Category / sexual assault

by krubesch

Try, try Again

“the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own”

― Mary Oliver

A lot has happened since I posted about my chronic pain in the blog post, “The Journey” in May. I wrote about my appointment with a surgeon who I was scheduled to have surgery with this month, but after that appointment I did a lot of research and listened to the nagging feeling that he was not the right doctor for me. My gut is 99.9% on point and when I don’t listen to that feeling I usually am disappointed and end up paying for it.  I am very glad I followed my gut this time because the route he wanted to go conflicts with a lot of the research on Endometriosis and would probably have lead to me needing to have multiple surgeries. Since February, I have spent countless hours learning as much I can about endometriosis in order to squelch my anxiety and to make me feel like I am doing something about my pain while I am just waiting. An acquaintance had a really bad experience with the surgeon I saw in April and had to go to another surgeon in order to fix the damage he did and address her symptoms.  She gave me the info of the surgeon that she credited with “saving her life” and I made an appointment with him towards mid May.

I was really hopeful that this doctor was going to be “the one” since he is in network with my insurance and located in Atlanta.  He was a lot more knowledgeable about endo than the other doctors I had seen, but still gave me conflicting information from what I had researched (through very reputable sources).  He told me that even if he did surgery, the endo would come back within two years and I would need another surgery at that time. In my research, I found that if a physician properly excises the endometriosis and removes any other areas affected there is a 10% chance of the endometriosis coming back.  I asked him to do bloodwork since I had not had any done in almost a year. He dismissed me and asked me, “what type of blood work should I order?” I wanted to tell him that he was the one who went to medical school and that a quick Google search would give him the answers, but I held my tongue. He also indicated that he did not think I had endometriosis and wanted to try me on a birth control pill for the next several months to see if that helps (since I had only previously tried an IUD).  Through my research I had learned that birth control does not necessarily stop the progression of endometriosis, but it masks the symptoms. I tried to explain to him that I was very worried about taking anything that might cause depression and mess with my mental health, as this is a delicate balance that I don’t want to mess with. He put me on Yaz and told me I could stop it if I had any mental health issues. I left that appointment trying to hold back tears and sobbed the entire car ride back to work.  I was disappointed that the appointment did not go as I had hoped and I felt slightly humiliated from yet another examination and having to explain everything that is happening with my body. I had hoped to feel like I was on the right track and that I was in good hands, but that nagging feeling in my stomach was still there.

After doing more research I decided to see my primary care physician to update her on the situation and to also have blood work done.  She was wonderful
(thank god!) and my blood work showed that my c-reactive protein level has increased and is high (this only indicates that there is inflammation somewhere in the my body and leaves me susceptible to a whole list of issues in the future if it remains high) and that my vitamin B12 and D levels were really low.  I started on some more supplements to address the vitamin levels and decided that I would pursue trying to get an MRI of my pelvis. Research and many case studies have demonstrated that endometriosis does not always show up on an MRI, but my thoughts were that at least we would know if something was visible or not.  I contacted the second surgeon, who put me on the birth control to see if he could order an MRI. Initially he did not want to, stating that it might be a high out of pocket expense to me. I let him know that I knew my benefits and that it would be covered because we had met our deductible and out of network deductible.  After I advocated for myself, he ordered the MRI. When I went to have the MRI done I got really faint, pale, and sweaty because the nurse dug into my veins to put in the IV. She acted like this had never happened before and that I must have done something to make myself react this way. A couple days later I was told that the radiologist read the results and that the only thing seen were benign cysts on my liver.

It’s been two months since I started Yaz and I absolutely hate it.  Since I started it I have way less energy, muscle weakness in my legs, worsening asthma, constant spotting, hot flashes, increased sweating, chills, pain in my hands and more visible veins. I joined this group on Facebook that is absolutely amazing and is run by a nurse who also has endometriosis.  That page has so much valuable information and research- along with a list of doctors worldwide who are trained and knowledgeable about endometriosis and have had countless excellent patient outcomes. From this list, I was able to find a group in Atlanta (who is out of network with all insurance, therefore very $$$) and several doctors in Florida.  I went to our insurance website and looked up any doctors that I think were feasible for me to travel to and to see if they took BCBS. I found a list of three doctors in Florida who were in network with BCBS. It just so happened that I was going to Daytona Beach in July to meet up with my family, so my hope was that one of the doctors in Orlando would be able to see me for an appointment that week.  All the stars aligned and I saw an amazing doctor in Orlando, my first day of vacation before meeting up with my family.

First of all this doctor is hispanic (yay supporting minorities) and a woman, which really made me happy and more comfortable.  She was really warm, listened to my symptoms, validated weird things happening with my body, and indicated that she thought the MRI was incorrectly read based on her exam.  She let me know that she was going to have her radiologist review my images and also she would be calling me to set up surgery. This past Monday I got the call that my surgery is scheduled for 08/01 and that the radiology did see that my right ovary is fused to something, which could be my appendix. I might have to have my right ovary and my appendix removed along with any lesions (of endo) that she finds when she opens me up.  

