Tag / anxiety

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

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

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

Empty

“Empty”

She lifts her skirt up to her knees
Walks through the garden rows with her bare feet, laughing
And I never learned to count my blessings
I choose instead to dwell in my disasters

Walk on down the hill
Through grass grown tall and brown
And still it’s hard somehow to let go of my pain
On past the busted back
of that old and rusted Cadillac
That sinks into this field collecting rain

Will I always feel this way ‒
So empty, so estranged?

And of these cut-throat busted sunsets,
these cold and damp white mornings
I have grown weary
If through my cracked and dusted dime-store lips
I spoke these words out loud would no one hear me?

Will I always feel this way
So empty, so estranged?

Well, I looked my demons in the eyes
laid bare my chest, said “Do your best, destroy me.
You see, I’ve been to hell and back so many times,
I must admit you kind of bore me.”
There’s a lot of things that can kill a man
There’s a lot of ways to die
Yes, and some already dead that walk beside me
There’s a lot of things I don’t understand
Why so many people lie
Well, it’s the hurt I hide that fuels the fires inside me

Will I always feel this way
So empty, so estranged?

Ray Lamantagne

I have two states of being: 1. full steam ahead and 2. done.  There is nothing in between.  I seem to keep going until I’ve exhausted myself and then I have to build up my energy again by being almost completely lethargic.  This lethargy then brings me full circle to depression and then it starts all over again.  I’m noticing lately that the full steam ahead is taking a lot more effort and is happening less frequently than in the past. I never thought that I was a person who was addicted to anything.  I’ve always been able to quit things cold turkey.  I tried smoking cigarettes in college and it didn’t take.  What I’m realizing now is that my addiction isn’t related to one thing, it’s whatever I use to help me escape from myself.  I am addicted to staying busy and whatever vice at the moment takes me away from this emptiness.

From January 2014-May 2014 it was alcohol. I had a love affair with red red wine, so much in fact that I was afraid I was becoming an alcoholic.  I’ve been sober since May, with maybe 3 beers or ciders total since then to now.  It was almost magical how that liquid created a courageous, calmer, funnier Katie.  I used this liquid courage in almost every social event to ending up drinking by myself because I wanted an escape from myself. I also used to erase the awfulness of my day or to banish a very difficult therapy session.  I had forgotten that just as fast as the wine made me more fun to be around, it also unleashed dark brooding sad Katie.  It was a toss-up to which guest would make an appearance at my house when I would be 3/4 of the way finished with my Argentinian Malbec.   After I made an asshole appearance one evening at my house, my wife kindly asked me if I would consider not drinking for a while.  It’s funny how it was her request that turned me around, not the fact that drinking to excess and taking xanax on a nightly basis could kill me.  My attitude was que sera, sera.

Since my breakup with red wine, I have not really missed alcohol except over Thanksgiving and today.  I have used alcohol as a coping tool to get through the holidays as long as it was legal for me to drink (and maybe a few years before that too).  This is the first holiday season that I have not had my liquid courage.  It’s been pretty difficult.  Someone asked me, “why I don’t just drink one glass to take the edge off?”  It’s not the alcohol that I’m afraid of.  I’m afraid of that feeling as much as I crave the escape.  I’d rather feel empty and aware of the world around me and the feelings that come with that awareness.  I know that with the first taste of that escape, I might never come back.

The absence of the possibility of escape is weighing on my mind today because I’m also a foodie.  I love flavors and smells.  I love it when I find a unique taste combination and get to share it with my wife.  Today it’s crossed my mind that maybe I just traded alcohol for food.  The healthier I get the harder it’s been to dissociate and I think I’ve been grabbing onto whatever I can.

  • Bill Cosby is a rapist? where the hell is the chocolate?!
  • Some dude has decided that Ferguson was caused because of feminism…I’ll take chocolate covered bacon while reading that article.
  • Mississippi beats Georgia in marriage equality…time to go to Taqueria del Sol for a veggie taco add slaw and a fried chicken taco.  Add an order of guac and chips.
  • My favorite show now has a character that was raped as a child and thinks it’s her fault….I want a milk shake and I don’t care that it’s served with a side of Christian hate (Chik-fil-a will only do at a time like this).

