As I Believe

I decided long ago

Never to walk in anyone's shadow

If I fail, If I succeed

At least I'll live as I believe

No matter what they take from me

They can't take away my dignity

Because the Greatest Love of all is easy to achieve....

I found the Greatest Love of all inside in me.....

Learning to Love yourself is the Greatest Love of all.

---

The lyrics listed above may not be exactly correct.  If not, I apologize, but I don't really care.  They are there as they are because a while ago pieces of this song seemed to be continually playing through my head.  It went on for days - certain lines happening each time I would become discouraged or question something in my life or my past. 

Along with the song was a strong feeling of love, being embraced and encouraged that something greater than I was very closely present in my life once again.  It seemed always to lift me up and help me feel better - about myself, my life, and what is.  Because of that experience and some things that followed, I feel a very strong tug to return to speaking from the heart.

And so I have begun to write in my blog again.

My cycles of depression and giving up on life have been somewhat detailed in this blog.  My cycles of coming alive again and my beliefs on how and why that happens are also here.  

But this experience seems different, truly a new chapter in my life.  It brought a new feeling - of inner love - that isn't really coming from me - but seems to be being given to me.

Along with the love is a strong sense of surety in the forces we all strive to believe in.  There is a strong sense of surety in myself that has never been quite so fully there before.

---

It's actually been a couple of months now since I started this blog post, but didn't publish it.  In those months I've had a number of 'ah-ha' moments that are bringing a new understanding - integrating my spiritual search and intellectual learning with my emotional and metaphysical life experience. 

I am ready to move forward again; to what I don't fully know.  But I know that where I am is where I am meant to be; where I have been was just fine.  It brought me to here - this now - divinely.  And where I go in the future will be the result of trusting all that I have learned, been taught, and will continue to be guided through - with love from the Divine - of which I am a part - and from which I receive and give in return.

I no longer feel like two people.  The dance with my duality is done.  I have embraced my totality - and found it perfectly acceptable.

What if No one Answered?

Everywhere I turn, it's No.  Can't do that, won't work, invisible wall, brick wall, stop sign.

There's an alternative, a solution, for every problem they say.  The problem for me seems to be that for each alternative there is a reason it won't work, can't work, isn't the right time, or I simply don't have the ability.

I'm stuck - have been stuck - for almost 10 years now - staring at walls and wondering what I could do; if I could do, something, and how.  There isn't much.  The limitations I have placed upon myself, and continue to place upon myself, say No to most everything.

So I sit and draw upon the comfort of my bad habits, that only serve to keep me in this place.  Most days I say, "If I could only quit smoking."  "If I would make myself exercise."  "If I would eat better."  "If I had a job again, or something to give to others."  "Something to do for others, that would move me out of my own pity party."

Beyond the futility of my own self-imposed limitations (now real physical problems that prevent work or play in so many areas) is the reality of our day to day situation.  Frank's job requires that he be away from home.  The kids are gone and no longer need me.  I don't want them to need me.  I want them to have and create their own life - like all parents do.  And I want to create mine.  So when those times now occur that they seem to need me, I push them away, finally learning the lesson for myself that as grown adults they must make their own way, no matter how much I want to make it better for them.

So, Frank is not here.  The kids are not here.  Because of his job we've moved to a place unfamiliar to me - where I know no one.  And now his job is three hours away from that.  "Go out and be friendly.  Meet people.  It's not that hard,", they say.  It's always been hard for me - and now so even more.  I can't force myself to try anymore.

So I'm alone.  Day upon day of emptiness and loneliness.  No home that is my own anymore.  And the means and the timing to make a home again unknown and pretty much unavailable until who knows when.

Oh, what a pity party, huh?  Some days I sink into it.  Most days I really try hard not to.  I do.  I really do.  I find what I can to distract myself.  I think about others less fortunate.  I push to think the positive thoughts, begin again to work with the better habits, believe there is a reason and believe in myself.

