Category / anxiety

by krubesch

Re-entry

15977333_10154946063101543_5295079688920718027_n

As many of you know, I am back after three weeks at a residential facility that specializes in PTSD and DID and I am really grateful I had the resources and time off work to go.  (For more information: https://www.sidran.org/resources/for-survivors-and-loved-ones/what-is-a-dissociative-disorder/ http://www.sidran.org/resources/for-survivors-and-loved-ones/what-is-post-traumatic-stress-disorder-ptsd/ )  In a way I feel that this experience was indeed life changing, but not in the way I had initially anticipated.  During the admission process (which took 3-4 hours) I remember specifically explaining to the intake coordinator what I felt my biggest issues were and why I had flown from Atlanta to Washington DC to spend my Christmas and New Year’s in that particular hospital.  Those issues centered on flashbacks and body memories surrounding the rape I experienced as a child.  As my time there passed, we mostly focused on family and interpersonal dynamics instead.  As usual, I was a little off base and frustrated as to why we were focusing on other issues that I deemed not as important.  My social worker and individual therapist explained to me that we were working backwards in a way and that everything is connected.  This was surprising to me because I tend to compartmentalize and stuff everything into its own box within myself as though they are not connected.  I became less frustrated and went along with what the professionals were telling me and I am glad I did.  

I can tell you that there is never a dull moment when you are on a locked unit inside a psychiatric facility.  I thought about opening this post with “A born-again Christian, a non-binary queer, a lesbian, and a conservative Jew walk into a psych ward…” It took a minute for me to adjust to being around the other patients, but it was also liberating in a way.  It reminded me of the first time I stepped into a lesbian bar, that we all understood each other in a way other people can’t.  I recognized the community as “my people” even though we didn’t know a lot about each other’s specific trauma or most details about them personally.  We did get to know each other in an intimate way that even my best friends don’t know me.   We cared for each other by letting one another know when we were walking behind or nearby and we were sensitive to triggers of our peers and would often warn one another when we noticed possible triggers in the environment.  Because we were in a super raw and vulnerable place, being triggered was a heightened risk.  For example, I accidentally triggered someone by wearing a t-shirt with the Old Spice logo- the signature cologne of their abuser.  I am highly triggered by religion and learned to speak up in group therapy when the conversation got too centered on prayer.  It was actually really nice to have warnings when we were all processing heavy shit that made us more susceptible to said triggers.  We were able to go from heavy group therapy sessions to being able to joke and add comedic relief to the situation.  We often referred to our situation as “Trauma Camp.”  What happens at trauma camp stays at trauma camp.

When I say that this experience was life changing I am referring to several things.  Three months ago I would have told you that I would consider death before admitting myself into an inpatient facility. I think this was due to the intense shame that I could not hold myself together anymore.  That I was failing at life and relationships. I was concerned about what other people  would think if they knew I had to go to a psychiatric hospital.  I think that shame along with all the other shame I keep hidden inside bubbled over and I realized I was about to hit rock bottom. Now I don’t feel as ashamed that I got the help I needed and I don’t want to associate with anyone who judges me anyway.  

My communication skills have drastically improved which Leah has happily noticed.  I am able to let myself feel and identify a wider range of feelings and emotions, which was not the case prior to my hospitalization.  I actually joked with my social worker that they orchestrated certain events in order for me to get in touch with my anger and man did I get in touch with some rage.  After feeling that rage I noticed that nothing catastrophic happened and that the feeling had passed once I let myself experience it.

I think this experience has greatly improved my relationship with my wife.  We have been in a rough place for a while before I left and now it feels like we have turned a corner. I know that we will still have rough patches, but the way I react to those instances will be different.  Leah seems to also view my symptoms of PTSD and dissociation differently- like we are both able to make sense of why I react in certain ways.  It has also made me realize how many friends I do have and I appreciate every card and package I received while I was in DC (thank you notes to come!).  Those cards helped make the holidays as special as they can when I am in a foreign place without my wife.  

I am somewhat of a people pleaser (ok, I know somewhat is a stretch) and doing this for myself has opened some doors, or at least chipped away some of the wall towards self acceptance and compassion (ugh I hate that word!) that otherwise was non-existent.  I still have a lot of work to do on many fronts, but I was able to lay down part of a foundation. I am very thankful that in a mere three weeks I was able to accomplish these things.

Ok, so right before I got discharged the psychiatrist kept talking about reentry into my life and how I needed to be easy with myself and take things slow.  I thought this was some bullshit, but as soon as I got into the airport from my Uber, I realized that he might have been right. I’ve noticed that I have been getting tired very easily and have to factor rest time into my day.  Loud noises and lots of people make me jumpy tired, and a little uncomfortable.  Facebook and the news are still completely overwhelming to me and I will still try to stay away from both.  Running errands drains me, where it used to invigorate me. Leah has been great about cooking me dinner while I close my eyes and rest on the couch.  I guess it’s all a learning curve and it’s forcing me to pay attention to my needs and act on them. What a concept!  
In closing, I’d like to say that I struggled with posting about this, but was encouraged by a dear friend who said I should write about what it was like “on the inside”.  I guess ultimately I wanted to share all this because although it was scary and hard at first, it was worth accepting that I needed this kind of help and reaching out for it.  If you need help, you should try to get some and not feel so scared or bad about it.  We can’t be helped if we don’t ask for help.  We can’t heal if we don’t take the necessary steps to do so.