My Gastroenterologist told me today that it sounds like I am having some severe symptoms of reflux and I have to go back on a bland diet and start taking my prescription twice a day.  I also was told that if I lost 10-15lbs I might have fewer symptoms.  Not like I haven’t been trying to lose weight since I could stand tall enough to look in a mirror.  I’ve been in a funk since I received this news.  All I’ve wanted to eat today are things that contain acid. I told my wife that my only two vices that were left were food and shopping.  I can’t really afford either right now and it seems pretty dismal (first world problems, I know).

Maybe this is my body’s way of telling me that I need to really deal with my shit.  Obviously making myself crazy busy, obsessing about the problems of our country, drinking, and now food have slowly created different health problems when I’m using them to hide this mess of jumbled feelings and hidden memories that stay pushed down inside me.   I guess this holiday season I get to deal with my demons.

by krubesch

Detachment

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“If you trade your authenticity for safety, you may experience the following: anxiety, depression, eating disorders, addiction, rage, blame, resentment, and inexplicable grief.”
― Brené Brown

Many of you might think that the gender roles are easy to determine in my marriage, but just when you think you might have us figured out we swap places.  Leah does remove bugs from our house, but I mow the lawn.  We both cook- I cook a little bit more.  We both take pride in a clean house and in decorating.  I comfort Leah when she cries, which is often and I also mend our clothes with my minimal sewing knowledge. I fix the dishwasher and Leah plants our garden.  I show people I care by my actions and Leah uses her words. Leah is sensitive and I’m more shut off, which is why I thought “zoning out” and not really having a wide range of emotions made me a more dude like woman.   I thought that I just fit that male stereo type, but apparently it’s called dissociation.

“Dissociation is a phenomenon most people have the capacity to experience.  It is a coping mechanism used to manage stressors as minor as over-stimulation or as severe as sexual abuse.  As a way of coping, dissociation occurs when the brain compartmentalizes traumatic experiences to keep people from feeling too much pain, be it physical, emotional, or both.  When dissociation occurs, you experience a detachment from reality, like ‘spacing out.’  Part of you just isn’t ‘there in the moment.’” http://trauma.blog.yorku.ca/2013/04/the-fragmented-child-disorganized-attachment-and-dissociation/

I’ve been numbing my feelings and zoning out as long as I can remember.  It’s pretty crazy to me that I didn’t know that I dissociate until age 32.  I have counted ceiling tiles, organ pipes, stained glass windows and hats at church as long as I can remember.  Even on the rare occasion I am at church now, I find myself doing the same thing.  Leah will often ask me what I’m thinking and I honestly don’t have an answer for her on many occasions.  We will also have entire conversations that I don’t remember even though I’ve acted like I was listening and given answers where appropriate at the time.

My feelings happen in extremes. I know I’m mad when steam is about to come out my ears, I realize I’m stressed and overwhelmed once I feel tears threatening to fall down my face, and I know I’m depressed when I contemplate the pros and cons of ending my life.  I know I’m sad when I feel that hollow pain in my stomach and all I want to do is cry or sleep.

This is why I feel like I have become slightly narcissistic.  My blog is pretty much all about my thoughts and experiences due to the simple fact that I am experiencing and noticing parts of myself for the first time.  I’m slowly able to notice when my emotions are not overwhelming which is nice, but also uncomfortable.  By noticing a wider range of emotions I am able to feel content, happy, and relaxed.  Along with these feelings come boredom, indifference, and slight sadness. It’s the boredom and slight sadness that are the hardest for me to experience.  I know how to handle myself when I’m in the depths of despair.  I’m really good at that, but just sitting with a twinge of sadness is really hard.  I found myself getting mad at myself because I “shouldn’t” be sad at that particular moment.  I’ve found that “should” is a dangerous word.  “Should” has dictated my entire life and it’s really annoying how much I am catching myself using it.