Looking for - and finding - the positive, the interesting, the seemingly important, maybe even some reasons; I pass them along on Facebook.  I remember I have this blog.  I tell myself this is what I have, this is what I can give.  Some days that feels really right and important.

Other days I question whether it is - whether what I have to say has any meaning to people who are out in the world and living their lives - and figuring it out for themselves.  Or already have figured it out.  One day I spent an entire day on an entry that I thought was good - would be helpful - only to have Beth say:  "Well, DUH!"  Meaning I guess that everyone already knows and has moved beyond the things I sit and stew about.  So that entry got trashed.  And I haven't written for days since...

And depression has overtaken me again - for the last two days.  With nothing to do, nothing that could move me beyond it, and feeling totally lost, alone and worthless, hearing in my head that I have wasted 10 years like this - I returned to bed at 11:00 a.m. - feeling suicidal again; wishing I could just take a gun to my head.  Not that I really would.  I've felt that way many times over the years.  And I never have.  I don't want to die.  I just don't want to live like this.  I want all "this" to end.  I want to feel worth and feel I contribute to life, someone's life - beyond my husband's and children's - because they all have a life.  I'm the only one that doesn't seem to.


Having nothing, and seeming unable to move to anything, what I cling to... is God.  All the years of looking out through eyes of pain, of seeing, feeling and creating misery; I've asked God "Why" and asked for another way.

I've been answered.  Many many times I've been answered; in indirect ways - books, music, other people.  In very personal - direct ways - He has answered.  When I experience that knowing, what I want in the worst way is to share it - to let others know it is real and a real comfort from all the cares and backwards thinking of this world.

And so I write this blog, attempting to share it.   But mostly I haven't.  I'm still too unsure that anyone's listening, that what I'm giving has any meaning beyond another re-hash of my own insecurities and shortcomings.  Well, that's it I guess, today....

I am feeling insecure.  I am wondering whether this one thing that I try to convince myself that I have to give - that God wants me to give - is real, or just a figment of my imagination.  And so I thought about asking:  if what I do here has any worth, if what I do here is helpful or just a past-time for others - a distraction from their busy lives that really means nothing.

And then I thought:  "What if no one answered?"

And then I thought:  "It really doesn't matter."  Not that you, my reader, don't matter.  Giving to you is why I do this.  You are very important.  "It doesn't matter" because God has answered.

I don't know why my life is such as it is.  But I do know that I matter.  And I do know there is reason for me to be in this world.  And I do know God will show that to me day by day, regardless of the place I am in - emotionally or geographically.  I know that now and I want you to know it too.

God is real.  God loves you beyond measure.  You can do no wrong in His/Her eyes.  You have worth beyond measure simply because you exist and are a part of this loving God.

All this and more, God will show you too - will tell you - if you only ask and listen.

(In upcoming posts I will be sharing more of what God has shown me.  The writings are very personal, and very possibly subject to ridicule and rejection.  But so is this entire blog.  I believe it is what God wants me to do.  It is what I want and need to do.  And so it will be.)

The Goodness of Life

In my last post I mentioned that I would like to have my blog be more uplifting. I would like more of my blog posts to be about the Goodness of Life.

I used to do that, you know. I used to have a website that was entirely inspirational. I filled that site with quotes, famous people, poems, books, music, and my own musings about all things GOOD - even my thoughts on God, the Universe, Truth.

A few years ago I used to scower the internet looking for positive thoughts, uplifting ideas, anything that would lift me when my mood was dark or sad. Sometimes I had a difficult time finding those places.

And so I thought I would make a site where people like me could go... a place that would let them know they were not alone... a place where their fear, sadness, and depression could be left behind... changed into a new, different possibility.

I loved the material on my website, and I believed in it. I still do. It brought me joy. I loved the times that I absolutely felt "in the flow" and the words seemed to come from some place beyond me.

