Or will be on Monday, but I’m in a writing mood so here I am. Hmm. Here I am. Haven’t achieved “glad about it” status, but not fighting the daily demons about not being here. Meds do make a world of difference.

Started a new therapy program a few weeks back. Interesting, totally different way of looking at things. And, the first thing I learned is there is a world of difference between counseling and therapy. I saw a counselor for 6 weeks shortly after “the parking lot.”  Compared to therapy, it was like talking with a girlfriend who said, “Uh, huh. Sure, you’re right. Yep, that’s what you need to do.”  I mean no offense to counselors everywhere. I’ve had some very positive experiences with them in the past, but this time, this counselor, this was my experience. Now, I’m challenged on my ideas, thoughts, actions. I am learning to think in new ways and experience life differently. I am learning that my thoughts are not reality, but they certainly control my reality. I am learning to challenge them so I can create a reality that will ensure I don’t take any more trips to “the parking lot.”

Most interesting is this thing called ”accepting” pain. For one who’s avoided it, stuffed it, felt weak when it showed up, got angry that it landed on my door, this is a very different concept. Life has pain. When it arrives, greet it, talk to it, experience it, learn from it and it will lose it’s enormity. Acceptance is the key top making things less powerful. Certainly, the old ways weren’t working too well so, I’m on board, reading my book, Radical Acceptance, doing my daily dairy, doing my homework (yep, 8 months of 2 hr. group sessions weekly with homework (so much for that old adage about new behaviors becoming habit in 30 days!)  This program also comes with a bonus hour of individual therapy – woohoo! I jest, but I know I’m lucky. I have the chance to recover and create a new, better life than the one I’ve fought with for years. I take the work seriously – it’s my job now, I’m my job.

I’ve also joined GA. Haven’t had a blow out in almost two months. I slipped once, to the tune of $20, but I’ve been clean now for 29 days. I am gaining weight… Just like an addict to switch addictions. But, I recognize it and am trying to manage it. I’ve found the meetings incredibly helpful to stay on track – who wants to go next week and admit they failed? Not me! I don’t want to let anyone down – not my therapists, not my GA group, and finally, not me. That’s part of what I’m learning – the most important person in the world is ME. I can’t help but let others down if I let me down. So, as all the … “A”  programs profess, life is ‘one day at a time.’ Radical Acceptance is more finite – it’s one moment at a time. So, just for today, for this moment, I’m glad to be writing and hopeful that something I share will help another.

Actually, I’m six and a half months old, but writing hasn’t been high on my priority list. Someone contacted me to promote their organization, and like many things in my life, I couldn’t seem to do it timely. To correct, I want to share the site, The Jed Foundation. Fortunately, the deadline has been extended as noted below.

Are you working to raise awareness, reduce stigma or encourage help-seeking among your peers?

APPLY NOW

for the Jerry Greenspan Student Voice of Mental Health Award.

Send your video submission by

EXTENDED DEADLINE FEBRUARY 27TH

to apply for a $2000 scholarship and more!

God how I wish this wonderful organization had been around when I was 17 and first tried to check out. 

So, back to me. I promised my first counselor no more checking out attempts for 6 months. Holidays were tough, I bought the tools justs in case, but I didnt. Duh!!

My new counselor is terrific. I told my Mom that she was like 12 years old (everyone seems so young lately) and I didn’t see how she could help me. Last week I apologized for that comment. I have a new diagnosis and start an 8 month recovery program on Thursday(2 hrs of group and 1 hr individual therapy.) That will be my gut-wrenching, soul-searching, tear-filled day devoted to recovery. She has me reading Radical Acceptance, which I’ve had great difficulty with since it’s Buddha, Zen based. In the moment is tough for me. But, after spending  my adult life  planning, fearing the future and regretting the past, what the hell. I’ve just learned “pause” and “this too,” which remind me of the  AA based programs, the “one day at a time” mentality. I never learned that – guess it’ll take a while to move to a moment at a time…

Some days are bad, some just are, but none send me into suicidal mode. I credit the meds. Certainly, the situation hasn’t changed much. I’m back in my house, living in my spare bedroom while the SO has the master. We aren’t really SO’s anymore, although at times we relate that way, probably out of habit. Maybe because we don’t know what we are or where we’re going or if we’re going there together. Can’t think about that future. Just today, folks. That’s my eternity right now. Just today.

Whew. What a journey. The holidays terrified me. Wasn’t sure I’d make it through. But, I did. Thank God for meds. I’m on two now and it’s amazing what a difference they make. I actually get out of bed. Almost every day. I shower more regularly. I don’t cry at inappropriate times. Best of all, dying isn’t something I dwell on. I have hope again.