I can’t help but to think about my childhood more as I am becoming aware of the ways I learned how to protect myself as a child.  On some level I think that I’ve always had an attraction towards women.  I’ve always looked up to role models in my life who were women.  I thought I wanted to be Gwen Stefani, but in reality I wanted to date her.  It would have been problematic for me to have figured I was gay at an earlier age, so I am thankful that I protected myself from that information. It’s amazing how the brain works.  How it knows when the rest of the body is able and ready to deal with memories and thoughts that it had hidden away.  My therapist told me early on that I still have these issues to work out because I was not ready until now.  These issues did not present themselves because my brain knew that I was not ready.  That’s intense.

I’m an analytical person so I tend to beat a dead horse into the ground.  I research things that are going on with me such as side effects to certain medications, information about any ailments, diagnoses,or issues that I’m having.  I guess that’s the way I process and start to understand things.  I’ve had to work very hard in school and developed a great if not excessive work ethic, so it’s foreign to me just to accept things as they are.  Part of me wants to determine the aspects of my personality that I have because I was abused and what is just me.  Unfortunately I don’t think I’ll be able to find the answer, but I need to learn to accept myself simply for who I am.

Feelings Image taken from pegitboard.com

by krubesch

Adrenaline Junkie

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“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

Side Effects

There’s a dark and a troubled side of life
There’s a bright and a sunny side, too
Tho’ we meet with the darkness and strife
The sunny side we also may view

Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side,
Keep on the sunny side of life
It will help us every day, it will brighten all the way
If we’ll keep on the sunny side of life

Tho’ the storm in its fury broke today,
Crushing hopes that we cherished so dear;
Storm and cloud will in time pass away
The sun again will shine bright and clear.

Keep On The Sunny Side of Life

Written by Ada Blenkhorn in 1899.
Music by J. Howard Entwisle.

I’ve been told recently by my new psychiatrist (she’s actually good!) that since I’ve had three major depressive episodes in my life the chances of me having another one is pretty high.  Therefore I must continue taking the all of the anti’s (medications) probably for the rest of my life.  It turns out that depression is an actual medical condition, not a choice like I’ve been told in the past!  Who knew?   I have been on and off medication since I was 16 years old.  It used to bother me that I had to take medication in order to lead a life that includes happiness and sleep, but I’m radically accepting this fact.  I was off meds for 9 years after college.  I was proud to be off the medications because of the feeling that I had conquered my demons and that I was controlling my feelings and emotions.  A nice perk of being off of medication is the avoidance of the dreaded side effects that come with taking medications.

DISCLAIMER- Anyone currently taking any of these medications may not have any of these issues.  Medications affect people differently and this is only my personal first hand experience. I am a special snowflake and these might work great for you!  DO NOT stop taking your meds simply because I have had these experiences!

I will start at the beginning with the medications that were especially memorable.  Ambien, oh Ambien.  How confusing it was to wake up outside or with food wrappers in my bed.  I apparently had an affinity for eating pop tarts while sleeping when I was on Ambien.   I also turned into a mid night drinker at the age of 16 when I didn’t really care for or like the taste of alcohol.  I would leave beer bottles on the kitchen counter and then get into trouble the next morning only vaguely remembering holding one in my hand.

Straterra was always fun.  I was told that this ADHD medication can help with PTSD symptoms, although I think the doctor was getting kickbacks anytime she prescribed this medication.  If y’all know me, I would in no way shape or form be described as someone who has ADHD symptoms.  Taking this medication can result in the following side effects: “stomach upset, nausea, vomiting, constipation, tiredness, loss of appetite/weight loss, dry mouth, dizziness, drowsiness, trouble sleeping, or decrease in sexual ability/desire may occur” (http://www.rxlist.com/strattera-side-effects-drug-center.htm).  Sounds like fun right?  I did not stay on this medication very long because it caused me to maniacally clean my room at three o’clock in the morning for several nights.  My mom might have loved this medication if it had not also made me irritable and tired.

Remeron, an antidepressant just made me more depressed.  It also made me want to eat everything in sight.   What girl with perfectionist tendencies doesn’t love gaining 30 lbs in a semester?  I put a stop to this one because it made me hate myself even more.