But I do not "walk" what I "talked". At times I felt a hypocrite spouting the goodness of life when my own was falling apart around me; when I let the difficulties of life pull me back down to depression; when I spent my time maintaining my own poor, unhealthy habits rather than working to change them.

Another pretty heavy crisis came about... and I let the site go...

And I sunk back into giving up.... waiting to die... and having it all be over....

Since that time the world has moved on, the crisis has passed, and life continues, such as it is.

I spent some time in a couple different internet communities but eventually left those also, when I couldn't always maintain a pretty picture of myself to present to the world... when the depression overshadowed and oozed out and showed. It was very embarrassing.

Since that time a few Voices have come into my life with little hints that perhaps I'm too hard on myself. I met a man online that was part of a Distance Healing Network and I thought perhaps I'd join... but I was in too insecure a place at the time. He said most healers are also in need of healing themselves.

My youngest son, Neil, asked me to come back to Facebook so that we could at least share pictures and such. So I did. It's been fun, and I've met some great folks. And I'm thankful.

And then I watched "Minds on the Edge" and got a new perspective on the physicality of mental illness and the need to speak out and bring a new understanding.

And then I heard about "Bring Change 2 Mind" and got a new perspective on the stigma of mental illness... and realized how much of it was my own. Those two deepened my conviction to try again...

And then my oldest son Patrick started telling me of a community he is part of, where they discuss spiritual and life issues, often with greatly differing opinions. I said I found those communities too difficult to deal with, someone always looking to discount, disrespect, and lessen your beliefs.

And Patrick said that should never be a reason to stop speaking your beliefs. It doesn't bother him that others don't believe as he does, or even if and when they try to belittle his beliefs. It doesn't bother him that he has shortcomings and that others may point them out. Each person's beliefs are their truth and each of us has the right to speak it. (He talks of it much better than I in his blogpost, here).

Wow.

Sometimes I'm so proud of the men that my sons have become. (You know you're getting old when your children are teaching you.) But I'm so thankful for that too.

Because of all this, little parts of me, pushed down and buried, are trying to seek the light of day. Somehow they keep getting squashed. But I'm not giving up hope that soon I will bring a few of them to fruition. I hope you won't give up on me either. Someday soon I hope to talk to you once again of the goodness of life.

My Story

This evening I tried to post "My Story" on the Bring Change 2 Mind website. I wasn't able to because it wouldn't let me "register" for some reason.

However, I did receive a nice comment from Miriam after posting on their message board there. So, I thought I would post here what I had written. The questions are those asked at Bring Change 2 Mind.


When did you know you had a mental illness?
I never knew that I had a mental "illness". I never saw my issues as an illness, but as a "flaw" within me. I was diagnosed with depression at age 30. For many many years thereafter I continued to work and raise a family, occasionally on medications, occasionally seeing psychiatrists, counselors, etc whenever my "inability to cope" with life became more than I could bare.

Often we are told that depression is temporary and linked to particular circumstances that are happening in your life; so we think that when the circumstances go away, or you are on meds for a while, the "problem" should be gone... And I often thought it was...

Only for episodes of major depression to occur again... Over the years I tried to educate myself and realized that I have had "Generalized Anxiety" and some social phobia all my life... I was afraid to walk to school, for instance, and dreaded it every day, even continuing through my High School years, but never told anyone. I always saw it as being afraid of life, and couldn't understand why I was....

At a particularly trying time in our life, I began to have panic attacks, and (I believe) suffered a "nervous breakdown". As with other times, when things got too bad, I would quit my job for a break and to recoup myself. When I felt well enough to "handle" things again, I would go back to work.

Eventually my once great resume now looked a mess, past employers told of my issues, and the work (and wages) I was able to get degraded.... Finally I asked my MD to put me on Disability and asked that he help me get permanent disability (as I now felt totally incapable of working, but couldn't leave my family without my salary). The MD refused (said he wasn't qualified) and sent me to a psychiatrist for evaluation and help... Actually, HE said he would give me a referral. His staff told me they "had none" for psychiatrists, acted very unhelpful, and left me to fend for myself in finding someone. I had the very strong impression from most everyone I encountered during these circumstances that they felt I was faking this in an attempt to stop working and get disability. Who the hell would want to?!