A lot of things are unknown, which drives me bonkers and heightens my anxiety.  We won’t really know how my body is affected until she goes in and has a look. That means she will have  several doctors on call during my surgery in case my bowels, appendix, and other organs are affected. She did assure me I would not wake up with a colostomy bag, which I appreciate and didn’t even know was a scenario that could happen!  My recovery time is unknown because of not knowing how invasive the surgery will be. We have booked an Airbnb for a little over a week with the assumption that I will be able to get back to Atlanta then. I am trying to tell myself that the money we are spending is worth it for me not to be one of those patients with 28 surgeries and the money we are spending going to Orlando is a lot cheaper than seeing a doctor who is out of network in Atlanta.

Since my appointment in Orlando, I have been feeling progressively worse.  I don’t know if this is because I know I am close to some relief or that things are just progressing.  I have not been able to drink my decaf coffee in two weeks due to nausea in the morning. I have been craving lemon/lime Gatorade like a mad woman and as of today had some dry heaving (fun!).  My body fluctuates from having hot flashes to chills and I am utterly exhausted each day.

What I have taken from this experience is that it is important to listen to your gut, advocate for yourself (even when it’s uncomfortable), and to seek more than one opinion when having a major procedure.  I have been dismissed, told that my pain is all in my head, denied pain medication because “I should not be in this much pain,” and made to feel like this is just a normal part of womanhood. This has been a frustrating two years and has opened my eyes about the faults of our medical system and how it relates to women.  I will no longer blindly believe someone just because they have credentials after their name. Accepting help does not make me weak and that it is a necessary part of life. I know my body best and I am now able to be an advocate for myself.

by krubesch

Real Talk

“Write hard and clear about what hurts.”
Ernest Hemingway

Due to the recent celebrity suicides, I have been thinking a lot about what my depression looks like on the outside and how people I am close to would know when I am struggling to keep my footing in this world. I know I have written about my depression and suicidal thoughts before (as this blog is mostly written about these subjects), but each time I put my most vulnerable thoughts on paper and create a permanent record letting everyone know my struggles- it feels like coming out all over again. Let’s be honest, it’s pretty taboo to admit that your brain is fucked up and that is one of the reasons why it’s important to talk about it. A few years ago I had to take a FMLA leave from a job that was very stressful and I was struggling with increased PTSD symptoms along with high blood pressure. I remember being completely distraught when my FMLA paperwork was sent to the wrong fax and a coworker looked through my paperwork and started rumors that I was having a nervous breakdown. I was so ashamed that I had to take a break from work and that my PTSD was a part of the reason why I had to. It felt taboo to show any weakness, especially since I was in management and I was terrified of what people thought of me.

People resort to suicide, or at least I struggle with suicidal thoughts when I am overwhelmed with my feelings and emotions along with the shame and stigma of having these thoughts in the first place. The silence of keeping these thoughts to myself is often deafening and although all of this is embarrassing to admit, we need to talk about it or we will keep losing people we care about. I cannot speak for Anthony Bourdain or Kate Spade, but I can speak for myself.

Today was one of the hardest days I have had in awhile. I had a particularly difficult and draining therapy session last night and being in constant physical pain is starting to wear on me. I feel like I have been hit by a bus, which is how I usually feel the day after I’ve done a lot of work in therapy. I pressed the snooze button for over an hour and fell asleep in the shower. I contemplated staying home from work, but knew that might make things worse. On my drive into work I thought about what my outward signs of depression look like and I came up with this list:

  • I completely stop wearing makeup because I usually end up crying on the days I actually wear mascara and I look like a racoon (it’s harder to hide that I’ve been crying). I also sleep too late in order to have time to put it on.
  • I stop exercising and want to spend most of my time watching tv or laying in bed.
  • I push people away and cancel plans- even though I desperately want to connect.
  • I become forgetful and have a hard time paying attention.
  • My posture is different- it feels like I am moving through my day with a heavy, wet blanket on my shoulders. Every daily task feels difficult.
  • I am way more quiet than normal (crazy, I know!).
  • I have sleepless nights or I sleep for over 10 hours at a time.
  • I avoid eye contact and shut down
  • I use humor in order to avoid serious conversations or in a self deprecating way before anyone else can criticize me

Words I have heard to describe people who have committed or attempted suicide are lazy and selfish. I personally know that this is not true. Suicide may look selfish to the people who are left behind or those who don’t struggle with this particular demon, but as someone who has contemplated suicide, I have convinced myself that it is the least selfish thing I could do. Depression tells me that I am a burden and that people are tired of dealing with me. It convinces me that everyone would be better off without me and that I would really be doing the world a favor. As someone who has worked really hard and spent thousands and thousands of dollars in order to try to combat (or at least alleviate it, since it appears to not be going anywhere) my depression, I would argue that I am the opposite of lazy, even though American society and I tell myself that I am. Sometimes that is the worst part, working so hard to feel better and it never (my wise mind knows that it is occasionally and not always) feeling like it is enough or that I am trying hard enough. Sometimes I get really mad and feel like it is selfish of people to make me promise that I won’t hurt myself, when I know that they just care. I feel like they don’t understand, but I know deep down that this is not necessarily true. I get mad at them because if they cared so much, then why don’t they do more to make me feel better? Don’t they know that if I am contemplating suicide, it feels unbearable to be inside my body and in my mind? But I know, that it’s really not up to them to make me feel better, it’s all on me.

