example.

Now! I must reward myself for blogging as I've been blogging for a half hour :)

Do you have any suggestions or idea's on how to improve on this very small and simple yet powerful project of mine?

PS Sorry for formatting, typing, grammar errors. Blogging on my phone is tricky!

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Mission: Do Stuff

Mission Complete!

"I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear."
- Nelson Mandela

A Typical Day

Normally I don't leave the house. Open spaces, nonrhythmic noise and groups of people trigger panic attacks that are crippling. As a result I more or less isolate myself. I stay home and only leave when I have a doc appointment. I try to do any out of the house errands at the same time so it's one outing per week. I'm not going to pretend that's the healthy way to deal with my anxiety or phobia's. I'm just saying that's what I normally do. Normally.

Your Mission Should You Choose to Accept

I woke up yesterday morning determined to do something. I'm on disability (not working) and had cancelled my therapist the night before so really I had the whole day to do whatever I wanted. I shouldn't have canceled my therapist appointment but that's a whole other story. Rather than just surviving I decided I would push through the anxiety. I was going to leave the house without any plan other than to do stuff outside my home. Okay brain, "Let's Do This!"

Do What?

I caught the bus and rode a few blocks until I was out of my area and hopped off. I was walking casually listening to my ipod when the sickening feeling of irrational fear was creeping up. I had to escape and had no where to go. I started to sweat and my heart was thumping so hard it hurt. PANIC PANIC PANIC!

Wild eyed and shaking I retreated to a little coffee shop and ordered myself some lunch. Just the act of taking care of myself (resting, nourishment) was enough to settle the anxiety a bit as to venture back out into the world. This small success of going out into the world alone, then properly caring for myself non medicinally during panic was enough to start the momentum I needed to keep on keeping on.

Positive Momentum

After I finished my lunch I took a stroll. How long has it been since I just went out strolling? I couldn't tell you but it was very nice yesterday. The air was cool as winter has arrived but the sun was warm and the air smelled delightful. Thrilled that I conquered my apprehension of being outside for a walk I decided to go downtown and grab a few odds and ends that the kitchen needs.

Knowing my Limits

It may not seem like a big deal- I am extremely proud of these small successes I've had. I know, I just know I will get back into enjoying the space outside my home. I'll enjoy meeting people and going places but right now I don't. I'm "re-learning" to live a social life. It would have been wise to accept my success at this point and turn back pleased with my results however I don't know my limit. If I feel a little good I tend burn myself into the ground. Like I did yesterday!

Uh-Oh, What Happened?

I messaged my O.H. to let him know I was downtown if he wanted to meet up and he decide to take the rest of the day off. We went about a few shops together and decided we wanted to head to *hangs head in shame* Walmart. On our way into Walmart I very seriously explained if he was going to be with me I needed him to be kind an supportive. I knew being in a crowded box store would be enough to set me off but maybe with his support I would be okay.

10 minutes in he decided to publicly scorn me. Yea, he caused a scene. Wanna know what it was over? I saw some good hampers, said I was getting one and said I hated that it was always my responsibility to get stuff like that for the house. He went off saying if I'm going to be giving him a hard tie I can fuck off, he's sick of my shit and blah blah blah. It was so rude and out of place that patrons turning to walk down our isle stopped, looked and turned around again.AWKWARD.

Do NOT treat me like an abused child in public- no,  at ALL!! EVER!

I calmly turned and walked away from him.

I went to the most uncrowded corner of the store and had a nice hard heavy ugly cry.

Shaking with anxiety and sadness I bought underwear and yoga pants with tears streaming down my face. I know its really nothing for me to be humiliated over but once there's a leak in the damn the whole thing can give away and well... that was me. Picking out a pretty new blue bra between blowing globs of snot from my face and wiping thick silent streams of tears from my face.

I did what I set out to do though. I had a full and spontaneous day. Hey- still a success, right?

"You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing you think you cannot do."
- Eleanor Roosevelt

Monday, December 19, 2011

I remember when...

When I describe my symptoms to a mental health care provider, the first question is almost always, "When did this start?". My symptoms didn't just magically appear out of thin air in my 29th year of life. Like a beautiful musical progression my mental health woes came to symphony in my 29th year. It was a long time coming.

 When did your symptoms start?

