“Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come, whispering 'it will be happier'...”
― Alfred Tennyson
Tomorrow, Monday, I am going in for a herniated disc surgery. It's in the very bottom of my neck. I am hoping this will provide some physical relief that I've been searching for for a long time. If the physical relief comes I feel the mental will follow. It's nice to feel some hope...
Sunday, December 28, 2014
Friday, December 19, 2014
The Worst of Times with Some Tender Mercies to Get Us Through
“I testify that the tender mercies of the Lord are real and that they do not occur randomly or merely by coincidence. Often, the Lord’s timing of his tender mercies helps us to both discern and acknowledge them…." -David Bednar
As Doug and I drove to the hospital we held hands tightly. We were both scared to death; not knowing what to expect but knowing it was going to be hard. We had to go through the ER first. I was so nervous, I didn't want to be treated rudely and questioned a whole lot. As I checked in all I told the clerk was that my counselor had sent me. She nodded and got me checked in. The nurse who came to take me back was so kind and understanding and made light conversation with me.
Within minutes of being in my room the Physician's Assistant came in and said; "Stephanie, I've had two phone calls about you." He said Dr Redd (Psychiatrist on call- Dr F had called and talked to him) and Dr F had both called and talked to him about me but he said "before we talk about that I want to talk to you about your surgery in Indiana." He had been my PA on a couple of my visits and remembered me and wanted to be updated. I felt like it was such a blessing for him to be my PA because he understood part of what had got me to this point.
The PA told me that he'd been told him no matter what I needed to be admitted and asked Doug and me how we felt about that. I tearfully told him that I wouldn't be here if I didn't think that was what needed to happen. The tears were streaming down my face this entire time, he gave me a box of tissues and for some reason that was very comforting to me that he cared enough to do that. After he left, the nurse finished her questions and the social worker came in.
The social worker asked lots of questions. Wanted to know my thoughts and my plans. She was kind, helpful and at times even held my hand. The whole time I was in the ER I was treated with respect and dignity. It took about four hours in the ER to get all the paper work, insurance approvals, ekg and and drug tests completed so I could be admitted to the Behavioral Health Unit (BHU).
I had to tell Doug good bye in the ER; this was so heart breaking for both of us! I knew that if he were with me I could get through anything so it was hard to leave on my own. Two security guards wheeled me down to the BHU- the tears were still streaming- but they tried so hard to be kind and talk and joke with me.
I arrived in the BHU trying to control the tears but there was no stopping them. I was the only one right in the unit (two were in the ICU part). A sweet, young tech had to stay with me while I changed into their scrubs. She also had to take my necklace and bracelet. This young woman was amazing and would end up being a huge blessing in both visits to the hospital.
After she left a nurse came into talk to me. I recognized him immediately, he had been my nurse during my nine hour visit to the ER in June. I was so appreciative of his kindness then, I knew I could trust him now. He asked a lot of questions and talked to me for a while to find out where I was mentally. He gave me paper work and a rubber pencil. That pencil about did me in! I decided if you could survive the rubber pencils you could survive anything!
That night was one of the hardest night I've ever had. I was given medication to help with sleeping but I only slept until about 1:30, the rest of the night I spent pacing my very small room and staring out the window. All I could think about was how I could kill myself. Believe me, there's nothing in those rooms you could even hurt yourself with, but I was so sick, so damaged that night. I was scared being alone. I wanted my Doug there to hold me, I wanted to go to my own comfortable bed not the slabs of wood with a piece of foam on it they offered me. What had I done to myself??? What was wrong with me??? I felt broken. So broken.
The next morning my nurse came in, she was a little overbearing and loud, I wasn't thrilled with her at first, but she quickly became one of my angels I met during my time there. She took me under her wing. She encouraged me to call my Bishop and get a blessing, she talked religion (even though she wasn't suppose to) and encouraged me constantly. She played music and tried to get me to dance. I don't dance but I told her if she could find "Compass" I'd dance with her, and she did, and I did- a little. I had been dealing with a migraine on top of everything else so dancing was even more difficult than normal for me. She treated me with utmost respect and tried to give me as much freedom as possible. After her 2nd shift and knowing I'd be gone before she came back, she came and gave me a half hug ("we don't do this here either") and told me that I was an outstanding person and she knew I could beat this.