So I went to the psychiatrist with the determination to try to get Social Security Disability...

I was approved for Social Security Disability when he diagnosed me (for their purposes I guess) with PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) because of the years of going through this...

How did you feel after you were diagnosed?
Making the decision to go on disability and "label myself" as disabled with a "mental" illness sent me into a deeper tailspin of depression. My self esteem and self worth were shattered - gone. I saw myself and my life as a failure... to me, to my family, to the world at large. I was (and still somewhat am) embarrassed that I have screwed up and wasted my life and my children's. I have now spent 7? years as a recluse and spend my time with any hobby that will keep the critical voices in my head at bay.

How has treatment helped you?
It took a year to get the Social Security. I was on meds and saw the psychiatrist until that time. After that I felt I could no longer afford the cost of the seeing him just to "chat"... I had given up on life, never mind the thought of any "recovery". Eventually I went off the meds also because of the cost, and because just staying at home I had little to stress me. So I haven't done treatment since receiving Social Security.

What is your message of hope for people like you?
I have no message of hope. I'm very glad, however, that people like you do. Your campaign, and the Minds on the Edge campaign have given me the voice to at least tell my story...

However, since my daughter was diagnosed with Schizophrenia, now Schizo-Affective Disorder, ten years ago and her illness is more recognized as a PHYSICAL brain disorder, some of the misunderstanding is a little better in our immediate family. So I guess that is hope... and a little movement forward.

Should we fix it?

I'd like to say Thank You to those who've visited my blog and made comments both here and on the Minds on the Edge page on Facebook. I appreciate your thoughts, concerns, offers for help.

"Help" is part of what I'd like to address in this post. Also, to state again the intention of my blog. My blog is intended to let others know what it is like to live with "Mental Illness" and the struggles and frustrations that entails. It is intended to open the eyes of those unfamiliar with the struggle. It is not a cry for "help" on a personal level.

hmm.... I'm not getting my point across the way I want... I don't want to sound unappreciative of people's offers to help or their recommendations, and I would certainly never advocate that anyone not strive to move forward.

When I write of the frustrations of living with mental illness and the problems of the current "systems", I'm not doing so simply to criticize them. I'm doing it to call attention to the issues and the often "Catch 22" nature of the entrenched modes of thinking and doing things that make the systems ineffectual and keep things from changing for the better for all.

I'm not new to the mental health issues that concern my life, I'm just new to giving public voice to them. Depression has been part of my life since age 30 (20+ years), anxiety all my life, and Beth's Schizophrenia since she was age 20 (10 years now). We haven't exactly been sitting on our hands all this time, but we have ourselves perpetuated the Stigma - by not speaking out, by being ashamed, by ignoring and denying and by harboring the thought almost constantly that we needed to fix ourselves.

I feel the stigma of mental illness has kept us quiet, ashamed, and hiding because mental illness is often identified as an imperfection in the person ('there must be something wrong with him'). The voices we hear (real and imaginary) are very often critical voices - or interpreted as critical voices. It's important to be gentle - on both sides.

Unfortunately, it was what seemed to be the "go get help" voice/sound-bite that threw me into the tailspin of depression for the last few days. Again, please understand that intellectually I can rationalize that those words were not meant to be critical, but emotionally... I guess I can't... or couldn't, yet again, this time.

I have found over the years with Beth and myself, that sometimes no matter how hard we try, understanding the depth of the difficulty for the other can still escape us; we don't always understand just how hard the other is trying. Sometimes we don't allow that the fix might not work for them like it did for another, or maybe not at this time, given all the circumstances.

