Category Archives: Anxiety

Not Exactly What I Wanted To Hear

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Last week’s counseling session went pretty well. I was able to discuss something that had been on my mind for a couple of weeks. At the end of the session, my counselor said something that I thought was really good. She told me that if I were to walk into her office now, she would diagnose me with mild depression. She did also say we could not change my diagnosis at this point since I first started seeing her when my depression was so severe and I still need the extra care that someone with clinical depression needs. However, I did take what she said about my depression at this stage as a positive thing. I can see and feel that I am better than I was, but it sure is nice to have my counselor validate what I am feeling.

Yesterday it was time for me to see my psychiatrist for my regular medication check. I had question for him about my medications. When I was in the hospital for my asthma, my medication doses were not changed but instead of taking 150 m of effexor in the morning, the hospital had me take it 75 m at a time, once in the morning and once at night. With my welbutrin, they had me take 150 m in the morning rather than 75 m, morning and night. I asked him if changing how I took them for that length of time would make any difference in how they worked. He asked me if I had any symptoms come up during that time and they had not. So he said in his opinion changing them the way the hospital did was not detrimental to me at all.

I also told him I was back to almost no sleep at night and it was wearing me out. I asked if it was time for me to start taking something to help me sleep.

The answer he gave me was not exactly what I wanted to hear. The psychiatrist said that he could detect a great deal of anxiety in my voice and he thought that I was experiencing some extra anxiety that was making it difficult for me to sleep. He went on to say that he thought part of my anxiety was coming from me stressing about my medication. That I had gotten myself worried about things that were actually nothing to worry about. I know last week my mother said something about me getting “wound up” over making sure I had plenty of mirapex for my restless leg syndrome. He actually wrote in my chart that he felt I was moderately anxious. He said he wanted me to have my counselor teach me some more coping skills for anxiety and he felt that would be more helpful than prescribing anymore medication.

I guess he wants to keep an eye on me while I work through this anxiety episode, because instead of having to wait three months to see him again, like I had been doing, he wants to see me in four weeks.

I saw my counselor today, so I did not have to wait long before I could get her to teach me some more anxiety coping skills. The counselor did remind me that she had told me a number of months ago that I would experience some break through symptoms at some point. The time for that to happen seems to be now.

The counselor told me she thought I was handling it very good compared to how I would have last year. She also told me to not be hard on myself since I did not realize what was going on until the psychiatrist told me, and that if it had been given a few more days I would start to realize what was going on because the symptoms would be much more pronounced.

I am using my support system and using the people in my life who are the most helpful and trusting them to let me know when they think I am not doing as well as I could be.

The counselor also reminded me that learning about my emotions is probably the hardest part of my recovery process to date.

I will definitely have to manage my anxiety a bit better. I think the relaxation techniques my counselor will be helpful. I just have to remember to use them when I feel that anxious feeling.

Have a great evening Neighbors!

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Personal Space Invasion

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I love my personal space. It is something I treasure and cherish and enjoy. I do think I enjoy it a lot more than is probably healthy for me, so I have been taking steps to find a balance.

In a hospital there is no such thing as personal space. It cannot exist and have all those people do what they need to do to you. Knowing that I was sick and the only way I would be able to get out of the hospital was to cooperate, I just let the hospital staff do what they needed to do and did not worry about my personal space.

For the first couple of days out of the hospital I gave no thought to my personal space. I was too tired. Plus, people were really good about just leaving me alone unless I needed something.

After my mother left to go back to her home my daughter has not left my side. She is being a personal space invader. Seriously, it is as if she is glued there. It is making me feel rather…cranky, irritable, anxious, and closed in. Those feelings are making me feel incredibly guilty.

I know there are moms out there who would give anything to have a child wanting to be that close to them that much. There are moms out there who would not see it as a personal space invasion. They would feel very grateful and blessed if they were in my situation. Yet, all I can think of is how can I nicely redirect my daughter so I can have even a few minutes of her not invading my personal space.

In addition to feeling guilty about the negative feelings I am having right now about her invading my personal space, I feel very selfish. The kid had not seen me much while I was in the hospital, due to the distance. She missed me, and here I am in my head, WHINING about her wanting to be that physically close to me. Yet, it still feels like a personal space invasion to me.