by krubesch

The Fear

Oh, my, my, cold-hearted child, tell me how you feel just a grain in the morning air, dark shadow on the hill

Oh, my, my, cold-hearted child, tell me where it all falls

All this apathy you feel will make a fool of us all

Oh, I’ve been worryin’ that my time is a little unclear

I’ve been worryin’ that I’m losing the ones I hold dear

I’ve been worryin’ that we all live our lives in the confines of fear

I’ve been worryin’, I’ve been worryin’,

I will become what I deserve

I’ve been worryin’,

My time is a little unclear

I will become what I deserve

“The Fear”

Ben Howard

I’ve hesitated in writing this blog post for several reasons, but my ultimate goal of removing the stigma surrounding mental health and to start an honest dialog seems to have won out. After all Brené Brown states that the key to wholehearted living is vulnerability. Being vulnerable is a very uncomfortable feeling for me and I think that shame is the main culprit. I am putting my shame, guilt, and fear aside and I will be going to a PTSD inpatient program starting on 12/23. Happy Holidays! This has been a decision that I have been pondering for about a month now and my therapist and I have decided that this is the best course of action. Another reason why I am writing about this is that I decided a while back that I was done keeping secrets, keeping them has contributed to feelings of shame and isolation. Several people have been asking my wife, Leah,  how I am doing and she has no idea how to answer this question at the moment. In our culture it’s not socially acceptable for her to burst into tears and let them know that I will be spending the holidays in a rehab of sorts.

My symptoms from my PTSD are becoming increasingly unmanageable and scaring me a little bit, ok….a lot. My suicidal thoughts have gone from ideations to more concrete actions. I almost wish I could tell people that I am a drug addict and I am putting myself in rehab, that seems like it would be easier to accept and to say. I have this idea that I am just not trying hard enough to keep myself in check, but in reality I know that I am starting to feel less and less in control. I realize that I am needing more support on a daily basis.  I haven’t slept well or without medication in over a month and my stomach feels like it’s in knots everyday. My memory, which is usually a steel trap can’t remember if I have put on deodorant moments after I used it, I am asking questions several times in a row after receiving the answer several times, I am driving and realize I can’t remember where I am going or recognize where I have driven to, and I either feel like I am on the verge of tears or completely numb. It’s all I can do to get out of bed in the morning and make sure I look acceptable for work.

I don’t want to leave my wife for the holidays, but I am looking at the bigger picture and really have no interest in celebrating this year anyways. I usually look forward to decorating the Christmas tree and if it had been up to me I would not have done it at all this year. I am terrified of the unknown. I am petrified of what might come my way next.  I don’t know if this program is going to make me feel better or assist me in being able to cope more effectively in everyday life. I don’t know if it will cause more damage than improvement. I don’t know what it’s going to be like or if it will be the best thing I have done for myself. I am ashamed that I have to do this, but at this point I don’t see any other options.

My boss has been amazing and I am very grateful I am able to do this. My friends and family that know what’s been  going on have also been great about checking on me,  bringing me treats, and lending support.

I have completely taken Facebook off my phone and am not on there at all at the moment. I have grounded myself from reading most news outlets because I cannot handle the state of our country at the moment (that is a whole other blog post).  I will not have access to my cell phone for about 2 weeks give or take a few days, so don’t be offended if I don’t answer texts, calls, or emails. If you run into my wife while I am gone, please give her a big hug.

owningstoryquote

by krubesch

Out of Control

I’m getting fat and I feel completely out of control.  Things are still heavy in therapy, which is bleeding into every facet of my life at the moment.  It was extremely difficult to get out of bed this morning and I can’t figure out if this is the new normal for me or if there was a specific reason that I pressed snooze for two hours today.   Maybe it’s the weather change, the up in my medication, having therapy last night, missing Patrick, or the current antics of the republican nominee for president.  I don’t think I’ve realized until today how the election has had an impact on me.  There are news articles everyday about the minimization of sexual assault by various men, especially judges and Donald Trump and I guess I have a lot of feelings about it.

As a woman, I know that sexual assault is viewed differently than any other crime.  If Donald trump had been stealing jewelry or money instead of kisses, gropes, or God knows what else we would not even be having any of these discussions because he would be sentenced and that would be that.  To me it is plain and simple he took something that did not belong to him and that is wrong.  But then we want to know what she was wearing, if she was drinking, if she was even pretty enough, or what behavior she demonstrated that made him think that it was ok.  If you were at someone’s house and they stole your wallet- none of these questions would be asked.

Then you have the Brock Turners of our society where we excuse their behavior because they somehow can contribute to society in a way we deem worthy of looking the other way.  What is not considered is that the woman who was violated by Brock Turner has to find a way to get out of bed every morning and that her life has been forever changed.  Who gives a shit about what she can contribute!  This event will just be one day out of Brock’s life and will be something she will have to “overcome” and something she will be responsible for taking care of even though she did not have a choice.  She may spend thousands and thousands of dollars on mental health professionals in an effort to just to be able to make through each day or she may just decide it’s not worth it and end her life.  Obviously I am not specifically speaking about Turner and his victim.  This happens everyday in the US, we just know about this case because he was caught and the judge gave him such a light sentence.

Then there is the guy who was convicted of raping his 12 year old daughter repeatedly in Montana and gets 60 days in jail. This is our judicial system at it’s finest, folks.  This is what happens IF there is enough evidence to convict and if the victim even comes forward.  No wonder many survivors do not make police reports or even try that route. They end up feeling worse in most cases and he gets a slap on the wrist, literally.   Man, I am so angry right now I am shaking.

