So months ago, I had a doctor's appointment.. just my yearly well human check up. While I was there, I asked the doctor to refer me to a Psychiatrist to double check my diagnosis and meds and I also asked for an MRI on my brain since no one has scanned my brain with my brain injuries. The MRI had to be rescheduled cause of my recent hospitalization, but my psychiatrist appointment was today.
There were several reasons I wanted this appointment. I had been feeling like maybe I had a wrong diagnosis or at least the meds that the doctors had been giving me for depression were not working, and that maybe something else was going on, but I didn't really know what. Then I had this recent hospitalization. While I was in the hospital, I began to really look at my mental health history. I began to question things. I began to see things a bit more clearly. I asked the psychiatrists there if maybe I was bipolar. They asked me a couple of questions and told me that I might be on to something, but my visit with my new psych would be able to help. In the mean time, they upped the dosage of my antidepressant that obviously was not working, and they gave me another medicine for sleeping (which I didn't think I needed and it doesn't help either).
Having been through 2 hospitalizations in 7 months and now in the PHP program for my mental health, I am seeing mental illnesses of all kinds, and quite frankly, it scares me. I have talked to so many people and heard their stories and witnessed some of their experience. Last night, I cried in the hot tub and expressed my deepest fear. I am scared. I have heard people talk about going in and out of the hospital. I have heard them talk about being frequent fliers. I have heard them talk about how long they have been with PHP or the next step down is IOP. For some of these people, they have been in this program for over a year. Some stay in IOP for a year and then end up in the hospital again for various reasons then get released to PHP again. Some use ALL of their vacation time or may even be losing their job in order to take care of their mental health. This seems to be a never ending battle for them. The ones with bipolar are the ones who struggle the most. Med changes can throw them into crisis so they put themselves in the hospital while they adjust. Some just can't cope and end up in the hospital. This is a life long thing. Some are on disability for their mental health issues. I told Tracy last night that I was scared. I was scared that I will never get better. I was scared that what I experience is life altering and will have me going in and out of hospitals the rest of my life. He did his best to reassure me. "You will get over this. It will be okay. This is only temporary. You are getting the help you need. You will feel better in time." I still felt scared. What if my happiest years were just "lies". What if 2011-2013 were just years of complete mania? What if I don't know what happy looks like and feels like?
So today, I put on my big girl panties and went to the psychiatrist. I had Tracy go with me. I need a second brain to remember everything. Its a good thing he was there, because there were questions that I could not remember the answers to and he was able to answer the questions. As a matter of fact, the knowledge he has of me from the age of 14 was very helpful. How many people can say they have someone who knows them that well and that long? Anyway, after all was said and done, the psychiatrist asked me if anyone has ever mentioned me being bipolar. I told her "no, but I had been wondering if that was what was going on". Apparently that is the correct diagnosis on top of Dissociative Identity Disorder and Complicated Grief and PTSD. Yay me! However, I am NOT depressed and the antidepressant that has been prescribed to me is actually hurting my mental health, and so is that sleeping med they prescribed to me. So we are weening me off of the anti depressant and we have new meds on board. What they gave me is an anti-seizure med that is prescribed with people who have brain injuries and bi-polar. She also insisted I keep my MRI appointment, and she was glad that I had made all of these appointments to take care of myself BEFORE my hospitalization.
So what I had suspected, but really didn't want has just happened. Part of me wonders if this is real, or if this is something that I created out of "law of attraction" stuff. Or if maybe the thoughts I had been having was my inner Self saying, "You have bigger issues, its time to look at it." I don't know. But I can tell you that I am scared. While I have always had empathy for those with bi-polar, I have been the person who kind of avoids getting close to people with it. Mostly because I have had so much trauma and so many issues of my own that being that close and available to people with bi-polar seemed impossible to me. Now I am that person. I am the person I have been avoiding. Who will be avoiding me now? Who has been avoiding me? I know people have. I have had people say that my mental state has scared them and they can't be friends with us anymore.
I cried to Tracy after my diagnosis. I said, "I told you this was never going away and its permanent!" He hugged me. He reassured me that this is good news..it means I am getting the treatment I am suppose to have and now we can face this head on and not play the guessing game anymore. He was proud of me for taking the steps before my hospitalization to seek the help. He tells me he loves me and he doesn't see a "sick person" when he looks at me, he only sees the Martha that he knows and loves. He assures me he will stay by my side. All I can do is be grateful for his love and support. How he has stayed with me all of these years with an undiagnosed mental illness that could have destroyed us, I will never know. I have owed him my life several times over. He has saved me from committing suicide so many times. I would not be here without him. It's just that simple. But man...what a drain I must be on the guy.
Today has been hard. This week has been hard. I realize its only Tuesday. I have been struggling. Nick's birthday is Thursday...that is not lost on me. I'm grateful that I will be in PHP that day. But it's not stopping the pain I feel. I almost checked myself in to the hospital today after getting my diagnosis. But instead, I am here blogging. I am doing my mental health homework. And I will force myself to go to dance. I picked up my new meds and took them, and then I had an instant head ache that feels like a blood pressure headache. I don't know if that has anything to do with the new meds or not. It could just be panic. So I will breathe it out.
I guess I should count my blessings that I have survived this kind of undiagnosed mental health challenge to the age of 49 ...nearly 50... years old. I guess I am stronger than I think I am, and I am quite the fighter. Here's to getting stronger and healthier.
Tuesday, April 2, 2019
Monday, April 1, 2019
April 1, 2019 Day 4 of Partial Hospitalization Program...lots to think about.
When I was released from the hospital, I was feeling great. But it didn't take long (like a few hours) for me to start getting angry again. Tracy and I had an argument that night. The next day, which was a Friday, we agreed that the weekend would be free of any talk of why I went into the hospital or anything like that. That first weekend out of the hospital was peaceful. By Sunday night, we could talk again, and things were going okay. But I was still feeling shaky. I was told I could start PHP on the next Wednesday. I just needed to make it 2 more days. Those were 2 very hard days for me. I was so happy to start PHP. I'm not gonna lie. It's hard. Sometimes it's very hard.
I just completed day 4 of PHP. I feel stronger since starting, but I am not sure I am strong enough to be released yet. I have 6 more days of PHP covered by insurance, then we will discuss it further. But what I am getting right now is a kind of double edged sword. It is painful and helpful all at the same time. Opening up the closets where my monsters live and taking a good long scary look at them is a bit horrifying, but realizing that they really aren't that scary after all helps. They are like gremlins.. totally cute and adorable as long as you treat them properly. But the minute I mistreat them, they become those ugly angry things that we call monsters. So what kind of gremlins do I have living in my closet? Well, Grief is a given. But I also have some named Guilt, Blame, Anxiety, Rage, Depression, PTSD, DID, Jealousy and so many more. PHP allows me to open the door of this closet, with a support person beside me. The support person is there to have my back in case it gets ugly. But mostly, they are just there to witness my interaction with each of the gremlins. They cheer me on and support me as I get to know these gremlins and hear their stories and find out how to care for them so that they don't turn into the ugly gremlins that are mistreated. It's a scary process. It's a healthy process. It's a painful process. And it feels good in the end.
A day in PHP is filled with 4 group meetings and lunch. The first meeting is Goals, Affirmations, and Gratitude; its just to check in on everyone for the day and do a roll call. The 2nd meeting time holds two spots and could be about anything, but on Tues/Wed/Thursdays there is a "Trauma" group with a 2nd group about something else. The 3rd meeting also has 2 meetings; 1 is for relapse prevention for those in addiction recovery and the other meeting could be on any other subject. The 4th meeting (after lunch) could be about anything mental health related, and is more of a closing group. In the last 4 days, I have gone to 2 trauma groups, a group on forgiveness, 2 groups on the affects of stress, a group on Maslows Hierarchy of Needs, a group on Learned Helplessness, a group on Assertive Communication, and just a "get to know you" type class where we were asked questions and everyone went around answering it. I have met some incredible people and heard some stories that would blow you away (and probably not in a good way). I am exposed to a very diverse group of people.. people from homeless shelters, people with disposable income, artists, engineers, people with grief, people who meth addictions, people with booze addiction, people who still live with their abusers, young adults barely out of their teens and senior citizens and everyone in between. The one thing we all have in common, is that we are there to help ourselves and get better. Mental illness has brought our journeys together along this path, and we support each other.
This weekend while Tracy and I were out of town, I had some pretty big clarity moments. We went out of town, because we both needed some relaxation. Tracy has been stressed beyond belief, and I just wanted him to focus on him and laugh and relax. He wanted me to just relax and have fun. We took off for Bend, Oregon. We have never spent any length of time there. He planned it out. He found our hotel in the "mill district" and planned out our cross country skiing. But everything else was just kind of up in the air. What I found was that I didn't want my phone. I have actually not been very attached to my phone since my hospital stay. But this past weekend, while I had my phone on me to take pictures, I was not reading facebook or texting people. We weren't' even playing Pokemon. I literally spent the weekend being present with my feelings, with my husband, with life around me. It was such a great feelings. I thought about how much the kids would enjoy Bend, and we talked about it. But we didn't talk about stress. We didn't talk about pain. We talked about the beautiful homes, the rock statues, the gorgeous river, the rain, the beers that we were enjoying, about our love and our marriage. We spent a great deal of time just enjoying each other and walking hand in hand. We actually sat and enjoyed the sunset while drinking beers on a porch by a park. It was so fabulous and relaxing. I did actually break out my phone and post about it because, well, I wanted to share my happiness after sharing so much sadness. We enjoyed the snow. We enjoyed watching the big air competition. We enjoyed sleeping in. We enjoyed food and ice cream. We enjoyed just living in the moment and taking spontaneous stops and just being there in the moment with no agenda. It was beautiful.
I also realized that for the first time, I was perfectly okay thinking about me and me alone. Usually, when we go out of town, a great deal of my time and energy is put into what I am going to get the kids, my mom, or my friends. I feel guilty if I buy something for myself, but I come home empty handed for my friends and family. I even feel guilty if Tracy doesn't buy something while we are out of town. Like if I buy something for me, everyone has to have something too. But this time, I heard myself say, "No. You don't have to buy something for people just because you bought something. It is okay to want to buy something because you want to remember how happy you are right here. The kids don't need a pair of socks just because you bought something for yourself. It is okay to be selfish. And if Tracy wants something, he can get it for himself. If he doesn't want something, that is okay too. It's okay to just think about you, and let everyone else take care of themselves and be responsible for themselves." That was a huge moment for me.
Today I was back in PHP. After having such a beautiful weekend, the idea of going into PHP was very difficult. I know what is ahead of me. It will be more stories of pain. It will be opening that closet up again and having to take a look at my gremlins. I am grateful for the rest I had over the weekend that made it easier to open closets, but still, it takes alot of courage and effort to open the closets and look. It also takes alot of effort to stay in the room and be present with others while they do the same thing. Hearing other people's pain while you are in pain is a double edged sword and can sometimes be overwhelming. Thankfully, they give us tools and I use those tools religiously now. Today we talked more about how stress affects our bodies, and I wonder if part of my weight gain has been all of the anger and stress I have kept in my body since Nick's death. We also talked about what we can do when we start to feel stress..what are our tools? There was also a class on boundaries today. I have been working on creating my boundaries for a couple of years. I have been getting better at setting boundaries and hopefully at respecting boundaries. That is an ever changing process.
I am tired today. Leaving PHP has left me feeling tired and drained. My head always hurts. I wonder if my post concussive syndrome gets triggered by all of the talk and noise and deep thinking. I have a psychiatrist appointment tomorrow to go over my meds and over my diagnosis and make sure I am everything diagnosed properly and my meds are correct. I also have questions about the brain injury and what I feel. I also have a brain MRI on the 9th (rescheduled since I missed it while I was in the hospital). Getting this brain taken care of is the name of the game right now. Taking time to take care of me seems so indulgent...I should be cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping..you name it. But this time, is very much needed. I am grateful for the insurance that allows this to happen. I am grateful for Tracy's income. I am grateful for the ability to be able to do this. I am grateful for all of the love and support of my friends and family. This is just as bad as a heart attack or some other severe illness that could kill me.. I did time in the hospital in ICU and then in a general ward. Then I was released to rehab specialist. Eventually I will be released to see people like a chiropractor or massage therapist or personal trainer. Eventually...... But for right now, its one moment at a time, one day at a time in PHP. I'm doing my work. Following my treatment plans. I'm getting better. I'm healing. And I'm grateful.
