A Brief Break Before All Hell Breaks Loose

Even though I can no longer work I am going on a little vacation. Yay!

A couple of dear friends that I have known for 39 years have invited me to their home in the hills of North Carolina. 

No internet, no cell service, just the woods and good friends.

Although it will only be for a few days I plan on recharging my batteries fully.

I got a notice of eviction today and have 14 days to replace the carpet in my apartment or I am out of here. Funny how the manager didn't serve me with it until she knew that I had plans to be out of town for two weeks. She has changed her tune quite a few times. Even my psychologist and case worker were taken aback by the new developments. So, my plans have changed a bit and I will be back sooner than I had planned.

Hopefully a dear friend can help me with the costs. If not, well, I don't know what. That bridge will have to be crossed when and if I come to it. I can't reach him until tonight, so I just have to be more nervous until then.

Right this minute I am frozen with anxiety. I still have things to do to be ready to leave tomorrow morning, so I am trying to get up and get moving. I am trying to breathe. I am playing the movie "Hot Fuzz" off of my dvr. 

Sometimes I feel like, "What more does the world want from me? Why is this happening to me?" I am kind, I help people and animals whenever possible. I don't cause trouble. I pay my rent on time every month. Because my poor old dog left some stains on this old, worn out, indoor-outdoor carpet I may be kicked out.

But - crying woe is me won't solve or help anything. 

I will go visit my friends, who I haven't seen in over ten years, and allow myself to be loved and have real conversations and drink in the mountain air. 

And when I get back I will deal with the situation and with that mean-spirited bully of a manager. That is what she is, pure and simple, a bully. As soon as I told her that I needed my case worker to be with me when she was telling me these things she slammed the phone down and decided to just evict me. Also, to bully a person with a severe mental illness takes a certain kind of shit for a soul.

I am taking pen and paper with me to note specifics during my time in the mountains to share them with you on my return.

Please wish me luck.

The Paper Situation

I struggle with Major Depressive Disorder and Anxiety. When I don't sleep, my anxiety goes through the roof and it starts me on a downward spiral into depression.

I have new meds now, and I can fall asleep. But I have another problem.

I started getting the local newspaper. Since I live in an apartment building, the carrier leaves it propped against my door. There has never been a problem, until now.

One of my little pleasures is sitting down with the Sunday paper and a cup of coffee and spending a couple of hours reading it all, going through the sale circulars and everything.

Well, I noticed that my Sunday paper had been read already. The sections were folded and crinkled and the whole thing was just stacked up, not one inside the other like a new paper. My coupons weren't in there.

Someone was stealing my paper then putting it back after having read it.

My psychiatrist told me to call and ask that the carrier knock when they dropped off my paper. I did that.

The very next Sunday I got up when the carrier knocked and opened my door to see my neighbor across the hall reaching for my paper.

I have repeatedly gone to her door to ask her not to steal my paper anymore, but she will not answer my knocks.

Today a friend suggested that I offer to let her read the paper when I am done with it. That way I could let go of this stressful situation and go back to sleeping through the night (hopefully). But when I knocked on her door to offer this solution, she didn't answer. Of course, today she could have been at church. She goes to church every Sunday, dressed in her finest. After stealing my paper.

So for now I will continue to be awakened at 4:00 so that I can foil a thief. My stress level will remain high and my health will suffer.

I think, though, that I will take my social worker up on his offer to go to the office for me. There are cameras in all the halls, so the theft would be recorded. She will be given a written warning. I will see how I feel after one more week.

Sorry to be a downer today. I have just had enough.

What would you do in my situation?

No Sleep For Me

I am going on very little sleep for a week and a half now.

My meds are being adjusted. When I started having trouble falling and staying asleep, yet wanting to just stay in bed all day, I got myself right to my doctors.

I struggle with Major Depressive Disorder and Anxiety. From miles away I can feel differences in my depressed state and I have to act quickly. Otherwise I could end up spending a month in bed and that's just no good.

Usually my Audible.com books on my iPod will do the trick. I will drift off listening to the soothing works of Stephen King or Robert R. McCammon. Weird choices for bedtime stories, I know, but I find them soothing.

When I am sleep-deprived like this, I tend to have a certain poem rattle around in my noggin. It is Antigonish by William Hughes Mearns. I first heard it in the movie Identity when a portion of it was uttered by Pruitt Taylor Vince.

Here is the poem:

Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
I wish, I wish he’d go away...