Everyday I have an experience where I get a creepy feeling or a loud noise freaks me out and my brain immediately thinks that this would be the perfect moment for someone to attack me or that maybe there is someone behind me.  I know that statistically I am more likely to be attacked because I have been sexually assaulted.  What’s funny is that I knew the guy who assaulted me and I still worry more about the guy who I don’t know that may be lurking around.  I constantly try to be aware of my surroundings when I am alone and do whatever I can to protect myself.  The house is always locked when I am home, my car doors get locked before I put on my seatbelt, I don’t walk alone at night if I can help it, and I made us get an alarm system for our house.  I tried to explain rape culture to a guy I went to high school with a couple of weeks ago on Facebook, but I don’t think he gets it at all- and why would he?  It’s not something you understand until you experience it.  Every woman I know does some of these things, even women who have never been raped or molested.  This is what I mean by rape culture.  If Donald Trump is elected (and I don’t think he will) he will be President of the United States- think about that.  The highest role model of role models for kids (and adults) in the US.  Little boys will be looking up to him and think his behavior is acceptable.  Little girls will think that his behavior is normal and will either have to tolerate the same behavior from other males or be constantly looking over their shoulders. Is this what we want for our children?

It’s hard for me to have hope lately because this is the reality.  I’m trying to hold out hope that someday (hopefully I will make it to that someday) I will have less days filled with anxiety and depression.  I will be able to look in the mirror and like the person staring back at me.  Suicidal thoughts will be a rarity instead of a frequency.  I won’t have to turn towards something (food, alcohol, perfectionism ect) to cope.  Hopefully we will look back on this time in history as that time the US lost it’s shit and did not elect a sociopath as our leader.

 

by krubesch

Triggers

“Ongoing experience convinces me that some children respond to pervasive emotional neglect and abandonment by over-identifying or even merging their identity with the inner critic and adopting an intense form of perfectionism that triggers them into painful abandonment flashbacks every time they are less than perfect or perfectly pleasing.”

Pete Walker

The only time I am in touch with my anger/rage is when I’m driving.  It always shocks me when I venomously yell out curse words or hurl insults at crazy drivers around me.  I don’t recognize my own voice. I have to stop myself from flipping people off.   It’s interesting to me that this is the one situation where I express anger. I guess it’s safe? Because I am in my car and it’s socially acceptable to have some road rage.  No one can hear me and I am in my own space.  Quiet  and calm Katie disappears when I buckle my seatbelt and put my car in drive. I’m becoming more aware of my habits, traits, and actions.

I mentioned in the my last post that I have started EMDR with my therapist and it’s been pretty intense.  I have also been attending DBT (Dialectical Behavior Therapy) class every other week.  Since I’ve begun processing events of my childhood I’ve gone from one regular therapy session and one DBT session to as many as three therapy sessions and one DBT session a week.  I’ve been gauging how I am doing by how many sessions I’ve had to go to in a week.  A four session week means that I am  not doing well and having to take each day an hour at a time.  The good thing is that I’ve been reaching out and asking for more appointments when I need them instead of “toughing” it out.

Since we started doing EMDR I am more aware of my anger and a greater presence of PTSD symptoms.  I’ve been extremely jumpy in my everyday life.  The other day Leah was driving and I literally jumped out of my seat because of brake lights ahead of us. I scared the crap out of both of us!   Today I’ve jumped when the office phone rings, when I hear a loud noise from the restaurant above our office, and when the bank teller surprised me.  I had forgotten what this feels like- always being on edge. I’m also not paying as close attention to tasks and everyday things as I normally do. I went flying over a speed bump that I did not see and took my car and myself by surprise.  Laundry, grocery shopping, and meal planning have been incomplete to my wife’s alarm.  She’s used to me being the one who gets most of this done. Sorry honey!   My therapist says that this is normal and that things are going to get worse before they can get better.  I’m just afraid of what worse means.  I’ve also been way more emotional and triggered by things that I would normally just let roll off my back.

I’ve found myself unable to cry when I feel like I need to.  I don’t know if this is because of the anti depressants or because I’m somehow not in tune enough with myself to let the tears fall.  I’ve recently started getting sad books from the library because when I really get into a book I am able to let the tears flow. I was not sure if this was going to work because I had not tried it with this round of drugs, but last night it did still work. Is this self-care? I’m not sure.   I am able to identify more with a book than with my own life. I’m not quite sure what this says about me.

Sorry if this is TMI, but my entire blog is pretty much “too much information.” I was diagnosed with a urinary tract infection yesterday and boy has this been the biggest trigger so far.  It’s all I can do to stay awake and present with the pain from my lady parts. I’d love to just retreat by going to bed and pop a trazadone to fall asleep until the pain goes away.   I’m really glad my therapist and I did not do EMDR last night during our session because I don’t think I could have handled having flashbacks along with this intense pressure in my pelvic area. It was nice to be able to go home and be with Leah and lose myself in a book after therapy last night.  I think reading has always been a welcome escape for me even as a child. I remember loving how reading could take me away from the present moment and into the lives of other people.  I felt like I had a relationship with others through stepping into their lives.  I’m still learning which of my coping skills are “effective and kosher” and which are not.  I know that in a way reading lets me dissociate from the present, but it also serves as a great distraction.  It’s a lot better than drinking, self-harming, or eating.