I just completed day 4 of PHP. I feel stronger since starting, but I am not sure I am strong enough to be released yet. I have 6 more days of PHP covered by insurance, then we will discuss it further. But what I am getting right now is a kind of double edged sword. It is painful and helpful all at the same time. Opening up the closets where my monsters live and taking a good long scary look at them is a bit horrifying, but realizing that they really aren't that scary after all helps. They are like gremlins.. totally cute and adorable as long as you treat them properly. But the minute I mistreat them, they become those ugly angry things that we call monsters. So what kind of gremlins do I have living in my closet? Well, Grief is a given. But I also have some named Guilt, Blame, Anxiety, Rage, Depression, PTSD, DID, Jealousy and so many more. PHP allows me to open the door of this closet, with a support person beside me. The support person is there to have my back in case it gets ugly. But mostly, they are just there to witness my interaction with each of the gremlins. They cheer me on and support me as I get to know these gremlins and hear their stories and find out how to care for them so that they don't turn into the ugly gremlins that are mistreated. It's a scary process. It's a healthy process. It's a painful process. And it feels good in the end.
A day in PHP is filled with 4 group meetings and lunch. The first meeting is Goals, Affirmations, and Gratitude; its just to check in on everyone for the day and do a roll call. The 2nd meeting time holds two spots and could be about anything, but on Tues/Wed/Thursdays there is a "Trauma" group with a 2nd group about something else. The 3rd meeting also has 2 meetings; 1 is for relapse prevention for those in addiction recovery and the other meeting could be on any other subject. The 4th meeting (after lunch) could be about anything mental health related, and is more of a closing group. In the last 4 days, I have gone to 2 trauma groups, a group on forgiveness, 2 groups on the affects of stress, a group on Maslows Hierarchy of Needs, a group on Learned Helplessness, a group on Assertive Communication, and just a "get to know you" type class where we were asked questions and everyone went around answering it. I have met some incredible people and heard some stories that would blow you away (and probably not in a good way). I am exposed to a very diverse group of people.. people from homeless shelters, people with disposable income, artists, engineers, people with grief, people who meth addictions, people with booze addiction, people who still live with their abusers, young adults barely out of their teens and senior citizens and everyone in between. The one thing we all have in common, is that we are there to help ourselves and get better. Mental illness has brought our journeys together along this path, and we support each other.
This weekend while Tracy and I were out of town, I had some pretty big clarity moments. We went out of town, because we both needed some relaxation. Tracy has been stressed beyond belief, and I just wanted him to focus on him and laugh and relax. He wanted me to just relax and have fun. We took off for Bend, Oregon. We have never spent any length of time there. He planned it out. He found our hotel in the "mill district" and planned out our cross country skiing. But everything else was just kind of up in the air. What I found was that I didn't want my phone. I have actually not been very attached to my phone since my hospital stay. But this past weekend, while I had my phone on me to take pictures, I was not reading facebook or texting people. We weren't' even playing Pokemon. I literally spent the weekend being present with my feelings, with my husband, with life around me. It was such a great feelings. I thought about how much the kids would enjoy Bend, and we talked about it. But we didn't talk about stress. We didn't talk about pain. We talked about the beautiful homes, the rock statues, the gorgeous river, the rain, the beers that we were enjoying, about our love and our marriage. We spent a great deal of time just enjoying each other and walking hand in hand. We actually sat and enjoyed the sunset while drinking beers on a porch by a park. It was so fabulous and relaxing. I did actually break out my phone and post about it because, well, I wanted to share my happiness after sharing so much sadness. We enjoyed the snow. We enjoyed watching the big air competition. We enjoyed sleeping in. We enjoyed food and ice cream. We enjoyed just living in the moment and taking spontaneous stops and just being there in the moment with no agenda. It was beautiful.
I also realized that for the first time, I was perfectly okay thinking about me and me alone. Usually, when we go out of town, a great deal of my time and energy is put into what I am going to get the kids, my mom, or my friends. I feel guilty if I buy something for myself, but I come home empty handed for my friends and family. I even feel guilty if Tracy doesn't buy something while we are out of town. Like if I buy something for me, everyone has to have something too. But this time, I heard myself say, "No. You don't have to buy something for people just because you bought something. It is okay to want to buy something because you want to remember how happy you are right here. The kids don't need a pair of socks just because you bought something for yourself. It is okay to be selfish. And if Tracy wants something, he can get it for himself. If he doesn't want something, that is okay too. It's okay to just think about you, and let everyone else take care of themselves and be responsible for themselves." That was a huge moment for me.
Today I was back in PHP. After having such a beautiful weekend, the idea of going into PHP was very difficult. I know what is ahead of me. It will be more stories of pain. It will be opening that closet up again and having to take a look at my gremlins. I am grateful for the rest I had over the weekend that made it easier to open closets, but still, it takes alot of courage and effort to open the closets and look. It also takes alot of effort to stay in the room and be present with others while they do the same thing. Hearing other people's pain while you are in pain is a double edged sword and can sometimes be overwhelming. Thankfully, they give us tools and I use those tools religiously now. Today we talked more about how stress affects our bodies, and I wonder if part of my weight gain has been all of the anger and stress I have kept in my body since Nick's death. We also talked about what we can do when we start to feel stress..what are our tools? There was also a class on boundaries today. I have been working on creating my boundaries for a couple of years. I have been getting better at setting boundaries and hopefully at respecting boundaries. That is an ever changing process.
I am tired today. Leaving PHP has left me feeling tired and drained. My head always hurts. I wonder if my post concussive syndrome gets triggered by all of the talk and noise and deep thinking. I have a psychiatrist appointment tomorrow to go over my meds and over my diagnosis and make sure I am everything diagnosed properly and my meds are correct. I also have questions about the brain injury and what I feel. I also have a brain MRI on the 9th (rescheduled since I missed it while I was in the hospital). Getting this brain taken care of is the name of the game right now. Taking time to take care of me seems so indulgent...I should be cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping..you name it. But this time, is very much needed. I am grateful for the insurance that allows this to happen. I am grateful for Tracy's income. I am grateful for the ability to be able to do this. I am grateful for all of the love and support of my friends and family. This is just as bad as a heart attack or some other severe illness that could kill me.. I did time in the hospital in ICU and then in a general ward. Then I was released to rehab specialist. Eventually I will be released to see people like a chiropractor or massage therapist or personal trainer. Eventually...... But for right now, its one moment at a time, one day at a time in PHP. I'm doing my work. Following my treatment plans. I'm getting better. I'm healing. And I'm grateful.
Tuesday, March 26, 2019
March 26, 2019 Something about the month of March
There have been alot of thoughts going through my head since my recent break down..... Yes, there was a specific event that sent me over the edge, but there is something bigger afoot.
When I look at my history, I have a tendency to make big changes and healing choices in the month of March. In 2010 I did a fire walk. In 2011, I joined Weight Watchers and started myself on a whole new path of health and adventure. I joined WW again with a friend in March. I have started lots of things in March that have to do with either my physical health, emotional health, spiritual health, and financial health. Then I started to think about what happens in March.. the Spring Equinox. Spring is a time to plant new seeds.. a time to start new things.. a time to clean out the things that no longer serve us and make room for those that do. Wow. Okay.
Then I thought some more. March is the 3rd month of the year. That got me thinking about the number 3. In numerology it is the number of creative expression and joy. But mostly, I think about it in term of Maiden/Mother/Crone (3 being Crone which..to me..means wisdom). I also think about it in other stages of life... 3 is a powerful number and runs deep in my core, apparently. It's big in general. You know what we all say, "Things happen in 3s", "Third times a charm".... I was looking on line for the symbolism in the number 3... and I found this...
"The iris flower as a symbol of power in ancient Egypt. It was often placed on scepter of rulers and kings. the three large petals of the iris flower symbolize: Faith, Wisdom and courage. The iris flower is named after the Greek messenger goddess, Iris. She was also seen as the rainbow. Iris flowers were planted on the graves of women. The answer Greeks believed that the goddess Iris would lead the dead women to the Underworld."
The website said lots of interesting things, but the word "Underworld" caught me. In metaphor, "underworld" is our subconscious...where all our deepest lessons lie. It's what has boiled over the rim for me and sent me to the hospital.
I have had some really great inspirations with this hospital stay... some of those include, more information on a book that has been rolling around in my head for decades.... a great idea for a burlesque production.. a couple of new act ideas...and some stories are coming back to me. The number 3.. the month of March is a magical time.
With all of that said, I also believe that we create our life. Everything I have done I believe I have created in some way or another. The last time I went to church, was the service right before "lent". My belief system does not really practice lent the way traditional Christian churches do. However, we did talk about what we could let go of this season. And in my heart, I felt and heard, "The heart ache and pain of our broken family. The stuff going on with Suzy." I heard it, but I told it "No! It's too hard! It's too painful!" But it was my heart's desire and no matter what my head was saying, my heart and my spiritual center said, "Yes!" So here's the thing, I have studied the Hero's Journey for years. That moment in church, I hear the call to adventure to heal, and I denied the call. What happens when you deny the call to adventure? Pain happens. When you are called, you will continue to be called until you go. So, yes, I created this. My truest heart's desire is to heal my family, and when I denied it, the Universe made sure it happened. It's time. So here I am. Reading. Being open to new creative endeavors and the healing that comes with it.
Here's to spring! Here's to growth! Here's to healing.
When I look at my history, I have a tendency to make big changes and healing choices in the month of March. In 2010 I did a fire walk. In 2011, I joined Weight Watchers and started myself on a whole new path of health and adventure. I joined WW again with a friend in March. I have started lots of things in March that have to do with either my physical health, emotional health, spiritual health, and financial health. Then I started to think about what happens in March.. the Spring Equinox. Spring is a time to plant new seeds.. a time to start new things.. a time to clean out the things that no longer serve us and make room for those that do. Wow. Okay.
Then I thought some more. March is the 3rd month of the year. That got me thinking about the number 3. In numerology it is the number of creative expression and joy. But mostly, I think about it in term of Maiden/Mother/Crone (3 being Crone which..to me..means wisdom). I also think about it in other stages of life... 3 is a powerful number and runs deep in my core, apparently. It's big in general. You know what we all say, "Things happen in 3s", "Third times a charm".... I was looking on line for the symbolism in the number 3... and I found this...
"The iris flower as a symbol of power in ancient Egypt. It was often placed on scepter of rulers and kings. the three large petals of the iris flower symbolize: Faith, Wisdom and courage. The iris flower is named after the Greek messenger goddess, Iris. She was also seen as the rainbow. Iris flowers were planted on the graves of women. The answer Greeks believed that the goddess Iris would lead the dead women to the Underworld."
The website said lots of interesting things, but the word "Underworld" caught me. In metaphor, "underworld" is our subconscious...where all our deepest lessons lie. It's what has boiled over the rim for me and sent me to the hospital.
I have had some really great inspirations with this hospital stay... some of those include, more information on a book that has been rolling around in my head for decades.... a great idea for a burlesque production.. a couple of new act ideas...and some stories are coming back to me. The number 3.. the month of March is a magical time.
With all of that said, I also believe that we create our life. Everything I have done I believe I have created in some way or another. The last time I went to church, was the service right before "lent". My belief system does not really practice lent the way traditional Christian churches do. However, we did talk about what we could let go of this season. And in my heart, I felt and heard, "The heart ache and pain of our broken family. The stuff going on with Suzy." I heard it, but I told it "No! It's too hard! It's too painful!" But it was my heart's desire and no matter what my head was saying, my heart and my spiritual center said, "Yes!" So here's the thing, I have studied the Hero's Journey for years. That moment in church, I hear the call to adventure to heal, and I denied the call. What happens when you deny the call to adventure? Pain happens. When you are called, you will continue to be called until you go. So, yes, I created this. My truest heart's desire is to heal my family, and when I denied it, the Universe made sure it happened. It's time. So here I am. Reading. Being open to new creative endeavors and the healing that comes with it.
Here's to spring! Here's to growth! Here's to healing.
Saturday, March 23, 2019
March 23, 2019 A Week In The Psych Ward
It's been a couple of days since I have been home after doing a week in Intermountain Hospital (a mental health hospital here in Boise, Idaho). This is my 2nd stay in a mental hospital in 7 months. I am hoping this is my last one. But since it has been a couple of days, and my brain has been processing and healing and forgetting and moving on, this blog post may be a bit scatter and I'm sure it will be long. So please make yourself a drink and make yourself comfortable and get ready for a bumpy ride.
