The beginning of the end..

So yesterday began the start of a total detoxing, cleansing, and purging of some medications from my body, particularly psychiatric medications..  For fourteen long years I’ve been on all manner and type of psychiatric drug under the sun..  Here’s the shortest version I can manage to tell of how I started taking them..

It was about 14 years ago when I had a couple seizures; they were not the Grand Mal kind everyone pictures when they hear the word seizure, they were a less violent, but still serious kind..  I was seen by my neurologist, who immediately started me on anti-seizure meds..  I went through a battery of different tests, all indicating they were non-epileptic seizures..  After having a few, I never had any more; the cause was never determined, though it’s not entirely out there for individuals to have a couple unexplained seizures and then never have an issue with them again..  But I was immediately told I couldn’t drive, which I understood, but for an extremely independent person who drove everywhere, even to Walmart (or Taco Bell) by herself in the middle of the night, this was quite a blow..  The neurologist didn’t stop there though, he went on, telling me not to shower with the door closed because I might fall, stop up the drain and drown to death..  Or that I could fall, bashing my head against something accidentally and bleeding out until I died..  He was trying to scare the living crap out of me – and it worked!  I was scared to death..  Now, remember, I didn’t have the  drop to the floor, flailing about kind of seizures, so for him to say these things doesn’t (now) make sense..  But we were naive and unknowledgeable about things like that back then..  I’d like to think we’re smarter and more discerning now..  I know that whenever I’m given a new diagnosis or medication, we go home and educate ourselves as much as possible..  Anyways, after the few seizures I had in the beginning I never had another one..  But the neurologist caused the start of my battle with severe anxiety and that’s when I began having panic attacks..  Also, the medications he put me on were so strong that they were causing me to experience and exhibit very strange side effects..  When he couldn’t get those to stop he would either increase the dose or add another medication or both..  He obviously didn’t distinguish the difference between the seizures I described to him in the beginning and the bizarre side effects I described to him afterwards, or the fact that I was now having panic attacks that he was mistaking for seizures..  Looking back we say to ourselves, “why did we go to him for so long?  Why did we allow him to treat me for so long?!”  But we trusted he knew what he was doing, and at that point we knew so little about what was going on with me that we couldn’t distinguish what was what either..  But he was the doctor, who should’ve known what he was doing!, and we trusted him..  He would periodically run tests again, change meds, increase dosages with almost every visit, and I started experiencing depression..  I had never before had an issue with anxiety nor depression, until he started throwing drugs down my throat, literally changing my brain chemistry..  And when, after years of being so drugged up I couldn’t function, and with symptoms continually changing and getting worse, we finally asked for a second opinion..  You know his reaction?  Anger..  He was mad that we would question his ability to treat me..  I don’t think it was at all unreasonable for us to ask for another doctor’s input on what was going on with me..  So he begrudgingly referred me to the Medical College of Georgia in Augusta, where they scheduled me for a five day EEG testing period where I was hooked up to an EEG monitor in a hospital room for five straight days, barely able to even walk down the hall (I had to ask special permission from the nurses, who usually said no)..  The specialist down there said it was definitively not epilepsy of any kind..  Not that he had the authority to make this diagnosis, but he thought it was a disorder where I imagined my symptoms and he all but said I was making them up for the attention it was getting me..  I can’t recall the name of the disorder, not that it’s important..

So we went home confused, not necessarily that it wasn’t epilepsy, because at that point we didn’t think it was, but at the proposed diagnosis..  I saw at least one other neurologist, another specialist, and a couple other doctors or practitioners here and there..  I ended up seeing a psychologist a couple times who “confirmed” this disorder diagnosed by the guy in Augusta..  We weren’t convinced, so we started going to a psychiatric facility in town where, again, for years I was having meds upon meds shoved down my throat, altering my brain chemistry even further..  My symptoms kept getting worse and the diagnoses kept coming..  I was, once again being mistreated, both on a medical and personal level..  Then a true godsend came in the form of Lauren, who I see now (at a different office) for my psychiatric care..  We’ve been working with her for probably about a year and a half or two years now..  She’s been great..  We love her..

Now come to present day… with the guidance and watch of Lauren, I am cutting back significantly on all my  psychiatric meds..  I’m either cutting the dose completely in half or stopping them entirely..  That’s six different meds, a lesser number and dosage already than I’d been taking when I first started seeing her!  I’m hoping to get to the point where I’m off all the psych meds and can tell for certain what mental health illnesses I may actually have, if any..  Growing up my issues always revolved around my period..  Three out of four weeks every month were torture, whereas one week I’d be fine..  Was that PMDD?  Or was it bipolar disorder?  It’s funny, “funny”, before the seizures I had been talking with Mom about seeing a gynecologist about my periods to see what could be done about the issues I was experiencing related to them..  But before we even had the time to find a Dr and make an appt, the seizures happened and my life was flipped, turned upside down..  The whole “period thing” got put on the back burner for years..  I eventually had a hysterectomy, but my body was such a wreck already from all the heavy-duty meds that I wouldn’t have been able to tell if symptoms got better or not..

These are things Mom and I have discussed at length about for a long time, over a period of months, some over years, and are things we’ve finally come to a finite plan on..  I’ve been saying for a long while that these meds are literally killing my body; I could show you the list of about a dozen things I’ve been diagnosed with since I first started the seizure meds (which often overlap and can be also used as psych meds) and then transitioned into the psychiatric meds..  I’ve recently felt an urgency to do something about it, like quit as many meds as possible, starting with the psych meds..  I’ve been diagnosed with two separate things by two separate doctors over the last couple weeks that the doctors flat-out said it’s because of all the drugs I’m taking..  If I hadn’t had my suspicions before that these meds were causing physical ailments, I certainly have reason to now..

So, now begins the loooong process of getting my brain chemistry back to some semblance of normal..  My hope is that I’ll discover I don’t actually have any mental illnesses and that what I’ve been dealing with over the last fourteen years has been a result of the toxicity of the meds I’ve been on over the years and that I can get back to the “old me” and am able to reclaim my life..  I know for absolutely certain that getting these drugs out of my system is going to be hell for me, and probably those around me, but I’m determined to get through this as a strong individual..  I am very afraid of the depths I may reach, but I am resolute to persevere..  I want to get my life back and to feel like myself again, not wholely consumed by anxiety to the point where I feel uncomfortable in my own home, even in the refuge of my bedroom..  I want to find pleasure and happiness in the things I once enjoyed so much..  I miss them, with all my heart, and I hope to have that desire for them again..  I know I have the full support of my family, and that’s everything to me..  I’m sure I don’t deserve that kind of devotion, but I am definitely thankful for it..