When I came home last night at three
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall
I couldn’t see him there at all!
Go away, go away, don’t you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don’t slam the door... (slam!)

Last night I saw upon the stair
A little man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
Oh, how I wish he’d go away...

I suppose that the reason that I enjoy the poem so much is because in times of stress and fatigue I have been known to see things just in the corner of my eye. Fleeting images. Real, or not? Repeating the poem grounds me. Soothes me. I am grateful for it.

Do you have a poem or snippet of prose that you can turn to for comfort?

Well, here is to hoping that the soothing narration of King's The Tommyknockers lulls me to sleep tonight.

And in the meantime, "Yesterday, upon the stair...".

Time And Again

I am guessing that everyone that should have has already turned their clocks back one hour.

And that means that the clock in my kitchen and the clock in my car are now correct again.

Why don't I just take the few minutes it would take to set those clocks correctly every six months? That is another thing that my depression and anxiety do, they fill my head with "laters". I can always do it later, do it next time, do it tomorrow.

Then there are the times my brain tells me that if I DO do something, then something bad will happen. If I change the clock in the car, then the car will stop working. If I turn back the kitchen clock, it will break.

Such is the joy of depression and anxiety thrown together. Time and again I tell myself that I will push those "laters" and "ifs" out of my head and do what I really want to do. But they always pop back in.

The only time I can do exactly what is needed is when I am caring for my pets. They force me to be in the here and now. Time and again they ground me when I am anxious and give me a reason to get out of bed when I am depressed.

Do you have thoughts that keep you from doing the simplest of tasks?

Do you have pets that act as your therapy?

Coffee Spoons And Introverts

First of all, I love a good cup of coffee. I don't go to coffee shops. I like a mellow roast with some sugar and some hazelnut creamer. Sipping a cup on a chilly fall morning while reading the newspaper or being online is like a little slice of Heaven for me.

There is even a song that could sort of be about my life - Afternoons and Coffeespoons by The Crash Test Dummies.

But - and it's a big but - it causes me to panic. If I am not mindful I can have a full-blown panic attack.

I have grown more and more sensitive to caffeine over the years. But now I found an article that says that it may be because I am an introvert. To paraphrase, it states that introverts are over the normal level when it comes to neocortical arousal in our brains. Thus, while coffee causes extroverts to gain that extra oomph needed to complete a project or give a presentation, it causes introverts to just get more stimulated and flustered. So coffee can make you feel like you can conquer the world or like the world is crashing down around you.

And how do I know I am an introvert? Why, just today I took a test that tells you your personality type.

I am an INFP, an Idealist. It stands for Introverted - Intuitive - Feeling - Perceiving. In other words, I am a big dreamy wuss. And that's okay with me.

Also today I found out today that all my Chakras are closed. But that is another story.

Lastly, I will continue to have a few cups of coffee a week. I can prepare myself in order to weather the panicky feelings when they start. There is just nothing that I have found that boosts my creativity like coffee does. And then there's that taste!  Aahhhh

Let me know, are you an introvert or extrovert? Does coffee work for you or do you pay for it with your nerves? Let me know in the comments!

What I Can Do About My Fear

Fear. I have it. I have it so bad that I often have panic attacks.

Today I have been panicky all day because I am waiting on the bug guy to come to my apartment. While this wouldn't be a problem for some, it has me in a tizzy.

Now, what can I do about it?

1. Breathe

I breathe in through my nose for a count of five and then out through my mouth for a count of ten. It brings about a mindfulness, which you can read more about here. It makes me pause and think, "Okay, I'm not falling over dead. Things are gonna be okay.".

2. Self Talk

I ask myself what would happen if the worst thing that I am fretting about at the moment came to be. What if the manager came with the bug guy and said I had to move? Well, I would rally my resources and professional help and move. Why would that happen? Chances are it won't. When I start in with the 'what ifs' I can remember what my therapist told me and not feed my anxiety monster that lurks in the corner.

3. Distraction

I can watch a movie or TV show that I find humorous. Laughter helps a great deal. Here is an article that describes how there are incompatible mood states. It talks about anger, but I feel the same works for fear. I can go online and scroll through Facebook and Google Plus. I can chat with a friend, online or on the phone. I'm able to be quite candid about my anxiety so I can bounce my fears off another person. And it would be okay if they laugh. That helps me see that my fears are not well grounded in fact.