On Friday, March 15, a set of circumstances lead my brain into deciding that I couldn't handle life anymore and I needed to kill myself. It was centered around the birth of Suzy's (Nick's widow) son which she named Nicholas. (This is NOT Suzy's fault, and I am NOT talking trash about her. This is about MY reaction, and MY healing process.) For my own mental health, and for Suzy's happy pregnancy, I had unfriended and blocked her. When her baby shower happened, I had unfriended more people. It was just breaking my heart...seeing all of the rubber duckies in a place where Nick should have been (if he had been alive). It was just hurting so much. I thought I was safe, and I was dealing as best I could with knowing that she had named her son after my dead son....knowing that every time I saw this baby or someone talked of this baby, I would be reminded that my own son was dead. It was so hard for me. I was talking with my friends. I was reaching out. I was doing the best that I could. But then, out of nowhere, and from an unexpected source, I saw a picture of Suzy and her family as she was discharging from the hospital. I saw a picture of little Nicholas in a onesie that said, "Hello, I'm Nicholas" and there was a rubber ducky on it. I felt like my dead son was being erased and replaced. Still I was dealing as best I could. I was actively talking to my friends in private messenger trying to stay calm. But it was spinning out of control fast. I showed the picture to Tracy (knowing he had already seen 1 picture of Suzy and the baby from our friend Michael). He looked at the picture. Paused and said, "Ya... thats a cute baby." But there was something in his voice. Then he said he was going to take a nap. And in that moment, I made the move that sent me over the edge. I walked over to his computer, and opened up his messenger, and saw conversations he had been having with Suzy (and I didn't know he had). There were pictures of her and the baby. And there was a discussion where she asked if he was coming to visit her with our friend Michael. When he asked if I could come, her response was "That is probably not a good idea." That is where I lost it!
I should say that *now* I do not blame Suzy. If you have been reading my blog and my facebook posts since November of 2015, You know how horrible I have been about talking shit about Suzy. It was my pain talking shit. I was just "word vomiting" my pain everywhere I went. So of course, Suzy would not want me to visit the baby. I don't blame her now, but on March 15th, that was a completely different story.
I ran into the bathroom, opened up my bottle of Valium, and dumped the contents in my hand. I did not know Tracy was in the bathroom. He asked me what I was doing, and I replied, "I'm killing myself." He quickly came to me and knocked the pills out of my hand. (I did not take any.) But what resulted after that was a horrific scene...
I was screaming horrible, vile things as I tried to get away from him. He was doing his best to restrain me so I could not kill myself or run away. He called Naomi in to help. They were chasing me around the bed, keeping me from climbing out of windows and opening doors. I actually tried to crawl under the bed to get away from them. I was pushing and thrashing and screaming obscenities. I was making horrible declarations. Tracy used "Alexa" to call my mom and told her to call the police. I was screaming uncontrollably. I was screaming profanities and horrible things at my mom. The police came and knocked on our bedroom door. We opened it, and I ran past him as he questioned Tracy and Naomi. I was screaming at the officer. He tried to calm me down and I started to fight with him. He ended up handcuffing me with metal cuffs (pretty tightly). I only say that, cause a week later, I still have bruises and pain in my hands.
The next thing I knew I had a house full of officers and I was being dragged out of my house against my will by two officers. One on each side me of holding me up by my shoulders and my handcuffed hands and dragging me out to the front yard. I was still screaming out of control. I was 100% rage. They took me out to my front yard. I tried to run again. I was still screaming obscenities and threats and rage was spewing from my mouth. It took 2 officers to get me down to the grass. They started to restrain my feet but I kept getting lose. They finally restrained my legs as best they could with my thrashing and kicking but I still got my feet moved from the way they wanted them. They restrained my upper body. Then they somehow connected the two and they put a helmet on my head. I was still screaming and thrashing. I was literally still trying to get away. I was scooching like an inch worm trying to get away. They held me down. I still wanted to die. I started hitting my head on the ground hoping to give myself another concussion that was bad enough to make this nightmare go away. They threatened me again with something, but I don't know what. I just kept screaming.. in my front yard...on the ground.. restrained. The ambulance came. They picked me up and threw me on the stretcher and took me into the ambulance and I continued to scream. I was yelling obscenities and the paramedics. They told me we couldn't leave till I calmed down. They asked me if they could help me, I told them to kill me because that is the only help that would help. I screamed and screamed and still thrashed. I stopped thrashing my body, but then started hitting my head on the stretcher over and over and over again. Then finally it all stopped. I went limp. I had completely checked out. I was stuck in my body. I could hear things but I could not respond. I could hear them talking about me. I could hear the "ride along" answer his phone and stay that he was in the ambulance with a restrained screaming woman and how interesting it was.
They took me into the ER or some "safety unit". I don't know. They threw me like a hog tied pig onto a hospital bed. I was laying on my back. Still restrained. Still handcuffed with metal handcuffs and laying on my back. I was still checked out. I was not talking to anyone. Someone asked my birth date. I think I gave them that. But that was all. I was done. I was out of it. I could hear them talking to me. I could hear them asking me questions. But I could not respond. I was limp, not moving, not fighting, and not speaking and my eyes were closed and I was not able to respond to anything. They took off the police restraints and restrained me with the hospital restraints...first my feet, then my hands, pulling my arm down and pulling the muscles in my shoulder. The pain shot through my body. I could not speak. They restrained my feet with my legs spread. I felt so vulnerable and dead inside. They some how rolled me a bit to my side and pulled my pants down a bit to give me a shot in my butt. I was checked out. I heard the officer tell me that I was now under state's custody and would be going to the psych ward.
I don't remember getting into paper clothes in the hospital. I don't remember getting unrestrained. I don't remember Tracy being in the ER room. I don't remember anything until I was being put into a purple car and being driven to Intermountain. I don't remember the drive. I vaguely remember walking into the hospital feeling scared. Still not talking. The rest of that night was a blurr....having to strip down to nothing so the nurse could see that I didn't smuggle anything in and that she could check my skin in case I do any self harming while there in the hospital. My bra was taken from me because it had an underwire, but they gave me a sports bra. I don't remember that first night. I started talking at some point. I was compliant. I was courteous. I was calm. (I only know that because of the nurses reports.) They gave me some pretty serious drugs to sedate me and I slept all night.
I woke up the next morning after 10am. No one had woken me up for breakfast, and I had already missed group meetings (that I have to go to in order to be released). The hospital is old and "dark" looking. I was in a unit called ICU. The other women I shared the unit with seemed to be drugged out too. I felt like I was in some kind of hell and would never be let out. I knew the drill from my last stay 7 months ago at a different facility. Get up, be sociable, go to meetings, eat your foot, take your shower, prove that you can take care of yourself and you are not going to harm yourself or others. So that is what I started to do. I wanted out of there and quick! Tracy, Michael, my mom and Naomi came to visit me that first night. I didn't really want to talk to anyone, but I was glad they were there. I was still pretty mad at Tracy for calling the cops.
The hospital staff had me on a "detox" plan. I don't know why. I am not on any drugs and do not take any narcotics on a regular basis. But it was that "detox" plan that was knocking my ass out. I was only on it for 2 nights (I think). But the doctors had decided to up my antidepressant dose and gave me a new pill for sleeping. My body was so sore. I had bruises all over my body (still do) from being restrained and from fighting people. I had seen my first DE (designated examiner...the person from the state who decides if I am stable enough to be released or if I need to stay longer). She apparently gave me a positive; which meant that I needed to stay and would be seen by a 2nd DE within 72 hours, and that would be an independent Psychiatrist. In the mean time, I was seeing the hospital's Physicians assistant, social workers, case workers, and the hospital psychiatrist. I was attending group therapy sessions. I was doing my work and being sociable.
The unit I was in was pretty tight with the security. I don't know if you have ever been in a psych ward, but they can be pretty scary places. The unity I was in, was the strictest in the hospital. I was in there with women who were facing felony charges for who knows what, woman with different personalities that you could watch switch within seconds, women who had so much paranoia you never knew what they were telling you was real or not or if you were safe with them or not, women who were so bad off they had to have 24/7 one on one babysitter. There were homeless women there to detox and try to get their lives back on track. There was a pregnant mother in there who already had 3 babies in state's custody. One woman had lost her child at 37 weeks and her other children were in states custody. The stories I heard were intense. We were not allowed to touch each other and the staff were not allowed to touch us. We were not allowed outside, except on rare occasions for a few minutes. We were deprived of the things humans need the most.. touch and vitamin d. Some women couldn't even go outside at all (due to their legal issues or their mental health issues and the hold the state held them on). It was a very hard unit to be in. Every one of those women wanted out of there. Some were being committed to the state facility. One was had to plea insanity in a court of law. It was heart breaking.
By the 2nd day, I stared to feel better and I was working on myself. Tracy had brought me some clothes to change into. I was able to shower. He had also brought me a book. I was given a folder with a handbook about the hospital and a goals packet. The goals packet is what saved me. It had pages for me to fill out every day. I had to put down what my word for the day was, my affirmation for the day, my gratitude, my coping skills, and so much more to keep me on task. The best part of those pages was the back of the pages. It had the REBT exercise on it. I don't know what it stands for, but it is a cognitive exercise to help rewire my brain. I wrote down an "event" that happened to me, what my original thoughts/beliefs were about the event, my emotions, and then my behaviors based on that belief. Then it had me rework that belief into a rational belief, and what my feelings would be if it were true and then my actions if it were true. We had to do 3 of those a day. This is where true healing started. Between these worksheets, my book and the journaling about the book, and my group therapies I started to realize what was going on in my life and how to heal it.
I started reworking everything that had happened between me and Suzy since Nicks death. I started to feel healing taking place. I was lighter. I was laughing. I was smiling. I started to have goals and vision and purpose. I realized that it was time to let go of all of the anger. I realized Suzy was not a horrible person. I realized she loved my boy and her naming her son Nicholas was a way of honoring him. I started writing letters to my family. I wrote one to Naomi first. I wrote some to Tracy and Nate next. Then I wrote a very very very long one (7 pages front and back) to Suzy apologizing and asking her to forgive me. I explained myself. I let her know what was going on. And I took responsibility for my stuff. I truly love her. If I didn't love her, I could not have been as upset as I was. But I had lost site of that love. Why? Because I was angry about Nick dieing, and I was focusing all of that anger onto her. If she moved on, I had to face the fact that Nick was dead, and I have been denying that for 3 years now. There is alot to it. But that is the gist of it. I told her that if she wanted, I would love to be part of their life again. (At least I Think I did. I honestly do not remember much of what I wrote in that letter..I just know what the feeling and the gist of it was.) I gave it to Tracy to give to Suzy. He had already seen her and little Nicholas. Tom had already apologized to Tracy for things that happened way back in 2015. Healing was starting to take place.
I skipped a step in here somewhere. Like I said, I was in the Intensive Care Unit of the facility. When the first DE came in to see me in ICU, she had asked if they hold was lifted if I would voluntarily sign myself in. I told her I would think about it. I remember feeling like I had been released to soon from my previous stay back in the fall. Tracy and I had agreed that staying longer would be good for me. I needed to heal. I could not keep this up. I talked to the Psychiatrist about this. A social worker came in and told me about the PHP program which is a daily group therapy group that meets from 10-3 every day. It is a bridge between inpatient treatment and seeing a therapist one on one. This is EXACTLY what I needed. I was so excited to hear about the program! That would mean I could go home and get help once I was home. The 2nd DE came in. He asked me questions. By the time he had come in, I had been doing my worksheets, reading, and feeling amazing. I was dancing in my room without music. When I could get hold of the TV remote, I turned on soothing music in the TV room and did my work in the quiet. The staff would comment to me how good I was looking. I participated in my classes, not just sit there. I had made the conscious decision to stay there on my own; I was going to use this time for ME to heal. This was MY time. It was okay to be selfish. It was okay to take care of me. The DE was thrilled with my progress and my plan. He agreed to remove my hold and it was totally up to me on what I wanted to do. I told him that I would sign myself in to be moved to the Adult Unit where I was promised more freedom and better group therapy classes.
That night was my last night in the ICU. I was sitting on a couch facing the open doorway of one of the women in the unity. I heard her calling me. I went to her door. (We are not allowed in each others rooms). "Martha will you read me a bed time story?" Her little girl was out. I told her that I could not come into her room. "Well if I come out, will you read it to me?" I told her that I did not have a book that would be good for bedtime stories, but I would tell her stories if she wanted me too. "Yes!" she said. She hopped out of bed, with all of the excitement of a little child. She grabbed her pillow and her blanket and ran to the couch in the TV room. She laid down, curled up, pulled her blanket over her and started to suck her thumb. I told her stories that I had written that had a lullaby to it. She got excited. "That was a great story! Tell me another one!" I told her another story I had written. I broke the rule and touched her and "squiggles the wiggle worm" crawled on her shoulder. She giggled. I finished the story. "That was great! Can you tell me another one?" I told her the story of how the frog lost his tail. Then she wanted me to sing to her. I sang her lullabies. And she fell asleep. One of the staff came in a couple of times during this (because they do a face check in every 15 minutes) and once the woman was asleep, she whispered, "Thank you." My heart was happy that I could bring her peace. The next morning, she was really upset. Another girl was talking to her. I asked if she was okay. The other girl said, "Martha, she needs you." I moved across the room and sat beside her. Her little girl was out again. "I feel lost. I don't know what to do." In the span of 10 minutes, her personalities switched several times and each time, I adapted and calmed her down until group started. Thankfully, group was all about the questions she had. But that didn't stop her from crying when I was transferred to the next unit.