The plan of attack is to counteract this from all angles – vitamins, herbal supplements, diet, anything that we can do to help in this fight to get my brain healthy again..  It’s gonna be an uphill battle, but we’re raring to go!  I’m working on learning meditation and mindfulness techniques that I can use to center and calm myself when I’m feeling overwhelmed..  In time, when energy isn’t in such short supply, I’m sure we’ll begin to incorporate exercise into the mix, too..  Right now I’m feeling strong of will, determined; I’m ready to do this!  That’s not to say I’ve not got my eyes wide open about what could happen, but I am ready for this challenge..

I know this may be asking a lot, but maybe along the way, over the next few months, you guys could send a random word of encouragement, saying whatever you feel compelled to say whenever you feel compelled to say it..  It would help tremendously..  It could just be a quote from someone or a scripture or a song lyric or a simple ‘i love you’, I don’t know..  Only if you feel compelled..

I know how much love and support I have from you all and it truly means so much to me..  Just because we’re family doesn’t mean we automatically care for one another, whether we should or not..  And you all choose to care about me..  I’m sincerely sorry that I don’t inquire about each of you very often (or at all), that’s not fair to you..  But please know I do love you and appreciate you very much, even if I don’t say it..

Tis better to have loved and lost …

Last night another one of my cats passed away..  She was the sister to Big Girl and Stubby, who are already gone, and was two and a half months away from turning eighteen..  Meg will be sorely missed, but she was always dearly loved..  She’d been losing weight for months, but over the last few days it was obvious she was on her last legs..  It seems hard to lose her because she’d been a part of my life for more than half of it..  It doesn’t get any easier losing them, no matter the circumstances..  I’d been mourning her coming death the last few days and, though it didn’t come as a surprise, it was still incredibly hard and left me feeling empty..  I’ve got another girl kitty, Stinky, who’s somewhere around 17 years old and she’s also been losing weight over the last several months..  She’s been very unsettled since last night and seems to be taking it hard that Meg is gone, they were constant cuddle-buddies and I think Stinky will really miss Meg..  I believe it won’t be long before Stinky goes, too..  Though I’d very much like to be wrong about that..  And then I’ve got my boys, the brothers, Frodo and Sam..  They’re gonna be five in a few months and will hopefully have very long, healthy lives..  One thing I hope that all of my cats know (or knew) is that I love them with all that I am, they are my children since I will never have any human babies..  But from here on out I am not adopting any more cats!  Nor will I after Frodo and Sam pass..  It wounds me too deeply to lose them..  I’m not strong enough to endure any loss voluntarily brought upon myself..  I don’t know if I’m strong enough to endure loss INvoluntarily brought on me..  I’ve been told before that I’m a strong person to have gone through the things I have and to have come out the other side..  I don’t feel strong..  And the saying that whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger is bullshit..  Whatever doesn’t kill you just doesn’t kill you – it leaves you exactly as strong, or as weak, as you were before..  I understand the sentiment, if you survived then by the very nature of the having persevered you’re a stronger person..  But if you survive a drowning by simply managing to keep your head above water until help arrives, that doesn’t necessarily make you stronger; you just survived, you didn’t grow or evolve..  So the idea that growth or development is inherent in the mere act of survival is ignorant and naive..  But what do I know?  I’m ever the pessimist and am probably unenlightened, so take my words with a grain of salt..  I’m jaded and damaged goods, what wisdom could I bring to the table?

I’ve been ruminating on things about my childhood and my years of growing up, trying to untangle the twisted ball of screwed up mess that is my complicated life..  I realized that, at the age of seven, I was suicidal..  I had written ‘I wish I was dead’..  I had been bullied by my first grade teacher because I had an adopted sister who wasn’t white..  I was mistreated because she was racist and took her prejudicial hatred out on me..  I would be punished for things I didn’t do, getting in trouble in class in front of everyone..  I guess I was a silent sufferer even then because my parents didn’t know how badly my teacher treated me..  If they did I’m sure they would’ve done something..  I don’t fault them for not doing something about a problem they didn’t know existed..

I’m not gonna talk bad about growing up as the child of directors of a group home, but it wasn’t ever easy..  While there are some tough things I went through, I had a friend or two at different points along the way..  Those friendships faded, but I appreciated them very much at the time and even still today I appreciate the companionship they gave me at the time..  And I grew up in a small church with a sometimes non-existent youth group, except for me and Gen and the girls from our house..  So I didn’t have a whole lot of friends..  I was about 18 or 19 when I found a forum/ messageboard for fans of Tolkien’s the Lord of the Rings (and his  various other works)..  It was right after the first movie came out, the Fellowship of the Ring..  I felt like I was embraced and like I’d found a place where I could belong..  I’d not been a lifelong Tolkien fan like most on there, but that didn’t matter..  I made friends, via the Internet, and was actively involved in the forum for ten plus years..  I had made some great friends..  I even met some of them in real life!  It was great..  I’m not as close to them anymore, and the forum is pretty much defunct, but it was a source of happiness for many years and I had friends on there for years..  I’m so grateful for that time of my life..  I’ve had a friend or two come and go between then and now, but I’m so different from most people at such a core level that I can only connect so intimately or so deeply..  There seems to be a limit to my friendship capabilities and I don’t really understand why..  I feel like I can connect and engage for a while, but then it kind of fizzles out..  I’m not one to want to stay at a chit-chatty superficial level; I want a deep soul connection..  I long for that person I can connect to completely, not even necessarily on a romantic level..  I want to have a relationship where I can, 100% of the time, text or call whatever whenever, no matter what I’m thinking, no matter what time of day or night; I need a person I can depend on to be accessible to me at all times..  I’m sure that could be labeled as too needy or dependent or even unhealthy; I feel like, and this is not intended to be an insult to anyone, but I feel that I operate on a deeper plane of emotions than most..  I feel so intensely, to an extent that it’s debilitating and crippling..  I’m exploring options and possibilities beyond mental illness diagnosis, but I know I’m unlike anyone else I’ve ever met..  I know there are things I need that I just can’t ask of anyone in my life right now – they are things they either can’t give or that I wouldn’t ask of them..  I’m at a loss and I’ve been drowning, just barely keeping my head above water, for years..  I’m in 24/7 survival mode and can’t seem to find a way out..  I feel like I’ve exhausted every avenue of treatment and have gotten nowhere..  There is literally nothing left..  I’m afraid of the damage I can sense is being done to my body by all these psych meds..  It seems to be a vicious cycle – I have a symptom so I take a med, which in turn causes a symptom that I need an additional medication for, which causes a symptom I need an additional medication for, and round and round it goes!  I’m so in tune with my body at this point that I know things are way off kilter and I don’t feel we’re any closer to the solution now than we were at the very beginning..  I’m on so many drugs that I know, I KNOW, I’m doing irreparable damage to my body by taking so many medications..  I wonder all the time how many of them I really need..  Am I at toxic levels of them? Are my ‘mental health’ symptoms just side effects of medications I’m taking to alleviate the symptoms?  Are the ‘symptoms’ merely side effects of the meds and not actually caused by any illness originating in my body?  But I’m told to take this med and this med and that med, so I do..  I’m trying to get off as many psych meds as possible, but the process isn’t fast enough for me..  I’m beginning to head into panic mode, I’m feeling like there’s an urgency to get off these drugs, but I don’t know what it is..  Perhaps it’s just that I’m sick and tired of taking handfuls of them both morning and night and a few pills in between, but I sense it’s something more..  I don’t know what, but I hope to find out before it’s too late..