Another angel/tender mercy was my night nurse, I was lucky to have him for my three other nights that I was there. Nights were particularly rough for me. Every night I'd go to sleep then I'd wake up a few hours later in a panic. He was so kind to get me meds, meditation cds or to sit and talk with me for a bit. One evening while he was doing my assessment he asked me about my marathon. I told him my story and he got all excited be he'd heard part of the story already- his wife is in my running group (I didn't know her) and she's friends with Joanna and heard part of it from her.
He was a happy, positive person who would help me smile. The 3rd night he came to me concerned that I was worried about us having mutual friends. He assured me he never talked about work. He then got me one of his person movies; "The Straight Line" and sat and watched it with me when he could. He felt like an old friend and I think having him there all three nights was a huge help.
The sweet tech who was on Fri night was also on Sun and Mon night. She was relaxed and so, so kind. When I first got to the unit they offered me something to eat because they knew I'd been in the ER for hours. I had absolutely no appetite and I for sure wasn't hungry. I needed to order food for the next day but I just didn't care about doing it. So, unknow to me, she ordered it for me, all her favorites hoping I'd like them too. I was grateful the next day to at least have some food to "pick" at. She also was very open and caring with us. She shared her own experience with a family member and mental health. One night I was being bugged by a piece of meat stuck in my tooth so she snuck me a piece of dental floss. This girl holds a VERY tender place in my heart for so many reasons!
These were some of the angels I feel a great gratitude to. I'll share more in another post.
I had to tell Doug good bye in the ER; this was so heart breaking for both of us! I knew that if he were with me I could get through anything so it was hard to leave on my own. Two security guards wheeled me down to the BHU- the tears were still streaming- but they tried so hard to be kind and talk and joke with me.
I arrived in the BHU trying to control the tears but there was no stopping them. I was the only one right in the unit (two were in the ICU part). A sweet, young tech had to stay with me while I changed into their scrubs. She also had to take my necklace and bracelet. This young woman was amazing and would end up being a huge blessing in both visits to the hospital.
After she left a nurse came into talk to me. I recognized him immediately, he had been my nurse during my nine hour visit to the ER in June. I was so appreciative of his kindness then, I knew I could trust him now. He asked a lot of questions and talked to me for a while to find out where I was mentally. He gave me paper work and a rubber pencil. That pencil about did me in! I decided if you could survive the rubber pencils you could survive anything!
That night was one of the hardest night I've ever had. I was given medication to help with sleeping but I only slept until about 1:30, the rest of the night I spent pacing my very small room and staring out the window. All I could think about was how I could kill myself. Believe me, there's nothing in those rooms you could even hurt yourself with, but I was so sick, so damaged that night. I was scared being alone. I wanted my Doug there to hold me, I wanted to go to my own comfortable bed not the slabs of wood with a piece of foam on it they offered me. What had I done to myself??? What was wrong with me??? I felt broken. So broken.
The next morning my nurse came in, she was a little overbearing and loud, I wasn't thrilled with her at first, but she quickly became one of my angels I met during my time there. She took me under her wing. She encouraged me to call my Bishop and get a blessing, she talked religion (even though she wasn't suppose to) and encouraged me constantly. She played music and tried to get me to dance. I don't dance but I told her if she could find "Compass" I'd dance with her, and she did, and I did- a little. I had been dealing with a migraine on top of everything else so dancing was even more difficult than normal for me. She treated me with utmost respect and tried to give me as much freedom as possible. After her 2nd shift and knowing I'd be gone before she came back, she came and gave me a half hug ("we don't do this here either") and told me that I was an outstanding person and she knew I could beat this.
Another angel/tender mercy was my night nurse, I was lucky to have him for my three other nights that I was there. Nights were particularly rough for me. Every night I'd go to sleep then I'd wake up a few hours later in a panic. He was so kind to get me meds, meditation cds or to sit and talk with me for a bit. One evening while he was doing my assessment he asked me about my marathon. I told him my story and he got all excited be he'd heard part of the story already- his wife is in my running group (I didn't know her) and she's friends with Joanna and heard part of it from her.