4. Call In The Professionals

Sometimes I find that the panic just won't stop. If that happens, I am very fortunate in that I have mental health professionals that have treated me for quite a while and know me and my situation. If you don't have a doctor that you see for your anxiety you can Google mental health hotline and centers in your area will pop up. 

I am very lucky in that earlier I chatted with a Google Plus friend. That and the act of researching this post, what research I did, has distracted me from my 'what ifs' long enough for the panic to take a back seat. It's still a passenger, though, but not such a loud, obnoxious one.

I hope that I have given you some ideas on how to handle a panicky feeling, that unsubstantiated fear. What would you add to my list?

Please Give Me A Break

The title is not meant to be said with an eye roll. Please allow me to explain.

I came across an article about fundamental attribution error. This happens when we see a person doing something that irks us and we assume that he is doing it because he is a bad person. We are attributing to that person the label of idiot, moron, ass, etc. You've done it. I've done it. We've all done it.

Fundamental Attribution Error is the tendency to overestimate the effect of personality and downplay the effect of the situation that the person is in. It makes us jump to the conclusion that the individual is doing what they are doing on purpose, possibly just to irritate us.

Let's do this less. Let's give people a break.

So you see a person park in the handicapped spot, get out, and walk into the store unaided by wheelchair or cane. She seems to be walking okay. You think that she is merely lazy, especially perhaps if that person is overweight. Your irritation at the fact that she can park close while you are gonna have to park in the back forty grows to a dull roar in your ears. But if you realize that your thinking includes a fundamental attribution error you can maybe see that she may be suffering with every step. She may have a physical condition that comes and goes. She may be so petrified of being outside that she will panic if she is far away from the store. Or she may be going into the store to pick up her handicapped son who has been shopping with his caregiver.

You just don't know what another human being is going through at any given time unless you ask them. And that can be construed as rude.

To look at me, I appear normal, albeit a little heavy. I walk with a cane because of my painful back and because my balance is not the best. But what is not apparent is the struggle I face just to keep it together. To spend one day without a panic attack or the feeling that I just want to stay in bed forever.

The article lists situations where you should not feel dissed, such as someone not saying thank you when you hold the door open for them. If you just stop to think that perhaps your reaction contains a fundamental attribution error before you call them a name, you will feel better about yourself and them.

So if I don't hear you when you say hello or good day to me, please give me a break. I am deaf in one ear and often miss things said on my deaf side. Quite often I am talking to myself in my head, giving myself some encouragement to just get through the hallway and out to the car.

The world will be better and you will feel better, I believe, if you just give people a break. And that includes giving yourself a break from a rise in your blood pressure from thinking that the slight is personal.

And I know, I know, some people really are just asses and they do things to make others mad just for fun. I have personally known a few. But I would like to think that those people are rare.

Thank you for giving me a break.

For My Mother

This Wednesday, July 2nd, 2104, will be the 33rd anniversary of my mother's fatal car wreck. I would like, if I may, to tell you a bit about her.

She was a beautiful human being - inside and out. At 5'6" she was voluptuous, reminiscent of Elizabeth Taylor in her heyday. With curly auburn hair and a face full of freckles, bless her heart, she could walk outside in a rain storm and get sunburned. Though she always worried about her weight, to me she was the perfect amount of plump to snuggle into when she would hold you in her arms, to her bosom.

When she met my father she was in nursing school. She left that to get married and have me. She would have made a marvelous nurse - she was so caring and gentle, so tender-hearted. I always felt responsible, I felt bad, knowing that if not for me she could have done so much more with her life. She never made me feel that way, though.

She was amazing at mothering, at making you feel safe in her company. She made sure the dogs and cats were fed and cared for. When we were at the mall one year looking for a dress for me for an upcoming school dance we saw a guard about to throw a tiny kitten out into the snowstorm that was raging. Someone had dumped it in the JCPenney's. She allowed me to grab the kitten and we carried it through the mall until we found me an outfit. We had that little cat, Jesse, for years.

She was a fantastic daughter to my grandmother. Mom lost her father when I was three and she was pregnant with my little brother. I know that must have been hard, because I was pregnant with my first son when she passed away. She was always there for her two brothers. As the oldest, they looked up to her. She was the one who planned the family get-togethers on both sides. My father's mother said that the family would never be together again like it was before mom passed and she was right, there were no more holiday reunions.