I’m probably thought of as being overly dramatic and overly sensitive..  I don’t know about the overly dramatic part, I don’t feel like I play up the histrionics, but I will admit I’m a sensitive soul, though not in the way most people would mean when they use that phrase..  I’m sensitive to other people’s energies, positive or negative, and am affected by it..  I have high anxiety due to over stimulation because of sensory overload – loud noises, bright lights, pressure of touch, strong smells..  I like calm, dark, cool environments where I can ‘detox’, if you will..  I’m living in a high intensity household where it seems (to my perceptions) there’s a perpetual energy of chaos wafting through the air..  I can’t, and won’t, complain about my living arrangements, because I’ve got it good..  I’m lucky to have such a great set-up and I’m beyond grateful for it, it’s better than I deserve as a 34 yr old adult still living at home..  Not that I ever had much choice, but whatever..  It is what it is..  I should have no reason to complain..

Do you, whoever you are that is reading this, perceive me as someone who is constantly whining and complaining?  I feel like you would, but I’m no mind reader..  I feel like I’m giving off negative vibes all the time because I’m suffering, mentally and physically..  I don’t want to be that one person who always brings the mood crashing down with my negativity..  Or that one person who stands out for being different, though I already know that I am that person, so I guess I need to learn to cope with constantly being the outsider..  My thought process is different, my emotional barometer is different, my physical sense of self is different..  I’ve always felt like that one person who doesn’t quite fit in, even in the best of times..  But there I go pissing and moaning again..  Do I ever DO anything about any of it?  What can a person possibly do to fit in with people who were made from a different mold?  Maybe that’s why I get along with cats so well – they’re fickle, I’m fickle..  I’m crawling along at a snail’s pace through life while everyone else is far ahead of me..  I don’t want to hold anyone back, but I’m afraid of being left behind..  I literally cannot survive on my own, as a singular unit; I physically need other people to accommodate my needs..  I’m selfish that way..  They say ‘if you love someone, let them go’..  Well, I should do that with my family; I should stop being a constant responsibility because I’m a grown-ass woman who can’t take care of herself on her own..  I feel like all I do is take..  I put my heart, soul, and energy into surviving my minute-to-minute existence and by the end of it I have nothing left to give..  I’m a leech, a parasite, offering nothing in return..  I feel incapable of offering anything in return..  Do I subconsciously withhold what I have to give because I fear rejection?  I fear opening up to people who don’t seem to want me to fully open up, because you can’t unring that bell..  And people know that..  I think they’re just as afraid of what I hold within me as I am of what they’ll think of what I hold within me.. I’ve always got up some kind of facade, whether it be more light-hearted than I’m truly feeling or maybe a chatty Kathy, talking about casual things only, without getting into the grit of a conversation..  I really want to make deeper connections with the people around me, but I feel they’re either dismissive or afraid of me because of my issues or that there’s an awkwardness because I don’t know how to be me around them..  I’m emotional and fragile and I’m easily affected by other people’s moods and energies..  I physically can’t be around people very much right now because it’s too much for me to handle – the loudness, the constant movement, the changing moods – it makes me nauseated and anxious and I feel the need to be withdrawn..  I’ve holed up in my part of the upstairs and usually only come out when absolutely necessary, like for a Dr’s appt or if I feel the need to get out for a while and run errands with my mom..  I feel like solitude is a necessity right now, until certain things in my life can be sorted out..  I’m in a constant state of hyperactive senses, always listening for the slightest noise of disturbance downstairs (concerned that someone might be hurt), cringing at bright lights and loud sounds, trying to guard against any disquieted or negative energy (though I, admittedly, don’t really know how to do that effectively)..  I’m always in a state of half-panic, fearing the chance I’ll somehow put someone out or make someone else’s life more difficult simply with my own..  I have needs that I can’t, myself, meet and I have to depend on other people to do these things for me and I hate that..  I used to be, many moons ago, so independent and free and able to care for myself like a normal and capable human being..  Now I’m not that person anymore and I hate myself for the burden I feel I am to other people..  They say they don’t mind, but their feelings of being inconvenienced isn’t hidden to me..  I’m very good at reading people, probably better than they realize because I don’t often comment on what I’m seeing them ever so slightly exhibit, but I read their body language, their tone of voice, that look behind their eyes, the micro-expressions on their faces, even the vibe they’re giving off – everything they’re not saying out loud – and I can determine how they really feel..  I know they’re good at reading people, too, but this is one thing I am good at and I feel like I can do it better..  Maybe that’s just stupid of me and I’m totally off my rocker, but for me to say I actually think I’m good (or even better!) at something is highly abnormal and you know I must feel very strongly about it..  But then again, I could be delusional, too.. Just add that to my many mental illness symptoms!