The closed in feeling is the worst. It is if there is not enough room around me to breath. It is not physically not being able to breath, like from an asthma attack, it is purely mental. However, the feeling itself does make it seem real.

I love her and I do not want to hurt her feelings, but I need to figure out a good compromise so that she feels close to me and I can have some personal space to recharge my mental batteries.

Have a great day Neighbors!

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Can Weaknesses Be Strengths?

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I am once again thankful I am feeling so much better today. I am back into my blog reading and have read some good stuff already this morning.

Grey Ang wrote, what I thought was a very interesting post, entitled Making Your Weakness Your Partner And Dance With It 

She starts her post off with some very good self inspection questions.  

“But actually, who is it that is there to determine what is normal or success? And how do we weight ourselves, is it from your heart, or is it from how others see you?”

 Grey Ang also takes the time to tell a short story about a young woman name Amiee Mullens.  Amiee Mullens had both her legs amputated when she was about one years old due to a birth defect.  Rather than let not having legs hold her back she has gone on to be a model, and an Olympic Athlete.

Grey Ang has a quote from Amiee Mullins that says,

“It is not so much about overcoming adversity as it is opening ourselves to it, embracing it. Grappling with it. Maybe even dancing with it. Perhaps as we see adversity as something natural, consistent and useful, we’re less burdened by the presence of it. “

 At first when I read that quote, I knew those were inspirational words but I could not really think of how they could apply to me.  I decided to do some more reading and thinking.

Basically, I think what I think is being said by this quote is that if you have something that is considered a weakness or a disability, embrace it!  Really get to know it/them.  Acknowledge that it is part of you.  Love it since it is part of you. 

Do not run from it.  Do not hide from it.  Do not keep it a secret from others.  Be proud of it!

In the last year, I have made no secret of my severe depression, suicide attempts, and other things that most people would consider weaknesses or disabilities.  

I think when I got my asthma diagnosis and then my diabetes diagnosis, instead of embracing and getting to know the new parts of me, I tried to shove them under the bed.  They certainly did not cause my depression, but I very strongly believe that not dealing/embracing them added a lot to my severe depression.  I became a hopeless person, and when I reached that hopeless point I tried to commit suicide.

Without knowing what I was doing, I have spent the last year getting to know my illnesses, my weaknesses, my anxieties, and more and embracing them.  I chose to do much of that, publicly, here on this blog.

I have touched them, examined them, poked and prodded them, and now I know them so much better.  I am not to the point of loving them….yet, but I am becoming proud of them.  Proud in the sense that I am no longer boxed in by other people’s definitions of them.

My nurse for today paid me what I consider a very high complement.  She basically said that for not having been in depression recovery for even a year yet, she thought I was really doing well.  I guess my sense of pride for my “weaknesses” is actually showing through to other people.  How cool is that?!

I think our weakness can become our strengths.  I will be honest and admit that I am not sure how to put them all together that way just yet, but I think I am getting closer.  I can see the look on people’s faces when I respond to them, and I see respect there.  For example, the nurses and other support staff here have kept saying “Too bad you had to spend your birthday in the hospital”.  My response has always been, “better here than at home not being able to breathe well”.  Having been such a shining example of negativity for most of my life, it really feels good when you can say something positive, surprise someone, and see how it might change their own thought processes, and to hear them say out loud how strong they think you are. 

Getting back to the questions from the beginning of the this post:

Who decides what is normal or a success?  In the past, I let other people or society decide for me what was normal and what was considered a success.  Now I define those things for myself.  “My normal” is in no way the same as my neighbor’s “normal”.  Why?  I have a very structured drug regime, my brain certainly has issues, and to me sometimes a successful day just consists of getting dressed.  However, since I am defining those things I can be proud of them.

How do we judge ourselves, from our heart or from how other people “see” us ?  I very much judged myself on how other people “saw” me.  Now I know, most people do not really “see” me.  How can they really “see” me?  Most people do not take the time to get to know each other well enough to truly “see” them.  I can see myself, but I often ask myself, am I truly seeing myself completely?  My opinion is, that it is extremely difficult to hold that mirror up to yourself and see yourself completely.  So it is important to have one or two people you trust completely, to help you see around the corners and show you what you  might be missing.  Not to judge us, but so we can make a better judgment about ourselves.  I use my counselor for that job.