My mother was a wonderful friend. She would take care of the neighborhood kids if needed and she was right there to help plan a party. She fit right in with the other mothers.

As she and my father grew apart and got divorced, it became clear what my mother was not. She was not a great housekeeper. She preferred to be involved with us instead of doing the cleaning. The house was not nasty, just unkempt. There were more important things to do.

My mother was not mentally fit. Later I learned that she must have suffered from anxiety and depression. Severe depression. If I only knew then what I know now I would not have been the rebellious teenager that caused her grief. I would have understood her a bit more, been a bit more helpful in the house and with my younger brother and sister. Let's face it, I could have been a lot more helpful to her, but I was seventeen and I knew everything and wanted stuff my way.

When she died I was five months pregnant with my firstborn. I was just getting up the nerve to tell her and my father. How different everyone's life would have been if I had had my mom in my corner when the baby was born! Instead, I was bereft of the joy that would have come with seeing her with her first grandchild and I suffered postpartum depression.

From my mother I learned that everyone on earth deserves to be loved. That every creature is important and has a purpose. That you should always be kind. That there is poetry all around us if we would only look. That great happiness can be found in books. That human touch is, in itself, healing.

But I also got, from her and from my father's family, the propensity for great depression and anxiety. The ability to suffer dire sadness. The love of procrastination where cleaning, inside my mind and in my environment, is concerned. When I think of all that she suffered through without help, it makes me sadder.

I hope that the day goes by uneventfully for my little brother and little sister. It is, of course, very hard on them, too. Although I miss her terribly and hate the awful day she was wrenched from us, I try to take comfort in the fact that I had a bit of time with her at all. She was a wonderful person and I strive to be like her, in most ways.

And I hope that, if you have plans that include your family this Fourth of July holiday, you take a minute and thank your mother for being there for you. Because you just never know, do you?

How Do I Emote Differently?

There has been a study done that those of us with tinnitus process emotions in different parts of our brain. Click here to read the article.

Although it didn't go into detail, I could have told them that. During those times that my tinnitus is going strong, sounding like a freight train going through my head, I don't really process love and goodness very well. If at all. I mean, I am grouchy.

I'm sure that is not the data they were looking for, but it's true.

Perhaps they could do a study to see if those of us who suffer with tinnitus also suffer from depression in larger numbers. I can't find any info on that.

In my opinion, they would find out this: those who suffer from tinnitus are more prone to depression and anxiety because it is so dog-gone aggravating! Emotions? I'll show you some emotion brought on BY the tinnitus. There's frustration and even anger sometimes. Bottom line is - tinnitus makes it hard to be warm and cuddly sometimes.

But I try. I smile when I really want to choke something, and that seems to help. I realize that explaining to those who don't experience it is hard to do. And it is not always a freight train, sometimes it is a dial-up modem or a hissing sound. So it is not very, very bad each and every minute. And I am grateful for that.

The next time you hear a train whining away in the distance, think about having that sound with you always. And then you could see how we might process emotions differently. Especially frustration!

They're Doing It In England!

Well, doctors have been prescribing books for those with mild to moderate depression. While I don't think that it would help me, I applaud the practice. It's called bibliotherapy.

Apparently it has been going on for quite some time according to this article on Smithsonian.com.

When I was an inpatient at a psych hospital we were given books to help with the majority of our problems. While none cured me, they did give me something to think about on my road to recovery.

Books themselves have always been a form of therapy for me, anyway. I can escape between the pages and my troubles are held at bay for a few hours.

It is only in my worst times that my mind robs me of even this activity. When I am very, very down my comprehension skills are nil and therefore reading is more frustrating than soothing. Even books that are old friends are no help in those times.

I have found, however, a new friend in audio books. I first started listening as a means to get to sleep. For years my sleep was catch-as-catch-can. I would have trouble falling asleep, and staying asleep if I did happen to drift off. Then I found out that I could put audio books on my iPod. I have always loved reading aloud and this was like having someone right there reading to me! And It worked!

Audio books make me concentrate on the words and my mind will stop racing. It helps when I am experiencing very bad tinnitus. Occasionally they have even helped with my panic attacks.

And I was thrilled to find some old friends available on audio. Stephen King books It and The Stand, The Shining and Tommyknockers are there, as is Robert R. McCammon's Swan Song. And I have about a dozen Dean Koontz novels downloaded. I also have newer novels like King's Under the Dome and Doctor Sleep. Can you see that I am a big fan of the horror genre?