When I moved to the Adult unit (which was co-ed), I was disappointed. The only "extra" freedom I received was the fact that now I could WALK to the cafeteria instead of having to order it in to the unit. But the groups were better. Immediately, I got to do a guided meditation about being at the beach. It was the perfect way to start my stay in that unit. My room mate was very sweet, and the bed was so much better. But I think my favorite thing was that the bathroom had an actual counter and places to hang my stuff. The very first day I was there, was the day that I was writing that letter to Suzy. AS I was writing it, a young man walked by me. He was the spitting image of my Nick. I could not stop staring at him. I knew it was Nick sending me him telling me that I was on the right path. I mentioned that to Suzy in the letter. As I continued to write the letter to Suzy, I had realized that I had become the parent I never wanted to be. After going through the abuse I went through as a kid, I didn't want to be that parent. As a matter of fact, when I found out I was pregnant with Nick, I decided right then and there to break the cycle of abuse. However, since Nick's death, I had become that toxic abusive parent (at least to Suzy). I had also let the rage out on my family at home. I had become unrecognizable to myself. It was the pregnancy of Nick that made me want to heal and change. And then, it was the birth Suzy's little Nicholas that had prompted this break down that put me in a space that facilitated this a-ha moment and the healing started on the fast track. Nick was still working his magic.
I ended up spending 2 nights in the Adult unit. In that time, I got to meet some amazing human beings. I spent time talking with the young man that looked like Nick. I wailed in my room and mourned for my son. My roommate held space for me while I cried and she listened to my story and the healing that was taking place. I listened to another young man who had a dream of world peace. We shared stories and philosophical ideas. I gave him some things to think about. One of the other women, said, "Wow! You are super smart." The next day, I heard her tell one of our group meeting leaders that she had used one of the suggestions I had given to the young man and how much it had helped her. Everyone kept asking me why I was there. They couldn't believe the stuff I was coming up with. But the me.. the me before Nick's death..was re-emerging. Even other employees who had not met me yet, thought I was one of the employees there and were asking me questions. I had to keep saying, "I don't know. I don't work here. I am a patient."
One of the big things I did there was learn to set boundaries. People wanted my attention. They wanted me to sit with them and play cards. They wanted me to sit with them and color. They wanted me to sit with them and have long philosophical conversations. But I was there to help myself. I was there to focus on myself. I was there to heal myself. So I set my boundaries and stuck to them. I didn't allow myself to be sociable until I had my work and my goals accomplished for the day. That felt amazing.
I was released and scared to come home, but I am glad I am home now. I have alot of work to do, but I have a plan. I have created a tool chest for things to do in the house when I have a flare up. I have a little gym with a punching bag and throwing medicine ball and yoga mat and dumb bells in the garage. I have a list of coping skills that can be used in my car in case I get triggered in my car. I have been to my assessment for PHP. I am taking my meds. And every day more and more stuff becomes clear.
Most importantly, Suzy, Tom and I have become friends on facebook again and we have begun to talk and started to rebuild the bridge. They have graciously forgiven me for my past behaviors and have agreed to move forward in healing our family. I don't know what that will look like and all sides are a bit apprehensive. But we love each other and want our family to heal. Tracy has a picture of himself with Suzy and little Nicholas, and his face is all smiles and happy. I am looking forward to meeting little Nicholas and hugging Suzy again.
On Friday, March 15, a set of circumstances lead my brain into deciding that I couldn't handle life anymore and I needed to kill myself. It was centered around the birth of Suzy's (Nick's widow) son which she named Nicholas. (This is NOT Suzy's fault, and I am NOT talking trash about her. This is about MY reaction, and MY healing process.) For my own mental health, and for Suzy's happy pregnancy, I had unfriended and blocked her. When her baby shower happened, I had unfriended more people. It was just breaking my heart...seeing all of the rubber duckies in a place where Nick should have been (if he had been alive). It was just hurting so much. I thought I was safe, and I was dealing as best I could with knowing that she had named her son after my dead son....knowing that every time I saw this baby or someone talked of this baby, I would be reminded that my own son was dead. It was so hard for me. I was talking with my friends. I was reaching out. I was doing the best that I could. But then, out of nowhere, and from an unexpected source, I saw a picture of Suzy and her family as she was discharging from the hospital. I saw a picture of little Nicholas in a onesie that said, "Hello, I'm Nicholas" and there was a rubber ducky on it. I felt like my dead son was being erased and replaced. Still I was dealing as best I could. I was actively talking to my friends in private messenger trying to stay calm. But it was spinning out of control fast. I showed the picture to Tracy (knowing he had already seen 1 picture of Suzy and the baby from our friend Michael). He looked at the picture. Paused and said, "Ya... thats a cute baby." But there was something in his voice. Then he said he was going to take a nap. And in that moment, I made the move that sent me over the edge. I walked over to his computer, and opened up his messenger, and saw conversations he had been having with Suzy (and I didn't know he had). There were pictures of her and the baby. And there was a discussion where she asked if he was coming to visit her with our friend Michael. When he asked if I could come, her response was "That is probably not a good idea." That is where I lost it!
I should say that *now* I do not blame Suzy. If you have been reading my blog and my facebook posts since November of 2015, You know how horrible I have been about talking shit about Suzy. It was my pain talking shit. I was just "word vomiting" my pain everywhere I went. So of course, Suzy would not want me to visit the baby. I don't blame her now, but on March 15th, that was a completely different story.
I ran into the bathroom, opened up my bottle of Valium, and dumped the contents in my hand. I did not know Tracy was in the bathroom. He asked me what I was doing, and I replied, "I'm killing myself." He quickly came to me and knocked the pills out of my hand. (I did not take any.) But what resulted after that was a horrific scene...
I was screaming horrible, vile things as I tried to get away from him. He was doing his best to restrain me so I could not kill myself or run away. He called Naomi in to help. They were chasing me around the bed, keeping me from climbing out of windows and opening doors. I actually tried to crawl under the bed to get away from them. I was pushing and thrashing and screaming obscenities. I was making horrible declarations. Tracy used "Alexa" to call my mom and told her to call the police. I was screaming uncontrollably. I was screaming profanities and horrible things at my mom. The police came and knocked on our bedroom door. We opened it, and I ran past him as he questioned Tracy and Naomi. I was screaming at the officer. He tried to calm me down and I started to fight with him. He ended up handcuffing me with metal cuffs (pretty tightly). I only say that, cause a week later, I still have bruises and pain in my hands.
The next thing I knew I had a house full of officers and I was being dragged out of my house against my will by two officers. One on each side me of holding me up by my shoulders and my handcuffed hands and dragging me out to the front yard. I was still screaming out of control. I was 100% rage. They took me out to my front yard. I tried to run again. I was still screaming obscenities and threats and rage was spewing from my mouth. It took 2 officers to get me down to the grass. They started to restrain my feet but I kept getting lose. They finally restrained my legs as best they could with my thrashing and kicking but I still got my feet moved from the way they wanted them. They restrained my upper body. Then they somehow connected the two and they put a helmet on my head. I was still screaming and thrashing. I was literally still trying to get away. I was scooching like an inch worm trying to get away. They held me down. I still wanted to die. I started hitting my head on the ground hoping to give myself another concussion that was bad enough to make this nightmare go away. They threatened me again with something, but I don't know what. I just kept screaming.. in my front yard...on the ground.. restrained. The ambulance came. They picked me up and threw me on the stretcher and took me into the ambulance and I continued to scream. I was yelling obscenities and the paramedics. They told me we couldn't leave till I calmed down. They asked me if they could help me, I told them to kill me because that is the only help that would help. I screamed and screamed and still thrashed. I stopped thrashing my body, but then started hitting my head on the stretcher over and over and over again. Then finally it all stopped. I went limp. I had completely checked out. I was stuck in my body. I could hear things but I could not respond. I could hear them talking about me. I could hear the "ride along" answer his phone and stay that he was in the ambulance with a restrained screaming woman and how interesting it was.
They took me into the ER or some "safety unit". I don't know. They threw me like a hog tied pig onto a hospital bed. I was laying on my back. Still restrained. Still handcuffed with metal handcuffs and laying on my back. I was still checked out. I was not talking to anyone. Someone asked my birth date. I think I gave them that. But that was all. I was done. I was out of it. I could hear them talking to me. I could hear them asking me questions. But I could not respond. I was limp, not moving, not fighting, and not speaking and my eyes were closed and I was not able to respond to anything. They took off the police restraints and restrained me with the hospital restraints...first my feet, then my hands, pulling my arm down and pulling the muscles in my shoulder. The pain shot through my body. I could not speak. They restrained my feet with my legs spread. I felt so vulnerable and dead inside. They some how rolled me a bit to my side and pulled my pants down a bit to give me a shot in my butt. I was checked out. I heard the officer tell me that I was now under state's custody and would be going to the psych ward.
I don't remember getting into paper clothes in the hospital. I don't remember getting unrestrained. I don't remember Tracy being in the ER room. I don't remember anything until I was being put into a purple car and being driven to Intermountain. I don't remember the drive. I vaguely remember walking into the hospital feeling scared. Still not talking. The rest of that night was a blurr....having to strip down to nothing so the nurse could see that I didn't smuggle anything in and that she could check my skin in case I do any self harming while there in the hospital. My bra was taken from me because it had an underwire, but they gave me a sports bra. I don't remember that first night. I started talking at some point. I was compliant. I was courteous. I was calm. (I only know that because of the nurses reports.) They gave me some pretty serious drugs to sedate me and I slept all night.
I woke up the next morning after 10am. No one had woken me up for breakfast, and I had already missed group meetings (that I have to go to in order to be released). The hospital is old and "dark" looking. I was in a unit called ICU. The other women I shared the unit with seemed to be drugged out too. I felt like I was in some kind of hell and would never be let out. I knew the drill from my last stay 7 months ago at a different facility. Get up, be sociable, go to meetings, eat your foot, take your shower, prove that you can take care of yourself and you are not going to harm yourself or others. So that is what I started to do. I wanted out of there and quick! Tracy, Michael, my mom and Naomi came to visit me that first night. I didn't really want to talk to anyone, but I was glad they were there. I was still pretty mad at Tracy for calling the cops.
The hospital staff had me on a "detox" plan. I don't know why. I am not on any drugs and do not take any narcotics on a regular basis. But it was that "detox" plan that was knocking my ass out. I was only on it for 2 nights (I think). But the doctors had decided to up my antidepressant dose and gave me a new pill for sleeping. My body was so sore. I had bruises all over my body (still do) from being restrained and from fighting people. I had seen my first DE (designated examiner...the person from the state who decides if I am stable enough to be released or if I need to stay longer). She apparently gave me a positive; which meant that I needed to stay and would be seen by a 2nd DE within 72 hours, and that would be an independent Psychiatrist. In the mean time, I was seeing the hospital's Physicians assistant, social workers, case workers, and the hospital psychiatrist. I was attending group therapy sessions. I was doing my work and being sociable.
The unit I was in was pretty tight with the security. I don't know if you have ever been in a psych ward, but they can be pretty scary places. The unity I was in, was the strictest in the hospital. I was in there with women who were facing felony charges for who knows what, woman with different personalities that you could watch switch within seconds, women who had so much paranoia you never knew what they were telling you was real or not or if you were safe with them or not, women who were so bad off they had to have 24/7 one on one babysitter. There were homeless women there to detox and try to get their lives back on track. There was a pregnant mother in there who already had 3 babies in state's custody. One woman had lost her child at 37 weeks and her other children were in states custody. The stories I heard were intense. We were not allowed to touch each other and the staff were not allowed to touch us. We were not allowed outside, except on rare occasions for a few minutes. We were deprived of the things humans need the most.. touch and vitamin d. Some women couldn't even go outside at all (due to their legal issues or their mental health issues and the hold the state held them on). It was a very hard unit to be in. Every one of those women wanted out of there. Some were being committed to the state facility. One was had to plea insanity in a court of law. It was heart breaking.
By the 2nd day, I stared to feel better and I was working on myself. Tracy had brought me some clothes to change into. I was able to shower. He had also brought me a book. I was given a folder with a handbook about the hospital and a goals packet. The goals packet is what saved me. It had pages for me to fill out every day. I had to put down what my word for the day was, my affirmation for the day, my gratitude, my coping skills, and so much more to keep me on task. The best part of those pages was the back of the pages. It had the REBT exercise on it. I don't know what it stands for, but it is a cognitive exercise to help rewire my brain. I wrote down an "event" that happened to me, what my original thoughts/beliefs were about the event, my emotions, and then my behaviors based on that belief. Then it had me rework that belief into a rational belief, and what my feelings would be if it were true and then my actions if it were true. We had to do 3 of those a day. This is where true healing started. Between these worksheets, my book and the journaling about the book, and my group therapies I started to realize what was going on in my life and how to heal it.