What do you do when a friend is struggling? It helps me when people check in with me, even though I might have stopped reaching out to them. Talking to or just sitting with someone who I know will just hold space for me helps. I clam up if people tell me how I have it better than others (of course I know that, it does not negate that I still feel this way) or if they freak out about hearing that I have had suicidal thoughts. Please do not tell me to do self-affirmations. Please do not tell me that this too shall pass, because in the moment it feels like it won’t. Something as simple as a text can help me when I am in a funk. Asking me to reach out when I am struggling is complicated. That is the last thing I want to do when I am down in it. I recognize that it is my responsibility to get help when I need it, but I tend to only reach out for help when things are pretty bad.

I can say that the severity of my suicidal thoughts has diminished over the past year and that it does appear my hard work and money spent is helping in that regard. I am too practical to hope that one day I won’t have these thoughts or urges, as they have been a part of my life for a very long time. If you also struggle with suicidal ideation, I can say that is gets better (or maybe more manageable) even as cliché as that sounds.

 

For crisis text line- Text CONNECT to 741741 in the United States.

 National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: tel:1-800-273-8255

 

by krubesch

The Journey

The Journey

By Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew
What you had to do, and began,
Though the voices around you
Kept shouting
Their bad advice‚
Though the whole house
Began to tremble
And you felt the old tug
At your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
Each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
Though the wind pried
With its stiff fingers
At the very foundations‚
Though their melancholy
Was terrible.
It was already late
Enough, and a wild night,
And the road full of fallen
Branches and stones.
But little by little,
As you left their voices behind,
The stars began to burn
Through the sheets of clouds,
And there was a new voice,
Which you slowly
Recognized as your own,
That kept you company
As you strode deeper and deeper
Into the world,
Determined to do
The only thing you could do‚
Determined to save
The only life you could save

I have not felt suicidal for what feels like a long time (and probably has been a long time for my brain when I have not conquered a bout of depression).  For the past 2 weeks or so these dark thoughts have re-entered my mind with a fervor and this concerns me. I have been on the same cocktail of medicine for a year now, which is the first time in over four years that my medications have not been changed every 3-4 months.  This feels like a victory because it means I am stable (with the occasional trigger or bad week) and I have also gotten used to whatever side effects that come with this cocktail and have learned to live with them. Almost a year ago I started TMS (Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation), which along with this medication cocktail I am currently on, I credit with saving me from the depths of depression and probably my life.  Overall, I think the past year has been one of my best (of the past four) in terms of my mood and energy and this recent return of suicidal thoughts makes me worried. My wise mind reminds my emotional mind that thoughts come and go and most likely the reason why they have returned is due to the chronic pain and the increase in the severity of pain that I have been dealing with for about a year and 7 months.

The pain I am writing about began in September of 2016.  All of you who are squeamish about the reproductive system need not read any further!  It started with a UTI that lasted for about a month and a half. Although the UTI had been medically resolved with two rounds of antibiotics, my body felt like it was still there.  My symptoms were intermittent dull and stabbing pelvic pain and a feeling of pressure on my lower abdomen. Because I was and still am doing trauma work in therapy, my therapist, psychiatrist, and I thought I was experiencing body memories, which I had not heard of until then.  (For more information on body memories click here http://help4trauma.org/bodymemories.html).  After a couple of months of this pain and an increase in the frequency, I became worried and scheduled an appointment with my primary care physician’s office with a doctor I had seen once (my regular doctor was not available).  At this appointment it was very apparent to me that this doctor was in a rush and I was in the way of her lunch break. I explained to her what was going on, along with the information about my PTSD and working through that in therapy (which is hard for me just to tell random strangers and to talk about in general).  She basically dismissed my pain, told me it was probably in my head and ordered a strep test because I mentioned that I had a sore throat, but that was not the reason for my visit. She acted like the strep test was my consolation prize and that they would call me with the results. As I knew, the strep test was negative and my pelvic pain remained along with shame and embarrassment.

In the past year and 7 months I have been to 2 visits with primary care physician’s, 2 Minute Clinic appointments, 3 visits to a urologist who specializes in female issues (including one invasive procedure), 6 visits at my gynecologist office with two different doctors, countless dry needling visits and conversations with my boss and coworker (physical therapy office), and 1 visit to a gynecologist who specializes in endometriosis. I have been to the gynecologist more in the past year than in my entire life (seriously,one of the things I hate most in the world). The visits with the urologist and gynecologists left me feeling triggered for several hours to a couple of days.  I think I dissociate somewhat during these procedures and later on in the day my mind finally catches up to what my body felt and I end up feeling dirty, disgusting, and humiliated. Any other body part would be so much easier to deal with it really makes me angry that it’s my pelvic region.