Although I have an iPad mini that has a few free books downloaded onto it, I find that it is not the same to me as holding an actual book in my hands. So I have yet to be converted to that medium.

Even though the book you are reading may not be considered therapeutic, I believe that the act of reading is. Whether it's a new novel or one that you grew up reading again and again, I think that your mind likes that little trip into another reality. It is like a rest stop for your head.

I hope that eventually the practice of prescribing books becomes commonplace in the United States. So often people who are a little depressed are not aware of the fact that there are books that can help them. In my head my depression is chuckling right now, daring me to try to throw a book at it. It will not help in all cases, but it is worth trying in those cases where it just might.

Do You Have Invisible Hurts?

My hair is graying. I have to wear glasses. I am still 5'6" but no longer weigh just 115 pounds. I would have to say that I look like a normal human being.

I try to conceal any outward show of my struggle with my depression and anxiety. I will try to put on a happy face if I think that the people that I am around would be uncomfortable with my mental illness. It is part of the reason that I prefer not to be around people for the most part.

I am thinking of all this because I came upon a wonderful blog about how the face of mental illness is the face of a normal person. You can't tell from looking at someone what they are fighting day in and day out.

You can click here to read Lindsay Holmes' blog post. I think that she is spot on.

Those of us who suffer from mental illness are often thought of as "not that sick because she looks fine to me". What is the saying about being like a duck? Calm on top but paddling like hell underneath? That applies to so many of us.

Thank you for reading this post and hers. It takes talking about it to try and gain a better understanding of the real face of mental illness. The face of a real human being.

Oh, But What If It Does??

I am plagued with neck and back pain, in addition to my depression and anxiety. Lucky me.

Tomorrow I am going to have steroids injected into my neck to try to alleviate the pain for a while. I am so nervous about it.

A Words with Friends friend, N, says that both she and her mom had them. They worked for her mom but not for her. So, sometimes they work and sometimes they don't.

I was on the verge of calling to cancel when Mary Engelbreit posted this to her Facebook page:

I love her illustrations and the sayings that come along with them. I have been a big fan for years. I love her.

How serendipitous that she post this when I was in the midst of one of my mental turmoils. Or, as I recently learned, it was an example of synchronicity as per Carl Jung. You can read about that by clicking here.

So I think that I will trust the universe and its hints and go ahead with the injections. What if it does work out? I could be pain free without any medication! That would be great.

Has anyone else had these injections? Did they work for you? Thank you for your input.

Change Bad Days Into Good Days

I have been having a lot of bad days.

Something doesn't have to happen to me for me to have a bad day, my little brain just decides that on its own.

But I did come upon an article on www.tinybuddha.com that was about just that. How to weather your bad days and get through them to a better time. Click here to read that article.

It helps that someone else is thinking of getting through tough times, although her post doesn't describe those who have sunk to the level of depression that I have available to me. Or to the level of anxiety that I can achieve. I still found her article helpful.

Although I don't do well with embracing the evolving nature of life or with taking mindful action I have found that serving others can do loads for my own way of thinking.

While I can't do much I find that I can still do things like volunteer to help when my apartment complex has Second Harvest days. That is the one day a week when the company Second Harvest comes and distributes food for the residents. Second Harvest is a company that collects food from grocery stores and gives them to the food bank. They then bring a truck of the food to us. We then compile a bag of the foods, one bread item, one meat item, some fruit, whatever was brought to us. And each resident that wants one gets a bag. It makes me feel really good to help the office staff get the bags ready.

Doing anything that helps someone else makes me feel really good. It makes me feel grateful. It makes me appreciate what I have.

So if you are having a bad day, try the ideas in the article. And if you are like me, you can at least help someone else.

I have been feeding my anxiety monster too much (click to see that post). He is sitting across the room, fat and happy and laughing at me. But I have another chance tomorrow. And tomorrow will be a good day.

For My Dad On Father's Day

This is my father.


He is the smartest man that I have ever known.

As my brother, sister, and I were growing up he worked hard. He was an electrical engineer. When I was five he studied and got his Masters. There was a turtle that lived under his desk and at times I would crawl under there to be with it. I don't think that I gave that imaginary turtle a name. I think it was an excuse to be near him, maybe playing with his slide rule if he let me.