I started reworking everything that had happened between me and Suzy since Nicks death. I started to feel healing taking place. I was lighter. I was laughing. I was smiling. I started to have goals and vision and purpose. I realized that it was time to let go of all of the anger. I realized Suzy was not a horrible person. I realized she loved my boy and her naming her son Nicholas was a way of honoring him. I started writing letters to my family. I wrote one to Naomi first. I wrote some to Tracy and Nate next. Then I wrote a very very very long one (7 pages front and back) to Suzy apologizing and asking her to forgive me. I explained myself. I let her know what was going on. And I took responsibility for my stuff. I truly love her. If I didn't love her, I could not have been as upset as I was. But I had lost site of that love. Why? Because I was angry about Nick dieing, and I was focusing all of that anger onto her. If she moved on, I had to face the fact that Nick was dead, and I have been denying that for 3 years now. There is alot to it. But that is the gist of it. I told her that if she wanted, I would love to be part of their life again. (At least I Think I did. I honestly do not remember much of what I wrote in that letter..I just know what the feeling and the gist of it was.) I gave it to Tracy to give to Suzy. He had already seen her and little Nicholas. Tom had already apologized to Tracy for things that happened way back in 2015. Healing was starting to take place.
I skipped a step in here somewhere. Like I said, I was in the Intensive Care Unit of the facility. When the first DE came in to see me in ICU, she had asked if they hold was lifted if I would voluntarily sign myself in. I told her I would think about it. I remember feeling like I had been released to soon from my previous stay back in the fall. Tracy and I had agreed that staying longer would be good for me. I needed to heal. I could not keep this up. I talked to the Psychiatrist about this. A social worker came in and told me about the PHP program which is a daily group therapy group that meets from 10-3 every day. It is a bridge between inpatient treatment and seeing a therapist one on one. This is EXACTLY what I needed. I was so excited to hear about the program! That would mean I could go home and get help once I was home. The 2nd DE came in. He asked me questions. By the time he had come in, I had been doing my worksheets, reading, and feeling amazing. I was dancing in my room without music. When I could get hold of the TV remote, I turned on soothing music in the TV room and did my work in the quiet. The staff would comment to me how good I was looking. I participated in my classes, not just sit there. I had made the conscious decision to stay there on my own; I was going to use this time for ME to heal. This was MY time. It was okay to be selfish. It was okay to take care of me. The DE was thrilled with my progress and my plan. He agreed to remove my hold and it was totally up to me on what I wanted to do. I told him that I would sign myself in to be moved to the Adult Unit where I was promised more freedom and better group therapy classes.
That night was my last night in the ICU. I was sitting on a couch facing the open doorway of one of the women in the unity. I heard her calling me. I went to her door. (We are not allowed in each others rooms). "Martha will you read me a bed time story?" Her little girl was out. I told her that I could not come into her room. "Well if I come out, will you read it to me?" I told her that I did not have a book that would be good for bedtime stories, but I would tell her stories if she wanted me too. "Yes!" she said. She hopped out of bed, with all of the excitement of a little child. She grabbed her pillow and her blanket and ran to the couch in the TV room. She laid down, curled up, pulled her blanket over her and started to suck her thumb. I told her stories that I had written that had a lullaby to it. She got excited. "That was a great story! Tell me another one!" I told her another story I had written. I broke the rule and touched her and "squiggles the wiggle worm" crawled on her shoulder. She giggled. I finished the story. "That was great! Can you tell me another one?" I told her the story of how the frog lost his tail. Then she wanted me to sing to her. I sang her lullabies. And she fell asleep. One of the staff came in a couple of times during this (because they do a face check in every 15 minutes) and once the woman was asleep, she whispered, "Thank you." My heart was happy that I could bring her peace. The next morning, she was really upset. Another girl was talking to her. I asked if she was okay. The other girl said, "Martha, she needs you." I moved across the room and sat beside her. Her little girl was out again. "I feel lost. I don't know what to do." In the span of 10 minutes, her personalities switched several times and each time, I adapted and calmed her down until group started. Thankfully, group was all about the questions she had. But that didn't stop her from crying when I was transferred to the next unit.
When I moved to the Adult unit (which was co-ed), I was disappointed. The only "extra" freedom I received was the fact that now I could WALK to the cafeteria instead of having to order it in to the unit. But the groups were better. Immediately, I got to do a guided meditation about being at the beach. It was the perfect way to start my stay in that unit. My room mate was very sweet, and the bed was so much better. But I think my favorite thing was that the bathroom had an actual counter and places to hang my stuff. The very first day I was there, was the day that I was writing that letter to Suzy. AS I was writing it, a young man walked by me. He was the spitting image of my Nick. I could not stop staring at him. I knew it was Nick sending me him telling me that I was on the right path. I mentioned that to Suzy in the letter. As I continued to write the letter to Suzy, I had realized that I had become the parent I never wanted to be. After going through the abuse I went through as a kid, I didn't want to be that parent. As a matter of fact, when I found out I was pregnant with Nick, I decided right then and there to break the cycle of abuse. However, since Nick's death, I had become that toxic abusive parent (at least to Suzy). I had also let the rage out on my family at home. I had become unrecognizable to myself. It was the pregnancy of Nick that made me want to heal and change. And then, it was the birth Suzy's little Nicholas that had prompted this break down that put me in a space that facilitated this a-ha moment and the healing started on the fast track. Nick was still working his magic.
I ended up spending 2 nights in the Adult unit. In that time, I got to meet some amazing human beings. I spent time talking with the young man that looked like Nick. I wailed in my room and mourned for my son. My roommate held space for me while I cried and she listened to my story and the healing that was taking place. I listened to another young man who had a dream of world peace. We shared stories and philosophical ideas. I gave him some things to think about. One of the other women, said, "Wow! You are super smart." The next day, I heard her tell one of our group meeting leaders that she had used one of the suggestions I had given to the young man and how much it had helped her. Everyone kept asking me why I was there. They couldn't believe the stuff I was coming up with. But the me.. the me before Nick's death..was re-emerging. Even other employees who had not met me yet, thought I was one of the employees there and were asking me questions. I had to keep saying, "I don't know. I don't work here. I am a patient."
One of the big things I did there was learn to set boundaries. People wanted my attention. They wanted me to sit with them and play cards. They wanted me to sit with them and color. They wanted me to sit with them and have long philosophical conversations. But I was there to help myself. I was there to focus on myself. I was there to heal myself. So I set my boundaries and stuck to them. I didn't allow myself to be sociable until I had my work and my goals accomplished for the day. That felt amazing.
I was released and scared to come home, but I am glad I am home now. I have alot of work to do, but I have a plan. I have created a tool chest for things to do in the house when I have a flare up. I have a little gym with a punching bag and throwing medicine ball and yoga mat and dumb bells in the garage. I have a list of coping skills that can be used in my car in case I get triggered in my car. I have been to my assessment for PHP. I am taking my meds. And every day more and more stuff becomes clear.
Most importantly, Suzy, Tom and I have become friends on facebook again and we have begun to talk and started to rebuild the bridge. They have graciously forgiven me for my past behaviors and have agreed to move forward in healing our family. I don't know what that will look like and all sides are a bit apprehensive. But we love each other and want our family to heal. Tracy has a picture of himself with Suzy and little Nicholas, and his face is all smiles and happy. I am looking forward to meeting little Nicholas and hugging Suzy again.
Tuesday, March 5, 2019
March 5, 2019 DNF..........
Ya know, when I was doing my marathons and the ultra marathon, I never came in last, and I never got a "DNF" (did not finish). I always knew that one day in my racing "career", I would eventually have one or both of those. I was "looking forward" to the growth opportunity it would provide.
I was never fast. I was always a "back of the packer". There were times that I really thought I WOULD be last, but for whatever reason, someone else was always behind me. Being in the back of a race, or feeling like you were coming in last, is one of the most challenging and lonely places to be. The only "person" you are racing against is yourself and that clock at the end, and sometimes that clock didn't even matter. Sometimes the ONLY thing that mattered is that you crossed the finish line..even if it took you forever... even if you were last.. even if you were crawling, at least you crossed the finish line. But in the hours (yes I said hours) it takes to cross that finish line, I often felt alone. I had no friends waking or running beside me. Sometimes aid stations would actually close before I got to them, and they would just leave left overs for me. There were no crowds cheering me on. If I was lucky enough, Tracy and my family would be at the race meeting me along the race course to cheer me on and provide support. (I have the best family ever!) However, Tracy couldn't be at all my races, and he certainly couldn't meet me on some of the race courses, so it was up to me and me alone to keep my feet moving. How did I do that? Alot of self-talk and self-motivation. Sometimes I had music with me that kept me going, but even then it was difficult.
I remember a couple of races where I was so freaking sick. I had no idea how I was going to keep going. I was certain that I was going to get a DNF. But some how, I managed to make it through and cross the finish lines of 2 races that I know were huge physical struggles for me. Then there were races where my feet were so blistered and messed up that each step hurt like none other, but still I finished the race..no matter how painful it was.
There are lots of reasons someone will get a DNF. Maybe they are injured. Maybe they got sick. Maybe they didn't get enough sleep. Maybe they got dehydrated alone the course. Maybe they got a horrible phone call that interrupted their race. Maybe they had a panic attack. Each person comes with their own unique situation. And of course their is no shame in taken care of one-self and taking a DNF. So why then, do I feel "shame" in taking a DNF at work?
When I decided to take a muggle job, I had fully intended on it being an "ultra marathon". I fully intended for it to be a life long, work till I retire gig. Resigning after only 8 weeks in, felt like taking a DNF at mile 2 of an ultra marathon. The race hadn't even started yet, but there I was, saying I couldn't finish the race. I realize self-love and self-care were a huge part in my decision. And I guess this IS my DNF that I never got while I was racing. I would never feel shame for taking a DNF, nor would I ever judge someone for taking a DNF in a race. So why am I so hard on myself for taking one at work? I set out to do something that was very difficult (at least for me). I went way outside of my comfort zone (working in a field that was completely new to me). I thought I was ready. But now, looking back, I wonder if maybe I didn't have enough "training". I don't mean training at work. I mean training before I went to work.
When I was doing marathons, I trained. I built up muscles and endurance. I knew what my life would look like on the course. I prepared myself for any situation possible. I had a huge support system in my family, and my family only stopped coming to races once I knew I could do it on my own and sustain myself. There was lots of work and planning that went into running a marathon and ultra marathon. So what makes me think, that I could go into a career without the same kind of planning and strategy? No wonder I had a break down. No wonder it was painful.
I'm not sure what would need to be changed to have made it a sustainable event for myself. But it is certainly worth the thought process. In the mean time, I will take this DNF in stride and continue to be open to the lessons. I will continue to be grateful for the opportunity and for the love and support I received. And I am eternally grateful for the lessons that running still teaches me, even though I don't run anymore. LOL
I was never fast. I was always a "back of the packer". There were times that I really thought I WOULD be last, but for whatever reason, someone else was always behind me. Being in the back of a race, or feeling like you were coming in last, is one of the most challenging and lonely places to be. The only "person" you are racing against is yourself and that clock at the end, and sometimes that clock didn't even matter. Sometimes the ONLY thing that mattered is that you crossed the finish line..even if it took you forever... even if you were last.. even if you were crawling, at least you crossed the finish line. But in the hours (yes I said hours) it takes to cross that finish line, I often felt alone. I had no friends waking or running beside me. Sometimes aid stations would actually close before I got to them, and they would just leave left overs for me. There were no crowds cheering me on. If I was lucky enough, Tracy and my family would be at the race meeting me along the race course to cheer me on and provide support. (I have the best family ever!) However, Tracy couldn't be at all my races, and he certainly couldn't meet me on some of the race courses, so it was up to me and me alone to keep my feet moving. How did I do that? Alot of self-talk and self-motivation. Sometimes I had music with me that kept me going, but even then it was difficult.
I remember a couple of races where I was so freaking sick. I had no idea how I was going to keep going. I was certain that I was going to get a DNF. But some how, I managed to make it through and cross the finish lines of 2 races that I know were huge physical struggles for me. Then there were races where my feet were so blistered and messed up that each step hurt like none other, but still I finished the race..no matter how painful it was.
There are lots of reasons someone will get a DNF. Maybe they are injured. Maybe they got sick. Maybe they didn't get enough sleep. Maybe they got dehydrated alone the course. Maybe they got a horrible phone call that interrupted their race. Maybe they had a panic attack. Each person comes with their own unique situation. And of course their is no shame in taken care of one-self and taking a DNF. So why then, do I feel "shame" in taking a DNF at work?