More info about DBT http://behavioraltech.org/resources/whatisdbt.cfm

by krubesch

Paradox

“It is an odd paradox that a society, which can now speak openly and unabashedly about topics that were once unspeakable, still remains largely silent when it comes to mental illness.”

Glenn Close

I have not written in awhile.  It feels like I’ve been riding a rollercoaster of emotions since January and sometimes writing helps and sometimes it makes it worse.   I really did not want the latter to happen.  In March I switched to a new antidepressant in the hopes that it would help my depression.  At that time I thought things were pretty bad.  Patrick had just died, I was unsure of what my employment was going to be, and I was taking two classes from Georgia Perimeter (taking classes for the first time in 10 years).  The new medication, Serzone, made things worse…much worse.  While tapering off the old and onto Serzone, I had skin sensitivity all over my body (kind of like the flu) and it made me even more tired than I was already.  I had to chose between sleeping at night by taking my sleeping pill and not being able to wake up in the morning or not taking the sleep aid and not sleeping, but being able to wake up in the morning.  I chose the latter.

From March to June I was not sleeping very well at night and finding it very difficult to propel myself out of bed in the morning.  The problem with depression is trying to figure out what is side effects from the medicine and what is happening because I am depressed.  My psychiatrist encouraged me to stick with Serzone because the exhaustion should wane over time or I would get used to it.  Along with the exhaustion I was very bitchy.  I was increasingly irritable and difficult to be around.  That’s great….feeling like crap and distancing yourself from everyone because you know you are being impossible.  Another fun thing was that suicide was sounding better and better.  I found myself eliminating possible routes of suicide while I was laying in bed trying to fall asleep at night.  I began to think that maybe this was as good as it was going to get.  I figured that this heavy depression was going to be a regular part of my life and that maybe it was resistant to medication. I tend to think in realistic terms instead of hopeful ones and this was the conclusion I was coming to.  Thankfully I reached out to my psychiatrist for the third time and let her know how serious the situation was.  At the beginning of June she switched me from Serzone to Pristiq along with my regular dose of Wellbutrin.

Normally I would keep my thoughts and feelings about suicide to myself or disclose them to a minute number of people, but I feel like the silence is almost as bad as the thoughts.  September is suicide awareness month and I feel like if we are more open as a society about these topics there might be less suicides.  Or at least less suffering in silence, because that obviously is not working.  I don’t want any sympathy, I just want to start a dialog.

Anyways, back to the topic at hand. OMG. Pristiq helped me to climb out of the dark hole I thought had become my home.  Almost immediately Leah noticed a change and said that “her wife was back.”  I jokingly said to her on our road trip, “Aren’t you glad that bitch Serzone did not come on vacation with you?”  This became a running joke.  I was able to actually enjoy our vacations this summer and to manage a low grade depression.  Pristiq does have some drawbacks, like any antidepressant.  I have to stay on top of checking my blood pressure because it’s in the same family as Cymbalta, which made my blood pressure to sky rocket to stroke level numbers over two years ago. So far it’s only been slightly elevated.

During my three week follow up with my psychiatrist I noticed that I had only one suicidal thought in the past three weeks and how different that felt.  It felt pretty amazing.  I was beginning to feel good!  After our trip to Seattle in July (another vacation where I came back feeling rested instead of triggered) I decided that I would keep steadily taking classes towards my goal of eventually getting my Master’s in Occupational Therapy. I cannot take any of my classes consecutively, so I could only take Chemistry for the fall semester. Because of my class load (and the need for more income) Leah and I decided that I would also start interviewing for ¾ time to full time jobs.  I found an awesome job that I love that also gives me some freedom to continue therapy and taking classes.

With my meds situated, a new job, and a renewed goal of working on my masters degree I was feeling pretty good.  I felt like things were falling into place.  Fast forward to almost a month at my new job and three weeks into taking Chemistry.  I was going to work 5 days a week and spending 6 hours at school every Saturday.  My free time consisted of homework, studying and relearning algebra, laundry and fitting in time with my wife.  Leah was helping out a lot with stuff around the house, which I really appreciated.  I’ve noticed that school brings out my perfectionist side in a real and problematic way. As therapy has become more intensive with the start of EMDR (Eye movement Desentization and reprocessing) and delving more into my past I’ve been struggling again. Last week was a rough week and Leah and I came to the decision that it would be best for me to drop chemistry and try again at a later date.  It was a hard decision for me to come to because my critical voice tells me that I’m quitting and a disappointment.  At another time in my life I probably would have pushed myself to continue with school, a new job, and intensive therapy.  Now I am able to realize that pushing myself to continue to do all these things together will not end well and may ultimately be catastrophic.

Sometimes self care means putting things on hold and making hard decisions. I’m starting to learn that and hopefully it will get easier to make these decisions and not be so hard on myself.