What has been extremely frustrating is that in this whole process I don’t have someone overlooking everything.  My psychiatrist has told me to speak to my pcp, my pcp has told me to speak to my gyno, the gyno has referred me to the urologist and so on.  Even though I would think that my psychiatrist would want to speak to anyone messing with my hormone levels, as any change could affect my mental health symbiosis.  Everyone seems to be passing the buck to the next medical health professional. Honestly, my therapist and my boss have been the most helpful through this whole process and they are not medical doctors.  

In May 2017 I decided to try the Mirena IUD with the hopes that regulating my menstrual cycle would help resolve my pain and the hemorrhaging that occurs along with it.   I was pretty much pain free for 4-5 months with the Mirena (and period free, yay!) and then I started having back and hip pain along with the return of the pelvic pain. In February of 2018 I went back to the gynecologist, and she saw that I had a 3mm cyst of my right ovary and that this was probably causing my pain and could have been brought on by the IUD (a side effect is an increased risk of cysts along with a bunch of other unpleasant other side effects).  She did say that it looked like the cyst was resolving on its own and that I should follow-up in a month. A few days after this appointment I called her because my pain had not decreased and Tylenol and Motrin were not helping. For the record, it’s very hard for me to advocate for myself and I dislike calling physicians to ask questions. I hate asking for things in general. When she called me back, she basically insinuated that the amount of pain I was having seemed to be more (meaning that I was exaggerating or drug seeking) than what someone should have with a cyst of this size that was resolving on its own.  She called in a stronger type of Ibuprofen to the pharmacy and said that should help. It did not. When I went to my follow-up with her a month later, I still had the cyst, but it reduced in size to 1.5mm. Because I was still having the back, pelvic, and hip pain, we decided to remove the IUD at that appointment to see if that was the issue (as I had done extensive research about the side effects of the Mirena) and had never had back pain before getting the IUD.

Since having the Mirena removed in March of this year, I have had right eye twitching every day, pain in the palm of my hands, increased back, pelvic, and hip pain, bloating and have been unable to wear any pants that put pressure on my middle and lower abdomen.  I have had to buy 5 pairs of leggings and long cardigans and shirts so that I have clothing to wear to work! Although the Mirena was not the answer to my pain, it does appear to have helped some with my symptoms because now I am much worse now without it.

I am thankful that I have an awesome job and I heard a patient telling my boss about the doctor who had changed her life.  He was the 9th doctor that she had seen and she was so happy to share his information with me. I had to wait a month to get an appointment with him and saw him 10 days ago.  At this appointment he validated my pain and basically acted like it was a no brainer that I have endometriosis. He was surprised that no one else connected my symptoms with an endometriosis diagnosis. He gave me three surgical options to choose from and sent me on my way. The appointment and his conclusion happened so fast that I had to verify with him that he was sure and that I had heard him correctly. I don’t think I have ever happy cried like I did that day when I called Leah from my car.  I cried because I finally had an answer that made sense, that I was not crazy or making things up, and that hopefully my symptoms will be alleviated soon.

I feel like I have been on a roller coaster of emotions since then.  It is disappointing that there is not a cure for endometriosis, especially since it apparently is very common (almost as common as diabetes).  I go from being hopeful that treatment will alleviate my symptoms to wondering if I will be in pain until I go through menopause. I have scheduled a laparoscopic procedure for July 11th and I think the hardest part is going to be waiting until then when it feels like my pain is increasing and my comfort levels are decreasing.  All the doctors that I have seen are hesitant/ resistant to prescribing me anything for pain, which is frustrating. I have been researching what I can do on my own in order to be able to function on a daily basis. Getting out of bed in the morning has been particularly difficult. I am extremely tired and usually in a lot of pain. I have noticed that I am not enjoying activities and end up leaving early in order to be able to alleviate my pain and get comfortable at home.   This morning I felt especially hopeless and I wondered how I am going to be able to wait until July. The dark thoughts clouded my sunny drive to work and as usual lately, I felt on the verge of tears. I am reminding myself to try to take it one day at a time and to allow myself to be aware of my needs without beating myself up.

 

by krubesch

Honey and Pain

“The days aren’t discarded or collected, they are bees
that burned with sweetness or maddened
the sting: the struggle continues,
the journeys go and come between honey and pain.
No, the net of years doesn’t unweave: there is no net.
They don’t fall drop by drop from a river: there is no river.
Sleep doesn’t divide life into halves,
or action, or silence, or honor:
life is like a stone, a single motion,
a lonesome bonfire reflected on the leaves,
an arrow, only one, slow or swift, a metal
that climbs or descends burning in your bones.”
― Pablo Neruda, Still Another Day

 

I have an impeccable memory when it comes to people, dates, events, and I usually remember these things with how they relate to time. Sometimes this is a blessing and very useful and other times it’s a curse. I am often telling Leah what we were doing a year ago or that 3 years ago today xyz happened. It’s probably normal to start reflecting on the past year during the month of December and I’ve been thinking a lot about all that has happened. It’s hard to believe that a year ago during this time I was making the decision to spend Christmas and New Years in the hospital (and ended up staying there for 3 weeks). It feels like longer than that and also like it was just a few months ago at the same time.