All day today I’ve felt a deep tightness and pain in my chest..  It’s probably the costochondritus I’ve recently been diagnosed with, but I think it’s also the emptiness of losing one of my bedfellows.. I’ve slept most of the day, not wanting to feel these intense emotions coursing through me..  I also feel like I want company, but I can’t leave my bedroom, I’ve got an anxiety about walking out my bedroom door..  How irrational!  It’s a catch-22 – do I have enough mental strength and energic fortitude to leave my bedroom so I can be around people?  Or do I stay in my safer, and less anxiety-inducing, bedroom?  I rarely feel comfortable and at peace..  I don’t know how normal that is or how much that’s just me being dysfunctional, but I need to find a way to center myself with the noise and chaos of living in a household with six other people going on around me..  It’s beyond critical mass now and I need to find a solution and it needs to happen yesterday..  I understand that it won’t be a one and done fix, whatever the remedy it’ll, unfortunately, take time and it’ll be constant work for a very long time, probably forever..  I’m just afraid I won’t have the energy or capacity to endure the struggle..  I’m already down, I feel like Life is just kicking me around at this point..  I don’t know if I have the strength to get through any more hardships..  I’m weak and I’m afraid..  What happens if I fail?  Will I become suicidal again?  At this point I doubt I’d ever take my life because of the anguish it would put my family through..  I’d rather suffer on in terrible agony than inflict any intentional pain upon them..  So I try to suffer in silence, not wanting to drag anyone down with me when I go..  I don’t want to be the sadness that everyone immediately feels as soon as I walk in the room..  They’re better off without me around them..  You’re probably saying ‘just buck up and force yourself to be in a better mood, don’t allow yourself to be so down in the dumps!’  Try living in this shell of a person for just one minute and then tell me that again..  And you’re probably also saying that my experience or feelings aren’t unique to me, that everybody feels that way at some point or another..  Even if that were true, is it to the same degree?  To the same debilitatingly intense extent that I feel?

I know I’m loved and I’ve been told I’m not a burden, but sometimes I just feel so alone; I’m so different from them, from everyone, and it’s difficult for me to connect with people..  Deep down I’m just so afraid, of so many things..  I’m crippled and I’m not living, I’m not thriving, I’m surviving, barely keeping my head above water..  I’m afraid of asking for things I want (or maybe even feel I need) because I don’t want to be selfish, and because I don’t want to be asking for anything that would be unfair to anyone else or would  be taking something away from someone else..  I’d rather do without if it meant someone else did with..

Jeez, here I am with all this negativity and whining; all the things I say I don’t want to be or do, perpetuating the cycle..  When will I have the strength to make a finite change?  It starts with me and ends with me, if I don’t stop complaining at some point and start making a change then I’ll never get out of this rut..  It’s my fault for falling in it, it’s my responsibility to get myself out..

And let me end with saying that I don’t think I give those around me enough credit..  Besides the fact that they’ve got their own tough crap to deal with (probably tougher crap than me), I know they don’t intentionally make me feel any sort of negativity, I think I’m probably just overreacting and reading into things..  That whole ‘I can read people better than anyone!’ was stupid of me to say..  I don’t do anything better than anyone else and it was foolish of me to think so, even for just a moment..  But that’s me!, believing I might be better at something than someone else and then realizing what is in actuality, which is I can’t..  That’s the reality I deal with every day – having moments of unwarranted pride and then coming to my senses..  That’s the self-talk I’ve got going on in my head feeding me lies..  I’m constantly trying to sift through and find the truth..  I’d like to think I’m pretty sane and pretty sensible, a rational individual; but I’m constantly doubting myself..  It’s a non-stop battle inside my head between truth and lies..  Half the time I feel like I can’t even think clearly, these meds have me so cloudy..  After years and years of dealing with being heavily medicated I’m just tired of it..  I’m weary, I often feel like just giving up..  I don’t know how much longer I can take this, I really don’t..  But I feel like I’m being looked at from the outside as though I should just stop wallowing, not by family members, but the outside world..  I feel scrutinized and criticized and judged, put under the microscope, and I feel I’m failing the examination..  Whatever it is I’m doing I feel like I’m failing..  But the real question is : do people even care at all?  Do people even give me a second thought?  I’m probably imagining the judgement, so why do I put myself through this?  I doubt people will even read this, the whole thing, given that it’s so long..  And maybe that’s better, I’m a stupid mess and this will only solidify in people’s minds how crazy I am.. I’m unrelatable because I’m so different, these posts just emphasize that..

Anyways, I have to go, I literally can’t take any more..  I’ve been as raw and as open as I can be for one day..  I’m just one big open wound and every word is like pouring salt and rubbing it inside..

I apologize ahead of time for anything I wrote that might be hurtful or insulting to anyone, it was unintentional..  I’d never want to make anyone feel bad about something I said and I wouldn’t do it on purpose..  So I’m sorry, for just being..

Spare change, anyone?

So I’m not that great with change and I don’t seem to do well when things don’t go as expected..  Half my time is spent trying to cope with my life turning out differently than I’d hoped, whether it’s an emotional component or a physical component, I come face-to-face every day with my alternate life and how differently it is than what I’d always wanted it to be..  Sometimes I question my own sanity, having to constantly ask for a rational mind to think through my reasoning for me so I don’t do something stupid or I don’t have a meltdown because I was being overly sensitive..  It’s exhausting..  Every second of every day my mind questions things, questioning what any rational person takes as a compliment or as encouragement..  It’s not that I question the sincerity, because I believe that’s there one hundred percent, it’s that I question how I could be worthy of such affection or devotion or level of care.. I’m always asking myself why a person spent time with me, did they do it at the behest of someone else?  Were they encouraged to do so because it was known how fragile a state I was in and that another person’s company would make me feel better?  That doesn’t actually happen and people don’t actually do that, but that’s how my brain works, never being able to process that a person would genuinely want to spend time with me of their own volition and as their own choice.. I’m always telling myself I’m not worthy, of anything, and I’m always believing..  It’s impossible to turn off those inner thoughts and that inner monologue, and they’re impossible to ignore..  It saps any hope I might’ve had in me right out; I’m of the thought that I’m unworthy of people’s time and affection and if that’s how my brain just works (chemistry, hormones, and all), then how can I possibly expect anything to change?

I’ve looked into alternative treatments, ones that a person with medication resistant mental illness would have as last options, and those aren’t possibilities either..  Theyre insanely expensive, but even beyond that, the odds of them being effective aren’t that great, and some could have serious and permanent side effects..  As if autobiographical memory loss wasn’t enough of a problem for me already, it’d be stupid to try a treatment with a strong likelihood of making that memory loss worse, and one that’s not got great chances of even working anyways!  It just seems foolish to me to try to scramble and find $15,000-$25,000 or more for these treatments (and that’s if I try just one!) that don’t even have a very good chance of being effective..  And those costs are just for initial treatment, that doesn’t include any additional treatment that might need to be done..  Plus, I’d probably still have to remain on some medication anyways, which would be part of the point of doing these alternative treatments in the first place..  It’s just ridiculous..