Most of my symptoms have been present since childhood. I can remember being as young as 7 expressing grave concern over a tent being put up. I was mid presentation of the dangerous possibilities of collapse and smothering us to death when suddenly my sharp tonged mother hissed, "Stop worrying about everything, for Christs sakes!". I shut up and put up in a hurry. I learned to keep my worries to myself. If I had a problem it was my problem, and mine alone to fix it. Perhaps not so ironic I had asked for a globe that year as my spring gift. I cherished that globe. The world is awfully huge at 7 years old.

Worrying isn't a Mental Illness

Worrying can be a bad habit but as a stand alone it isn't a diagnosable condition. It was my chronic worry, my worry over literally everything that should have put up red flags for my care givers. I obsessed with even lines, straight lines, even proportions, and labels facing forward. Odd numbers literally caused heartache- heartache that I struggled with alone.

My caregivers took a small amount of notice when I was 8 and wore only black and deep purple clothing. I had an insatiable hunger to know everything there was to know about death. They loaded me in the vehicle and to the doctor. He was a kind old man who didn't seem to even believe in mental health conditions. "It's a phase that will pass". And so it did pass. The phase passed and morphed into something that would from this point forward remove any understanding between my parents and I for many years.

It's Just a Phase

I would fall asleep crying many nights, dreaming of my funeral or picturing horrific deaths of family and friends. I can remember getting up at night while everyone slept and tip toeing around the house planning the best escape if a murderer broke in. I decided my parents were un-savable since their room was in the basement. I would only be able to save my sisters and this pained me to no end. Based on window locations and possible entry points I had a strategic plan to save my sisters that I routinely checked and double checked for flaws.

When airplanes would fly over our property I would be afraid. I have never known the life of a war torn country citizen. I'm from Atlantic Canada. I'm pretty lucky. No reason to expect bombers or war. Not yet anyways. During my youth I was certain one of these times a plane flew over, that everything would be over. I remember whispering my goodbyes and crying in my closet waiting for death. Sometimes minutes. Sometimes hours. I can remember falling asleep in my closet waking up convinced I would be entering war and devastation.I was never relieved when I would wander out into my regular life with sisters and parents and pets. In fact, I was usually disappointed.

All of this and not once could I go to my parents. It was just a phase, right? The fact that it wasn't over means there is something wrong with me... so best keep this to myself. If they only knew.

Chasing Butterflies

My childhood has happy moments in the sun chasing butterflies and pondering the caterpillar conundrum. But this isn't that story. I remember when I realized it wasn't ever going to be.

I remember when I told my mother other parents didn't act like her; referring to her drunk episodes, as she was a formidable alcoholic. It bothered me never knowing which mom would be around if I needed something or had a question. She was very direct in her reply, "I don't care what you think. Think whatever you want but keep it to yourself. I don't want to hear it. Shut up."

I remember when I was in the 6th grade I did poorly on a test. Something like a 70%. Not a terrible mark but not my typical 90's. I bawled. I sat on the floor and repeatedly banged my head on the cement wall repeating "they are going to kill me, I'm going to die, they're going to kill me". I was only exaggerating a bit. I probably wouldn't die. I wasn't that lucky. A teacher came over and tried to talk me out of over reacting. They just didn't understand so why bother telling them whats going on right? No one cares what I think. Just keep my thoughts to myself (this is my 8 year old logic remember).

The Point of No Return

My mom barged in my room one night saying "Your friend Britney keeps calling".
"I know," I replied, "she's having a sleepover". Of which I wanted no part.

Dearest mother in her typical bullying and agitated manor got angry with me for not being ready and *told* me to be ready in 20 minutes, she was driving me there. Looking back I think she just wanted some time in the house to herself but at the time it felt like the worst kind of punishment. With a giant lump in my throat I got in the vehicle and sat in the cold watching the snow fall. I had almost convinced myself I could just sleep in the car and not have to deal with a sleepover or parents when mother got in the car cursing me for not telling her where I was.

I just leaned against the window an cried. I cried the whole way cross town. I cried in the driveway while my mother pulled away. I kept crying in the driveway until Britney's mother came out an asked if I was coming in. I guess the sensor light not shutting off tipped her off. I dried my eyes, brushed the snow from my jacket and went inside.

That was the worst panic I've ever had, mostly because I didn't understand. I suffered severe social anxiety and lack of routine set off a very reactionary me. I remember spending half the night in the washroom with diarrhea and the rest of the night pretending I was looking for something in my bag. The mood was weird. No one asked what was wrong. That's okay, I couldn't bare to admit I didn't know. At least not completely.