When I decided to take a muggle job, I had fully intended on it being an "ultra marathon". I fully intended for it to be a life long, work till I retire gig. Resigning after only 8 weeks in, felt like taking a DNF at mile 2 of an ultra marathon. The race hadn't even started yet, but there I was, saying I couldn't finish the race. I realize self-love and self-care were a huge part in my decision. And I guess this IS my DNF that I never got while I was racing. I would never feel shame for taking a DNF, nor would I ever judge someone for taking a DNF in a race. So why am I so hard on myself for taking one at work? I set out to do something that was very difficult (at least for me). I went way outside of my comfort zone (working in a field that was completely new to me). I thought I was ready. But now, looking back, I wonder if maybe I didn't have enough "training". I don't mean training at work. I mean training before I went to work.
When I was doing marathons, I trained. I built up muscles and endurance. I knew what my life would look like on the course. I prepared myself for any situation possible. I had a huge support system in my family, and my family only stopped coming to races once I knew I could do it on my own and sustain myself. There was lots of work and planning that went into running a marathon and ultra marathon. So what makes me think, that I could go into a career without the same kind of planning and strategy? No wonder I had a break down. No wonder it was painful.
I'm not sure what would need to be changed to have made it a sustainable event for myself. But it is certainly worth the thought process. In the mean time, I will take this DNF in stride and continue to be open to the lessons. I will continue to be grateful for the opportunity and for the love and support I received. And I am eternally grateful for the lessons that running still teaches me, even though I don't run anymore. LOL
Monday, March 4, 2019
March 4, 2019 One of the Hardest Things.......
I write about a great many things in my life. I am always authentic and real. Even if the subject is painful, it's not usually too painful to write something. But this post is painful. It is raw. It is real. It is me putting myself totally out there for the world to judge (or not) as they see fit. I really have to say to myself, "It doesn't matter what other people think." Even though, the truth is, I DO care. I know I shouldn't, but I do. So there is that. At the same time, I think creating this blog is important for a number of reasons. The first reason is because I am getting questions from people, and it would just be easier to create this post and share it in one fell swoop.
So here it is. The short of it is, I no longer work for the muggle job I started on January 7th.
And here's why........
When I went looking for a job, it was for a number of reasons. I wanted to feel like I was financially contributing to my family. I wanted to support my own sparkle addiction. I wanted to pay for my own burlesque travel without taking money out of the family budget. I wanted to have my own 401K. I wanted to earn my own social security credit (I can't even get disability because I have not put enough credits into the system). I wanted to have a career. I wanted to make a living wage. I got EXACTLY what I was looking for. I got a job with a great company that has a spectacular culture. It paid amazing starting wages with bonus incentives and opportunities to grow and move up in the company. It was a culture that support self-improvement, team building, volunteer work, and would even make room for me to perform. It was an inclusive company that supported every human being regardless of race, gender, religion, sexual orientation. It was everything I could have asked for in a company culture.
So what was the problem? I went to work and sat at my desk and cried more days than I didn't. I was literally "call avoiding" ( which is a big no-no). I felt isolated. I worked in a cubicle where I did not have contact with anyone. My breaks were scheduled with other people's breaks, but our calls kept us from spending time together. So I spent my breaks and my lunches alone most of the time. My new shift, would have me not seeing my family or my friends. I am an extrovert. I need to be with people. Add to that, the customers on the phone who were yelling at me. The customers asking me questions that I am NOT QUALIFIED to answer. I felt like an imposter at work. I know I had tool to use, and I used them. I asked questions all of the time. But when someone asked me which loan was best for them or which credit card was best for them, or when someone couldn't get a loan and they were in tears asking me, "now what?"...I just felt helpless and completely out of my element. I felt completely unequipped to help these people, and I was terrified of screwing them up financially. I felt a HUGE sense of responsibility for these customers. I am NOT a financial planner. Heck, it takes everything I have to manage my own family's expenses, and I'm certainly not a role model.
Actually, truth be told, my relationship with money is a very scary one. It has taken me YEARS to get to a point where I can deal with my own finances without having a panic attack. So what made me think, I could help others with theirs without having a panic attack?
I wanted this so badly. I wanted all of the things I described earlier. But I also wanted to glean information and learn and grow in the finance world. I wanted to face my fears head on and grow. Unfortunately, that is not what happened.
Try as I might, I found myself at the very edge of having a psychotic break down. I was already having complete panic attacks. I wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't. I felt myself trying to switch personalities. I was confused. I cried when I wasn't at work. I cried when I was at work. I felt completely stuck and didn't know what to do or how to do it.
I tried everything I knew to do. I kept mantras at my desk. I kept an ever growing gratitude list at my desk. I kept things on my desk that reminded me of how strong I am and how many things I have faced and conquered. I kept inspiring books at my desk to read between calls. I went to work with a smile on my face. I kept telling myself that each day was a new day. But in the end, I was terrified. I was miserable. I cried and avoided calls, and I could feel myself slipping into a horrible horrible place.
Last Wednesday, my boss needed to coach me on a bad QA. I wasn't worried about the QA. I knew what had happened. I was fine with what I was about to hear. It wasn't the bad QA that had me wanting to quit. I went to his desk at my appointed time, and I really thought I was going to quit right then and there. I didn't have it in me. Before he started in on my QA coaching, I asked him if I could talk to him first. I told him what was going on. He did his best to try and help me to keep me there. He offered to move me to a cubical/pod where I would be with people who talked (though they left a full 4 hours before my shift would end, and I would literally be all by myself for the last (and longest) 4 hours of my shift. He offered to look into changing my schedule so that I could come home at an earlier time. He REALLY wanted me to stay. He encouraged me and told me that I could do the job, and he acknowledged that this job was painful. He told me to stay off the phones and visit with one of my co-workers. He took her off the phones and told us to visit and be sociable for the next 30 minutes. She and I talked. She was so sweet. She was giving me coping strategies to make it through the day. She told me how hard it is for her and she spends hours in the conference room crying, but this is the best company to work for. I heard her. She was sincere. But I also heard how HARD this job was.. and how PAINFUL this job was. I heard her telling me that she couldn't make it through the day without coping mechanisms. She told me that some days she just wants to quit, but some times you get that one person in the day that makes it all worth while. She told me it was much better than "down stairs" where everyone hates their job and wants to kill people. She meant well, but she was not really helping.
After talking to my supervisor, I really thought I would try to stick it out. He asked me to give him 3 more weeks. I really thought I would. But once I went back to my desk, I sat there and cried again. I hated it. I got a very angry couple on the phone. They were mad before they got to me. By the time we were done, they were laughing, but still mad at the hoops they had to jump through. (To be clear, it was THEIR fault, but they insisted on blaming the banking systems put in place for THEIR protection.) I understand their frustration. But I couldn't deal with their frustration. I had my OWN frustrations.
That night, I got in my car and cried all of the way home. I'm not talking little tears. I'm talking full on ugly crying. I have NEVER felt like that. I have NEVER quit a job unless it was to be a stay at home mom or I moved to a different state. I have never quite job because it was too hard or because my emotional stability was in question. I have spent my entire adult life not being a quitter (this goes back to something I was called a child). It is this mentality that was eating me up. I had dreams. I had goals. I had alot of things in my mind, and quitting wasn't one of them. But all I could think of was just how unhappy I was and how miserable I was.
That night in the hot tub, Tracy and I talked some more. He told me to quit. He told me he had been thinking I should quit for a while now, but he wanted to support me and help me to succeed. And he did just that. He was freaking fantastic while I was working. He helped with my mom. He helped with the kids. He brought me lunches. He gave me cards to support me. He brought me chocolate. He listened to me cry day in and day out. He was my biggest cheer leader. I didn't want to let him down either. I didn't want to let anyone down. But I felt myself slipping away into a very dark place. I started biting my nails. My intestines were a mess. My body was not happy with all of the stress. My chest was tight. I wasn't sleeping well.
In the end. last Thursday morning I went into the office 2 hours before my shift and before the day really stared going at the office to talk to my supervisor. He saw me and instantly knew what was up. I walked up to his desk and said, "I can't do this." He invited me to sit down and talk. I did. I immediately started bawling. I told him that I appreciated his willingness to help me and his support and amazing leadership, but I just can't do this anymore. My emotional stability was at stake. I then found myself telling him about Nick, about my DID, about my PTSD, and the health issues with family members currently.. I spilled my guts. The office started getting busy so he took me into our managers office. There I was crying so hard, I couldn't answer my manager's question. My supervisor started talking for me (with my permission). Again, my manager, offered me help of all kinds. They just wanted me to stay. They told me how much the leadership team liked me and thought of me. But in the end, he told me that my health comes first, and it was okay for me to leave that day. He told me that he would accept my resignation that day and that if I ever want to come back, I am welcome to. They would love to have me back.
My supervisor walked me out of the building......
So now I have quite my job. I am back to being a stay at home parent. Admitting what has happened and that I quit a job 8 weeks into it, sucks. It is painful. I feel like a quitter. However, I know that my emotional stability was at great risk. I can't even think about going into an office right now without having a panic attack. I don't know why I reacted the way I reacted. I do know that I have not been myself for quite some time. So now what?
Well, before I went to work, I had made an appointment with my family doctor to get a referral for a psychiatrist and also to see if I could get an MRI of my brain (based on all of the head traumas). Today was that appointment. And sure enough, he ordered the MRI and was shocked no one had done one on me based on the amount of trauma to my head. He also gave me the referral for the psychiatrist. I am going to get all of these done and make sure I am okay. I am going to get back into therapy and figure out my brain. I am going back to church and reconnecting spiritually. I am moving forward with my burlesque (even if it just feels like I am going through the motions right now). I am feeling quite numb and unmotivated, but I gotta keep moving. I am going to keep an eye on my family and make sure they are getting the doctors appointments they need (which has had me worried too). (I felt like I was dropping balls all over the place when I was working.....I know I can't DO EVERYTHING for my family, but someone needs to keep reminding people to do things and stay on top of things.)
So there it is.... I tried to work. It didn't work out. Maybe it was too much at one time. Maybe the brain can't handle that much stress and overwhelming feelings. Maybe I can't do call centers. Maybe it was all too intense. Maybe it was the long hours of always being "on" for a brain that hasnt' worked that hard in YEARS. I don't know. But it is what it is. I will go back to work, eventually. But right now, both Tracy and I think I need to take time to heal and get my head and emotions all sorted out before going back to work. I also want to make sure I get the medical tests for Naomi and Tracy scheduled... some may require trips out of the state (hard to do when you have new job).
But with all of this said.... I did get some good news at the doctor today... for a fat chick, I have a damn good heart rate (still a runners heart rate), great blood pressure, and my blood work came back with good cholesterol, sugar and thyroid levels! I'm a healthy fat chick. I'll take it! Now to get my heart ache mended so my brain will be clear :). Here's to self care and happier days :)
So here it is. The short of it is, I no longer work for the muggle job I started on January 7th.
And here's why........
When I went looking for a job, it was for a number of reasons. I wanted to feel like I was financially contributing to my family. I wanted to support my own sparkle addiction. I wanted to pay for my own burlesque travel without taking money out of the family budget. I wanted to have my own 401K. I wanted to earn my own social security credit (I can't even get disability because I have not put enough credits into the system). I wanted to have a career. I wanted to make a living wage. I got EXACTLY what I was looking for. I got a job with a great company that has a spectacular culture. It paid amazing starting wages with bonus incentives and opportunities to grow and move up in the company. It was a culture that support self-improvement, team building, volunteer work, and would even make room for me to perform. It was an inclusive company that supported every human being regardless of race, gender, religion, sexual orientation. It was everything I could have asked for in a company culture.
So what was the problem? I went to work and sat at my desk and cried more days than I didn't. I was literally "call avoiding" ( which is a big no-no). I felt isolated. I worked in a cubicle where I did not have contact with anyone. My breaks were scheduled with other people's breaks, but our calls kept us from spending time together. So I spent my breaks and my lunches alone most of the time. My new shift, would have me not seeing my family or my friends. I am an extrovert. I need to be with people. Add to that, the customers on the phone who were yelling at me. The customers asking me questions that I am NOT QUALIFIED to answer. I felt like an imposter at work. I know I had tool to use, and I used them. I asked questions all of the time. But when someone asked me which loan was best for them or which credit card was best for them, or when someone couldn't get a loan and they were in tears asking me, "now what?"...I just felt helpless and completely out of my element. I felt completely unequipped to help these people, and I was terrified of screwing them up financially. I felt a HUGE sense of responsibility for these customers. I am NOT a financial planner. Heck, it takes everything I have to manage my own family's expenses, and I'm certainly not a role model.