I keep having these eerie dejavu feelings about how this week last year I was completely anxious about going to the hospital and was not sleeping very well at all. In order to quell my anxiety of the unknown, I was obsessed about what I would take with me and finding shoes without laces and clothes that did not require a belt or have any strings. Memories pop up now from my stay when I put on some of the clothes I bought specifically to wear at the hospital and I find myself transported back to that time. Sometimes I wish that I was going back when the tasks of everyday life feel so overwhelming. It was so nice not to worry about anything other than working through my shit. I didn’t have to think about what I was going to cook for dinner or try to figure out how to get everything done (working out, cooking, laundry, grocery shopping, picking up the house, getting up for work when it felt impossible to get out of bed ect.) between work and appointments. It feels like I’ve been taking care of myself for such a long time that I long for being completely taken care of and letting my guard down.

I know now that depression is a liar, at least I know this to be true when I am having good days. On good days when that negative voice sneaks to my head I am able to brush it off and on exceptional days I am able to reason with it. On bad days depression is a fortune teller, the voice of reason, and the decider of all things. I can’t tell the difference between the critical voice in my head and depression, but maybe they are one in the same…or they egg each other on when they are both present. There are days when my critic tells me I am to blame when Leah and I are having marital issues, that I screw up every relationship given the chance, that I’m a failure and lazy. It tells me that things are not going to get better and that my good days never last. That no matter how hard I try it is never enough. There some days where everyday tasks seem to be insurmountable and that scares the shit out of me. I don’t want to go back to that place I was a year ago, I don’t want to have to make a difficult and life saving decision like checking myself back into the hospital. My wise mind tells me that just because I am having a rough patch, does not mean that I will be crushed by the bowling ball of depression. My emotional mind is telling me that it’s only a matter of time before I will need to go back to the hospital.

On bad days depression tells me that I am a burden and an inconvenience. That people don’t want to be around me, that I am a drain. I go from being very excited about making and having plans with my friends to wishing that I hadn’t made those plans. That I won’t know what to talk about or that I won’t have fun anyways. When I listen to depression and cancel, then I’m lonely and sad that I am by myself. I’ve recently had back pain and been unable to do a lot of things for myself. I knew that I was bad at asking for and receiving help, but I didn’t know the extent of it. I thought my difficulty with help had to do more with getting emotional support from others, but it extends to even asking for help with my job duties or tasks around the house that I have deemed as mine.

I still am having difficulty with my body image and managing impulsive behavior, although it is much better. Depression tells me to eat crap. That chocolate or baked goods will make me feel better. And it does, momentarily. It does until I catch my reflection in the mirror and see this fat person staring back at me. I tell myself that I don’t have any discipline, that I’m disgusting, and that I have to go on a diet. I can’t remember a time when I felt good about my weight (I started my first diet in second grade). When my pants are getting tighter around my waist as I try to button them I berate myself for making bad decisions, for not taking care of myself. I know in my wise mind that I would feel better if I ate healthier and went to the gym more often, but it’s a vicious cycle where I am so tired I can’t fathom adding one more thing to my day. I get mad at myself for succumbing to my exhaustion and then bully myself into eating healthy for a day or two until I give in again. And it starts all over.

Depression tells me to buy things. It tells me that a little treat will make me feel better, I get a rush from looking around stores and feel better about my appearance if i can make myself more presentable with something new. It does not have to be something big, I can be something as simple as a t-shirt, but that stuff adds up. I then get mad at myself for spending unnecessary money, especially on myself. I like picking up treats for Leah and have an easier time justifying spending money on her. There is something about spending money on myself that gives me a lot of guilt or maybe it’s shame.

Depression or is it my critic? (sometimes I can’t tell the difference) tells me that I am a failure and that I will never be financially (career wise) successful. It tells me that I buckle under pressure and that I am destined to stay in jobs where I don’t make a lot of money because they are low in stress and pressure. My mind recalls all of my memories in which I feel like I have failed when I am lying in bed trying to fall asleep. It ridicules me for having to drop chemistry and convinces me that I am not cut out for grad school. I feel like I have not pulled my financial weight in my marriage for years now. We used to trade on and off organically as to who is the breadwinner, but Leah has been left holding the bag for awhile. I look at how much money I have cost us since July in doctor’s appointments and the therapy that is out of network with our insurance and I feel guilty and like a drain. My body hurts all the time, but I cannot justify acupuncture visits and massages because we have more important items and appointments that we need to pay for.

I know that a lot has changed this year and that I will be ending 2017 in a better place than it began. It’s hard to remember how much has changed when I am am in the thick of a flashback, a body memory, or letting myself feel emotions that are foreign and difficult. I have to remind myself that a year ago it was rare for me to go through a day without some kind of suicidal thought and that I had come extremely close to giving in. I think about all that I put my wife through and how we are in a much better place today (thanks to a lot of hard work on both our parts). I know that I am better equipped to handle a rough day and that I have started reaching out and talking more when I need extra support. There is a part of me though that thinks that none of this is enough and is impatiently waiting to move past this, to be able to get off my meds completely, to be able to be present in my body without wanting to disappear, to not have depression ever present and looming in the background and to not feel like we are spending so much money on maintaining my mental health.