He could do anything. He built us three color TVs with kits you get in the mail. Boy, did he get mad when he found out that my friends and I had discovered that solder could be used to make rings and bracelets. When I was smaller I recall him taking me with him to test the tubes at the machine at the nearby convenience store or at the hardware store.

He took us to Florida every year. A week in Clearwater or Fort Lauderdale and then a week at Disney World. It wasn't until I was a teenager that I realized that not everyone got to do that. At the beginning of the trip he would give us kids each a bag of quarters that were ours to use in the arcade and machines in the rest areas on the way.

Our relationship became strained as I got older. He was disappointed in me for foolishly squandering my intelligence and I was a very rebellious teenager. He preferred I study and I preferred to party.

He and my mother divorced when I was fifteen. When I was much older I found out how hard it had been on him, being married to my mom. I no longer blame him. She suffered from depression and anxiety also and was pretty bad a lot of the time.

He didn't remarry but he had a longtime girlfriend who he loved very much. She became a quadriplegic and he showed us all just how much he loved her by having her live at home and taking care of her. My sister and I would help him but he did the majority of the work until it came time to take her to a nursing home. He went there every day to visit her. My respect for him just grew and grew.

Now I am afraid that I am a disappointment to him. He doesn't quite understand my major depressive disorder and anxiety. I'm sure he thinks that I could "get over it" if I just tried harder. But he doesn't tell me this.

Instead, he does everything that he can for me. He has helped me fix my car more than once. He gets my birthday mixed up with my sister's, which is a week later, but he always sends me something.

For this Father's Day all I could get him was a CD but it was of one of his favorite singers. He called me to tell me thank you. I wish so much that it could have been more.

I am so glad that I grew to have a better understanding of what he went through when I was young. Of just how hard he worked for us. Of all the things he gave up in order to stay and raise us. Some men would not have done that.

So Happy Father's Day Daddy. I love you and maybe someday I will get the chance to make you proud of me again.

My Little Old Man

My feelings have been hurt for a couple of weeks now.

Max, my 14 year old cocker, is my life. He has helped me through some pretty bad times. When I was recovering from surgery to have my right inner ear removed he stayed by my side 24 hours a day even though I had to crawl for the first two weeks that I was home (I had to learn to balance with only one inner ear).

Well, for a couple of weeks now, when I would go to tousle his little top knot, he would shy away from my hand for a moment. It was really like he was afraid I was going to strike him. Since he has never been hit in his life I was wondering what it was that I could have done.

Then yesterday I was looking deep into his eyes (yes, I do that) and I realized something. Although his eyes have been cloudy with age for some time now I suddenly saw just how bad they really are. So now I move more slowly when I go to pet him on the top of his head and he has no problem. I feel bad, thinking that I was scaring him. My heart hurts knowing that he is going blind. I knew it would probably come as he got older but this is a lot for me to handle. I suffer from major depressive disorder and anxiety and he helps me with dealing with going outside and when I have panic attacks.

He is already going deaf. He no longer hears a soft knock at the door like he used to. I have been around older cocker spaniels before, so I knew this would be a part of his aging. But realizing his blindness in a flash like I did has left me so sad. It makes me love him even more, if that is possible, as now I realize that he will need me to be more careful with him.

That dog bed was the best $36.00 I ever spent! I miss him snuggling on the couch with me but he would no longer jump up by himself and, once I helped him up, I was afraid of him hurting himself by jumping down.

I will try to push the knowledge of his mortality out of my mind until it must be faced. I should still have a few years with him and I need to concentrate on making his life easier in his old age. He has been there for me, now it is my turn to be there for him.

Argh! Here There Be Monsters!

Now I apparently have a monster.

It's just been one of those times. I have had to up the frequency of my psychologist visits due to having a pretty severe rise in my anxiety and feelings of being overwhelmed.

She might have read a new article because today I was told, "Don't feed your anxiety monster!" Evidently my anxiety monster eats my resolve to do something, like leave my apartment, and grows each time I "feed it". Rowr.

I'm supposed to picture it and think of what it wants me to do and then do the opposite.

I am a big fan of horror movies and novels. I believe I have imagined every monster available on page and seen every one on screen. Yet at first my attempts to picture my anxiety monster provided me with a familiar purple dinosaur that the kiddies love. Then I thought, "Feed me!". Of course - Audrey 2 from Little Shop of Horrors! Needless to say, both these renditions leave me chuckling.

And that's okay. When you're in the throes of a panic attack and certain of impending doom sometimes a little chuckle helps.