Your turn!  How would you answer those questions?

Have a great afternoon, Neighbors!
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Scariest Time Of My Life – Part II

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This is a reposting of a series of posts I wrote several months ago.  It is about my stay at a state run psychiatric hospital.  Several people had asked me what it had been like there, so I decided that it would be easier to repost what I had already written.  Please keep in mind that this was written several months ago, when I was in a different frame of mind. 

This is the next section of how I ended up in a state run psychiatric hospital and my experiences there.

After the crisis team and I arrived at the hospital, and the psychologist left me at the front desk, he went back and spoke to someone about me.  Very quickly, I was taken back to triage and then taken to a room in the emergency department.  At that time, no one seemed to be making a big deal about anything so, I started thinking again that a mistake had been made and it would be straightened out.  A doctor came in, asked me a few questions and then everyone’s attitude towards me changed. 

A nurse came in and told me I had been 10-13nd.  Where I live that means a doctor or a judge has declared you a danger to yourself or others and has committed you against your will to a psychiatric hospital.  Shock began to set in again.  My guess, is that the decision to commit me to a psychiatric hospital had been made before I even saw the doctor.  It had probably been made when the psychologist from the crisis team went back and talked to someone in the emergency department and had left me out front.

I was so mentally unprepared for the things that happened next.  That same nurse who told me I had been 10-13nd, handed me a hospital gown and told me I had to take EVERYTHING off and put their gown on.  I asked if this included underwear and she said it did.  I let her know immediately that I was leaving my underwear on and that was that.  She said that she would have to check with the charge nurse.  She also told me they expected me to be leaving for the psychiatric hospital within a few hours, once they found one that had room for me.  I was told that I would have to go in the hospital gown and not my regular clothes.

The nurse left my room, leaving the door open and within seconds a security guard showed up with a chair, which he stuck in the open doorway.   By this time some of the shock was wearing off and I was getting pissed off.  I really felt like I had been handed a bad deal.  In my mind, I was thinking that all I had done was realized I was in trouble, and called my counselor and some how that attempt at getting help before I took any more pills ended up with me being stuck and guarded, waiting to go to a psychiatric hospital.  In fact, that thought is all I focused on for several days.

The charge nurse came into my room.  The guard left the room and shut the door.  The thought I had was that she had come in to take my underwear away.  That is what I was prepared for.  What ended up happening was much much worse, at least as far as I was concerned.  She told me she was going to have to strip search me.  A thorough strip search.  I remember staring at her for a few seconds because my mind could not fully comprehend what she had said for a few seconds.  I then let her know I am not a drug user, nor do I carry weapons, and that I was in here because I had called for help and I felt that things had gone awry.  I also let her know that she was NOT going to strip search me.  Her response was to let me know that all the security guards in the hospital were also sheriff deputies and she would have the guard outside my door arrest me and take me to jail if I did not let her search me the way she needed to.  I promptly burst into tears.  I sobbed.  I relented and let her do what she needed to do.  It was the most humiliating thing I have ever experienced.  My only consolation was she let me keep my underwear. 

After the charge nurse left my room and the guard was back in his place, the doctor let me know they were going to have to hook me up to some heart monitors since I had taken extra of my beta blocker.  Everything looked fine with my heart, but they did leave everything hooked up so they could keep monitoring me.  At that point, I found out that my husband had been out in the waiting room for quite some time and they had not let him come back to see me.  I asked the guard if he would let my husband come back and he said that he would.  My husband came into my room, I explained to him what had happened, and how I felt that if I had not called for help I would not be in there. I did some more crying.  He was great and stayed calm and calmed me down, and then the guard told him he had to go.  

During all of this time the emergency department had been working on getting me into one of the two psychiatric hospitals in our area.  The hospital that agreed to take me, said they wanted the medical hospital to monitor me for 24 hours, because of the beta blocker, before I could go there.  I was taken to the Intensive Care Unit (ICU), where they decided to start an IV and flush out my system to help get the extra beta blocker out of my system. 