 

 

by krubesch

TMS

“Perhaps the biggest tragedy of our lives is that freedom is possible, yet we can pass our years trapped in the same old patterns…We may want to love other people without holding back, to feel authentic, to breathe in the beauty around us, to dance and sing. Yet each day we listen to inner voices that keep our life small.”
Tara Brach, Radical Acceptance: Embracing Your Life With the Heart of a Buddha

My last session (number 35) of TMS (transcranial magnetic stimulation) was on Friday 07/07/17.  I am really glad that I was fortunate and privileged enough to be able to receive this treatment due to insurance and a very flexible boss (THANK YOU INGRID!).  I can’t say that I am completely better and that it’s made a huge difference, but I think it’s definitely helped.  When I am in a bad place it’s really hard to remember my good days and when I’m in a good place it’s hard to remember how low and dark I can get.  In order to keep track of how TMS has affected me overall and on a daily basis,  I kept a log everyday with: the date, appointment number, medications taken that day, symptoms/ side effects, mood (1-10) before TMS and after, number of appointments each day (including TMS), activity done during TMS, and blood pressure and heart rate.  I am really glad I used this log everyday and included all of these categories, as it’s hard to keep track of it all.

What I noticed after 2 weeks (10 sessions) was that it felt like the wet heavy blanket of depression was lifting up and not weighing as heavy on my shoulders.  I had to take a good look at my log and my everyday activities to really determine how it was helping due to the fact that I have PTSD in conjunction with my depression.  The experience with TMS made it easier to separate the depression from the PTSD because the depression lessened, but my PTSD symptoms have remained.  This sounds like a bad thing, but actually it was quite helpful because I am aware now of the work I need to do and how PTSD affects my life separately from the depression.  I was able to tell that my depression had lifted because I have been walking the dog a lot more, I’ve had some good days and had that awareness, I’ve been upping my game on my appearance such as nicer clothing, wearing makeup, and blow drying my hair.  I’ve been more active with my social life and making plans with friends.  I’ve had more energy, which has enabled me to cook dinner and keep up more with the house.  There have only been a few nights since the end of May in which I have had to take sleeping pills (the first time in over three years!),  and I have been thinking more about my future and career goals again.  I knew that when I was looking back into pre-requisites and Occupational Therapy programs that I was definitely feeling better.  I have not made any decisions, but the fact that I am investigating is huge.

I wrote these two first paragraphs over three weeks ago and since then life has been extremely stressful, which has affected my anxiety and sleep.  My wife’s car was totaled on 07/09/2017 due to another driver being on his cell phone and thankfully she was not seriously hurt.  That is the silver lining. Pearly White, on the other hand was decimated and dealing with the other driver’s insurance has been a nightmare.  The added stress of being down one car, having to buy another car, dealing with his insurance company and ours, and ultimately taking on a car payment unexpectedly (Pearly had been bought with cash and we were going to keep her until her wheels fell off) has increased my anxiety level as a whole and brought sleepless nights and use of sleeping pills I had previously- proudly stopped needing.  Although I have been triggered by this huge event and other minor instances since stopping TMS, I can say that the heavy fog of depression has mostly stayed away.

This has lead to some serious work in therapy now that we are not trying to remedy the depression and keep it at bay.  Since the depression has lifted I have had longer and more intense flashbacks of the rape I endured as a 4 year old.  We’ve also been dealing with my ever present and immense feelings of shame and my relationship with my father. These have been very difficult sessions and I often feel like I have been hit by a truck the next day and have difficulty adjusting my emotions the night of.  Although these sessions are difficult and highly distressing, I think that it’s necessary (unfortunately, because if I could keep trying to avoid this- I DEFINITELY would).  We have not decided to work on these things in sessions, rather my body seems to be telling us that we must.  It actually amazes me how the simple act of focusing on my breath or closing my eyes brings on these crazy body memories and flashbacks during therapy.  I get mad at myself because they seem to come out of nowhere and it’s not like my therapist and I are specifically talking about the trauma or anything.  Because I get mad at myself, my feelings of shame increase, which seem to be the trigger for these flashbacks- and thus a cycle ensues.

Yesterday in therapy we were discussing kindness or compassion, and my therapist asked me to close my eyes and imagine people who I feel safe with.  Before I closed my eyes, I had the foreboding feeling that a flashback was in my near future, and as soon as I closed my eyes the familiar body sensations started and I was triggered immediately.  Once I told my therapist what was happening, she asked me what I was feeling and I told her that my critic was out in full force.  She asked me what it was saying and I told her, which lead to talking about growing up with my father (since he is basically the critical voice in my head) and soon after starting to speak about him I could feel myself leaving my body in a dissociative haze.  My dissociations have been different lately, it was like I was looking at my arms knowing that they were my arms, but feeling like that was not really my body and that those arms did not belong to me. If that makes any sense. It’s hard to explain. I’ve also started getting paralyzed (literally unable to move) when this happens, which totally freaks me out too. Usually I just numb out when I dissociate and the unwanted feelings go away.  This time and during the last therapy session it was like I was actually leaving my body.  I felt the sensation like I was falling away and that it was possible that I could go away from myself completely.  It’s a very unnerving feeling and makes me question reality.