I remember one of the other guests telling me I was bringing down the party and I offered to leave but that wasn't the right answer. Ever the people pleaser I swallowed my pain and with a permanent pained grin, I watched the group of girls do girly things. I might as well been on mars. I have no recollection of anything else that night. Thank goodness. What I do remember hurts my spirit so much.

So, When did your symptoms start?

Was I ever symptom free?

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Borderline Bummer

I am hateful and agitated today. The first time I had gotten a diagnosis of sorts offered it was major depression, generalized anxiety disorder, and bipolar attributes. My post on Tuesday, Shifts in Head Shrinking, shows my newest diagnosis, major depression and borderline personality traits. I finally did a little bit of research on borderline personality disorder.

I can relate to some bipolar attributes. I have wild mood swings and impulsivity. There are times where I thrive on irrational energy bursts, unpredictably crashing into deep depression but I don't fit the diagnostic time frame criteria for the disorder.

I read up on borderline personality disorder & I was pretty much thrown on my ass. It fits and it fits comfortably!

I don't know why I haven't been researching other mood disorders myself to see what may be the most appropriate fit but in any event here I am. I'm comfortably tied to my new label yet distinctly agitated by it at the same time.

I feel a little bit like I'm starting over. It's been a miserable year and maybe this new diagnosis will help steer me into better treatment and healing... I hope so. Seems all I do is run on hope. When the hope runs dry I sleep. Perhaps that's why I slept 15 hours last night and am still in bed. Yea, I'm posting from m'iPhone.

I don't know what to do with myself. I kinda want to get run over by a train but I am sure that will only hinder healing. Healing is possible, right?

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Hump Day Grump Day

My heart is breaking with indecisiveness. It's like wanting something really badly but no matter what I try to do to satisfy the want it's impossible to feel engaged or enthused about anything. It's painful. I didn't do much today except make food. Much of my self-esteem issues are tied into my weight but honestly I like to eat. I like food, I like making food.

For now the fact that I'm making food and I'm not always buying something prepackaged or premade, is something I should be happy for. I'm not satisfied with this. It feels like half assed taking care of myself.

I want to be healthy. I do! I don't want to exercise and don't want to move. I don't want to leave my house. I don't want to get sweaty or lose my breath. Honestly!

Right now it seems I don't want those things more than I want to be healthy. Maybe that's true. Maybe I'm being impatient and I am expecting or wanting more of myself before I'm ready. I miss being in shape and going dancing or running.

I don't do much of anything anymore. I want to start doing 'things' again, soon. I want to want... Really I just want to sleep and eat. I'm just bored and tired of myself all the time.
This is such a downer post. I don't mean to be a downer. That's just kind of where depression has my mind hostage right now.

Gotta case of the hump-day grumps. Baking always helps my mood so back to the kitchen I go. Hi ho hi ho it's off to bake I go...

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Shifts in Head Shrinking

Doctor Change

Today, my psychiatrist advised me that she is leaving and there will only be one more appointment between us. I didn't really like her anyways so I wasn't very upset. I was a twisted sort of anxious happy. I'll know more about the change on our appointment next Friday. My shrink seemed really apologetic she hadn't told me sooner. Telling me just before our last appointment isn't too short of notice I suppose.

Treatment Plan

Two weeks ago my shrink asked me if I thought my evening dose should be increased and I told her, "I don't know!". I agreed to monitor my sleep so we could decide if my evening dose needed to be increased based on how groggy I felt in the mornings. This sleep monitoring was completely dismissed when I brought it up today as she was not willing to entertain the idea of increasing my bedtime dose.

I initially felt a positive effect from Seroquel. I was not feeling the same effect a couple of weeks later. It's like my body/mind got used to the dose really quickly and started to revert back to old (poor) ways of coping. That's what it felt like anyway.

That makes me kind of angry honestly. I didn't tell her that though. I was kind of worked up so I went into mime mode until I got home. I am totally happy to be moving on to someone new, however... I am being referred into a more psychotherapy intensive Day Treatment Program. Fortunately it's free but its very busy and I likely wont get to participate until April or later. I'll be researching the program while I wait; thanks, doc.

Knowing my Diagnosis

Progress has plateaued and I've been sinking deeper into the depths of depression. Irrational, rage filled mood swings don't make being depressed any easier. I lash out at the only person providing physical human contact and make us both feel like shit. After I lash out I see how irrational and inappropriate my reactions are but only after the fact. I am a self righteous bitch until then. Good for me.