For more information about EMDR go to http://www.emdr.com/what-is-emdr/

Project Semicolon http://www.projectsemicolon.org/our-history.html

by krubesch

What Goes Up, Must Come Down

I don’t want to wait anymore I’m tired of looking for answers
Take me some place where there’s music and there’s laughter
I don’t know if I’m scared of dying but I’m scared of living too fast, too slow
Regret, remorse, hold on, oh no I’ve got to go
There’s no starting over, no new beginnings, time races on
And you’ve just gotta keep on keeping on
Gotta keep on going, looking straight out on the road
Can’t worry ’bout what’s behind you or what’s coming for you further up the road
I try not to hold on to what is gone, I try to do right what is wrong
I try to keep on keeping on
Yeah I just keep on keeping on

First Aid Kit – My Silver Lining Lyrics | MetroLyrics

 Klara Maria and Johanna Kasja Soederberg

I guess this was bound to happen.  From experience I should have known that when I start to feel good and happy I inevitably come back to reality because what goes up must come down.  I knew getting a new job was not going to fix me, however it made me feel great for a while and it helped fuel the illusion that my previous job was the source of all my problems.  In theory I know I can’t run away from myself, but making changes is about making your life better, right?  I’ve made my everyday circumstances infinitely better, but it looks like I am the common denominator.  It’s hard to tell if my recent withdrawal from friends and family is due to getting on Prozac and coming off of Zoloft or if the honeymoon is over and I have realized I still have my pain in the ass friend, Depression.  I wish mental health was easier to diagnose and separate factors that affect it so that I could know exactly how I need to fix myself.  Maybe it’s just winter. It’s been dreary and cold in Atlanta (minus a crazy week of sunshine and warmth) and I’ve found myself wanting to hibernate.

I keep myself crazy busy or I crash and relax. Relaxing works for about an hour and then I start to feel like a lazy slob and the inner critic starts to come out.  I can’t win. I know that keeping myself so busy is causing problems, but relaxing turns me into a zombie.  This is so fucked up.  Therapy has been hard, but I know it has to get harder because we are still just skating the surface.  I go from being so very hopeful to being hopeless in the period of 24 hours.  Sometimes I feel like no one gets me, but I’ve created that scenario because I don’t want anyone to get too close.  I feel like my emotions do a push and pull constantly and I wonder if that’s part of the reason why I am tired all of the time.  This need to over analyze everything is all-consuming and I want to know if I am tired because of The Elimination Diet, my medicine, introvert-ism, or the struggle of emotions and relationships.  It’s like I really need to know the cause of each issue or symptom so that I can understand why it’s a part of me. I know that everything intersects and what I want to know is an impossible feat.

I can tell that my diet is teetering on the line of doing something healthy for myself and disordered eating. I’ve had bouts of anorexia in high school and college and my all or nothing attitude is rearing its head in the food department again.  I told my therapist that this diet was not going to be too difficult because once I decide to do something, I do it.  It’s like I have just as much to prove to myself as everyone else.

 It’s funny because the people I feel like I have to prove myself to are either dead or not in my life anymore. I guess in a way the person I’m really trying to get approval from is myself. I’ve had a lot of dreams lately with my dad and my half-sister in them which is weird because they haven’t made appearances in my dreams in a really long time.  I’m not sure what this means. I guess maybe it’s my minds way of letting me know that I need to start dealing with these broken and unresolved relationships. I’ve pretty much been estranged from my sister for give or take 14 years.  It’s a complicated and painful relationship. One that I don’t think will ever change.  I just need to somehow let it go and move on.  I’m not sure why my father had five children when he couldn’t really be a father to any of us.  Since he was straight I guess he didn’t have to contemplate the pros and cons of bring a life into the world, much less five.  As lesbians who can’t just accidentally have children, we’ve very consciously had to think about if we can afford and emotionally support a child and if it’s the best decision for our family.

I told Leah last night that she was going to have to be patient with me. I can feel a storm brewing and I’ve seen the oh so familiar signs of depression sneaking up on me.  I know that when I neglect grooming such as clipping my nails, shaving, and jewelry and makeup I’m not feeling that great.  Don’t get me wrong, I shower every day, sometimes twice. We will all know I am in deep shit when I stop bathing!  I’ve also lost interest in reading, watching tv, and other activities that I enjoy.  I’m forcing myself to at least walk the dogs daily and play soccer once a week.  I’ve stopped trying to make plans with friends and just let Leah be in charge of our fun time.  Talking on the phone sounds like an impossible task at the moment. It just feels draining.

What I don’t know if this is just a temporary gloomy phase or if it’s going to be another 6-9 months of this.  That’s always the question on my mind when I start to feel sad. Whether it’s justified sadness or if I need to pull out all the stops to prevent myself from “going there.” I think that’s why I’ve avoided my feelings for so long, I am afraid they are going to be so big and all consuming.  Like they will swallow me whole and there will just be a shell of myself left.

by krubesch

Full Circle

“Courage doesn’t happen when you have all the answers. It happens when you are ready to face the questions you have been avoiding your whole life.”
Shannon L. Alder

I broke up with therapist number two.  It just didn’t feel right and I had a sense of dread before therapy sessions, which is not normally the case.  The good news is that I have found someone I really like.  Under different circumstances I think we would be friends.  I feel that familiar pull with her of wanting to open Pandora’s box and wondering if it’s worth it or if that’s even necessary.  I spend so much time minimizing my feelings that I don’t think I know what’s even there.  I’m afraid that we are probably going to be able to do some serious work together. I’m afraid because I know its going to be arduous and difficult.  It feels like a looming probability that I know needs to happen, but I’m not sure if it’s going to be manageable.

We’ve come full circle back to my favorite skills: Nonjudgementally, One-Mindfully, and Effectively in my DBT class.  This week I’ve tried to be very aware when I’m using my skills.  I think these are my favorite because they are so familiar.  I definitely have become intimate with Nonjudgementally.  I direct judgement at myself everyday and I’m becoming increasingly aware of how often.  The first time I ever practiced this skill it was devastating to realize how little self compassion I have.  Now I’m realizing that I’m starting to be able to notice that inner critic and side step the judgement.  For instance, on Tuesday I was taking my dog Penny for her second walk of the day and I really wanted to do interval training with her, but my stomach hurt.  Instead of pushing through it or berating myself because I wasn’t running I noticed that I could either be an asshole to myself or just be glad that I’m able to take Penny for a walk.  This is pretty huge because I’m a grin and bear it kind of girl.