So when my anxiety monster is telling me to stay on the couch, don't go outside, I will not feed it and do as it says. I will go outside and enjoy the glorious day. When it tells me not to write, that it won't be any good, I will write until I can write no more.

I'm sure there will be times when I fail and the little bugger will grow fat on my doubt and insecurities. But that won't stop me from trying to put him on a diet. I think I am having more fun with this than I had intended.

But - rowr - a monster. Makes me giggle.

If you have an anxiety monster I hope you succeed in starving yours. Perhaps this visualization could help you, too.

Boy, I sure am glad she read that article.

Music And Mental Health

Yesterday my friend, M, and I were talking about how our mental health has changed as we have gotten older. He also has problems with anxiety. His is not nearly as bad as mine is, but that doesn't matter when you are in the thick of things.

One thing that has changed is how we view song lyrics now that we have suffered our mental health problems. What was once a great song can now be enjoyed with a greater understanding of its meaning, real or implied.

"Who Can It Be Now" by the group Men At Work (lyrics below) is one such song. When we were in high school it was just a catchy tune with memorable lyrics. Now, I can really relate to what is being said. Paranoia is part of the cocktail that is my diagnosis of Major Depressive Disorder and anxiety. The singer is clearly suffering from this and is not happy having his sanity questioned (There's nothing wrong with my state of mental health). "Is it the men come to take me away" shows the sad fear that paranoia brings.

Another song I enjoy for its take on health, mental and physical, is "Afternoons And Coffeespoons" by the Crash Test Dummies (lyrics below). It is funny, to me, that I now wear my pajamas in the daytime and my day can be measured with "coffeespoons", or doses of medication. I also find the mention of T. S. Eliot to be nice. I can only imagine that "Wasteland" is what the song writer was referring to.

Music was once very important to me as a coping, destressing, mechanism. Now I have a larger toolbox from which to choose ways to alleviate anxiety and racing thoughts. These include TV, DVDs, and games and audible books on my iPod. But music will always hold a special place in my arsenal.

Does music help you when you are anxious? Or just sad? Do you have any suggestions for me?




"Who Can It Be Now?"

Who can it be knocking at my door?
Go away, don't come 'round here no more
Can't you see that it's late at night?
I'm very tired and I'm not feeling right
All I wish is to be alone
Stay away, don't you invade my home
Best off if you hang outside
Don't come in, I'll only run and hide

Who can it be now?
Who can it be now?
Who can it be now?
Who can it be now?

Who can it be knocking at my door?
Make no sound, tip-toe across the floor
If he hears, he'll knock all day
I'll be trapped and here I'll have to stay
I've done no harm, I keep to myself
There's nothing wrong with my state of mental health
I like it here with my childhood friend
Here they come, those feelings again

Who can it be now?
Who can it be now?
Who can it be now?
Who can it be now?

Is it the men come to take me away?
Why do they follow me?
It's not the future that I can see
It's just my fantasy
Yeah

Oh, who can it be now?
Who can it be now?
Who can it be now?
Who can it be now?

"Afternoons And Coffeespoons"

What is it that makes me just a little bit queasy?
There's a breeze that makes my breathing not so easy
I've had my lungs checked out with X rays
I've smelled the hospital hallways

Someday I'll have a disappearing hairline
Someday I'll wear pyjamas in the daytime

Times when the day is like a play by Sartre
When it seems a bookburning's in perfect order
I gave the doctor my description
I've tried to stick to my prescription

Someday I'll have a disappearing hairline
Someday I'll wear pyjamas in the daytime

Afternoons will be measured out
Measured out, measured with
Coffeespoons ans T.S. Eliot

Maybe if I could do a play-by-playback
I could change the test results that I will get back
I've watched the summer evenings pass by
I've heard the rattle in my bronchi...

Mental Health Month

May is mental health month. I found out through a post on Facebook. Nobody shares anything with those who suffer. Oh well.

I did find a nice website, Mental Health America, that has lots of information and some screening tests if you are interested. Upon further navigation, though, I do believe that it is sponsored by pharmaceutical companies. And I'm not sure how I feel about that.

There are those that find that therapy of one kind or another is all they need to beat the monster but I am not one of those people. My brain has a chemical problem which has to be handled with other chemicals.

Social media like Facebook and this blog are providing me with more interaction than I have had in quite some time. I find that blogging has lifted my mood tremendously. I look forward to writing posts. I enjoy reading posts. I am learning so much. The Google Plus community is fantastic.