He was a happy, positive person who would help me smile. The 3rd night he came to me concerned that I was worried about us having mutual friends. He assured me he never talked about work. He then got me one of his person movies; "The Straight Line" and sat and watched it with me when he could. He felt like an old friend and I think having him there all three nights was a huge help.
The sweet tech who was on Fri night was also on Sun and Mon night. She was relaxed and so, so kind. When I first got to the unit they offered me something to eat because they knew I'd been in the ER for hours. I had absolutely no appetite and I for sure wasn't hungry. I needed to order food for the next day but I just didn't care about doing it. So, unknow to me, she ordered it for me, all her favorites hoping I'd like them too. I was grateful the next day to at least have some food to "pick" at. She also was very open and caring with us. She shared her own experience with a family member and mental health. One night I was being bugged by a piece of meat stuck in my tooth so she snuck me a piece of dental floss. This girl holds a VERY tender place in my heart for so many reasons!
These were some of the angels I feel a great gratitude to. I'll share more in another post.
Saturday, December 13, 2014
In the trenches
"In the depths of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer." -Albert Camus
The morning after my day in the closet, Friday, September 26, 2014, a day that is forever etched in my mind. I got up with more energy and feeling determined with a decision made of what I was going to do. Unfortunately the determination and decision were both wrong ideas.
September 26 is the anniversary of my Dad's death 24 years ago. I don't know if that date had anything to do with my feelings but I know I was having tender feelings about my dad. It is amazing to me that I can miss him as badly as I do even 24 years later. This was my FaceBook post that day:
24 years is a long time. It's a lot of missing someone. A lot of wondering what advice he would give. A lot of wishing I could have a Father's blessing. A lot of missing "leap years & reindeer stew". A lot of wishing my kids had a grandpa and my mom had a companion. But it's also a lot of times the veil has been thin. And a lot of times I can understand someone else's pain. And a lot of faith that life is eternal.
I felt those feelings so strongly. I felt that faith and the understanding that I'd learned from this trial of missing my dad since I was 15.
I knew that things in my brain weren't right, but I didn't know what to do. I called my counselor, there was no answer so I left a message. I decided to go on with my plan. He called me back within 30 minutes or so but I knew by then what I was doing so I led him to believe everything was fine (I really think I was so resigned to what was going to happen that everything WAS fine) and told him I was at a friend's house, because I was. The truth was everything I needed to end my life was in my van and I had a, hopefully, fail proof plan.
I had my day planned out. I went and got my nails done, zoned and visited with a friend. Then I went to lunch with two other very good, old friends. I said good-bye thinking in my heart that I would not see them again here on this earth. I had arranged a baby sitter to drop Mick off with but I wanted to play with him at the park one more time. We stopped at a park in Hyde Park and I let him play and play. As I watched and interacted with him it all the sudden hit me "You can't do this, this is wrong." It was as if a person was right there talking to me, looking back, I'm almost certain it was my dad protecting me from my terrible decisions.
I started to cry (and I don't think I quit crying for about 9 hours) I didn't know what to do. I knew if I called Dr F I would be sent to the hospital, and quite honestly, I think I knew that's where I needed to be. But boy was that a scary thought. As I sat and cried and wondered what to do, my friend's, who is a social worker at the hospital, name came to me. Through a series of small miracles I was able to get in touch with her. I told her a little what was going on and asked her to help explain what was going to happen. She was so kind, she talked me through it and made sure I could be safe until I could get help. She told me that this was a healthy, brave decision.
I put Mick in the car and then as I was driving home I called Dr F. I told him what was up (well little bits of it) and we agreed it was time for the hospital. I drove home and knew that I would wait until Doug got home to go. Doug walked in the door about 5 minutes after I did. He said he just had a feeling he needed to come home from work early.
I was only brave long enough to call my friend and Dr F- two 20 second times, after that it was out of my hands. I just had to go along for the ride.