I was getting angrier and angrier because I still felt that all of this was happening because I had called for help, and that things had gone awry.  I really was not pleasant to be around.  I knew I was only going to spend one night in ICU and part of the next day, and after that I was not really sure what was going to happen and when I would be going to the psychiatric hospital.  That also had me very worried. 

I have something called restless leg syndrome (RLS).  Basically, it means that my legs are very uncomfortable, especially at night, and with out my medication sleep is very difficult.  When it came time for me to take my night dose of my RLS medication, I was not given the correct dose.  I was given a much smaller dose.  I mentioned to the nurse that they should have a bag of all of my medication bottles somewhere and they could read it and see what my normal dosages are.  The doctor on call was contacted and he told them to give me the proper dose and I assumed that things had all been taken care of.

After the night medications were sorted out, I settled down for what I knew would be a sleepless night. 

To be continued…

Scariest Time In My Life – Part III

Scariest Time Of My Life – Part I

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This is a reposting of a series of posts I wrote several months ago.  It is about my stay at a state run psychiatric hospital.  Several people had asked me what it had been like there, so I decided that it would be easier to repost what I had already written.  Please keep in mind that this was written several months ago, when I was in a different frame of mind. 

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Not all of this story can be or should be told in one sitting.  There is too much that happens and is also very difficult for me to talk about to even attempt to put it all in here at one time. 

I have been on medication for my major depression and anxiety since I attempted to commit suicide at the end of May.  I also have been seeing a counselor once a week.  My counselor warned me up front that it could take several months to find the proper medication for me.  She was correct.  I took three different combinations of medications before we found a combination that we thought was working.  I was feeling very encouraged and thought that things were finally headed in the proper direction.
For whatever reason, there came a week when I was not seeing my counselor.  It was sometime in August.  I think all of her appointments were filled for that week or something and things had been going well, so neither one of us were worried.  She did say that if I ever needed her I could call her and she would work me in some how.

Without me realizing it my depression symptoms started sneaking up on me again.  I became very angry, too angry.  I was too sad, crying, and just was not able to maintain myself.  I had not experienced a set back like that so I did not realize that what was happening was that my medication was not working.  Things went on like this for four days.  Then one day things just seem to suddenly seemed to take a major turn for the worse.  I felt the same way I did when I tried to commit suicide.  It happened to be time for me to take my other medications, and I found myself thinking that I could just start taking extra medication, over a few hours like I did when I tried to kill myself.  Doing that way is fairly effective because the medication has tmie to get in your system and they cannot pump your stomach to remove it, also it prevents you from vomiting it back up.  I opened up my first bottle of medication, it happened to be my Beta Blocker.  I took what I was supposed to and then took ten extra.  I was getting ready to take my other medication and do the same thing, take a few extra.  Then in about an hour repeat the process. 

Suddenly it dawned on me what it was I was doing.  I mean really and truly in the forefront of my mind, I realized on every level that I was trying to kill myself again, that something was horribly wrong, and even though I wanted to die, I knew that I really did not want to.  I did not take anymore medication.  I made the decision to call my counselor and talk to her because I knew that she would be able to help me get side tracked onto something else so that I would not continue through with my suicide attempt and plans.  I was thinking as I dialed the phone and it was ringing that I was doing what she told me to do and calling her when I was having trouble and that everything would be OK. 

When the receptionist answered the phone, I let her know that I needed to speak to my counselor.  That is when I found out she was not in that day.  I explained the the receptionist that I did not have an appointment with my counselor that week but I have run into some problems and would she please set up an appointment for me to see my counselor the next day.  I told her the truth about everything, I have told my family that I would always be honest during my treatment/recovery process, and the receptionist said that my counselor did not have anything available for the next day.  However, she could transfer me to their crises line and they would be able to get me an emergency appointment.  I was still feeling like everything would be OK, because I had called for help and that I would be able to see my counselor the next day. 

After a few minutes on hold someone from the crisis line picks up the phone on their end.  She asked me what was going on.  I explained to her that I had not been feeling “right” for several days, and that a few minutes ago I had taken extra of my beta blocker and had planned to take extra of all my medications and repeat the process in an hour and keep on until I had committed suicide.  I also explained that I had tried to call my counselor and get in to see her, but she did not have anything available, and that I was told that the crisis line could set me up an emergency appointment with her.  I believe the fact that I told the crisis line lady the whole truth, about my suicide plans caused her a great deal of worry. 