Actually, truth be told, my relationship with money is a very scary one. It has taken me YEARS to get to a point where I can deal with my own finances without having a panic attack. So what made me think, I could help others with theirs without having a panic attack?
I wanted this so badly. I wanted all of the things I described earlier. But I also wanted to glean information and learn and grow in the finance world. I wanted to face my fears head on and grow. Unfortunately, that is not what happened.
Try as I might, I found myself at the very edge of having a psychotic break down. I was already having complete panic attacks. I wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't. I felt myself trying to switch personalities. I was confused. I cried when I wasn't at work. I cried when I was at work. I felt completely stuck and didn't know what to do or how to do it.
I tried everything I knew to do. I kept mantras at my desk. I kept an ever growing gratitude list at my desk. I kept things on my desk that reminded me of how strong I am and how many things I have faced and conquered. I kept inspiring books at my desk to read between calls. I went to work with a smile on my face. I kept telling myself that each day was a new day. But in the end, I was terrified. I was miserable. I cried and avoided calls, and I could feel myself slipping into a horrible horrible place.
Last Wednesday, my boss needed to coach me on a bad QA. I wasn't worried about the QA. I knew what had happened. I was fine with what I was about to hear. It wasn't the bad QA that had me wanting to quit. I went to his desk at my appointed time, and I really thought I was going to quit right then and there. I didn't have it in me. Before he started in on my QA coaching, I asked him if I could talk to him first. I told him what was going on. He did his best to try and help me to keep me there. He offered to move me to a cubical/pod where I would be with people who talked (though they left a full 4 hours before my shift would end, and I would literally be all by myself for the last (and longest) 4 hours of my shift. He offered to look into changing my schedule so that I could come home at an earlier time. He REALLY wanted me to stay. He encouraged me and told me that I could do the job, and he acknowledged that this job was painful. He told me to stay off the phones and visit with one of my co-workers. He took her off the phones and told us to visit and be sociable for the next 30 minutes. She and I talked. She was so sweet. She was giving me coping strategies to make it through the day. She told me how hard it is for her and she spends hours in the conference room crying, but this is the best company to work for. I heard her. She was sincere. But I also heard how HARD this job was.. and how PAINFUL this job was. I heard her telling me that she couldn't make it through the day without coping mechanisms. She told me that some days she just wants to quit, but some times you get that one person in the day that makes it all worth while. She told me it was much better than "down stairs" where everyone hates their job and wants to kill people. She meant well, but she was not really helping.
After talking to my supervisor, I really thought I would try to stick it out. He asked me to give him 3 more weeks. I really thought I would. But once I went back to my desk, I sat there and cried again. I hated it. I got a very angry couple on the phone. They were mad before they got to me. By the time we were done, they were laughing, but still mad at the hoops they had to jump through. (To be clear, it was THEIR fault, but they insisted on blaming the banking systems put in place for THEIR protection.) I understand their frustration. But I couldn't deal with their frustration. I had my OWN frustrations.
That night, I got in my car and cried all of the way home. I'm not talking little tears. I'm talking full on ugly crying. I have NEVER felt like that. I have NEVER quit a job unless it was to be a stay at home mom or I moved to a different state. I have never quite job because it was too hard or because my emotional stability was in question. I have spent my entire adult life not being a quitter (this goes back to something I was called a child). It is this mentality that was eating me up. I had dreams. I had goals. I had alot of things in my mind, and quitting wasn't one of them. But all I could think of was just how unhappy I was and how miserable I was.
That night in the hot tub, Tracy and I talked some more. He told me to quit. He told me he had been thinking I should quit for a while now, but he wanted to support me and help me to succeed. And he did just that. He was freaking fantastic while I was working. He helped with my mom. He helped with the kids. He brought me lunches. He gave me cards to support me. He brought me chocolate. He listened to me cry day in and day out. He was my biggest cheer leader. I didn't want to let him down either. I didn't want to let anyone down. But I felt myself slipping away into a very dark place. I started biting my nails. My intestines were a mess. My body was not happy with all of the stress. My chest was tight. I wasn't sleeping well.
In the end. last Thursday morning I went into the office 2 hours before my shift and before the day really stared going at the office to talk to my supervisor. He saw me and instantly knew what was up. I walked up to his desk and said, "I can't do this." He invited me to sit down and talk. I did. I immediately started bawling. I told him that I appreciated his willingness to help me and his support and amazing leadership, but I just can't do this anymore. My emotional stability was at stake. I then found myself telling him about Nick, about my DID, about my PTSD, and the health issues with family members currently.. I spilled my guts. The office started getting busy so he took me into our managers office. There I was crying so hard, I couldn't answer my manager's question. My supervisor started talking for me (with my permission). Again, my manager, offered me help of all kinds. They just wanted me to stay. They told me how much the leadership team liked me and thought of me. But in the end, he told me that my health comes first, and it was okay for me to leave that day. He told me that he would accept my resignation that day and that if I ever want to come back, I am welcome to. They would love to have me back.
My supervisor walked me out of the building......
So now I have quite my job. I am back to being a stay at home parent. Admitting what has happened and that I quit a job 8 weeks into it, sucks. It is painful. I feel like a quitter. However, I know that my emotional stability was at great risk. I can't even think about going into an office right now without having a panic attack. I don't know why I reacted the way I reacted. I do know that I have not been myself for quite some time. So now what?
Well, before I went to work, I had made an appointment with my family doctor to get a referral for a psychiatrist and also to see if I could get an MRI of my brain (based on all of the head traumas). Today was that appointment. And sure enough, he ordered the MRI and was shocked no one had done one on me based on the amount of trauma to my head. He also gave me the referral for the psychiatrist. I am going to get all of these done and make sure I am okay. I am going to get back into therapy and figure out my brain. I am going back to church and reconnecting spiritually. I am moving forward with my burlesque (even if it just feels like I am going through the motions right now). I am feeling quite numb and unmotivated, but I gotta keep moving. I am going to keep an eye on my family and make sure they are getting the doctors appointments they need (which has had me worried too). (I felt like I was dropping balls all over the place when I was working.....I know I can't DO EVERYTHING for my family, but someone needs to keep reminding people to do things and stay on top of things.)
So there it is.... I tried to work. It didn't work out. Maybe it was too much at one time. Maybe the brain can't handle that much stress and overwhelming feelings. Maybe I can't do call centers. Maybe it was all too intense. Maybe it was the long hours of always being "on" for a brain that hasnt' worked that hard in YEARS. I don't know. But it is what it is. I will go back to work, eventually. But right now, both Tracy and I think I need to take time to heal and get my head and emotions all sorted out before going back to work. I also want to make sure I get the medical tests for Naomi and Tracy scheduled... some may require trips out of the state (hard to do when you have new job).
But with all of this said.... I did get some good news at the doctor today... for a fat chick, I have a damn good heart rate (still a runners heart rate), great blood pressure, and my blood work came back with good cholesterol, sugar and thyroid levels! I'm a healthy fat chick. I'll take it! Now to get my heart ache mended so my brain will be clear :). Here's to self care and happier days :)
Tuesday, January 1, 2019
January 1, 2019 Happy New Year!!!!
Happy New Year to one and all!!!!
We actually spent a very quiet New Year's Eve at home with our grand baby, Tytus, and our bonus son, Jared. Nate came home from work for a couple of hours while his participant was at work, and he and Jared (and Tytus) played video games. But for the most part it was a very quiet evening, and when I wasn't with Tytus, I spent time on a costume for burlesque.
Tracy and I did end the night in the hot tub, we were there at the stroke of midnight when all of the fireworks were lit off around us. It was kind of nice, actually. We spent some time talking about our goals for the year, and what we learned from 2018. I realized that once again, my husband and I are very different beings. LOL I spent a great deal of time thinking about what I have learned and what I can change and what goals I want to attain and work towards. He doesn't. LOL
I will say that my "goal" for 2018 was to "think big". I had some specific goals that I wanted to achieve and then I just had a mindset of "thinking big". Some specific goals were to move for as many miles at the year so (2018), teach a burlesque class, and perform burlesque in Oregon. When I set those goals, I had already applied to teach a class at a conference, and I had a date set for Oregon. Funny thing is, I had to cancel my plans for Oregon (for some reason, cant' remember what it was now), my movement goals got forgotten about once I managed to give myself a concussion (at least I think that is why). I did teach the class, and that was a blast. AND, I managed to get into 2 festivals that took me to Oregon (goal achieved) and to England (making me an international performer). The "thinking big" got me onto some stages I never thought I would be on... the Orpheum in Twin Falls, Idaho...a Portland stage for a competition, and a stage in Bristol, England for a Festival. It also found me, applying and getting accepted for a big show here in Boise at the Visual Arts Collective. This "thinking big" had me rubbing elbows with some Burlesque Power houses...and before the year was over, I had booked for this year with a producer I had wanted to work with for years. "Thinking Big" had me teaching art as a Docent at the Boise Art Museum and then had me applying for full time jobs I never thought I would be able to do. Before the end of the year, I was offered and accepted a job that has a career path and pays more than I have ever made (myself); that job starts next week. "Thinking Big" had us buying our very first home; we have lived in it for 4 years, but we finally bought it, and its our first home purchase. "Thinking big" had Tracy and I reevaluating the way we handle some things, like our money, and had me creating a new budgeting system that is working and saving money.
The year of thinking big also brought its challenges, and I am grateful for them. I am grateful for lessons learned. I'm grateful to have found some clarity at the end of the year that is pushing my grief healing to new "speeds" or new "understandings". At least now, I know where to go from here. I am also grateful for the conversations Tracy and I have had. It's been a challenging year for us as a couple. But I see this as growth and opportunity to sit down and talk and consciously create the marriage and relationship that we want moving forward. This can only be good. For Christmas we gave each other these great journals of lists that are suppose to prompt communication and a closer sense of togetherness. 52 weeks of communication to be done on date nights or whatever. I'm excited to learn and grow with Tracy.
So now here we are in 2019. What does this year hold for me? As Tracy and I talked about this last night, I found myself rattling off a long list of things I want to do. Then all of a sudden, I thought, "Wow! That is alot! Am I asking too much of myself?" Starting a new job is kind of scary. And I need to give myself grace and time to adjust. I also have some burlesque shows and performances that I am scheduled to do and new acts I want to create. So here is a list of things:
1) Complete my first year at Wells Fargo. By the end of the year, I will have been there 51 weeks (close enough to a year)...and the longest I have held a job in over 20 years. This will be a HUGE achievement for me.
2) I have decided that my brand of burlesque has a very distinct intention. Or at least I have set one. Before, my acts were driven by a specific show theme or some whimsy that caught my attention. Only a few have really been about what puts a fire in my soul. So from now on, my acts will be created with the intentions of either Laughter, Healing, Empowerment, and Love. If I can not find an act that has that intention or a show that allows for that intention, I will not perform. As I create my acts, these intentions will be there at all times while creating....and performing. I have a show scheduled in May, just as I am turning 50 years old. I am already creating 1 new act and costume for it. But I would like (if there is room in the show) to create one more.. my new Mary Poppins act. Then I have 3 more acts I would like to create 1) very funny and cheeky 2) very sensual and slow burn (completely out of my comfort zone) 3) Something very personal, healing, empowering that uses one of my stories that I wrote a long time ago that is told over music and ends with another song that I love. Oh..there is a 4th one as well, that just makes me giggle..not sure if it will get done this year or not. I would like to do a festival this year (as long as work is willing to let me go and do that)
3) I was given a new inspiration on December 30th. I would like to create my own brand of "angel cards" or "oracle cards". The kind of cards where you just pull a card for the day and focus on that saying or thought for the day. I will be working on this, and would like to have it done in time to order for Christmas. This requires learning a new skill on the computer and learning some new art techniques. This also requires starting my own business that is inspired by Nick.
4) Complete the 52 weeks of journaling with Tracy.
5) Continue on this healing path that I have started. I have questions about my physical health, and I will follow up on that to make sure that some of my emotional stuff is not being brought on by some physical stuff.
6) I am going to teach another burlesque class somewhere this year. I don't know where or what just yet, but it is happening. And by burlesque, I don't necessarily mean a performance class, but rather maybe some storyline class. I don't know how to describe it right now, but I have it in my head.
7) 2 weekends away with my hubby somewhere.
8) Focus on my intention for the year. Last year was "Think Big" and HUGE things happened. This year, my intention is on love and peace and laughter. May my words, deeds, and thoughts create peace, love and laughter not just for myself but for the people around me and the world at large.
In 2017, I went to an Evolving Out Loud seminar with Kyle Cease and he taught us a way of manifesting our desires and goals. I know what its called, but I can't spell it. But basically, you speak as if it has already happened like you are remembering it. So here is mine for 2019...