Today I had to pick up an insurance document while I was at my psychiatrists office and I found her summation of my illness somewhat interesting. I'll be researching everything in more depth on my own later on. As far as I know this is the first time the term "borderline" has been used in reference to me. Anywho- This is what my shrink had to say about me:

I have Major Depression and Borderline Personality traits.

Here is a decent break down of what is meant by Axis I, II, etc.
Here's a really good explanation of what the Global Assessment of Functioning score implies.

What a day! What does this mean?
Hopefully I can answer that better by my next blog post.
Wish me luck!

Monday, December 12, 2011

Music Makes Me Happy

Mondays SUCK!

I try to limit my Monday obligations. Sundays (anticipating Monday) and Mondays are just full of suck. I was rattled right off the get go today because of early morning home repairs being done and it left me feeling like a bag of nerves. I get jittery, nauseous, tense, labored breathing and y'know- panicky. Before I medicate I try some simple mindfulness tricks to calm my senses.
  • light a couple tealights
  • burn an inscent (sandalwood is to die for)
  • drink a cool glass of water a or hot cuppa tea (mint/green) or hot-chocolate.
  • wash my hands alternating between hot and cold water.
Sometimes I'm so anxious, tense, or depressed awareness or mindfulness tricks don't help. Sometimes I have to take my daily allowance of "just in case" seroquel.That's okay! I had to today. No shame in that. While waiting for relief I still focused on simple things that make me happy, little things that I can do at almost anytime can help keep me from getting agitated or panicked beyond repair. Something that almost always soothes the savage inside me is music, loud music.
I love the YEAH YEAH YEAH'S.

 What simple things make you happy?

Friday, December 9, 2011

Twitter Psych Ward

[Caution: Potential Triggers]

I've never been hospitalized.

I had a councilor this year who advised me if I was having problems as severe as I've described, going to the ER and telling them I am going to kill myself will get me psychiatric care in a hurry. I was horrified. I wanted a psychiatrist to review my medications because SSRI's had only made the urge to self harm and want to die infinitely worse. Regardless, something inside my head screamed "danger!". When my doctor threatened hospitalization after learning of my self harm and suicidal thoughts I begged her to let me try again. I kept telling myself it was just the depression and a poor medication match. The sickness and side effects cause all of my woes is my story & I'm sticking to it. Sort of a fake it till you make it type of thing. I slaved at ignoring the noise in my head.

I've admitted many times that I want to die. I don't want to live. I am not going to kill myself. It doesn't matter how numb my hands go, how many times I have to rub my wrists along the hallway walls to the bathroom floor where I have laid crying wishing for the strength to just give in and slice.

I can't die.

I wish I could cut deep enough that, a couple days laid up immobile for risk of a wound splitting open again, isn't enough. I can't. I cannot let this disorder/disease/fucked-up-ed-ness take away the chance that I may someday have regular human contact and real relationships. I want to work again, chase my passions, be sexually active FFS! I don't really want to do any of those things but I remember wanting those things. I have brief memories of having those things. "The Experts" keep telling me this will get better. I have to believe them.

Suicide and Support

I've lost friends to suicide. Friends of friends. I've worked for families that have lost kin to suicide. I can't do that to my family. Even if it is guilt keeping me alive at times at least its something. I've tried crisis center phone numbers but they are not for me. Something else does help though, the Twitter Psych Ward. I have found a network of people, students, professionals, moms, dads, mentals, non mentals, doctors, patients, who have been able to provide the best support I could of imagined. They are never here and they are always there. Well, someone is and if not, I just read up on a timeline and feel a deep connect with those who go through similar pain. I truly don't ever have to feel alone. It's almost alarming how "dependant" I am on twitter for socialization but for now its something. Something is better than nothing, right? I truly am so very greatful for all the friends I've made online. Thank you.

But is that really safe?

I'm not disillusioned into thinking talking to "strangers" [friends] online is a proper substitute for psychiatric care. On the days when I can't get out of bed because that would cause me to have to breathe more and it hurts to breathe... on those days I'm not alone with my thoughts and that IS safe(r). I've read about many experiences of being hospitalized for episodes that pale in comparison to some of my lows. That scares the hell out of me when I think about my lowest lows. How did I survive? I do survive and I'm proud of that.

But what if...