She let me know that she was very concerned about me, since I had already started implementing my suicide plan.  She let me know that she felt that I needed to have their crisis team come to my house and assess me.  Of course I told her no, that I was fine, I just needed that appointment with my counselor.  She then gave me another option, I can allow the crisis team to come to my house and assess me OR she could send an ambulance and a sheriff deputy to my house to take me to the local emergency room against my will.  I chose the crisis team. 

The crisis team shows up to my house.  There is a psychologist and a security officer.  My daughter is very confused and concerned about what is going on.  We live so far out in the country that we do not get visitors often and under normal circumstances I would not invite two men I did not know into my house.  I ask my daughter to go to her room, while I talk to these men.  I repeated the whole story.  I had been experiencing a bad four days, I took extra of one of my medications, and had planned to do that with the others, and then I was going to repeat the process again in an hour.  However, when I realized what I was doing I tried to call my counselor so that she and I could talk and figure out what was going on.  And all that I really felt like I needed was to be able to get in to see her the next day.  I was convinced they would see things my way, because after all, I had called for help before I finished implementing my whole plan.

The next thing I know, the psychologist is letting me know that he feels I really need to be in a hospital setting.  That he feels my medication is not working properly and that he is afraid to let me stay at home since I have a “plan”.  I gulped.  I said “no”.  I said “I am fine”.  I said “you can leave now”.  Then they pulled out their trump card.  They are obligated by law to make sure I went to the hospital and I could go one of two ways.  I could get a family member to drive me there, with them following, or they could call an ambulance and a sheriff’s deputy.  All the time they are saying this, I am thinking that all I had been trying to do was get help from my counselor, how in the hell can this be happening?  I was in shock and I really did not understand what just happened, except that for some reason these people think I need to go to the hospital.

I called my husband and told him just a very little bit.  I called my grandmother and asked her if she could take me to the hospital, I talked to my daughter and told her t
hat “these nice men were worried about me and think I need to go be checked out at the hospital”.  I still remember being in shock.

My grandmother got there as I was packing a few things in a bag.  I was still in shock.  She wanted to know what was going on and all I could say was that these men felt like I needed to be checked out at the hospital.  I could not articulate anything else.  I asked her to just drop me off at the hospital, and that I would be taken care of.  I was still in shock.

The  crisis team followed us all the way to the hospital.  I got out of the car and the psychologist got out of their car.  I remember my grandmother going up to him and telling him that he better take care of me.  I think she was crying or was very close to it. 

He walked me into the hospital and left me at the front desk with the lady there.  I guess I had to have someone supervise me.  He went back and talked to a nurse or doctor, or both.  Within five minutes I was called back to triage and then taken to a room in the emergency department.

To be continued….

Scariest Time Of My Life – Part II

Depresion and Marriage

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  Is it possible to maintain a marriage when one spouse has major depression, especially major depression that lasts for years? The statistics are certainly not encouraging.  Marriages with a depressed loved one are nine times more likely to end in divorce.  Add this number to the 60% divorce rate we already have, and it seems to me that most marriages where there is a depressed spouse do not survive. 


One of the key elements of a marriage is the give and take that is supposed to exist between the married couple.  There are times when it is not an equal give and take between the spouses, one having to give more than the other, but ultimately there is always a give and take.  This is not the case in a marriage where one of the marriage partners is dealing with a case of long term, major depression.  




The spouse without the depression will often find themselves picking up more and more of the slack.  Taking care of things that would normally be done by the other spouse.  In the short term, this works out OK, however, as the depression drags on and on, and the one spouse is continuing to be stretched thin taking care of things, a certain amount of resentment and frustration starts to build.

The more the depression the goes on the more resentment and frustration build up.  I know that my husband expressed to me more than once that he felt like a single parent, when I was at my worst.  In addition to feeling like a single parent, there was the added pressure of worrying about me and making sure I was OK. 




Accepting that the problem is depression is half the battle for both spouses.  It is easy to blame outside sources for why your spouse is in such pain.  Before I started getting treatment for my depression my husband felt the sole reason I was acting the way I was, was because of how my son left our home. He did not understand that the depression had been there before that incident, and the incident just made it worse.  