The most recent medication that has affected me was Cymbalta.  I could deal with the stomach upset, shaky hands, and decreased appetite.  It was the increase in my blood pressure that was a problem for me.  The highest my blood pressure got was 149/131 when I was coming off this medication and I am 32 years old. My family also has a huge history of high bp and Heart Disease.  I was told that I did not need to taper off this medication since I had only been on it a month.  That was a huge mistake.  I had something called brain zaps, crazy mood swings, and the shakiest hands I have ever had in my life.  This resulted in ultimately in my decision to take a FMLA leave of absence from my job for three weeks.

So, radically accepting that I am going to probably have my best friend Depression around the rest of my life means finding medication that has side effects I can deal with.   I am currently accepting the fact that I sweat like a pig, have very shaky hands, loss of coordination, and a dry mouth from Zoloft.  I can accept these conditions as long as I am not falling down into the deep black hole.  I have just started Trazadone for the second time and we will see how that goes.  I am on a much smaller dose this go around so my hangover this morning was way better than when I was in college.  I remember having to peel my eyelids open with my fingers in order to wake up in the morning.

Patrick and I had a bonding moment today about our shaky hands and who was going to make his pills steady enough to get into his mouth this morning.  We are both having on off day together.

Please excuse my sweatiness if you see me sometime soon!

by krubesch

This pessimist might be turning into an optimist…..

“Sometimes the smallest step in the right direction ends up being the biggest step of your life.”  Unknown

When I quit my job I was not entirely sure I was making the right decision.  I was worried about finances and logistics of leaving my entire support system in Alpharetta: therapist, doctors, mentor etc.  I’m a realist and logical and that means I tend to ignore hopes and dreams by believing that I don’t have any.  I do things because they need to be done, not necessarily because I want to do them. I think that quitting my job was one of the best decisions I have ever made.  I feel like I have found my niche- a place where I belong.  It also helps that Patrick and Susan don’t mind my nose piercing, tattoos, and I don’t need to worry if I look “straight” enough.

I don’t recognize this person I am turning into.  I always just thought that I am the type of person who see’s my cup as half empty and I expect the worst of almost every situation so I won’t be disappointed. That’s just who I was.  That is changing.  I’ve been getting up on my own before 9am on the weekends (which is unheard of for me), excited to get to work, cleaning the house after work, cooking again, and just generally in a great mood. I’ve been sleeping through the night without nightmares and active sleeping (rooming patients in my sleep or pulling down the curtain by our bed).  I don’t think I realized how miserable I was until now. I did not realize how much pressure I had put on myself and how that was showing up through symptoms in my body.  On some level I knew that my depression and anxiety were exasperated by the pressure cooker I found myself in, but it was my blood pressure and gastritis that made me start paying attention.  And the sheer amount of medication that I take everyday.  Two different meds for my stomach (one I was taking four times a day), one for depression, one for my bp, and that lovely little pill to help me sleep.   Maybe I had to be miserable in order to be able to see the light.

Turns out I am not gluten intolerant, just stress intolerant.  Acidic foods are also going down just fine these days! Yay for tomatoes and chocolate.

Today has been my favorite day at work.   Patrick and I have been cracking jokes at each other since he woke up this morning, the dogs have been sunbathing on the back deck, we hung out with Abby and Clare at their house and the park this morning and the weather is amazing.   Patrick was even dancing with me at the park.   Days like to today remind me that life has its bright spots and it’s important to recognize the good days even more than the bad.

I know that LBD is slowly taking Patrick away from his family in a lengthy and painful way, but this experience is also teaching me so much and I am forever grateful for this time with Patrick and the Dougherty family.  My father’s illness was in many ways different from Patrick’s (different diagnoses), but there are many instances where it’s like I’m reading a familiar book.   I know what it’s like to watch your father’s health slowly decline over years and to not know what lies ahead or what to expect next.   Spending time with Patrick almost feels like an absolution, my relationship with my father was complicated and difficult.  I feel like I am getting a second chance to have a male family figure in my life.

I’m beginning to realize that I can start to be involved in the trajectory of my life, that new experiences in my life can help to heal old wounds.

living-poster

Found on earmarksocial.com