If you are having problems and don't know where to start try the website above. Or call your local health department. Or if you are really bad, call 911. The idea is to get you help so you don't have to handle your problems alone. What better time to do it than during Mental Health Month? If you are worried about the money therapy costs then perhaps your county is like mine and offers doctors on a sliding scale. And they provide case workers to help you navigate the system.

Yes, there are times when I still feel isolated because of my mental illness but I have a lot of help to deal with those feelings. Heck, most of the time I don't mind being isolated!

I am in the middle of one of those times. I am having to make myself write this. But I know that the satisfaction of having written the post will be great. And I successfully embedded a link to the website I found - yay me! You see, taking pride in those little things is what helps me climb up out of the morass.

If you need to make a change for yourself, if you need help, why not take that first step during Mental Health Month?

Anxiety And What Not To Say

I suffer from both Major Depressive Disorder and severe anxiety. The meds I am on at the moment are helping quite a bit. Sometimes, though, I have a panic attack. My heart races, my arms and legs tingle, I am short of breath, there is an oppressive feeling of impending doom, and horrible thoughts race through my mind.

Some people understand my anxiety and some people don't. Most don't. They tell me to "just stop it" and ask me what is making me so nervous. Often there is no discernible trigger for a panic attack. It is an attack - from out of the blue chemicals flood my brain and cause me great physical and mental distress. If I could "just stop it" I would definitely do just that.

There are those people that are well-meaning and make suggestions like, "have you tried meditation?" and "why don't you exercise, I bet that will help". I have tried everything there is to try to conquer these horrible episodes. What I need from someone when I am in the middle of an attack is just conversation to distract me from the racing thoughts of doom. But I don't get to go out much, so usually I am alone when an attack occurs. If I need help there are a couple of people I can call that understand when I tell them I just need to get my mind off its rampage.

The reason for this post is an article I found that puts a humorous spin on what not to say to someone who has anxiety. Click here to go to that article. I think you will enjoy it. And it will help you if you know someone who suffers like I do.

What someone suffering from severe anxiety needs the most is for you to just be there in case we have a request. Something as simple as you telling me about your day can help to quell the horror that is running through my brain. And, eventually, it will pass. It may take a while, but it will pass. And you would be considered a great friend for being there in our time of need.

Thankful Thursday

The last few days I have been driving myself crazier.

As you know, I am new to blogging. And when I am new to something I like to learn all I can about it. So I have been reading every article I can find with "How-to" and "Blog" in the title.

I now have some of the vocabulary down. SEO, content marketing, h/t, Google Plus. Argh!

Of course, I can't just learn something without letting it fill me with self doubt about what I was doing. I made myself so anxious about writing a post. What if I do something wrong? What if I write something good but post it at the wrong time? What if, what if, what if.

I have joined circles, added people back, followed back, backed over people. No, that last isn't right, but you know what I mean.

And I have decided that the best thing I can do is take that knowledge that I have gained in the last few days and nicely bundle it up and stick it on a shelf in my head. I will do with the blog what I started to do with the blog in the first place. I will write so that you may have some insight into what it's like to be me and I will hope that you enjoy what I share with you. There. I said it.

While I was perusing Facebook today I saw a post that had, instead of Throwback Thursday, a Thankful Thursday. I decided that was a good thing to write about.

I am thankful that my family and friends are healthy and, for the most part, happy. I am grateful that my fourteen year old dog is in good health. He is just the most wonderful dog I could ever ask for. He is going a little deaf and a little blind but we will face that together. My cat has seizures and she has not had one for months now, so I am thankful for that.

My car is running well. I have my father to thank for that, and I do. I don't have to ride the bus or pay someone to take me to the doctor's office or the grocery store. Riding the bus makes me very nervous. I am always afraid I will get on the wrong bus or get lost somewhere.

I don't get much money from disability but it is enough to pay for a place to live, groceries, and cable with internet. I am grateful for my computer. It provides me with most of the social interaction I get since my bad back prevents me from going places. Perhaps those injections like they did in my neck will work for my lower back and I will be able to go to the farmer's market or perhaps downtown to just walk around. That will be nice.

I am thankful just to be here. Although I am often depressed and anxious and obsessing about one thing or another, I try my best to find something good in every day. Something good to keep me here.

And that is what I am thankful for this Thursday. What are you thankful for?