Maybe some things can't be fixed, and maybe some things don't need to be. They, and the person, just need to be accepted, as they are. To me, accepting the person, means erasing the negative connotations applied against that person because they have an illness. As others have said: We don't call a person with cancer "cancerous".

For example: I've spent 20 years going to Psychiatrists, Therapists, Counselors; on various medications; I've read (seems like) every self-help, spiritual philosophy, and each new "program" for "healing" my "emotional problems". I won't say I haven't learned from them, that my life is not better for them, or that I haven't gained from them. But when all is said and done, I am still here, as I am, anxious, reclusive, easily upset. The physicality of my issues affects me much more directly and quickly than it ever did... having progressed over the years. I accept that I'm probably not going to get "healed" of this, given the various circumstances of my particular life.

Depression is not "me" but it does affect many aspects of my life. The idea that you choose the thoughts and attitudes you have is not lost on me. 'Just change your mind.' 'Think positively'.

Once my son said he believed that I "liked" my depressive thoughts and emotions, and thus I perpetuate them. That idea is in itself very painful, has led to many guilt-ridden days and nights. The psychiatrist that Social Security sent me to for evaluation diagnosed me as a depressive personality. He gave the technical term, but my psychiatrist explained it as a person who always sees the glass half empty, it's just their natural attitude, and psychiatry does not normally treat for it. I took it as the first psychiatrist's way of siding with Social Security, to keep me out of it. But Social Security must have agreed with my psychiatrist's view of the illness as having progressed to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder after years of stress and crisis after crisis. Now there is a prevalent, predominant, physicality to it that cannot be denied.

Since the first diagnosis of depression at age 30, I have spent 20+ years trying to use my mind to change my mind: 'Think positively', 'Change my attitudes'. That takes a tremendous amount of time, focus, and work. Invariably I would end up in the depression cycle again.

It used to be that I was predominantly "happy", healthy, looking forward to life, enjoying my life. I walked through my days pretty much okay, until a crisis or difficulty imposed upon it. Either I didn't handle those crisis es well, or there were too many of them. Who knows?

Now I am predominantly "dull", unhealthy, have no belief in any future, accepting what is. Anxiety is triggered by very minor events, which is why I am so reclusive... less stimulus, interaction with others, less anxiety; there's safety in the corners of my home and little place else.

Major depressive events such as the last four days are fewer of course, there's less to trigger them. Maybe you could say I'm just terminally depressed. If you look forward to nothing and have no expectations, just waiting for the days to pass; you may have no life, but at least you're not riding the roller-coaster of extreme emotion.

Being in this state I don't have the physical strength (health) or consistent enough motivation or desire to change it. I used to 'push' myself, 'force' myself to try, to do. It's very tiring. Sometimes I still do that, when I absolutely have to for some reason. I see those reasons as few and far between now, or I feel I just don't have the capacity any longer. Now I accept it.

I don't look to "fix" me anymore, but accept me and my life as what it is. It doesn't really help me feel any better about "me", but it does keep the thoughts at bay, which allows the Peace I need. Peace is a wonderful thing.

Don't Give Up

It probably isn't good for me to write at night. I'm tired; emotionally and physically. So the writing probably tends to be a bit depressive. Actually I've been worrying tonight that my entire blog thus far is quite depressive, and who would want to read it?

But that's part of the point of this blog; to be real, to not force myself to speak from a positive attitude when that attitude just isn't there. Being "out in public" is something I've avoided for oh, about five years now. Actually most of my life... But the public I'm talking of now is putting this blog on the 'net. It's quite scary for me. It pushes my anxiety levels to new heights each time I make a new post, or do anything with the blog. Whatever... that's life for me.

Beth was reading a page describing the symptoms of various mental illnesses the other day on Bring Change 2 Mind. One of the symptoms of PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) is avoiding people, places, experiences that are reminders of the traumatic event that made you ill. I guess I fit the bill on that one, as I rarely leave the house now.