Not that all’s rosy here. I have sporadic motivation. There are days I’m productive and enthused and then there are days… Some of the Law & Order reruns I’m thinking I can recite. Yesterday was one of those. Today, I sent out about ten resumes and made chili. Tomorrow? I’ll deal with tomorrow tomorrow.

I’ve found that some of the classes I’m supposed to atttend about my recovery toolbox are difficult and a waste of my time. But, that’s the good news, because in them I interact with people whose prognosis for recovery isn’t good. Which makes them a totally valuable use of time. Looking down, not on them, but from where I am, instead at up has given me an appreciation for how truly fortunate I am. Some have no chance for recovery. I not only will recover, I will achieve again. I know this.

I’m attending anger management classes – my choice. And, what did I learn? Anger is unmet needs. It’s normal, and ok if we display it appropriately. Hmmm. Unmet needs. Boy, do I have those. My goal for the classes though is to get beyond handling anger and finding a way to eliminate its source – the unmet needs. That will mean changing expectations and situations, which won’t be easy, but I’m sure it’ll be much easier than dealing with the ramifications of rage that I’m experiencing – like having no one trust you because they’re wondering if you’re going to “try it again.”

So, welcome to 2009 and my increasing sanity. With these incredibly tough financial times, many will find themselves slipping into the blackness due to the stress. If you know someone, or are someone, in that position, stop the descent. Get help. The shorter the climb up, the easier it is.

The holidays are horrible for many, which is why I’m  writing. This is the time of year when suicide can call us as aggressively as those retailers who scream for our dollars. All around us it seems everyone is fulfilled, joyous, full of hope for the New Year. And, here we are, none of the above. It’s hard to look forward when we can’t see above the rim of despair.

It’s been four months since I parked my car and tried to check out. Four months since I woke up and  bawled that I did. Four months. My initial burst of enthusiasm for living faded quickly; hope took a detour when the challenges I’d tried to run from didn’t go away even with my classes and mountain and landscaping therapy.

And with that came acceptance.  Not easily mind you, but somehow I realized that, this time, pulling myself up by the bootstraps wasn’t working – the damn straps kept breaking…

Now, filled with the joy of pharmaceuticals, I have a different outlook. Actually, I have no outlook. I eat, I sleep, I watch TV. I don’t leave the house. I don’t conquer the mountain peak. I don’t go to any classes. BUT, I don’t google ways to die each day either. I just “am” right now. And, for now, I guess that’s ok. My family prefers “am” to a grave site.  My friends do too. Which is what you have to believe, to hold onto, to embrace when the urges and pain and hopelessness are fighting to win. Suicide is selfish. It is mean, leaving others with guilt and loss and confusion for the rest of their lives. You may be angry at those around you - feel they’ve hurt or cheated or deserted you – but the saying goes that “success is the best revenge.” Not death.

I face my first Christmas without a tree. A season torn between family and my S.O. A pile of regrets I can’t see over. A future blurred with tears. BUT, thankfully, I don’t see death as the resolution. Drugs, counseling, reaching out – these have helped me hang on. These have brought me to ”am.”  I can worry about “being”  tomorrow. Because there will be a tomorrow. And each tomorrow is one more chance to get it right. So, give yourself or someone you love the gift of tomorrow. Reach out, find resources, check into the hospital. You deserve it. They deserve it. 

Happy Holidays. May Santa bring you and your loved ones the joy of mental health!

PS: Thanks for writing Linda. I miss seeing you, too. Make sure that life class gets done!!

Sorta, almost, moving in that direction I think. It’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve written because, honestly, I haven’t had any progress to report. All that going-forward-gutsy-I-can-do-this seems to have disappeared. Back are gray-moving-toward-black clouds. Getting out of bed? A challenge. Classes? Haven’t attended one in two weeks. The mountain?  Twice in the last couple weeks.  Looking for a job? Are you kidding?!

So, I hunkered down, trying, trying, trying to figure it out. And found I couldn’t. I finally made new counseling appointments. Tomorrow at noon we start again, this time with a shrink, not a counselor; with drugs most likely instead of my own grit. Grit isn’t cutting it.

I’ve accepted that I’m not enough to deal with this. A few happy thoughts to reverse my negative thinking aren’t enough. Uplifting classes aren’t enough. Maybe it’s because I let the pain simmer so long; let it permeate my core. Think skin cancer. Caught early, some topical meds can burn the lesions off. Left alone, it grows and festers and takes over all your healthy cells. Then, only aggressive surgery saves you from death. 