What’s also ridiculous is that I sometimes feel of a very sound mind and sometimes I don’t trust myself with my thoughts or judgement any further than I could throw myself!  But I can’t always distinguish which times I’m actually being reasonable and which times I’m not..  That’s why I need an outside source of guidance for my actions, I feel like I just can’t trust myself, and that’s a shitty place to be..

It’s especially difficult when I don’t have the wanted amount of time spent with my rule stick (my mother) to feel like I have enough outside influence in my decision making..  I hate to rely on her for so much, she’s got so many responsibilities already, she doesn’t need me hanging off her arm, constantly asking for her advice..  Not that she minds doing it, I don’t think she does, at all; but I feel guilty for taking that time and attention away from something or someone else more important than me who would need her more..

It’s just really difficult, like, all the time..  I used to be such an independent person, able to think for myself, make decisions on my own, and live happily with those choices..  Now I feel like I’ve been crippled, by mental illness, to the point where I’m a parasite..  I’m living off of others’ energy and sapping their life force right out of them..  I don’t know how to stop, I don’t know if I can stop..  And I feel like the longer time goes on, the older I get and more mentally unstable I get, the less chance there is for recovery..  I just feel utterly hopeless..  I know, in my heart of hearts, I’ll never have the strength or clarity of mind to be any sort of independent ever again and that bums me the hell out..  I don’t want to be that kind of burden on anyone for the rest of my life..  One day this is all going to just be too much for me and I’m gonna do the right thing by unburdening the world..  But for right now I’ll suffer through, in anything but silence..  My complaints are deafening, I’m sure, and I’m sorry for those of you who choose to listen..  I don’t understand why..  But I thank you for caring all the same..  It means more than you could ever know to think that even one person out there has concern and love for me, I just can’t comprehend it..

Reality check time..

So it seems I have a chronic problem, one among many, but I tend to underestimate how much people care about me..  And I guess it goes beyond that to the point where I underestimate the fact that people care about me at all..  It is beyond my comprehension that a person would want to invest time, energy, and love into a waste of space like me..  And I’m not saying that to be dramatic, I just don’t get it..  For whatever reason, be it mental illness or years upon years of debasing self-talk, I don’t feel worthy of people’s affection..  I always feel like my presence is putting someone off or is an inconvenience in some way..  I feel guilty for asking people to go out of their way specifically for me..

I don’t think I’ve ever felt like my “needs” were more important than or should be put above someone else’s..  I’m not trying to make myself look good and say I’m selfless, I’m saying I’m unimportant..  I’m more of an aside or afterthought type person than a number one..  I don’t deserve to be anybody’s number one concern..

I know I’m always reiterating how I feel like people aren’t destined for anything in particular and then in the next sentence I’ll, basically, say that I’m “destined” to be unwed, unloved, and alone..  It’s how I always am, I guess; holding people up to standards or rules that are different than the ones I hold myself up against..  Saying people aren’t bound by “destiny”, but that I am..  It doesn’t make sense..  The standards I hold myself to are different than those I hold others to..  They are afforded mistakes and failures, while I am not; and when I make a mistake I’m the dumbest person alive..  That’s what I tell myself, that’s my thought process and how my mind works..  It’s not just words, it’s a belief – I am the dumbest or ugliest or most awkward or whatever..  In my mind and in my heart it’s true..

 

I’ve been told I have a way with words, or something to that effect, but I’m not so sure..  Once-upon-a-time I wanted to be a writer (think C.S. Lewis or J.R.R. Tolkien), but I grew up and realized dreams don’t come true, real life happens instead..  I wouldn’t have the mental acuity or clarity of mind to even be able to get through college courses, so how would I even learn how to write? There’s more than passion involved in “making dreams come true”..  Besides, only a handful of people ever achieve what they would describe as their dream or purpose..  I don’t have the smarts or follow-through..  I don’t feel like I’d be able to stay in it for the long haul, not that the desire wouldn’t be there, but that the reality of my actual capabilities would become glaringly obvious, if they weren’t in the first place, and I’d not have the perseverance to stick it out, especially since I know that everything I’d write would be a big flop anyways, even if I did somehow get through additional schooling and writing and refining and then to the point of submission for publication..

And yes, I’ve given it some thought..  I think about a lot of things..  Deep things, dark things..  I think of what might have been, if there are any what-could-be’s..  It always comes back around to me not having much hope for a bright future..  People are always saying things like “life is what you make it” or the whole lemons to lemonade crap, and I’d say that generally that’s possible for people, but I’m not most people, I’m not anybody else or like anybody else..  I guess that might be the sort of double standard thing I’ve got going on, but I just don’t see myself capable of doing anything with my life or of even pursuing my once passion, because the only thing I can be passionate about right now is survival..  That’s what life is for me, day in and day out..  I focus on minute to minute survival..  Do I sometimes feel like I’m too much of a burden to those around me?  Hell yeah, a lot of the time actually..  Do I feel they’re wasting time concerning themselves with me?  Sometimes..  I’m not worth it, I don’t have enough redeeming qualities to make up for their energy put into me..  I question how they could possibly get anything positive out of spending time with me when I’m always so negative and depressed..  I feel like I’m always complaining, or I’m perceived to always be complaining..  I see myself as a jaded, unloveable person, who has been naive in allowing any hope in her heart at all..  There’s no room for it there, it only leads to heartbreak, devastation, and disappointment..

So, life sucks, but …

… well, is there a but?  For most people I’m sure there is a but, or a lot of buts..  For me, admittedly, it’s difficult to see “the good things” in life..  Beyond being thankful for being alive and for basic human needs I am extremely, insanely, beyond words thankful for my family!  There’s no question that without them I wouldn’t be here, as in alive..  I may not always feel close to them, but I’m closer to my family than anybody else..  They’re my link between me and the outside world..  I cannot even begin to describe how much I love them or how much they mean to me..  I can only hope that I mean the same to them, all of them, as they mean to me..