If my therapist and psychiatrist ever have a chat and agree to tag team me into voluntary hospitalization then I will go. That is "the line" to cross so to speak. For now, they trust me at home and I'm doing okay. I'm still struggling and there are times I wonder how I ever used to take care of myself but I have my independence. That is my constant. I hang on to that when all I can do is hate myself. That, and my twitter folk.

Relevant link:

International Association for Suicide Prevention (IASP)

Thursday, December 8, 2011


 This morning my alarm went off playing The Doors, Strange People. My head filled with dread. Laying with my head under the covers I grabbed my iphone gently reminding me, "When you're strange... faces come out of the rain, when you're strange... no one remembers your name, when you're strange...." and hit snooze.

The idea of going outside on this dark and dreary day launched me into panic. Laying in bed, breathing deeply and steadily I knew it was "one of those days". Like all my mornings lately, I was at war with myself.

I got up and looked in the mirror. My face strained trying not to look angry and stressed. The dark circles housed under my eyes have been expanding. I decided looking like a wrinkled laundry hamper is acceptable and started to gather my things to leave.

Just go....

It was raining and windy so I used pedways & tunnels that twist through downtown. I got in an elevator telling it to go all the way down and instead it went all the way up. As the elevator filled with suits, looking at the wrinkled mental me, I started to sweat and my heart started thumping through my shirt. I was sure they could hear my heart pounding. I wiped sweat from my neck and brow. My head was swimming. I deliberately tried calming myself with all our favorite mindfulness techniques but it was of no use. Full blown panic. Tears burning in my eyes I thought I was going to pass out and puke on their lovely 400$ shoes.

I don't remember anything else until I am in my therapists office crying about something completely unrelated. I told her I was exhausted. I hated getting out of bed in the mornings. I didn't know what I was doing or where I was going. I felt out of control and lost. I am so tired of being stuck with me.

As the kindest mental health provider I've met yet- she did manage to somehow let me leave with the feeling everything will be okay, eventually. I don't have to know what I'm doing or where I'm going. Once we get me "stable" we can worry about goal setting and re-working some of the trauma I've not been able to get over on my own (from my younger years). I hate that I need her to reassure this but she did and did so very well. So much so I almost believe it.

All of that horror to be told it's not such a horror at all. *shrug* Best 90 bucks I've spent in a while.

How has someone helped you recently?

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Where in the World is Leslie's Salty Smile

I regret that I stopped blogging regularly. My laptop died and I'm on a loaner and... never mind. Excuses. If I wanted to blog I would. But I haven't so I didn't and here we are; I want to again! Hopefully I want it enough to make the blog of interest to someone (me).

Hopefully I can look back in a year and say "Wow, I was such a mess and I am so much better!!". I won't hold my breath but I'll hope.

Mental Health Recovery

These days I see my psychiatrist and psychologist bi weekly on alternating weeks so I am checking in with someone weekly. I am on Seroquel for my anxiety, depression and to help with sleep issues. It is also supposed to help quell the irrational rage and anger that's been coming out in my healing. Jury's still out on that one. I get an update from my psychiatrist on Tuesday of next week. She will be returning my long term disability claim form and I am very eager to get that sorted. Not knowing where money is coming from for more than a month at a time is stressful to say the least. I see my psychologist tomorrow. I love my psychologist but it doesn't prevent the nerves I have the day before I see someone. I know it is GAD bubbling up but I am a pile of anxiety today none the less.

Keeping Busy

I wrote about how I cured my insomnia for @natasha_tracy's blog. I also worked with @Allisomething for a piece she wrote about what it's like to be diagnosed with a mental illness. It's a good piece, I encourage you to check out her other writings! I was recently contacted by @diarycard and was offered a chance to try out the DBT app for free. Read about DBT here if you like. It is proving to be a learning curve but there are some benefits I see immediatly. Particularily in the coaching section. I'll say more on DBT & the app another time, I am sure.

Feels good

It does feel good to step back and take a snap shot of where I am in my healing and learning. There is lots more going on. For example, recently my homework from my psychiatrist was to get out and do something for ME. Well, I'm not good at focusing on just myself so I took a King's journalism students offer to sit and chat over tea and discuss my mental health. The rise and fall of an inspired mind sort of thing. It was so rewarding to actually sit and talk with someone. Its been YEARS since I've done anything as simple, innocent and encouraging as that little meet and greet. Forward momentum. That's one example of the many challenges I face that I am trying to conquer. This social butterfly may have lost my wings but I'm learning to crawl again.

Where are you in your journey to health and happiness?

Picture: pic