Depression affects not only the person with the diagnosis, but it affects the marriage as a whole.  Especially if the depression goes untreated.  Before my depression was diagnosed and I started the recovery process, my husband thought that I did not love him anymore.  From his perspective, I was withdrawn, distant, and did not want to have anything to do with him.  He felt hurt and taken advantage of, because I was incapable of helping him around the house.  Our marriage was already under strain by the time I started therapy.  




Then the things I was learning and doing as a result of the therapy added more stress to our marriage.  As far as my husband was concerned the outcome of my therapy was far from what he expected.  It has taken him some time to come to grips with the fact that I will not be the person he married. 

Both people, not just the one with depression need a support system.  It is imperative that even the person without depression has good support to help them through the rough patches.  It is also important that both spouses work together on plans and other things that will give both parties guidelines to follow during the recovery process.  A support system also can help the married couple identify when thing are not gong a well. 


I personally think that it is possible to maintain a marriage when one of the spouses is living with severe depression.  However, it is a unique challenge that requires both parties to make the effort to keep the marriage together.  


One of the things I used to do was to write contracts with my husband about things I would or would not do.  An example is, shortly after I tried to commit suicide, my husband was asked to work out of town.  He was hesitant about going because he was afraid that I would try to kill myself again, I was still having suicidal thoughts.  We came up with two solutions that made it so he felt like he could work out of town.  First, I actually wrote a contract between me and him that stated that I would not try and kill myself during the time he was out of town.  Also, knowing how I would isolate myself to attempt suicide, we decided I would stay at my grandmother’s house while he was out of town.

As far as my mine and my husband’s marriage is concerned, things are still a long way from perfect.  However, each of us is trying as hard as we can to keep it together.  We are also taking more time to understand how my depression has affected us from each other’s point of view.  


I try really hard on my bad days to show him affection and tell him I love him, so he does not feel that I do not appreciate all the things he does for me.  I can tell he is trying very hard to not become frustrated when I have a bad day and can not be the marriage partner he needs. 

I also make a concerted effort to not think about those statistics.  I feel like if I pay attention to them too much, then I am allowing them to pigeonhole my marriage into one of the failures.  I want to keep my mind on my marriage surviving and thriving.

Why Would I Even Want to?

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I recently read a couple of blog posts that made me think about my struggles with major depression and an anxiety disorder over the last few years.  The first was written by Staci Shelton of  Love, Staci, called U-Turns Allowed.  In it she suggests that it is possible to make a u-turn if we find our life heading in a direction that we never intended.  The second was called Can you Turn It Around written by Bonita Summers.  In her post she puts forth the idea that it is impossible to make a u-turn in life because if we managed to get out of the not good situation, some of what we experienced sticks to us, changing who we are.


In my personal opinion, I believe that there is no going back.  Like Ms. Summers, I believe those things we have experienced change us.  I believe those changes can be positive or negative.  

Thinking about it from the point of view of a depressed person, some of my depression is a result of things that changed who I was when I was a child and as a young adult.  Those experiences effected their changes emotionally, and chemically in my brain.  


My experiences stuck with me and I was the exact opposite of what I envisioned for myself.  My reality did not fit with what I dreamed.  In my dreams the person I wanted to be was someone who was full of confidence, and had a positive outlook on life.  


My experience with major depression and an anxiety disorder has also left its mark on me as well.  Three years of being in a deep, dark depression would leave its mark on anyone.  An almost successful suicide attempt, some time in a mental institution, and therapy since May have also changed me. 



I am still not the person I envisioned in my dreams.  I have resigned myself to the fact I never will be.  Nor do I want to turn around and get a “re-do” on any part of my life.  Why would I even want to? Unless I could go all the way back to the beginning, before certain life experiences changed me, there would be no point.  If I made a u-turn to go back and do over any portion of my life, I would still end up making the same mistakes because the core issues that caused me to mess things up would still be there.  I do not even want to be the person I was before my depression.  That person was not healthy or happy.  


I suppose one could make an argument that if you could make a u-turn in your life you could go back and make right the things you did wrong.  I would not want to do that either.  How sincere would my apology or acts of contrition actually be, if I had not truly suffered from the consequences of my past bad actions?