I don’t think a moment goes by where I’m not loathing myself, who I am..  I hate that I can’t make connections with people or that I’m awkward and say stupid, out of place things..  I feel so inferior, in every way, to pretty much everybody, but especially when measured against my family..  They’re dedicated, hard workers that always persevere and have the strength to get through with an optimistic outlook..  I feel like people think all I’m capable of doing is wallowing in self-pity because life is hard and didn’t turn out the way I had always imagined..  I feel like I’m gonna be looked at like I’m always “complaining” instead of trying to make the world understand life from my perspective..  I was once told, by a “psychiatrist”, that I “play the victim”..  Insinuating that I like to feel horrible all the time, that I want people to feel sorry for me and to do everything for me, that I somehow enjoy the twisted thoughts that go through my head and the staggeringly depressing emotions that flood my veins..  I was describing to her the psychosis I was experiencing that made me feel unsafe in my own home and she, very coldly, told me that my fears might be warranted, that I might actually have reason to be afraid..  She floored me and made me feel so vulnerable and scared..  With that statement she validated my feelings of being unsafe, like she was saying that the dark presence I almost always felt in the room was really there and that I should be afraid..  She obviously didn’t care about the damage she did with those few words, but she made me think my psychosis was very real and she made me question the validity of my mental illness..  I don’t even remember her name or what she looked like, but I’ll never forget her words, the pain she caused me..  I often hear those words ringing in my head, questioning how much of what is wrong with me is mental illness and how much is my own deficiency..

If you were to ask me to come up with five things I like about myself I wouldn’t be able to name them..  If you were to ask me to name three I don’t think I’d find that many..  I’m told that it’s all about fighting the negative thoughts and controlling the inner dialog, but when, since you’ve been conscious enough to remember, you feel that you don’t measure up it’s difficult to battle and not succumb..  I know that it’s my own unrealistic standards that I’ve imposed upon myself that I fail to live up to, but that doesn’t matter, rational thinking often goes flying out the window..  I often wonder if I’m subconsciously manipulative, selfishly trying to work things out in my favor..  Am I only ever concerned with my own needs and not those of the ones around me?  Am I self-absorbed?  Am I a selfish person who only sees my own struggles and fails to comprehend and understand the difficulties my family is going through?

I’m an inward thinker, but does that make me a selfish person?  I’m not outgoing, I’m not bubbly, I’m a deep thinker who likes to analyze things, maybe even overanalyze..  I want a deep connection with someone, a mutual understanding of who we are, but I am afraid of “putting myself out there”..  Everyone fears rejection, that doesn’t make me unique..  Everyone gets nervous, that doesn’t make me unique..  Everyone has been burned, that doesn’t make me unique either..  Here’s my thing, I have a debilitating anxiety disorder that makes me cripplingly afraid of experiencing those things again..  I wonder what would be the point of even trying..  I’m not necessarily one who believes in predetermination, but I do believe some people are just meant to be alone, never finding their “soul mate”, never making a life changing connection with someone, never getting married; and that’s me..  I used to pray, beg, plead for “the one”..  I did that for 15+ years, hoping for a guy to enter my life that I could share my life with..  And never an answered prayer; definitely not a yes, not a no, and not even a “not right now”, just nothing..  I don’t know how many nights I literally (foolishly) sobbed myself to sleep asking for an answer..  I still, to this day, have received no answer..  Which leads me more to question this :

Does God concern Himself with the daily workings, the daily lives of people?  Sure, He sacrificed His Son to save us, but are we such small, minute beings that He has too many other things to worry about?  Is our daily life on such a small scale that He doesn’t bother with it anymore?  Does He answer prayers?  If so, in what way(s)?  Is anything predestined or is everything a free-for-all?  We have free will to make our own choices, so why should we think that anything is already decided for our lives beforehand?  That wouldn’t give us free will anymore..  Why should we think that there’s a certain way things are supposed to turn out so we better make sure we make the right choices and follow the script?

Along the same vein, is it possible for people to change who they are?  Like, fundamentally, at their core..  I think most people can make just about any change they want if they “try hard enough”..  But what about people whose body chemistry is screwed up?  What about those whose hormones are out of whack?  What if there are people who deal with both?  How are they supposed to change “who they are” or how are they even supposed to know who they are?  What if there’s someone (say me, for example) whose body chemistry and hormones have always been incapable of being properly regulated?  Someone who almost feels like a different person every day, sometimes several times a day..  I often feel like I don’t even know myself, so how is anyone else supposed to?

I know, woe is me!, but I feel hopeless, helpless..  My body, which is deteriorating quicker than it should, is giving up on me, it’s rebelling against me..  I’m 34 and I’ve got arthritis in several spots on my body, I’m practically bald already, I’m tired and weak all the time (probably the fibromyalgia)..  I am, and have always been, hard to treat (any ailment, physical or mental), because my body is resistant to medication..  I often have to take a higher dose than most people or than is recommended on the box to get any relief..  Sometimes I wonder why I even bother?  If I’m doing so poorly then what’s the point?  How do I find happiness while dealing with all this, and that’s not even taking into consideration the stresses put on me because of what those around me deal with..  Knowing their pain, their sadness, their discomfort, and discontent and not being able to do anything is so difficult..  It makes me feel like I’m worthless..  Not only do I not have purpose in life, but I can’t make life any easier for those around me..  I feel like I don’t ever even do anything to make any one of them happier..  My body screams at me when I try to do anything even remotely physical, just walking up and down the stairs I feel (and HEAR!) the grinding of my knees..  My back hurts just from bending over a couple times or trying to carry a few loads of laundry or help empty the van after grocery shopping..  It’s not like an “oh that’s a little achy”, it’s like “holy crap, my back is seizing up and I can’t breathe!”  I guess this is more of my complaining and woe is me crap..  I dunno..  I often feel like my whole existence is pointless..  My family cares and they love me, I know this, but how do I positively impact their lives?  Do I at all?

Does God care if I’m still alive on Earth?  I don’t have purpose or, as I’ve posited before, is my purpose to suffer?  Am I one of those people who will always wrestle with my inner “demons”, so to speak..  Will I ever do anything meaningful?  Can I?  Am I capable, physically/ mentally, of doing anything but wallowing in my own misery?  Do I bring down those who try to help me and lift me up?  Surely any relationship with me is exhausting..  I must be a difficult person to connect with and be around..

It’s just that life sucks and is there a “but” …

Is there reason?

Do you ever feel like you’re failing to live up to God’s expectations or plans for you, for your life?  Maybe like you’re being punished for failing to fulfill your purpose..  Or even for failing to discover your purpose!  Maybe my purpose is to suffer, live in agony; that’s some people’s lot in life, right, their purpose even..  Maybe they go on to become someone who gets out of the muck and mire and serve a bigger purpose; to help people in some way, to fulfill a need, to serve the greater good..  I don’t think everyone is “destined” to do big things, or maybe even ‘one’ thing..  Yes, end of thought, no buts..  It’d be amazing if I had purpose in life, if I had a reason for being, for suffering..