This post was initially going to only be about TMS, but as usual, when I start writing I don’t know that I have a lot more to say.  I am including a video/podcast from Tara Brach that my therapist encouraged me to watch at the bottom of this post.  I found it pretty helpful as it relates to trauma and healing. One of my favorite quotes from the video is, “Those who are wounded in relationship, need relationship to heal.”  I think there is a lot of truth in that even though being in authentic relationships feel terrifyingly vulnerable and being rejected is my ultimate fear.

 

by krubesch

Cocktail

“In response to the trauma itself, and in coping with the dread that persisted long afterward, these patients had learned to shut down the brain areas that transmit the visceral feelings and emotions that accompany and define terror. Yet in everyday life, those same brain areas are responsible for registering the entire range of emotions and sensations that form the foundation of our self-awareness, our sense of who we are. What we witnessed here was a tragic adaptation: In an effort to shut off terrifying sensations, they also deadened their capacity to feel fully alive.”

Bessel van der Kolk, The Body Keeps The Score, p.94

I kind of feel like I have lost myself. Like all this work in therapy on dismantling negative beliefs and delving into the parts of me that feel like a dark abyss make me feel like I don’t know who I am.  I guess if I’ve dissociated or hidden parts of myself from myself for years maybe I never knew who I really was.  I was always just a shell of myself- what others dictated of me.

My time these days consists of working, spending time with my wife, and going to various medical professional appointments.  There was a 2 week (10 days M-F) period when I had 11 appointments while clocking 68 hours at work.  And yet all of these appointments were necessary.  Two of these appointments were at the Treatment Resistant Department at Emory (http://www.psychiatry.emory.edu/programs/trd.html).  Because medication and talk therapy are not significantly improving (or fast enough) my depression symptoms, my psychiatrist referred me to the TRD team.  These two appointments were two and three hours long involving a psychiatrist, a psychologist, and several computerized assessments.   After my appointments the team concluded that TMS (Transcranial magnetic stimulation) and possibly switching up my medication cocktail (yet again) were the best course of treatment for my particular situation.  Right now I am waiting on hearing back from Emory to see what my insurance benefits will cover for TMS.  If everything works out I will be going to an hour long appointment five days a week for six weeks having a coil deliver a magnet pulse on the surface of my head. (http://news.emory.edu/stories/2016/06/hspub_epstein_tms_for_depression/campus.html)

I am hoping I am able to do this and that it might deliver some results.  I am not putting all my eggs in this basket and will continue to go to therapy twice a week as I have been.

In January we added a stimulant to my medication cocktail.  This addition has been somewhat helpful, but I can’t figure out if the benefits outweigh the side effects.  The medication decisions lately seem to revolve around whether I can tolerate certain side effects and nixing other medications which have side effects I have deemed deal breakers.  Right now deal breakers for me are weight gain and lethargy (I don’t need any more help feeling tired!). Vyvanse, the stimulant I am taking, has definitely helped me to cope better with everyday life. It’s less effort to get out of bed, I’ve been actually cooking dinner, and I can manage a dog walk 1-3 times a week. I have even been to the gym once to lift weights!  This is a huge difference from the previous 4-5 months.  Headaches, an even drier mouth, more shakiness, jitteriness, and a brain fog in the afternoon are what come with the benefits.   I can’t decide if the jitteriness is increased anxiety or just extra energy I am not used to having- maybe both.

Another fun thing that’s been becoming increasingly painful and ever present is pain in my lower abdomen/pelvic region.  I have been assessed by my pcp, my gyno and will be going to the urologist this coming Monday. So far all the diagnostic testing shows that I don’t have anything wrong with me.  The gyno thinks that if I am cleared by the urologist I might be having symptoms of endometriosis and she will put me on birth control (more pills yipee!).  I have noticed that the pain gets worse when I am more emotionally dysregulated which means it could have an emotional component.  After finishing The Body Keeps The Score, by Bessel van der Kolk I understand how trauma has contributed to my chronic pain issues.  I do want to get completely checked out first before we determine that this is mostly trauma related.  The TRD clinic did comprehensive bloodwork and urinalysis tests when I was there.  The tests  concluded that I have an abnormally high blood sedimentation rate and a high C-reactive Protein level.  These tests basically just mean that I am having body inflammation.  It does not determine, why, where, or how.

Along with the pelvic pain comes increasingly more vivid and painful flashbacks. They seem to trigger each other. That’s also fabulous. Van der Kolk states, “Trauma victims cannot recover until they become familiar with and befriend the sensations in their bodies….Noticing sensations for the first time can be quite distressing, and it may precipitate flashbacks in which people curl up or assume defensive postures. These are somatic reenactments of the undigested trauma and most likely represent the postures they assumed when the trauma occurred” (p.102, 103).  I was totally weirded out in therapy last week when I curled up like a child and hid my face from my therapist. This action was involuntary and I just found myself just going along with what my body wanted me to do.