The morning after my day in the closet, Friday, September 26, 2014, a day that is forever etched in my mind. I got up with more energy and feeling determined with a decision made of what I was going to do. Unfortunately the determination and decision were both wrong ideas.
September 26 is the anniversary of my Dad's death 24 years ago. I don't know if that date had anything to do with my feelings but I know I was having tender feelings about my dad. It is amazing to me that I can miss him as badly as I do even 24 years later. This was my FaceBook post that day:
24 years is a long time. It's a lot of missing someone. A lot of wondering what advice he would give. A lot of wishing I could have a Father's blessing. A lot of missing "leap years & reindeer stew". A lot of wishing my kids had a grandpa and my mom had a companion. But it's also a lot of times the veil has been thin. And a lot of times I can understand someone else's pain. And a lot of faith that life is eternal.
I felt those feelings so strongly. I felt that faith and the understanding that I'd learned from this trial of missing my dad since I was 15.
I knew that things in my brain weren't right, but I didn't know what to do. I called my counselor, there was no answer so I left a message. I decided to go on with my plan. He called me back within 30 minutes or so but I knew by then what I was doing so I led him to believe everything was fine (I really think I was so resigned to what was going to happen that everything WAS fine) and told him I was at a friend's house, because I was. The truth was everything I needed to end my life was in my van and I had a, hopefully, fail proof plan.
I had my day planned out. I went and got my nails done, zoned and visited with a friend. Then I went to lunch with two other very good, old friends. I said good-bye thinking in my heart that I would not see them again here on this earth. I had arranged a baby sitter to drop Mick off with but I wanted to play with him at the park one more time. We stopped at a park in Hyde Park and I let him play and play. As I watched and interacted with him it all the sudden hit me "You can't do this, this is wrong." It was as if a person was right there talking to me, looking back, I'm almost certain it was my dad protecting me from my terrible decisions.
I started to cry (and I don't think I quit crying for about 9 hours) I didn't know what to do. I knew if I called Dr F I would be sent to the hospital, and quite honestly, I think I knew that's where I needed to be. But boy was that a scary thought. As I sat and cried and wondered what to do, my friend's, who is a social worker at the hospital, name came to me. Through a series of small miracles I was able to get in touch with her. I told her a little what was going on and asked her to help explain what was going to happen. She was so kind, she talked me through it and made sure I could be safe until I could get help. She told me that this was a healthy, brave decision.
I put Mick in the car and then as I was driving home I called Dr F. I told him what was up (well little bits of it) and we agreed it was time for the hospital. I drove home and knew that I would wait until Doug got home to go. Doug walked in the door about 5 minutes after I did. He said he just had a feeling he needed to come home from work early.
All of these things working together were just the beginning of the tender mercies that I was going to experience over the next few hours and days. As I've thought back on this day the thought occurred to me; Even when you think there is no hope, there is always a glimmer. You only need to be brave for 20 seconds for everything to change.
I was only brave long enough to call my friend and Dr F- two 20 second times, after that it was out of my hands. I just had to go along for the ride.
Monday, December 8, 2014
Hurdles
"Life's problems wouldn't be called "hurdles" if there were no way to get over them."
Last Spring my 14 year old daughter decided to do track. She didn't just do something easy like the 200 m dash like most of the other Freshman. She decided to do the hurdles, both the 100 m and the 300 m. The hurdles look scary to me, I don't think I'd ever even try them. But she tried them and she practiced and she worked hard and she fell down and got scraped up. But EVERY SINGLE TIME she stood back up and either started the practice run over or finished the race. She was such an inspiration to me at the time and she still is today.
I feel like this depression and anxiety disease is much the same way. I fall down often. I get scraped up and hurt. And EVERY SINGLE TIME I have got up and continued my fight. Sometimes getting up is hard. Sometimes it's harder than what I can do on my own. So, what do I do during those times? Ask for help.