I was doing so well – the new mix of meds was working so good, I felt great!  Then a sudden plummet, like the floor dropped out from underneath me..  I’m moody, sensitive, probably mean when I feel attacked or made to feel stupid..  I’m beginning to slide back into the part of me that feels like nobody really cares about me or thinks about me or feels anything for me..  Not that people want me out of their life, but that they just don’t care, they don’t even give me a second thought, except when I’m pissing and moaning and throwing a hissy fit like a toddler..  Then I’ll get the attention I so desperately desire, right?  It’s like I’m fishing for words of encouragement or for people to contradict me and say they really do care..  It all feels so hollow, like they feel obligated to soothe the fussing baby; just pat her gently on the back until she goes back to sleep, until her next big blow up when everybody rushes to her side to give her back her pacifier, to just shut her up..

I’m so thankful that my life isn’t worse, but why do I have to be in mental and emotional torment all the time?!  I get these little rays of hope, false moments of joy and peace..  I try so hard to guard against stupid, naive hope in things that just cannot be for me..  Nothing lasts, eventually the moments of peace come to an end, in a horrible burning pile of shit..  I just can’t live without torment, without debilitating sadness, without paralyzing anxiety, without crippling worry and fear..  That’s just not the life I’m destined to have..  I’m, evidently, going to suffer all my life..  I know what you’re thinking; everyone suffers, everyone experiences those feelings!  Yes, but do they keep you from living life?  Do they prevent you from having relationships?  Do they physically, PHYSICALLY, make it impossible for normal things to happen in your life?  And beyond that, do they stop you from being understood?  No, everyone has a friend similar to them, someone that they can relate to..  I am misunderstood, all the time..  I open my mouth and I’m looked at like I’m some freak of nature..  Maybe I am..

I reach out to people, multiple times on multiple occasions, and get nothing back, I’m literally ignored..  That fucking hurts!  Why can’t they be bothered to take five minutes out of their day to genuinely care about me?  Am I really that worthless?  If you’re even bothering to read this, which I seriously doubt, you ought to know who you are; and I want you to know how deeply you truly hurt me..  It’s a wound that will never fully heal, even if attempts to repair it are made..  I’m sorry you aren’t capable of giving a shit..

I’ve got such a terrible headache and a stomachache..  I’ve been crying, I’ve been opening up my soul, the inner parts of me that I don’t really want people to see… I get nothing..  I understand nothing..  Why am I even here?  Do I have more of a purpose than to be someone who can’t think of trying to face tomorrow when today I’ve felt so empty?  If I’m supposed to be called to do something specific, don’t you think that by age 34 I’d have an inkling of what that might be?  I’m called to languish..  That’s my lot..

Learn To Be Lonely…

That’s the title of a song by Andrew Lloyd Webber and it’s one of my favorites; well, used to be..  I used to feel such a deep physical ache in my chest when I would listen to this song because I could identify with the sadness, emptiness, and loneliness described in it..  I felt so alone, misunderstood, and hopeless..  I can’t do much about being misunderstood, but I don’t feel alone or as hopeless any more..  I’ve realized my family is there for me more than I thought..  I’m still quite skeptical of the idea of hope, feeling that I’ll end up being disappointed because nothing turns out the way I hope, or pray, that it would..  Maybe it could be said I lack the necessary faith for things to come to fruition, I don’t know..

This is stupid, but I used to want to sing, as something more than the occasional church solo..  But I wasn’t any good and I was definitely fooling myself to ever think I was..  I also used to LOVE to write, even more than singing, but I sucked at that, too..  I still have the desire to write, but I feel like, “why bother?  I’m no good at it and it’d serve no purpose to write just for me..”  I’m not smart enough to get into or get through college to get any sort of training to write, never mind the finances involved!

Anyways, it’s stupid to even think about it, totally pointless..  But the purpose of this post wasn’t supposed to be depressing me with the truth, I was writing to say that though I used to feel like that song could describe me, I no longer feel that way..  I’m not alone and I know that now..  And I’m neutral about hope, so that’s an improvement!  I don’t deserve the parents I have or anything else in my life, but I feel very fortunate to have them and I’m very thankful..  I’m sure I don’t say “thank you” enough and I’ll try to do better, but I’m sure there’s room for improvement for us all..

Speaking of saying thank you more often : thank you to those who actually take the time out of their day to read my blog and to make room in their hearts to care for me..  It means more than I can say..  I don’t know why you do it, but I’m thankful you do..

a positive take away…

And if you don’t mind

I’d like to live the lie

That I will survive

-Evanescence-

 

This is a line from a song that kind of sums up how I feel about my life right now..  I’m actively doing things to try to improve my physical health, I’m always working to improve my mental health, so we’ll see if any of it actually makes any difference at all or not..  I feel like it’s a losing battle, though; there’s too much damage done already and I’m constantly fighting symptoms and side effects..

But I’m gonna stop pissing and moaning..  Let’s focus on the good things in my life – since December of last year I’ve lost over 85 lbs, I’m finding renewed encouragement and inspiration from reading the Bible, I’m actually finding some energy to walk outside with mom (which isn’t easy considering I have a vitamin D deficiency and am dealing with folate anemia), my overall mood has improved lately (for whatever reason)..  I’m really trying to make some positive changes..  I’m just leery about this good status ending the same way that all the others have – in a major spiral downward, back into the depths..  I’ve been feeling so good that I don’t want to jinx myself and I don’t want to hope that it will last long term without the realization, in the back of my head, that it’s probably going to change eventually, like it always does..

I’ve been reading Psalms and finding it a good read..  I can relate to some of the emotions behind the writings and it’s been good to read those thoughts from someone else’s perspective..  And the inspiration I’ve been finding has been helpful, too..  I’m finding a renewed fervor to seek God out and build a stronger relationship with Him again..  I really missed that..  I didn’t always realize I missed it or needed it, but I do now and I’m trying; I figure that, for now, is good enough..

I’m always thankful for my family, without them I wouldn’t still be here..  I’m a very blessed individual and I just hope and pray that I can see the purpose for my sufferings, if there is one, and learn from it..  I’m not one who believes everything happens for a reason, that’s childish; sometimes shitty things happen for no reason at all, sometimes great things happen for no reason at all..  There’s not always a rhyme or reason behind the circumstances we find ourselves in..  I’m not a person who believes there’s a “one” for people that you’re destined to be with..  Love is a conscious choice and it takes conscious effort and work to foster a relationship that develops into something with good in it..  It’s a two-way street, 100% from both parties, to make it work..