The long and short of it, is that I believe u-turns are impossible.  What we can hope to achieve instead is a better understanding for what led us to make poor decisions, and cause us to get off track in life.  Then we can take that information and make better decisions in the future. 

Too Cool For The Spa – Part II

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I am going to finish “Too Cool For The Spa” today.  I apologize for not finishing it yesterday, but I just could not stay awake any longer and I had been working on that one post all day long.  Some days are harder than others, in staying awake.  My depression medications make me sleepy, some days worse than others.

After leaving my brother’s place of work, we were finally headed to our last stop, mine and my mother’s appointments with Dr. Szumstein.  Again we arrived early.   We got to his office and proceeded to try and find a parking spot in the parking deck.  It was very busy, and the only spot we could find was on the very top deck.  

This is a picture I took of the Atlanta Skyline from the top deck of the parking deck.  If you look carefully, you can see the city of Atlanta off in the distance.

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The waiting room at this practice had even more baseball memorabilia than the other office had.  

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After signing in at Georgia Lung Associates we did not have to wait very long for Dr. Szumstein to call us back.  One of the things I like about this practice, is that the doctors actually come and get you from the waiting room.  It makes everything so much more pleasant that way, not too mention it gives you the impression that the patients are really cared for there.  That is not something you find very often anymore.  

When we have appointments together, Dr. Szumstein will put us in the same room.  My mother and I had a discussion over who would get the big chair.  Neither one of us really wanted it.  My mother prevailed in that discussion, after all she is older than me.


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When Dr. Szumstein came back into our room, I asked him about taking his picture for my blog.  I think he thought I lost my mind, but he did say I could take his picture.  He sent mom off to have her breathing tested.  While she was out of the room, he asked how I was doing.  He knew about my depression and suicide attempt.  I had to tell him because many of the depression drugs out there make Restless Leg Syndrome worse, and he has to know so he can make informed decisions about increasing my doses of Restless Leg Syndrome medication.  He seemed very pleased to find out that I was doing much better. 

 Dr. Szumstein is probably my favorite doctor I have ever had.  He is a very nice man as well as being a very good doctor.  If only one of us is there for an appointment, he always takes the time to ask about the other members of the family.  

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Dr. Szumstein then sent me off for my breathing test.  The technician who did my test for me that day was kind of enough to take a picture of me while I was in the testing booth.  This is the test I have to do every time I go to the pulmonologist.  It tests to see how well I am breathing and compares the results to previous tests.  

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 Dr. Szumstein came back into our room and gave us our tests results.  While he was looking over our information, I told him how mom and I had been comparing our wheezes as we were walking down the hall.  She had a whistle wheeze and I had more of a rumbling wheeze.  Dr. Szumstein thought this was pretty funny and replied with “Awesome!”  

Dr. Szumstein did not seem worried by anything he saw in our breathing tests results, however, my tests results were worse than they had been right after I had gotten out of the hospital for an asthma attack.  He also said that in all the time I had been seeing him, I only had one breathing test that was worse than this one.  No wonder I have been feeling like crap lately.  


The other thing that I really like about Dr. Szumstein, is that he is really good about giving out samples of medications.  He knows that even with prescription insurance, it is still expensive to get everything filled.  So he gave me and my mother plenty of samples to last us a while.


We were finally finished with  all our appointments for the day and we could start back to the house.  I believe my daughter was rather happy to be done with all that waiting around for people.

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I think my family is rather cool.  Instead of the women getting together for a day at the spa, we got together for a day at the doctors’.  We are just that cool, too cool for the spa!  

As a  side note:  I think maybe I should put my mother in charge of my schedule since she seems to get every where either early or on time.

