How I finally saved my own life
A few of you are aware of my situation that lead to where I am now. I posted it first on Facebook. Yes, I know that once you posted anything on a public site, it's there FOREVER! But one person talks freely of her horrible childhood and her bi-polar illness. If she gave me inspiration, then perhaps I could do the same. And since I noticed that alot of my friend listers seem to have suffer similar mental depressions, as I do, perhaps I can inspire the same here. Knowledge is power, but knowing that you're not alone and having so many wonderful people that you have never met giving me a moral boost. It's wonderful, exhilarating,and just plain goddamned awesome.
A month ago, I finally broke the silence to my siblings. I was desperately depressed and couldn't function anymore. A serious change had to be done. I wasn't going out, I wasn't cleaning, and I was hoarding. Dust bunnies were barking at each other. While I'm grateful for my bro for providing me a place to stay, the size of the house overwhelmed me. I was on the computer ALL the time, not wanting to face reality. I couldn't deal with my kids' teenage years. I was crying alot, and had such a low opinion of myself. I just didn't realized how serious it was until the beginning of March. The two weeks before it was just so bad. And for my children's sake, I needed to do something. So what did I do?
I went to the looney bin. Literally.
I gave my kids to my ex, told the kids to find homes for the cats, sold the gecko, and one dog went to my bro and the other one stayed with me. While in the looney bin, which was the most scariest thing to do because I felt such like a failure. Yes, I KNOW that to ask for help is not a sign of weakness but strength, but frack it, intellectually, I knew it was a strength. Emotionally, I felt like I've really failed as a human being, as a mother, but most of all, as myself. But I KNEW I needed to do this. There were some serious nutcases in there, but the major differences between that and me is that I could managed myself with meds.
I kept imagining the scene to be like "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest". It was nowhere like that at all. The staff were professionals, attentive and always kind but firm. On top of that, I got my monthlies and it's always the heaviest, just like the rest of you already KNOW. Right away, my meds were increase up to 3 times the dosages. They added a sleeping meds which sometime work, because I couldn't sleep. I was switched to another facility for lack of beds and it was so much better. And guess how I was transported? In the back seat of a police car, because there were no other transportation. Lemme tell you sumpthin'-there's no leg room whatsofuckingever in the back seat. I briefly thought of asking them to sound their sirens, kinda make me feel special, ya know. But all I could do was just cry. I knew I was getting help and that was a thought that I held onto. I needed to find out what meds and therapy I needed. I realized that my divorce three years ago really upset-ted me far more than I realized. I realized that I'm not quite over my twins' stillborn death, whose 18TH birthday actually coincided with my going into voluntary commitment. I also thought in disjointed thoughts, couldn't remember ANYTHING, and for some vague reason, hoped that I'd get to be on a second story ward so I could spit at people walking below. My daughter begged me not to bring home any loonies. Very sensitive, that child is! But she made me laughed.
The important thing is this: five days later, I'm finally happy. My moods have been stabilized. I've moved from a 2500 sq. feet house to a 850 apt. 90% of my stuff have been either donated and/or thrown out. I've sold my first two paintings evah which was a great feeling of validation, I'm trying to make snow angels in the grass, have taken care of some things that needed to be done 3 years ago, even went out to a couple's house to celebrate the First Seder (a Jewish holiday), went to a pottery class, actually just going OUT was a fracking miracle! It no longer fill me with a sense of dread going out. The string of feel-good continues today. I sold two more paintings, am commissioned to do a major one, met a woman who is connected to one of the wealthiest family in this region who suggested a bunch of wonderful galleries in a specific part of the town, met an old adult pottery student who gave me hope that maybe there might be a p/t job in the ceramic field at a local Jewish community center (I'm not Jewish. I'm WTFOT-Way The Fuck Out There). I still have insomnia. I think I will still get a little PMS, just not as bad. The meds sometimes cause me confusion. I keep trying to figure out why my gear shift in "R" wouldn't make my car go forward. I'm also friends with my ex again and apologized to his gf for being so snarky with her in the past. All is good. The kids are doing remarkably well and that was the hardest thing, to give them to my ex as a primary custodian, but not all mothers can be so nurturing 24/7. They're happier that I got better. My 14 years old daughter shocked me by telling me how proud she is of me.
My whole point is not to get some sympathy or even a kudos for finally taking that first step. The point is this- depression can be managed. For some, it can be cured, but it's all genetics with me as there's a history of it in my family. This is what happens when a Jewish man breed with a Irish woman. We don't know whether to eat or drink away our problems. :) But it all have to start with YOU making the first step. Have any sibling(s) and/or parent that will look out for you? Then let them help you and let them take control. It's OK. You're gonna be OK. You're gonna make it. It's not something that should be suffered in silence. Break the silence! The best thing about it is that you're gonna like who you see in the mirror.