But I digress..  Hehe..  I’ll end with this – I’m beyond grateful for what I have and who I have in my life..  I probably don’t always show it or express it, but I know it could be worse, I’ve been there, and come out on the other side..  I’m not sure how I feel about the saying that says : “that which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”, but I do know I’m a stronger individual now than I’ve ever been before..  Maybe it’s because of my circumstances, maybe it’s because of who I have in my life, I don’t know; i am strong and I will persevere..  Thank you, Dad, for reminding me of my strength..

Life and Death..

I have been getting treatment for my back for years; some treatments working, some causing intolerable side effects..  One week ago I had an appt with my back dr and he prescribed an opioid patch for me to try..  They have a pharmacy on-site and filled the prescription for me that day, so I put a patch on as soon as I got home..  That night I slept for more than 12hrs straight, which is unheard of for me, because I usually have the opposite issue..  Thursday I was drowsy, napped in the afternoon, and then went to bed early again..  Woke myself up early Friday morning to shop with my mom and sister, but I felt off and drowsy..  After lunch mom ran into the store real quick to grab a couple things, but before she got out of the car I had said I wasn’t going in because I felt very sleepy..  My sister stayed in the car with me, but none of us realized yet that anything was wrong..  I barely roused enough to hit the unlock button to let mom back in the van and I fell back “asleep” on the five minute drive home..  I couldn’t get out of the car without stumbling..  I couldn’t keep my eyes open and I was so confused about what was going on..  I stumbled up the stairs and into the house..  I shuffled around the house with my eyes opened only a crack and I managed to get upstairs where I changed my clothes and got in bed..  But I didn’t even lay down, I was still so confused and completely out of it, my eyes barely open..  I started texting my mom that I felt like something is wrong, by this time what I could see I was seeing double and my speech was slurred..  I remember telling her I was afraid to fall asleep because I didn’t think I’d wake back up..  I felt something was so wrong that I truly was ready to say goodbye to her because I felt myself passing out and I just knew I wouldn’t wake up..  She called the dr’s answering service and eventually gets through to a nurse who said to remove the patch I had put on just a couple days before..  Evidently mom came up and told me to take off the patch, but I was just grasping, not able to locate the patch..  Mom immediately removed the patch and said it was time to head to the ER..  Like the last several hours, the next few hours were mostly a blur..  I remember bits and pieces of getting to the hospital and getting halfway undressed and hooked up to machines..  At some point an IV is started..  Nurses, techs, phlebotomists, doctors and all sorts of other people were in and out of the room drawing blood, taking information, and doing other things to me..  I don’t remember much of it until the end, but I do remember saying to my mom again that I was afraid to fall asleep..  She assured me it was okay and being at the hospital I felt I was in the best place I could be..  All of their tests (which they were doing to check for an overdose, accidental or otherwise) indicated there had been no such overdose..  So after my head cleared some and I was able to fully open my eyes and talk without a slur, I was released from the hospital..  I followed up with my back dr, to him there was nothing to indicate it was an interaction between two or more meds as opposed to a severe drug allergy; either way, it doesn’t matter..  I know to never use that patch again, we’ll probably steer away from opioids from here on out, and we’ll use other methods to treat my back issues..

But the biggest thing to me, out of all that, was facing what I thought was my impending death..  I was so afraid, I did not want to slip into the “other side”..  I’ve been wrestling with that ever since..  It’s been stressing me out, tearing my stomach apart, making me more exhausted than usual..  I cannot emphasize enough how frightened I was and how sure I was that I was about to die..  I was in such an altered state that nothing passed through my mind – no thoughts or memories, no truth to hold on to that would carry me or give me hope, nothing..  And all I felt was fear..  I just hope to God it’s not like that when I do finally die.. I selfishly hope I’m not alone, I hope I’m comforted, and I hope I’m never a burden..  I hope my life has given some meaning to someone else’s, that I’ve blessed someone else’s life by my existence..  I often feel that’s all it is, an existence rather than a life that has any meaning..  Why can’t I find meaning?  I feel like I’m insulting my family, my parents, by floundering; that I should feel I have some worth because of how much they’ve always loved me, because of how much they taught me God loves me..  I’m just really struggling; why would the Creator of all things care about me?  I’m so insignificant in comparison to everything else..

My life, from here on out..

So, here’s the deal ..  over the years I’ve come to realizations that change me, change the way I view myself and the world around me..  Recently I’ve voiced a realization that has been working in my mind for years..  Some might view it as depressing, but it is my reality and I accept it fully..

My mental illnesses are very hard to treat; they are resistant to long-term medicinal treatment..  They will work for a while and then will just sort of stop..  But the heavy duty meds are taking a toll on my body, wreaking havoc on all systems..  I’ve lost 60 lbs since last December, but it’s because a change in meds took me off of a few drugs that really packed on the weight..  I’m still very heavy, I know that, but a lot of it had to do with medications I was taking..  Anyways, the point is that it’s only a matter of time before I see more severe effects on my body – kidney and liver problems..  I already have severe memory issues and have had them for years..  Ever since I started taking depakote I’ve had problems remembering things; I’ve even forgotten a lot about my childhood and teenage years and even the years I was taking toxic doses of said med I’ve forgotten a lot about..  (I no longer take depakote)  I’ve realized that it’s only a matter of time before things really start to go south..  And I’m as okay with that as a person can be..

This is going to sound so morbid, but I hope that my mom outlives me..  I depend on her for so much that I just can’t do for myself and I’d be so lost without her..  I couldn’t survive without her, literally..  No slight to anyone else, but nobody could take her place..  For a very long time I’ve felt that I would eventually die by suicide, and I still believe that..  It won’t happen any time soon, but it’ll happen someday..  And I’ve known that I’d always be alone – without a partner/ husband..  No matter how much I might want that in my life, it’s just not going to happen..  I’ve accepted that and I’m trying to move on from it..

And I don’t want to end with a sad or depressed mood; I’m trying to rebuild my relationship with God and I’m trying to just forget about my physical pain, my mental anguish, and find a little bit of happiness in the moments with my family and the few friends I have..  I know life here in this realm is limited..  I trust and believe that a better existence awaits me on the other side, so until that moment when I just can’t take any more or the moment when I no longer fear death, I’m trying to make the best of my life and enjoy what I can..

Thank God for family, I’d be so much worse off without them..  I love you dearly and I’m sorry you have to put up with me and my sicknesses..  Your love and support means so much to me..  please don’t ever give up on me..