Asking for help is a hard thing and often I don't even know what it is that I need. But the last time I was in the hospital (yes, I've been hospitalized for my depression- that story will be coming) I came up with an easier way to ask for help. I made a list of my "people", the people I trust, people who are physically close, people who aren't relatives (relatives deal with me a lot anyway) and people who I know, without a doubt, love me. I set up a group text and when I need something I just shoot out one text. Whoever is available responds and offers what they can. Sometimes just getting a text back is helpful, sometimes a walk is suggested and sometimes it's a talk. This has been a great thing for me, I don't have to worry that the person might be busy or not want to deal with me that day. Plus by having a group text the others know that I've been taken care of. I'll admit this isn't fool proof, how can it be when a fool is on this end??? But it's pretty good, I just have to have the energy or desire to type that text. Sometimes that takes a lot but if I do, I know there will be someone there. For those true friends I am grateful!
Speaking of energy- sometimes getting out of bed is an almost impossibility for me. I decided while I was in the hospital that everyday I would get myself out of bed and get dressed for the day. I'll admit, some days that's all I have. Some days getting out of bed and dressed is an accomplishment. But I've noticed that if I'm dressed for the day, even if I'm laying back in my bed, things are better. If someone needs me I can respond. If someone drops by I don't feel stupid. Getting dressed helps just that tiny bit. And if I put on a really fabulous necklace, life feels that much better!
Last Spring my 14 year old daughter decided to do track. She didn't just do something easy like the 200 m dash like most of the other Freshman. She decided to do the hurdles, both the 100 m and the 300 m. The hurdles look scary to me, I don't think I'd ever even try them. But she tried them and she practiced and she worked hard and she fell down and got scraped up. But EVERY SINGLE TIME she stood back up and either started the practice run over or finished the race. She was such an inspiration to me at the time and she still is today.
I feel like this depression and anxiety disease is much the same way. I fall down often. I get scraped up and hurt. And EVERY SINGLE TIME I have got up and continued my fight. Sometimes getting up is hard. Sometimes it's harder than what I can do on my own. So, what do I do during those times? Ask for help.
Asking for help is a hard thing and often I don't even know what it is that I need. But the last time I was in the hospital (yes, I've been hospitalized for my depression- that story will be coming) I came up with an easier way to ask for help. I made a list of my "people", the people I trust, people who are physically close, people who aren't relatives (relatives deal with me a lot anyway) and people who I know, without a doubt, love me. I set up a group text and when I need something I just shoot out one text. Whoever is available responds and offers what they can. Sometimes just getting a text back is helpful, sometimes a walk is suggested and sometimes it's a talk. This has been a great thing for me, I don't have to worry that the person might be busy or not want to deal with me that day. Plus by having a group text the others know that I've been taken care of. I'll admit this isn't fool proof, how can it be when a fool is on this end??? But it's pretty good, I just have to have the energy or desire to type that text. Sometimes that takes a lot but if I do, I know there will be someone there. For those true friends I am grateful!
Speaking of energy- sometimes getting out of bed is an almost impossibility for me. I decided while I was in the hospital that everyday I would get myself out of bed and get dressed for the day. I'll admit, some days that's all I have. Some days getting out of bed and dressed is an accomplishment. But I've noticed that if I'm dressed for the day, even if I'm laying back in my bed, things are better. If someone needs me I can respond. If someone drops by I don't feel stupid. Getting dressed helps just that tiny bit. And if I put on a really fabulous necklace, life feels that much better!
Monday, December 1, 2014
Running Didn't Solve Everything
After that marathon I felt so good! I thought I was on top of the world! I had conquered my demons and I could move forward with anything. I'm sure glad I recorded all those feelings while I was still on the "high" of conquering those 26.2 miles because less than 3 weeks after finishing those miles my life took a drastic change because that's what life and mental illness do.
June 6th my mom was leaving the country for a couple of weeks. I took a nice, short, wonderful run to pick up her car for her but something didn't seem quite right. I got home and within a couple of hours I was throwing up and in tons of pain. I assumed it was a kidney stone so I drove myself to the hospital. Nine hours later when they got the throwing up a little more under control they sent me home. This was the first of three ER visits in six days and the start of a very, very miserable summer full of tests, pain and nausea. Not to mention Doug was working in Wyoming. Finally it was decided that it was once again my sphincter of Oddi and I needed to go back to Indiana. Through the summer there was some depression and anxiety but mostly I was sick and sleepy and felt so alone. At the first of September after having the surgery and getting off the pain medicine I'd been on for months I was excited to get back into life! I think I thought I would pick up where I left off in May. It didn't work out quite that way. My physical health didn't come back as quickly as before and actually still isn't back. And my mental health took a major CRASH!