I didn’t have many choices growing up.  Things were decided for me: what I could watch, eat, listen to, say ect.  I think this made me seem easy-going to a lot of people later on in my teenage years and twenties.  What may have looked like a laid back personality was really me just going with the flow because I didn’t think my opinions mattered or were important. Or that I even had any.  I’m realizing now that I have choices and my voice deserves to be heard.  This may be bad news for my wife!

To be intentional about the skill One-Mindfully, I’ve been driving to work without music, talking on the phone, or eating.  Just focusing on my driving. That’s 15-30 minutes a day.  It feels so un-natural and difficult.  I guess I never realized how much I use music as a distraction.  When I first started therapy a year ago my therapist told me that I should practice mindfulness so that we could determine what thoughts keep popping up for me and those are the things we would need to work on.  Well it’s taken a year for me to be able to even entertain that possibility. This week I’ve gotten a lot of clarity on the thoughts I keep at bay.  I’m not surprised by the thoughts that have come up and I know why I keep so busy and distracted from myself.  The thing is that they are painful and I’m not sure if thinking about them and processing them will be helpful or just make me spiral back into my dark hole.  They also involve people who are either dead or who I’m estranged from.

For the Effectively skill, it’s shown up way less intentionally.  My new therapist asked me my goals yesterday and one of them is to develop self compassion.  I’ve been effective in identifying a goal, but I have no clue on how to achieve that goal. I guess I’ve completed the first step in breaking up with a therapist that was not a good fit and continuing to find the right one.  I’m doing my homework and attending my sessions. I guess that’s a step in the right direction.  I wish things would just move faster.  I tend to approach my mental health like I do everything else: get ir done. unfortunately that attitude isn’t going to speed things along or resolve why I don’t have self compassion.  Unfortunately I’m going to have to be willing to dig through a lot of shit and be okay with things taking time.

by krubesch

The Dating Game

“Be Here Now”

Ray Lamontagne

Don’t let your mind get weary and confused
Your will be still, don’t try
Don’t let your heart get heavy child
Inside you there’s a strength that lies
Don’t let your soul get lonely child
It’s only time, it will go by
Don’t look for love in faces, places
It’s in you, that’s where you’ll find kindness
Be here now, here now
Be here now, here now
Don’t lose your faith in me
And I will try not to lose faith in you
Don’t put your trust in walls
‘Cause walls will only crush you when they fall

Be here now, here now
Be here now, here now

The process of finding a new therapist feels a lot like dating.  I’ve googled countless names, tried to find pictures on Facebook, stalked to see what other people are saying about them (reviews), and worried about who’s going to make the first move.   Will she start our sessions by talking to me first? I don’t work well with therapists that just sit down and expect me to make the first move.  I’m not even sure what the hell I need to talk about, isn’t that why I am paying her?  The difference here is that she’s not going to buy me dinner before I have to reveal who I truly am.  I don’t get to learn about her before I have to talk about some of the hardest moments in my life.  There’s no flirting or witty banter to make me feel more at ease. I’m also alone in a room with this person I just met and all her attention is focused on me.  That’s what makes me feel the most vulnerable. There are no distractions and I have nowhere to hide.
Then there’s what you wear to the first session. I make sure I’m not in sweatpants (I’m not that depressed!), but I can’t look too nice because then she’ll think that I’m putting on a front.  Dark clothes make therapists think that I am in the depths of despair, but I don’t feel like wearing bright colors.  I also have to time my arrival because I’m the first appointment of her day.  If I get there too early I look desperate and being late is not an option.  What if I get lost?  What if she’s incredibly thin and I have to talk about my body issues? I hate talking to skinny people about how I’m a short stocky linebacker. Or chub rub.  If you don’t deal with chub rub then we just shouldn’t talk at all.
At least I don’t have to worry about any awkward kisses or hugs. That’s how meeting a therapist is better than dating.  I do however have to worry about what base we will get to- will we talk about my past experiences and sum up all my issues in 50 minutes? Or will we have to talk about my thoughts and feelings? There’s definitely a third or fourth session waiting period for that.  I have to decide if I like her first and if it’s worth the effort.
Like bad dates, I’ve had my fair share of shitty appointments.  There was the therapist that twisted my words.  She asked me, “is anyone else in your family gay or an alcoholic?” I had simply stated that I was questioning my sexuality and had not determined if I was gay or not!  I also was a college student who drank socially, maybe slightly excessive, but I was not an alcoholic!  She also kept her hair pulled back over her glasses, hiding her ears and it bothered me throughout the entire session. I remember looking at the clock on the wall and being dismayed that we were only 10 minutes into the session.  The longest 50 minutes ever.
There are also deal breakers: the therapist who wanted me to pray with her and talk about my relationship with God.  I should have known that my mother would have helped me find a Christian therapist.  I have cross cringe.  Yes, that’s correct. Some of my issues stem from being raised in a conservative Presbyterian church, so needless to say I don’t want to pray or talk about God in therapy. Period.
There was this awesome therapist that I was actually excited to work with and then I realized that she was not in network with my specific insurance plan.  Talk about being left with the check.  My favorite psychiatrist was a holocaust survivor.  A short adorable jewish man who would try to set me up with his children. He even asked me,  “boys or girls?” before I knew that I would be asking myself the same question years later. I loved his German accent and his photography hobby. He passed away several years ago.
In college I saw someone on campus that I really liked.  Right about the time I started actually talking (I shot the shit in therapy for give or take 15 years) I was told that I had exceeded my allotted sessions and that I would have to find someone off campus. That’s totally easy to do when you don’t have a car and hate talking to people you don’t know.
Breakups with therapists are similar to a breakup with a partner.  I recently broke up with my therapist.  It was the long distance that was killing the relationship. Driving to Alpharetta from Decatur to be there for an appointment at 4pm took up most of the day.  Traffic starts to get bad at 3pm so the latest I could leave Decatur is 2:45pm and that’s pushing it.  Then the hour and a half to two hours sitting in traffic on my way home is almost unbearable.  The absurd amount of traffic combined with sitting alone with my thoughts from our session was a sure way to make sure I arrived home in a touchy or horrendous mood.  Finding the right words to breakup with the person who knows you in a way no one else really does is difficult.  I found myself using the phrase “it’s not you. it’s me. I just can’t stand the commute.” How cliché is that? I worried that I might be hurting her feelings and then I realized that there will be many other patients after me.  I’m simply a year-long blip on her radar.  Once I told her, she wanted to talk about how the past year has gone from my point of view and then I listened to her tell me how I’ve enriched her life.  That’s the most uncomfortable for me.  I get extremely uncomfortable when I’m paid complements or shown special kindness.  It would be easier to accept criticism.
A couple of days after our last session I start to freak out. I wonder if I’ve made a mistake or what if she’s the only person I feel comfortable trusting?  Even though she felt that I did not truly trust her.   Deep down I also know that I’ve been holding back with her. Tip toeing with the caution I use in any situation where I feel vulnerable.  I know that introducing myself to her and re hashing the intimate details of my life may make me feel worse before I start to feel better.  I hate the sympathy looks when I talk about my abusive father or knowing more than I ever cared to about sex at the age of four.  Just don’t feel sorry for me. It is what it is.  Then I start to wonder if I’m just hopeless.  A lost cause.  I’ve been depressed most of my life, what’s another 30 or 50 years? (I think early 80’s is a good age for me to meet the man upstairs).  I remember that the health problems are the real clencher.  They are the reason I’m going to keep putting myself out there and risk being vulnerable.
by krubesch