Checking Out Is Not Allowed

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I saw my counselor today.  I let her know about how I was doing this week.  I told her about not getting dressed for two days, and trying to isolate myself.  I did let her know that I did not have any suicidal thoughts, or any negative dialogue running around my brain, but I knew that I had been feeling down.  
She told me that in her opinion, she felt like the two days I chose to not dress and hide away in my room, was me attempting to “check out” again.  She did say that it was an improvement that I did not have the suicidal thoughts, or any negative dialogue in my head. 
She confirmed that it would definitely be considered depressive behavior.  That kind of disappointed me.  The reason it did, is supposedly there is something called depression remission.  If you can go a solid year with no depression symptoms you are considered in remission.  Of course, me of the unrealistic expectations, was convinced that I had this depression thing licked and I would be considered in remission by next summer.  Not going to happen now.
Then it was time to figure out why I was feeling this way.  We came up with a few reasons.  Basically, what it boils down to, is I have this habit of taking on other people’s emotions as my own.  Even people I see on TV.  That is why I have not watched anything about Haiti.  Someone being angry with me also affects how I feel.  It usually makes me very sad, and leads me to a very negative dialogue about myself. 
Someone I dearly love has been feeling a bit stressed lately, and down.  Plus with my wheezing, I was not feeling good.  So those two things got combined in my head, and all of the sudden I was taken on someone else’s emotions and feelings, and I was allowing it to bring me down.  Those two days of not dressing, were my way of trying to hide from how I was feeling. 
My counselor said she believed that unlearning this particular behavior is going to be one of my biggest struggles, since I do it without even thinking about it and have done it most of my life.  
I now have another home work assignment.  She is so darn good at giving out home work.  What I am to do is when I encounter a person/situation that I know is going to drastically affect my frame of mind, I am to tell myself that this is not my issue to take on.  I feel empathy for them, but this is not mine to take on.  Just like the home work of finding something positive in every situation, the idea is once I practice this enough, it will replace the not healthy behavior.  She reminded me that this was going to be much more difficult than the positive thinking home work, and I absolutely needed to be extremely patient with myself.  No unrealistic expectations and checking out as a way to not deal with something is not allowed.

She also discussed about me making some friends that I could count on.  She did not care if they were over the internet or in real life. She feels that having more friends would be a good way to have other people besides myself to concentrate on.  Also, having friends with people who are fully aware of my mental difficulties, would be more understanding than some people, who I thought were friends, have been in the past.  This sounds like another home work assignment to me, even if she did not use those words. 
I never was one for a ton of friends.  On and off for all of my life I have dealt with depression, this last time was much worse with the suicide attempt that almost worked.  So my need for friends has been minimal.  The few friends I had before I developed this round of severe/major depression sort of dropped away, because I never returned phone calls or emails.  I think they were also at a loss of how to be around me and what to say to me after the suicide attempt.  
I know that to have friends, I need to be a friend.  Honestly though, when I am depressed, it is just too much work.  

A friend of mine that I have not seen in several years wrote me a note the other day, she mentioned something about me and her getting together for lunch sometime.  That is something I really want to do.  I would like to cultivate that friendship so I have at least one real life friend in my life.  She is a good person and I think it would be good for me to step outside of myself and do what friends do for each other.  

Lately, there have been a few people I have met around the blogs that I want to get to know better.  One in particular I think would be someone who I think would turn out to be a good support for me and I could be a good support for her.
I already know that this is going to provide me with some extra anxiety.  I will do what I need to do, to deal with the extra anxiety.   

Easy Button

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Have you ever wished that you had an Easy Button for your life and all of its challenges.  I have.  There have been so many times during the last few months, while I have been in treatment for my depression, that I have wished there was an Easy Button.  It would be so much easier for my mind to get better if I could just push an Easy Button and get an instant cure.

Delving into why I am the way I am has been a very painful process.  Thinking about how I behaved when my depression and emotions were out of control is not the most pleasant.  Seeing the consequences of my suicide attempt and hospitalization on my family, truly makes me sad.  An Easy Button would be a great way to not have to deal with all that emotional pain. 

 I could see myself using an Easy Button for most, if not all, of my mental difficulties.  I would be happier, wouldn’t I?  

If I had an easy button, I would not have the feeling of satisfaction I get now when I can make it through the day.  Nor would I have a feeling of satisfaction for having worked hard at finding something positive about a bad situation.  Oh wait, I just realized I would not even have any “real” emotions because I would not have to deal with anything.  

As much as I say I want an Easy Button, I think the reality is I do not.  I would miss out on to many life experiences.  Sure, those experiences can be painful and make me sad, but how would I grow as a person if I just pushed a button all the time to skip over the difficult parts? How would anyone grow if they could just use an Easy Button to not have to deal with the hard stuff in life?