Actually I have ALL the symptoms of PTSD. Probably that's why that was the primary diagnosis that put me on Social Security Disability. ha!

I guess they actually stretched it a little for me... The info on PTSD usually states that it is based on a single event that occurred. For me, it was many. Just life, little crisis after little crisis after little crisis until I crawled into a ball and hid myself away from life.

With PTSD, you become anxious even when there is nothing to fear. Even when you know there is nothing to fear. The hormones or whatever still kick in over nothing. So now that happens with me over things most people take for granted: walking to the mailbox to get the mail, jumping in the car to go upstreet, remembering and finding everything I wanted when I go shopping, choosing between items, meeting people, and oh my God! working things out when you have to cooperate with someone else! They all leave me in a panic. Mostly I have to force myself, cajole myself into doing them. Sometimes I just get tired of forcing myself, and sometimes I know I just can't, so I don't even try.

Anyway, the point here is: that is how it often feels to me when I try to write a new post in this blog. Making decisions, and then being okay with those decisions, is tough.

But, I'm doing it. I'm not giving up, totally, yet. I'm fighting my fear and I'm writing this post and I'm not going to let the worry that no one is reading them, or the worry that someone is reading them, deter me. At least not tonight.

You can find the full list of symptoms for PTSD on the Learn the Facts page of Bring Change 2 Mind. You'll also find info there on Fact vs Fiction of mental illness, as well as the symptoms of Bipolar, Schizophrenia, and Depression.

Who Cares?

When my children were infants I changed their diapers, cradled them, and fed them at my breast. When Patrick broke his wrist, Beth placed her hand fully on a burning wood stove, and Neil broke a front tooth straight off, I jumped to the emergency and saw them through to recovery.

Now that my daughter is an adult and I am sick with depression, anxiety and despondency; how do I help my beautiful girl who is crying out for help, who lives with emotional pain, fear, and turmoil every day. Tonight my depression is taking its toil on me. I'm tired. I'm sick with worry. I hurt that the recent efforts I have tried to make have led nowhere.

I don't have the strength or courage to be an active public advocate in the community all by myself. Beth doesn't have the ability because of her condition. At the moment she is reclusive; shying away from all social and public interaction because her symptoms are dominating every waking moment. Her sporadic sleep patterns add to the problem.

Yesterday we tried to go shopping. "They" were everywhere... strangers in the store making sharp comments aimed at her, the music on the store system specific to her past unhappy experiences, bumper stickers and license plates all "planted" by "them" to hurt her and let her know they were watching, judging, and enjoying their power over her. The paranoid delusion of a network of people conspiring against her, enjoying the living hell they making of her life. Will medication ever make that one go away? Is my beautiful child, now a lovely woman that no one any longer sees, doomed to live this nightmare the rest of her life, alone?

This morning she came over crying, asking me to take her to her scheduled mental health appointment, as she wasn't strong enough to make the drive herself, or go into the drug store to get the next new medication that the Nurse Practitioner hopes might help. It takes time to see if the new med will work, so her next appointment is scheduled for a month away.

As I started to write this post I was crying... working out the words makes that issue come and go... I was crying because no one has read this blog. No one has watched the "Minds on the Edge" video or gone to their website, though I post and post to my Facebook page links and info and ask and ask.

Who cares about the mentally ill? Apparently no one. There are no pink ribbons, no concern over the fact that my daughter is in extreme need of compassion, caring, and support; no uproar over the fact that services to assist her and others like her as so limited; no charitable giving of heart, mind or dollars anywhere.

How do you engage them?

Helpless... I'm helpless and ineffectual as a Mother now, the one that she should be able to depend on. I'm all she has and I'm not up to the task, or getting it done. From my sense of worthlessness I wait and hope for the day that my life is over. From my sense of responsibility and love for my child I pray for some help, some strength and courage for us both, for the determination to go on, and hope that maybe somehow, some way, some day it might get better.

And the cycle of mental illness goes on and on.....