Since I went the backward route and failed at death, I guess that suggests that I’m meant to turn it over to ”surgeons” who can delve into my psyche and find the drugs and therapies necessary to return my mental health.  I now have to trust - their skills, their drugs, their analysis of me. It leaves me feeling defeated. I must be weak. I must be a loser. I must be… nothing good if I can’t even fix me.

I know that’s not the case. I know depression isn’t a character flaw. Intellectually, I know this. Emotionally, that’s not what I’m feeling. At least intellect has won this round. With help, I hope intellect will once again rule my brain and those “surgeons” find a way to install some brakes on my emotional rollercoaster. 

So, I wish you a Happy Thanksgiving. If you have your mental health, give thanks. If yours is slipping, give yourself an early Christmas present. Get help. And, if you know someone who seems to need support, give them an early present. Reach out – alot. Chances are they won’t let you in the first, or second, or even twentieth time, yet each effort might be the one that stops their freefall.

The mind IS a terrible thing to waste. Don’t let it happen in your world.

I share this journey so you’ll know you’re not alone; so you’ll stop your slide into the pit of despair before you end up at the bottom, as I have.  

Missed my progress report last week so this is a twofer. Saves having an evil Week 13 post out there.

Week 12 had really been ok; all seemed to be going along well. Went to an Awakening class on Sat. – I Make A Difference. Left in good spirits, hit the mountain, grocery shopped. All good. A decent 12 week birthday.

Week 13, well, it started like a 13! I lost it. Binged. Push the buttons, push the buttons. A gambling addict out of control. Screamed at the SO because he’s not getting himself or us counseling. His fault I can’t go home. His fault I binged. His fault I’m staying in a trailer. His fault I’m going broke. His fault…

Which, of course, says that I’m not dealing with reality too well. I do ok for a day, a week, two weeks, and then I slide backward. It’s like I’m putting on a new face for everyone – that I’m ok mentally, making progress, all is good, blah, blah, blah. But inside, I’m just tired. And angry. Oh, so angry.

I’m going broke, but the idea of a job overwhelms me. I WAS successful. But that woman is….  she’s gone. I read ads and feel like a fraud when I think I could do jobs I’m technically qualified for. Endless waiting for calls, the rejection of hearing nothing, the terror of an interview – too much. Even if I could land one, I don’t know how I’d manage to work full time. A few hours on the computer usually requires a nap.  I’m scared that I’ll fail – in the search process or the job itself. And I’m afraid of what that would do to me. I don’t even try.

I’m sitting here in this cocoon, safe, no stress, and still not functioning enough to face life. And I’m thinking again that I wish I’d have been successful – that I didn’t have to face the challenges of living. But I do. And I’m accepting that like a child told to go to bed: “I do’n wannnnnnnaaaaaaaa!!!”

The binge shocked my SO into action. We ended up at joint counseling on Wed. And, guess what? I looked like a loony-toon. The SO? Ah, the picture of self control and sanity. Somehow I knew that’s how we’d come off. I told her that at the beginning. I’m so emotionally raw and he’s just pleasant and calm. The counselor refused to work with us. She thinks I need more individual therapy, some drugs perhaps, before I’m ready. I failed at counseling. Rejected. Stopped in my effort to return home. A failure once again.

The SO, of course, loved this. See, it’s me. After all the wrongs he’s done to me, and I’m the villain, the one with the problem? Which makes me question even more. My therapist said dump the SO. This one? She felt for him, not me. Am I nuts? Is it my perception, not his actions? Or does he wear his mask so well that we’ll never get to core issues? I’m lost. So very, very lost.

The session did, however, provide an upside. She’s right. I’m not ready to take care of me, much less deal with the relationship issues. I’m living in this fantasy where the SO suddenly delivers and I get to be the princess - coddled, cared for, and adored. That hasn’t happened for five years. I got back on the phone and found more free therapy with a psychiatrist and drugs available. Here’s hoping I’m accepted in the program. I need to end the pain. I need to be me again. I need BIG help doing that.

And, none too happy about it right now. Seems like I’m doing all the things I’m supposed to, but I’m not feeling like they’re right. I attend the classes, upbeat during the exchange, only to slide downhill afterward. Wednesday I had a mock interview for a job I’d applied for. Good learning experience, strong scores, but no chance to put the info into action. Thursday, more Emotional Intelligence. Again, great tools to understand the reasons the SO and I fight instead of talk. Yesterday was an all-day communication seminar. Uplifting, terrific info. More insights into my battles with the SO. Woohoo. But then I get home and CRASH goes the mood. On come the tears. 