Through September I went to counseling and took my anti depressants. I wasn't sleeping and sleeping for me is a MAJOR trigger for my depression to rear its ugly head. Things were not pretty. I was retreating more and more. I didn't have the energy to reach out and ask for help and I definitely didn't have the energy to help myself. I continued to go to counseling and I know that Dr F was concerned about me. He basically warned me that going to the hospital was an option that was getting more and more real. Dr F's biggest concern was that I could stay safe.
One day I finally reached the end. I got up and got my kids off to school and climbed back into bed. I didn't get out of bed again until I had to go to the bathroom. Then when I got out of bed I made it as far as my closet and spent the next 4-5 hours lying on the floor until Doug got home. I know Doug was terrified seeing me there but in reality this day was much better than the next day would prove to be, I had no energy to do anything, I was safe.
Sunday, November 30, 2014
My Marathon Journey- Finally!
I was anxious to get going. I once again gave my friends the
option to not go with me. I felt bad making them do this extra time. Jenni had
to get Allison home but the rest of them said they were there for me. Even
Scot, who had already finished his marathon, said he was going to do the miles
with me. I felt some guilt but also very, very loved.
After getting everyone
settled and ready to go again we started on the trail. I ran a few minutes but
knew that because of some strange pains I was having I was going to have to
walk. I was ok with that. I warned everyone I would be walking and they were
free to run however they wanted. The stayed right with me. Scot and Jeremy ran
most of it but they would always come back to us. Never once was I made to feel
like I was putting them out or they were sacrificing for me. This was a security
that felt new to me.
I actually had a lot
of fun on these last miles. Emily played in the cotton “snow” and spread pixie
dust. We laughed and talked and enjoyed the beautiful trail, river and scenery.
Even if it was 1000*- or at least 80*. Alesa and Doug were awesome with their
support. They kept us supplied with water and even grapes.
We shared fuel and electrolyte pills. I feel so bonded with
these people and next time that I need support in my life, I know
who I want on my side!
As we walked along, I was thinking about how the day had
gone. It hadn’t been anything like my original plan, it hadn’t been plan b or
even plan c. But I thought about the lessons and love I had felt that day. I
thought back to the prayer I’d been praying for days and the one I prayed even
as we climbed that uphill know that I was so close to the cut off. “Heavenly
Father, I've done everything I can. I've done my miles, I've worked on the
nutrition, I've hydrated, I'd read books, I had a support system. I need You to
carry me through this race." And even as I was struggling so much and
going up that hill and, truthfully, being quite scared, I was praying; “You
have to carry me through this, I need Your strength.”
I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Heavenly Father could
have given me the strength I needed. He could have helped me run that tiny bit
faster so that I could reach that cut off point. But He didn't. And as I was
finishing those miles, I knew in my heart that I was doing the race the way
that I was meant to do it. The lessons I learned, the life changing perspective
I received could not have been learned if I would have crossed that finish
line.
Of course my family and Alesa didn’t let me down on my
finish line. They were there cheering for me. Mick gave me a medal and they had
a sign they had made the night before. It was only us, it was much quieter
finish line than I had anticipated, but it was MY finish line! And I was proud
of my accomplishment but most of all my decision to choose to finish something
that most people wouldn’t have even started.
I later found out that the medal was a Katie original. She
knew that I needed a medal, so as they were walking away from the marathon
route she saw a sign in the garbage that had a big silver star on it, she took
that. Then scrounged around our van for something to add to it, she found paper
flowers and even a piece of yarn so I could hang it around my neck. Oh how I
love this girl and I’m so proud of the sensitive caring woman that she is
becoming!
Even though the sign was made the night before, it was the
most appropriate sign for this adventure!
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