I have had friends ask me if I think all of this is necessary and if drudging up the past is just making things worse.  I have wondered the same thing, but both my therapist and van der Kolk (among many other professionals) have said that “In order to regain control over yourself, you need to revisit the trauma: Sooner or later you need to confront what has happened to you…” (van der Kolk, p.206).  It’s like the saying, “the only way out is through.”  Going through this recovery/process is probably the hardest thing I have ever done, but I know that not dealing with the trauma for more than three decades has brought me harm and strife.

The Body Keeps the Score is probably the most life changing book I have read to date.  It’s crazy how I can relate and see myself in almost every chapter of van der Kolk’s book.  It has really helped me to understand why I cannot readily identify emotions or know what I am experiencing/ feeling- there is a name for that, it’s called Alexithymia!  I need facts and information in order to make sense of myself and seeing it in written form really brings it home.

If everything falls into place, I plan to write and keep a daily journal about the TMS treatment. The psychiatrist at the TRD clinic also recommended that I use the hour during TMS to do some sort of meditation or relaxation techniques to make double use of that time.

by krubesch

                  Isolation

 

“In order to change, people need to become aware of their sensations and the way that their bodies interact with the world around them. Physical self-awareness is the first step in releasing the tyranny of the past.”

Bessel A. Van Der Kolk, The Body Keeps the Score

I’ve been reading several books (thanks to Amazon) and scouring the internet for more information about what’s happening or happened with my brain and my body.  I’ve convinced myself that if I am able to logically understand the horrible body sensations that are happening, then maybe they will have less power over me.  That they won’t feel so all consuming and terrifying. This is what I do, I research and research in an effort to calm my anxiety, to keep my worries at bay. To make sense of the muck.

I have been having these flashbacks where my body feels like it’s re -experiencing some of my trauma and this is a new thing that started I think (these days my memory is for shit) in October.  After I got home from the hospital these flashbacks have been stronger and more disturbing. They happen at all hours of the day and they are very unpredictable. They happen at home, in the car, at work, and more intensely in therapy. Today I realized that shame might be a trigger (up until now it has felt like they happen on a whim).  I had a bad experience at a doctor’s office today and as I was driving back to work I could feel the sensations starting.  Surprisingly, at that moment, I asked myself what emotion I was feeling and I was able to tell that I was feeling really ashamed. I then thought about what I was feeling when it happened in therapy the day before and I was also feeling shame and anger.

These feelings and flashbacks have caused me to retreat back into myself and to have an increase in suicidal thoughts (that are shaming on their own). I feel constantly on edge, tired, and anxious.   Leah has noticed that when she is busy I have been isolating myself at home and not reaching out to friends when I have free time.  I feel so tired all the time that I just want to rest when I can, but I’m having trouble balancing alone time with feeling isolated and lonely.  I think I’ve almost forgotten how to have friendships.  I feel completely out of practice.

The other day I was having some dark thoughts and started scrolling through my phone and every person that I started to reach out to- I had a rebuttal about why I should not bother them and that I was honestly embarrassed and I didn’t know what to say. How do I reach out when I don’t have anything to say?  I’ve done such a good job at isolating myself that I’m not sure how tell someone I haven’t had an honest conversation with (in a while) that I am struggling and need someone to talk me down.  I don’t even know what I need to hear.  I don’t know what’s going to make me feel better when it feels like my body is torturing me.  I don’t even know how to properly explain what’s going on without getting super humiliated or how to make the words come out of my mouth. So I text and the emotion gets lost in translation. It’s always easier to write.   My therapist told me the other week that writing is going to save my life.  I’m not sure if I believe her, but I hope she’s right.

The shame around certain topics seems to envelope me whole like quicksand.  I don’t realize I need help until ¾ of my body is covered up.  When I reach out, I’m not able to even let the person on the other end know how serious my text exchange is. That the fact that I am texting at all is something.   They have no idea that I’m struggling unless I spell it out, which of course is extremely difficult because of the shame monster.  Sometimes I feel like I only reach out anymore when I am at my wits end.  I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have a regular conversation when the backdrop of my depression is not ever-present.  I’m really not that good with small talk anyways, if you couldn’t tell.   There are a lot of areas in my life right now where I feel like I’ve lost my groove. My week to week seems to be a strict schedule of going to work, eating, sleeping and going to therapy.  That right there feels like a lot to handle.  It’s a good week if I’ve been able to walk Penny one time.

Reading all this information is helping, but it also makes me feel like I’m drowning in knowledge without a life raft.  How do I put what I’m learning into action or at least cut myself a break?  There’s a disconnect between understanding that there are reasons why I act the way I do and having compassion for myself.  For instance in The Body Keeps The score, Van Der Kolk states, “Even years later traumatized people often have enormous difficulty telling other people what has happened to them. Their bodies reexperience terror, rage, and helplessness, as well as the impulse to fight or flee, but these feelings are almost impossible to articulate.  Trauma by nature drives us to the edge of comprehension, cutting us off from language based on common experience or an imaginable past” (p.43).  So I know that it’s normal I have trouble articulating myself and speaking with others about what is going on, yet I still get angry and berate myself when I am not able to do so.  I can’t find the compassion to let it be and to meet myself where I am.

by krubesch

Re-entry

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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.

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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