Based on my October goals, I did pretty well. I finished the yard, attended 12 classes, hiked 3 or 4 times a week. Even took three of those classes on job searching, something I hadn’t mentally scheduled until December. The only thing I missed was completing 4 books I need to read. I’m 0 for 4 there. Not bad for someone who tried to die 11 weeks ago.

Still, it doesn’t feel like accomplishment. It just feels like work, work that isn’t bringing me joy. Do I want to go back to the parking lot? No. But I don’t want to get out of bed or leave the house either. So, I’ve been trying to figure out, why? Then, a quote really struck me Thursday night:

I’m paraphrasing and don’t remember who said it, but the gist is, “Anyone can become angry, but to be angry at the right person to the right degree for the right reason is not easy. ” At my core, I’m angry. Suicide is hopelessness, for sure, but it’s also an angry action - anger at life, anger at me, anger at the SO? All of the above. Maybe that’s why there’s no joy, no feeling of accomplishment. I’m angry that I’m going thru this. Which means the work I’m doing pisses me off. I’ve gained lots of info on how to manage anger, but somehow I’m missing what I most need – how to rid myself of the anger. Until I get that, I’m guessing joy doesn’t have much room in my mini-brain to take hold…

And, I feel like the stock market – up, down, down, up, down. Erratic!! Doesn’t take much either. Little things send good moods spiraling before I even realize what triggered it. That was this week’s class – triggers. Emotional intelligence (EI). I figured if I had high EI, I wouldn’t be in this position. A twelve question test confirmed it: Low EI, very low… As in, no wonder, “what’s a smart girl like you…” applies so well.

Now, much of the class focused on how a high EI makes great leaders – technical skills & IQ account for about 20% of professional success; EI is credited with about 40%. To quote our instructor, Bobi Seredich: “IQ and tech skills get you in the door. EI keeps you there.”

But, it also had a lot to offer on the personal front. EI is both self-awareness, the ability to effectively perceive, manage and use one’s emotions AND social awareness, the ability to effectively manage emotional connections with people around us. The base of EI is self-awareness. You have to know you to manage emotions. I let mine go. Hid in fantasyland or zombieville. Quit feeling anything but pain. Forgot ME.

This time, our brain lesson introduced the amygdala (AMY) where fight or flight originates. If we don’t control AMY she controls us - little scamp blocks out our thinking brain totally. Then, we do stupid stuff. Why? Because AMY can’t tell whether a threat is real or perceived. That’s when we are emotionally hijacked. And, that’s the BIG lesson.

Emotional hijacks occur when you feel, “let down, put down, or shut down.” They’re sudden, against your will, forceful, you don’t have control – they’re taking you somewhere you don’t wanna go. And, when one occurs your thinking brain vacates the premises for EIGHTEEN minutes. Plus you get another 4-5 hours of cortisol coursing thru the bod courtesy of AMY and fight or flight.  Now you know where that, “Oh, God, why did I say that,” or “Jeez, I cannot believe I did that,” come from.

Fortunately, your body gives you a whopping .85 milliseconds of warning - you know, gritted teeth, gut tenses, you start shaking – whatever your stress reaction is. You have to SOSS: STOP, OXYGENATE, STRENGTHEN APPRECIATION and SEEK INFO. Strengthen appreciation means having things about the trigger (the person stressing you) that you just love and adore so you can think on ‘em when they’re pissing you off. Your brain can’t process anxiety and appreciation at the same time. Ahh, sweet. And, the thinking brain takes priority over AMY. That’s why you’re looking for info.

For me, a fascinating piece in my ‘why do I do the things I do’ quest. Part II is next week – I’ll be there. We’re gonna learn more about triggers. Good. A list of triggers would probably be far more useful at this point than all that appreciation. For more info, check out the Institute for Health & Human Potential.

And, no the entire week didn’t consist of just one class. Took another on interviewing & resumes. Completed landscape therapy - my parents’ yard is good until spring. Hiked three times. Had a tooth yanked. Mundane. Boring. For someone who spent five years on the drama roller-coaster, quiet is good.

Quiet week, which means no interaction with the SO. No calls in a WEEK! This is telling. I revisited the Love Addiction info Maureen gave me on 9/18. Of the 15 characteristics, I marked 10. This one I highlighted:

“In a relationship, we are much more in touch with our dream of how it could be than with the reality of the situation.”

That’s 5 years of ME! (ok, a lifetime) The DREAM. And, yes, I felt withdrawal this week. Constantly checking for messages, looking for emails, tempted to call. Also realized something I didn’t think referred to me.