Adrenaline Junkie

IMG_6727

“If your mind is always moving
It’s hard to get your heart up off the ground
Yeah, your mind was always moving
But your thoughts never made a sound”

Lyrics from Say Anything

Tristan Prettyman

Writer(s): David Hodges
Copyright: Emi Blackwood Music Inc., 1206 Publishing

Recently I’ve come to the conclusion that I am an adrenaline junkie.  It dawned on me during my weekly DBT class that the “One Mindfully” skill is extremely difficult for me.  Marsha Linehan describes One Mindfully as:

-“DO ONE THING AT A TIME. When you are eating, eat. When you are walking, walk. When you are bathing, bathe. Focus your attention on the very moment you are in with the other person. Do each thing with all your attention.

-If other actions, or other thoughts, or strong feelings distract you, LET GO OF DISTRACTIONS and go back to what you are doing- again, and again, and again.

-CONCENTRATE YOUR MIND. If you are finding you are doing two things at once, stop and go back to one thing at a time.”

Linehan pg. 113

I’ve noticed lately that I am often doing more than one thing at a time.  It’s very rare for me to be in the moment and focusing only on the task at hand.  I’m listening to music and consumed in my thoughts when I’m driving, I play on my phone when I’m watching tv, I’m either listening to music or watching tv when I work out, and even when I’m trying to sleep I’m consumed by all the thoughts that I avoid during the daytime.  Apparently this phenomena of keeping myself busy and jumping from thing to thing means that I’m keeping myself hopped up on adrenaline.

I love extreme sports.  I do triathlons- it’s not enough for me to pick one thing, I have to do all three! I am a goalkeeper because I love the thrill of diving to catch that ball.  I have eight tattoos. I love tattoos- the noise, the sensation, and the picture I’m left with for the rest of my life on my body.  My love/addiction? with tattooing started when I was in high school.  I got my first tattoo when I was a high schooler (17 years old) on a band trip to Victoria Canada.  I was going through a particularly difficult time in my life and also had the urge to be a rebellious teenager, so why not get a tattoo on a band trip?!  My first taste into the tattoo world was delightful.  I got the tattoo on my butt, so it didn’t hurt that much but I also liked feeling that pain.  I was aware of how freeing it was to get that tattoo and how the pain was somewhat socially acceptable.  Up until that time I had not dabbled into the world of self-harm, but this feeling of adrenaline felt so much better than my anxiety and depression.  It was a welcome vacation from what was going on in my life.

That was 16 years ago.  Looking at my tattoos I only have two that I planned years in advance and was in a good head space.  That means that six of them were done when I wanted to feel that familiar pain and cover up parts of my body.  I like my right arm better than my left because its covered with a few of my favorite things: flowers, berries, and birds.  It’s almost like my armour and I feel more comfortable in my skin when it’s decorated.