Meanwhile, the sun is shining, the birds are singing, squirrels are chittering, and I'm about to head out to try to make snow angels in the grass. Take my advice, make sure there's no dog pile around. MWUAH!!!
A month ago, I finally broke the silence to my siblings. I was desperately depressed and couldn't function anymore. A serious change had to be done. I wasn't going out, I wasn't cleaning, and I was hoarding. Dust bunnies were barking at each other. While I'm grateful for my bro for providing me a place to stay, the size of the house overwhelmed me. I was on the computer ALL the time, not wanting to face reality. I couldn't deal with my kids' teenage years. I was crying alot, and had such a low opinion of myself. I just didn't realized how serious it was until the beginning of March. The two weeks before it was just so bad. And for my children's sake, I needed to do something. So what did I do?
I went to the looney bin. Literally.
I gave my kids to my ex, told the kids to find homes for the cats, sold the gecko, and one dog went to my bro and the other one stayed with me. While in the looney bin, which was the most scariest thing to do because I felt such like a failure. Yes, I KNOW that to ask for help is not a sign of weakness but strength, but frack it, intellectually, I knew it was a strength. Emotionally, I felt like I've really failed as a human being, as a mother, but most of all, as myself. But I KNEW I needed to do this. There were some serious nutcases in there, but the major differences between that and me is that I could managed myself with meds.
I kept imagining the scene to be like "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest". It was nowhere like that at all. The staff were professionals, attentive and always kind but firm. On top of that, I got my monthlies and it's always the heaviest, just like the rest of you already KNOW. Right away, my meds were increase up to 3 times the dosages. They added a sleeping meds which sometime work, because I couldn't sleep. I was switched to another facility for lack of beds and it was so much better. And guess how I was transported? In the back seat of a police car, because there were no other transportation. Lemme tell you sumpthin'-there's no leg room whatsofuckingever in the back seat. I briefly thought of asking them to sound their sirens, kinda make me feel special, ya know. But all I could do was just cry. I knew I was getting help and that was a thought that I held onto. I needed to find out what meds and therapy I needed. I realized that my divorce three years ago really upset-ted me far more than I realized. I realized that I'm not quite over my twins' stillborn death, whose 18TH birthday actually coincided with my going into voluntary commitment. I also thought in disjointed thoughts, couldn't remember ANYTHING, and for some vague reason, hoped that I'd get to be on a second story ward so I could spit at people walking below. My daughter begged me not to bring home any loonies. Very sensitive, that child is! But she made me laughed.
The important thing is this: five days later, I'm finally happy. My moods have been stabilized. I've moved from a 2500 sq. feet house to a 850 apt. 90% of my stuff have been either donated and/or thrown out. I've sold my first two paintings evah which was a great feeling of validation, I'm trying to make snow angels in the grass, have taken care of some things that needed to be done 3 years ago, even went out to a couple's house to celebrate the First Seder (a Jewish holiday), went to a pottery class, actually just going OUT was a fracking miracle! It no longer fill me with a sense of dread going out. The string of feel-good continues today. I sold two more paintings, am commissioned to do a major one, met a woman who is connected to one of the wealthiest family in this region who suggested a bunch of wonderful galleries in a specific part of the town, met an old adult pottery student who gave me hope that maybe there might be a p/t job in the ceramic field at a local Jewish community center (I'm not Jewish. I'm WTFOT-Way The Fuck Out There). I still have insomnia. I think I will still get a little PMS, just not as bad. The meds sometimes cause me confusion. I keep trying to figure out why my gear shift in "R" wouldn't make my car go forward. I'm also friends with my ex again and apologized to his gf for being so snarky with her in the past. All is good. The kids are doing remarkably well and that was the hardest thing, to give them to my ex as a primary custodian, but not all mothers can be so nurturing 24/7. They're happier that I got better. My 14 years old daughter shocked me by telling me how proud she is of me.
My whole point is not to get some sympathy or even a kudos for finally taking that first step. The point is this- depression can be managed. For some, it can be cured, but it's all genetics with me as there's a history of it in my family. This is what happens when a Jewish man breed with a Irish woman. We don't know whether to eat or drink away our problems. :) But it all have to start with YOU making the first step. Have any sibling(s) and/or parent that will look out for you? Then let them help you and let them take control. It's OK. You're gonna be OK. You're gonna make it. It's not something that should be suffered in silence. Break the silence! The best thing about it is that you're gonna like who you see in the mirror.
Meanwhile, the sun is shining, the birds are singing, squirrels are chittering, and I'm about to head out to try to make snow angels in the grass. Take my advice, make sure there's no dog pile around. MWUAH!!!