Virginia Dunstone, (Why Do I Do What I Do?) and other articles on the subject point out that cultural prompts keep us in this cycle. Messages abound that we’re nothing without a man, that love conquers all, that happily ever after is waiting for us. They push the DREAM because it sells movies or perfume or weight loss products. I thought I was immune. I don’t do romantic comedy. No Starter Wife for me. I do Law & Order & Forensic Files. Haven’t bought perfume in years unless vanilla spritz counts. And, weight loss stuff? The only one that’s ever worked for me is the mountain. That’s free. But…

I do music. Three days of landscaping therapy and two mountain cleansings meant lots of music.  Most of which is pull-at-my-heartstrings-man-realizes-woman-is-wonderful-too-late or woman-tells-man-to-fuggetaboutit. I live all those relationship fantasies in my EARS! Which brings tears. I haven’t gotten to the book, Facing Love Addiction, yet. Next on my list. Still trying to figure out WHO the love addict is (that would be me, but who’s me?)  If you want some info now, check out Love Addiction.  

Took two classes, one on job hunting (very good) and one on Communication (also very good.) I’ll come back to that once I review against the handout on Characteristics of Bad Communication. As I recall, most of those applied to the SO and I…

Spent a lot of time on the Who is Me?  part. I’m into ‘what your answers mean’ in Why Do I Do What I Do?  Some interesting insights. Like I was an athletic kid – ie. why I love the mtn. and why losing it was devastating. Like I was sensitive to criticism. Afterward, I’d be alone. Now, I want to run outside for the same privacy only the SO follows or won’t allow it. Like I had a sister who blackmailed us with, “I’ll tell if you don’t…”. Guess who else has blackmailed me?  Definitely seeing how things that occurred in childhood are repeating in adulthood.

It’s a hard process, even more so because many of my 96 answers are I don’t  know. Then it’s look at today’s behavior and surmise what the child experienced. Will take numerous rounds of analysis to clearly understand, but each insight is one more piece of the how-the-hell-did-I-get-in-this-mess puzzle. I have an MBA. I used to make 6 figures. Now, I haven’t worked in 4 years. My nest egg done cracked and shriveled. I’m scared of being a greeter at WallyWorld. I need to finish this puzzle.

So, two months into this recovery thing I bought an organizer for all the info I’ve accumulated. Overwhelming! I’ve spent 6 hours in counseling and another 31 in workshops. Hours on the net researching and studying the info, I can’t count. Still, that’s not even two weeks of work on my mental health. And yet, it’s far more than I spent in the last five years on same. That’s sad, on both counts.

Do I feel better? Yes. And, no. Yes, because I’m taking action, responsibility even, for ME. No because, well, I don’t feel “better.” I mean, thoughts of dying are at bay. That’s big progress since they dominated my brain for so long. But, do I wake up all, “Oh, look, another wonderful, aren’t-I-lucky-to-be-alive,” positive? Not even.

I wake up tired. Tired from the tasks in front of me, tired from the not-quite-enough progress of yesterday, and tired from five years of mental lethargy. Why I think I should be able to expunge all the demons in two months that I let grow over years is beyond me. But, I do. Or, more accurately, I want to. I want to wake up perky and smiley and happy. That I don’t annoys me. After all, I’m doing all this work. 

So, today in my inbox I get a LINK. One I really needed. One anyone struggling really needs. About gratitude. Not one of my top-ten skill sets. Not even in my top twenty-five I’m afraid. Took me awhile to come up with FIVE things to be grateful for. No wonder I’m depressed! I have what used to be called “stinking thinking.” And, stinking thinking led to many, many, many of the situations that led to this blog.

So, today’s big insight, I didn’t learn much Saturday. No, that’s not true. I didn’t implement much of what I learned Saturday about thoughts creating my reality. Book knowledge is useless unless you apply it. This week’s goal is implementation – to begin to live what I learn.  Which means, I need to be grateful for what I do have going in my life:

Yes, I’m facing the big BK. Yes, I’m losing my house. Yes, the SO and I are toxic. Yes, finding a job in this market after fours years of not working may mean the blue greeter vest at Walmart. Still, I have a lot to be grateful for.

I got out of bed today. The sun is shining. All my body parts work pretty well. I have a computer and the skills to use it. I have a roof over my head, food in my refrigerator, gas to heat the place, a car that runs, workshops to look forward to, a family for support, four books to help on my journey to wellness. I have this second chance – to spend time with my son and parents and grandkids; to start a new career; to find a smile; to appreciate this far-from-size-zero-wrinkly-body that works; to create a reality free from death wishes.

Yep, fake it ’til you make it. So, today, I’m wearing a smile with my landscaping clothes. I’m helping my parents and earning my keep (sort of.) I’m getting exercise and fresh air. I’m accomplishing. I’m beautifying. I’m taking action. I’m a good landscaper! And, I got out of bed.