It’s so funny how I feel like I am meeting parts of myself for the first time.  I had not realized that a lot of the things I do on sometimes a daily basis cause me to have an adrenaline rush.   I remember jumping off rocks into a watefall and going bridge jumping when I was in high school.  It reminded me that I was still alive.

I am going to share a bit more information about myself- I am a survivor of childhood sexual assault. I feel like it’s necessary to share this because apparently being an adrenaline junkie correlates strongly with PTSD, especially those who’ve had trauma in their childhood.  I’ve been reading different sources about trauma and I’m finding it fascinating.

mentalhealthdaily.com states that adrenaline addiction starts from:

1. “Traumatic event or high stress – War, life changing diagnosis (i.e. cancer), rape, hard drug withdrawal, anxiety disorders, etc. There are plenty of things that could trigger the start of an adrenaline addiction – even a bunch of less severe, minor stressors.

2. Body sensitized to adrenaline – After a good 6 to 8 months of excessive adrenaline build up, it changes your physiology. You become sensitized to the epinephrine and used to what it does for you. Initially it may be difficult to cope with, but after awhile, you become so accustomed to it that you can function.

3. Brain in overdrive – It sends your brain into full throttle and your wit becomes majorly amplified. This is because your slower brainwaves in the alpha and theta ranges become severely diminished. Alpha rhythms are drowned out by high amounts of mid and high-range beta brainwaves. This leads to further production of dopamine, epinephrine, and cortisol.

4. Adrenaline floods the body – Your body will feel less relaxed and you may have the urge to move around. You will literally feel the adrenaline coursing throughout your entire body. Senses all become heightened – hearing, vision, taste, smells, and touch.

5. Brain and body conditioned to adrenaline – The sensitization of adrenaline is actually a heightened state of awareness. Your focus on soft sounds makes them seem like they may cause hearing loss; you panic. Bright lights may seem as though they are going to cause blindness. You become highly emotionally sensitive to minor issues and feel as though many things are a personal attack. After awhile though, you may become positive, outgoing, happy, and pleasure seeking. This is because your brains natural supply of chemicals becomes used up by the excess adrenaline and you are left to seek out external stimuli to keep the production going.”

The author also states that “If you are functioning well with high adrenaline, just keep in mind that it may lead to poorer physical health and problems such as: high blood pressure, heart attacks, physical pain, or excessive anxiety and hypochondria. Some people have a minor addiction to adrenaline and/or have it under control, but others cannot seem to cope well with the excess flood of epinephrine and cortisol throughout their nervous system.”

I think this need to keep active has contributed to my sleeping issues, my blood pressure, physical pain, weight gain, and also my gastro issues.  When I do slow down I get this heavy feeling…almost like impending doom.  I start to get a little depressed and then I get busy again.  I don’t ever just let myself spend time with my thoughts- unless I’m writing or in therapy.  This may sound shocking to you (note my sarcasm), but I’m not a huge talker. That’s why I married Leah- she’s my voice. I often find it difficult to come up with topics or even the right words when I’m with people, but I HATE SILENCE.  Silence makes me get really uncomfortable in any situation and It’s going to be a great feat if I can start being more mindful.

Caring for Patrick is helping me start to be okay with silence and to let myself feel the sadness without letting it consume me.

by krubesch

Perfection is the Enemy of Good

 photo (2)

Webster’s Dictionary defines perfectionism as “a disposition to regard anything short of perfection as unacceptable; especially : the setting of unrealistically demanding goals accompanied by a disposition to regard failure to achieve them as unacceptable and a sign of personal worthlessness.”

I have realized this year that my expectations for myself have become unattainable and that I am the common denominator in finding myself in stressful situations.  For the first time in my life, or at least as far back as I can remember I am starting to silence the intense voice that tells me I have to do everything perfectly.  When I say everything, I mean EVERYTHING.  At this point in my life I am realizing that the expectations I put on myself are ridiculous and I am setting myself up for a life full of failure.

My self-worth has been tied to the things I accomplish for so long that I felt like I was worthless if i could not provide multiple services in my career.  It was not enough for me to translate for a Spanish-speaking person, but I also had to translate while putting on a cast while also managing two offices.

A co-worker once told me to just stop trying to be so perfect.  Well shit, I didn’t think of that!  I first had to recognize how my perfectionism has seeped into every aspect of my life in order to stop something I didn’t even know I was doing.

Surprisingly I think competing in triathlon’s has helped me to accept and realize my faults.    I finished a tri in May and I was distinctly aware that my primary goal was to finish.  I did not have finish by a certain time or be the best in my age group.  All I had to do was finish the damn thing.  What’s funny is that attitude helped me do better than I have previously.

I have started to apply this attitude in my everyday life and it’s amazing how much happier I am.  I think my wife will agree and say that I am much easier to be around as well.   My Perfectionism along with other unhealthy coping skills have  paved the way to and through some of the darkest times in my life.   I am only now realizing that these coping skills were helpful at the time, but are no longer useful in my life today.

I, Katie Rubesch, have become slightly artsy.  This is a shocking to me as it may be to you.  I have started working on a photography series where I’ve been taking selfies almost everyday.  This series of photographs demonstrates the complexities of depression and the ups and downs.

I have found that I don’t have to fight against my perfectionism when I’m working with Patrick.  I don’t know if this is because I am learning that there is no such thing as perfect or if it’s because it does not feel like work.   He is teaching me to be more in the moment and to appreciate the little things.   I don’t think I’ve ever stopped to appreciate the little things until now.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/11/06/why-perfectionism-is-ruin_n_4212069.html