I remember that 2019 was a HUGE year of creative growth, success, strength, wisdom gained, knowledge gained, and wealth generation. It started out with laughter with our grand child and visit with our bonus son and listened to him talk about his goals for his life. And you know what? He did it! Jared got the manager position that he had wanted and is making plenty of money to support his son. He has found peace and laughter, and is genuinely happy with where his life is at now!
Tracy and I started the new year saying that we were strong and our marriage was going to make it. And you know what? It didn't just make it. But we are back to being as happy as we were in 2013. We are joyous together. We have connected in such a deep and intimate way. We have spent the entire year filling out that journal which allowed us to get to know each other better and opened up some great conversations. We have spent weekends away with each other going on fun and glamorous adventures. We have been acting like kids dating again, and it has been so fun! 2019 was our best year as a married couple yet!
I remember stepping in a studio filled with 15 women all wanting to learn and grow and empower themselves through the creative art of burlesque. The looks on their faces were tentative and excited. Some had never been to a burlesque workshop before; others were my friends from performances passed. They excitedly participated in opening themselves up to their own authenticity and learning how to find the hero within and use it to show up on stage..whether its a state to perform on or the stage of life...filled with a powerful force to be reckoned with! It was a huge success and everyone enjoyed themselves. As a result of that class, I have been asked to teach more classes in other studios and have already been asked to teach my class out of town to other performers.
I remember the excitement I felt walking into my first day on the joy at Wells Fargo. I was scared and excited and nervous. But as the year went by, I found my memory worked flawlessly. All those fears fell away as I became stronger and more confident in myself and my new job. My bosses are pleased with me. My coworkers have been amazing! I have even been given time off to perform out of town at a Burlesque Festival and I was given time off to perform here in town with Cairo Fusion. This job is allowing me to not only gain so much insight and growth in the financial world, but is also helping me with work/life balance so that I have not felt like I had to sacrifice my passion for necessity. Instead, my passion for service is strong and active within my day to day job, and is strong and active in my burlesque world as well. It has been the most perfect job for me. I remember being given excellent reviews and encouraged to continue growing with the company and creating a career here.
I remember the day that Nate told us that he found the perfect place to move to! I remember helping him pack and purchasing all the things he needs for a place of his own. He had a fantastic year with a new job that pays well and has amazing benefits. He is feeling fantastic about life and is finally settling down into adulthood all on his own. It has been a fantastic year for him and such a joy to watch and cheer him on through.
I remember the day I received my very first deck of ducky cards! They were absolutely perfect! They were everything I could have dreamed of. The colors were perfect. The designs were endearing and beautiful. The words were inspirational (and no one typo!). Not only that, but these beautiful cards, sold like hot cakes at Christmas time. Leaning the skills needed to make these cards was fun, and my heart was so light. I felt nothing but joy and peace as I followed this dream and inspiration. And now they are a huge success and are being carried in several brick and mortar stores in town as well as online. It has been everything I have ever imagined and so much more!
2019 was Great for Omi as well. Her relationship with Mason continued to grow. She found her way in college and her grades picked up and she has a drive and purpose and is happy to be in school and doing well. She brought her grades up and is feeling certain that she is on the right path. Work has been great for her. She made enough money to save up enough to go on a vacation she paid for herself and she even made enough money to pay for her share of the college bill. She has been in such great spirits. Her stomach issues have all but disappeared. She finally found the right doctor to help her get the sleep she needs. She is doing fantastic now!
2019 was a fantastic year filled with travel, laughter, love, success, happy relationships, financial freedom, good health, and peace! I feel so very grateful for all of the blessings that 2019 brought to us.
*************************
Happy New Year, Friends! May your year be filled with all of the love, joy, peace and laughter.
We actually spent a very quiet New Year's Eve at home with our grand baby, Tytus, and our bonus son, Jared. Nate came home from work for a couple of hours while his participant was at work, and he and Jared (and Tytus) played video games. But for the most part it was a very quiet evening, and when I wasn't with Tytus, I spent time on a costume for burlesque.
Tracy and I did end the night in the hot tub, we were there at the stroke of midnight when all of the fireworks were lit off around us. It was kind of nice, actually. We spent some time talking about our goals for the year, and what we learned from 2018. I realized that once again, my husband and I are very different beings. LOL I spent a great deal of time thinking about what I have learned and what I can change and what goals I want to attain and work towards. He doesn't. LOL
I will say that my "goal" for 2018 was to "think big". I had some specific goals that I wanted to achieve and then I just had a mindset of "thinking big". Some specific goals were to move for as many miles at the year so (2018), teach a burlesque class, and perform burlesque in Oregon. When I set those goals, I had already applied to teach a class at a conference, and I had a date set for Oregon. Funny thing is, I had to cancel my plans for Oregon (for some reason, cant' remember what it was now), my movement goals got forgotten about once I managed to give myself a concussion (at least I think that is why). I did teach the class, and that was a blast. AND, I managed to get into 2 festivals that took me to Oregon (goal achieved) and to England (making me an international performer). The "thinking big" got me onto some stages I never thought I would be on... the Orpheum in Twin Falls, Idaho...a Portland stage for a competition, and a stage in Bristol, England for a Festival. It also found me, applying and getting accepted for a big show here in Boise at the Visual Arts Collective. This "thinking big" had me rubbing elbows with some Burlesque Power houses...and before the year was over, I had booked for this year with a producer I had wanted to work with for years. "Thinking Big" had me teaching art as a Docent at the Boise Art Museum and then had me applying for full time jobs I never thought I would be able to do. Before the end of the year, I was offered and accepted a job that has a career path and pays more than I have ever made (myself); that job starts next week. "Thinking Big" had us buying our very first home; we have lived in it for 4 years, but we finally bought it, and its our first home purchase. "Thinking big" had Tracy and I reevaluating the way we handle some things, like our money, and had me creating a new budgeting system that is working and saving money.
The year of thinking big also brought its challenges, and I am grateful for them. I am grateful for lessons learned. I'm grateful to have found some clarity at the end of the year that is pushing my grief healing to new "speeds" or new "understandings". At least now, I know where to go from here. I am also grateful for the conversations Tracy and I have had. It's been a challenging year for us as a couple. But I see this as growth and opportunity to sit down and talk and consciously create the marriage and relationship that we want moving forward. This can only be good. For Christmas we gave each other these great journals of lists that are suppose to prompt communication and a closer sense of togetherness. 52 weeks of communication to be done on date nights or whatever. I'm excited to learn and grow with Tracy.
So now here we are in 2019. What does this year hold for me? As Tracy and I talked about this last night, I found myself rattling off a long list of things I want to do. Then all of a sudden, I thought, "Wow! That is alot! Am I asking too much of myself?" Starting a new job is kind of scary. And I need to give myself grace and time to adjust. I also have some burlesque shows and performances that I am scheduled to do and new acts I want to create. So here is a list of things:
1) Complete my first year at Wells Fargo. By the end of the year, I will have been there 51 weeks (close enough to a year)...and the longest I have held a job in over 20 years. This will be a HUGE achievement for me.
2) I have decided that my brand of burlesque has a very distinct intention. Or at least I have set one. Before, my acts were driven by a specific show theme or some whimsy that caught my attention. Only a few have really been about what puts a fire in my soul. So from now on, my acts will be created with the intentions of either Laughter, Healing, Empowerment, and Love. If I can not find an act that has that intention or a show that allows for that intention, I will not perform. As I create my acts, these intentions will be there at all times while creating....and performing. I have a show scheduled in May, just as I am turning 50 years old. I am already creating 1 new act and costume for it. But I would like (if there is room in the show) to create one more.. my new Mary Poppins act. Then I have 3 more acts I would like to create 1) very funny and cheeky 2) very sensual and slow burn (completely out of my comfort zone) 3) Something very personal, healing, empowering that uses one of my stories that I wrote a long time ago that is told over music and ends with another song that I love. Oh..there is a 4th one as well, that just makes me giggle..not sure if it will get done this year or not. I would like to do a festival this year (as long as work is willing to let me go and do that)
3) I was given a new inspiration on December 30th. I would like to create my own brand of "angel cards" or "oracle cards". The kind of cards where you just pull a card for the day and focus on that saying or thought for the day. I will be working on this, and would like to have it done in time to order for Christmas. This requires learning a new skill on the computer and learning some new art techniques. This also requires starting my own business that is inspired by Nick.
4) Complete the 52 weeks of journaling with Tracy.
5) Continue on this healing path that I have started. I have questions about my physical health, and I will follow up on that to make sure that some of my emotional stuff is not being brought on by some physical stuff.
6) I am going to teach another burlesque class somewhere this year. I don't know where or what just yet, but it is happening. And by burlesque, I don't necessarily mean a performance class, but rather maybe some storyline class. I don't know how to describe it right now, but I have it in my head.
7) 2 weekends away with my hubby somewhere.
8) Focus on my intention for the year. Last year was "Think Big" and HUGE things happened. This year, my intention is on love and peace and laughter. May my words, deeds, and thoughts create peace, love and laughter not just for myself but for the people around me and the world at large.
In 2017, I went to an Evolving Out Loud seminar with Kyle Cease and he taught us a way of manifesting our desires and goals. I know what its called, but I can't spell it. But basically, you speak as if it has already happened like you are remembering it. So here is mine for 2019...
I remember that 2019 was a HUGE year of creative growth, success, strength, wisdom gained, knowledge gained, and wealth generation. It started out with laughter with our grand child and visit with our bonus son and listened to him talk about his goals for his life. And you know what? He did it! Jared got the manager position that he had wanted and is making plenty of money to support his son. He has found peace and laughter, and is genuinely happy with where his life is at now!
Tracy and I started the new year saying that we were strong and our marriage was going to make it. And you know what? It didn't just make it. But we are back to being as happy as we were in 2013. We are joyous together. We have connected in such a deep and intimate way. We have spent the entire year filling out that journal which allowed us to get to know each other better and opened up some great conversations. We have spent weekends away with each other going on fun and glamorous adventures. We have been acting like kids dating again, and it has been so fun! 2019 was our best year as a married couple yet!
I remember stepping in a studio filled with 15 women all wanting to learn and grow and empower themselves through the creative art of burlesque. The looks on their faces were tentative and excited. Some had never been to a burlesque workshop before; others were my friends from performances passed. They excitedly participated in opening themselves up to their own authenticity and learning how to find the hero within and use it to show up on stage..whether its a state to perform on or the stage of life...filled with a powerful force to be reckoned with! It was a huge success and everyone enjoyed themselves. As a result of that class, I have been asked to teach more classes in other studios and have already been asked to teach my class out of town to other performers.
I remember the excitement I felt walking into my first day on the joy at Wells Fargo. I was scared and excited and nervous. But as the year went by, I found my memory worked flawlessly. All those fears fell away as I became stronger and more confident in myself and my new job. My bosses are pleased with me. My coworkers have been amazing! I have even been given time off to perform out of town at a Burlesque Festival and I was given time off to perform here in town with Cairo Fusion. This job is allowing me to not only gain so much insight and growth in the financial world, but is also helping me with work/life balance so that I have not felt like I had to sacrifice my passion for necessity. Instead, my passion for service is strong and active within my day to day job, and is strong and active in my burlesque world as well. It has been the most perfect job for me. I remember being given excellent reviews and encouraged to continue growing with the company and creating a career here.
I remember the day that Nate told us that he found the perfect place to move to! I remember helping him pack and purchasing all the things he needs for a place of his own. He had a fantastic year with a new job that pays well and has amazing benefits. He is feeling fantastic about life and is finally settling down into adulthood all on his own. It has been a fantastic year for him and such a joy to watch and cheer him on through.
I remember the day I received my very first deck of ducky cards! They were absolutely perfect! They were everything I could have dreamed of. The colors were perfect. The designs were endearing and beautiful. The words were inspirational (and no one typo!). Not only that, but these beautiful cards, sold like hot cakes at Christmas time. Leaning the skills needed to make these cards was fun, and my heart was so light. I felt nothing but joy and peace as I followed this dream and inspiration. And now they are a huge success and are being carried in several brick and mortar stores in town as well as online. It has been everything I have ever imagined and so much more!
2019 was Great for Omi as well. Her relationship with Mason continued to grow. She found her way in college and her grades picked up and she has a drive and purpose and is happy to be in school and doing well. She brought her grades up and is feeling certain that she is on the right path. Work has been great for her. She made enough money to save up enough to go on a vacation she paid for herself and she even made enough money to pay for her share of the college bill. She has been in such great spirits. Her stomach issues have all but disappeared. She finally found the right doctor to help her get the sleep she needs. She is doing fantastic now!
2019 was a fantastic year filled with travel, laughter, love, success, happy relationships, financial freedom, good health, and peace! I feel so very grateful for all of the blessings that 2019 brought to us.
*************************
Happy New Year, Friends! May your year be filled with all of the love, joy, peace and laughter.
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