Numbers Game

I stopped at 18 because it felt appropriate to end with how many IOP sessions I was approved to attend. But here's some number stats on my illness & treatment...

1: The number of ER visits.
2: The number of psychiatrists I've seen.
3: The number of suicide plans I've made.
4: The number of antidepressants I've tried since July.
5: The number of days I spent inpatient.
6: The number of people in my support system.
7: The number of times I self harmed in August.
8: The number of unsafe purchases I have made since August.
9: The number of weeks I've been in individual therapy.
10: The number of times I feel worthless on an average day.
11: The number of times I've called or have been called by my psychiatrist's office since getting out of the hospital.
12: The number of days I've wanted to end it all.
13: The number of people in the ADU.
14: The largest number of people I've seen in group in one night.
15: The number of times I've used grounding techniques this month.
16: The number of planning periods I've wasted due to depression.
17: The number of lines I had on my arm when I went inpatient.
18: The number of Intensive Outpatient Program sessions I get to attend.

A Few of my Favorite Things

So under the advice of my Intensive Outpatient therapist, I'm supposed to be taking the weekend off from focusing on the "heavy stuff" of my treatment. She suggested that if I still wanted to write, it needed to be something light, positive, and more gratitude based than soul searching. She suggested random things like "write about your 5 favorite body parts and why you like them." I kind of laughed about it, but I'm going to tweak it some and do a list of my favorite experiences with each of my senses (Meredith has been learning about the 5 senses at school, so it's been a focus at home to discuss...).

My 5 Favorite Things to See
My Family (children & husband)
Clouds Moving Through the Sky
My Friends
People Smiling
Sunrise/Sunset

My 5 Favorite Things to Hear
Great Music/Musicians
"I love you." (Not picky about who says it...)
The sound of my girls sleeping
The Wind
The way your friends excitedly say "Hey!" when you call them

My 5 Favorite Smells
Coffee, especially Starbucks
Rain
Gasoline (I know, weird...)
Cookies or Brownies baking in the oven
Good Cologne, Deodorant, or Perfume

My 5 Favorite Tastes
Coffee, especially Starbucks
Anything Chocolate
A cold Soda
Ice Cream
A Good Kiss

My 5 Favorite Things to Feel
A Hug
My Flute
A Soft Blanket
Metal
Skin to Skin Contact

Everyone's a Critic

criticism--the expression of disapproval of someone or something based on perceived faults or mistakes

Criticism is an interesting thing. People tend to associate criticism with an external force (a peer, a coworker or boss, a parent or family member) passing their judgement in a negative way. This can lead to blame. It can lead to bitterness. It can lead to anxiety. It can lead to giving up. It can lead to rage.

But is criticism always external?

I'm a perfectionist.
I'm terrified of conflict.
I personalize everything.

Criticism is another big ticket item in my struggle, but not because I have people in my life putting me down (though there have been times in my life where this was the case)...I struggle with criticism because of my own internal critic. My internal critic not only works its own magic with the constant taunting, but it tries to also work magic into convincing me that external forces are also passing the critical thoughts in the silence of their own minds.

It's funny, I had never really thought about this all until recently, but it makes so much sense. If you are close to me, you've noticed and commented on the fact that I apologize constantly. But why? It's not just that I'm extra nice, it's because I am convinced it is actually needed. If I ask you a question, my brain starts this fun cycle that goes something like this:
"Did you seriously just ask that? Are you that much of an idiot? Look at them, see that look? They think you are an idiot too. Good going, another person who knows the truth about what a complete and total idiotic waste of space you are."

If I am talking to you, I'm constantly analyzing your face, your movements, your tone and inflection...looking for the truth that you are criticizing me internally. If you don't respond, my brain starts more fun and I start freaking out. If you come watch me work, my skin is crawling. If I make a mistake in front of you...oh, that's the worst.

Tuesday night at my Intensive Outpatient group while we were talking about criticism, I just kept thinking about the questions Devon told us to answer:
What criticisms have you received from others?
What criticisms do you say to yourself?
Who are your biggest critics?
What would you do differently in your life if you didn't fear or receive these criticisms? 

...and I realized that probably at least half of the criticisms I feel are given to me are actually just things my brain tells me the other people are saying or thinking.

I thought about how I live my life in constant fear of criticism, conflict, and being alone. I lack confidence, I lack the ability to stand up and fight for myself, I lack trust in myself. I care so much about what someone else might say or think that I stay in the safe spots...I put on my armor and try to hide so I don't get hurt.

This week has been exceptionally tough. Cigna denied the authorization request for the medicine I've been on since going into the hospital, so I'm back to square one trying Med #3 and dealing with all the fun of coming off one/going on a new one. We're so far behind financially that I've had to ask for some favors and put off paying some things until payday. I'm still playing catch up from the first two months of school where I let my health get in the way of really doing my job. I've said so many things that I shouldn't to those I love most. I've been a pain in the butt and a burden. I've felt so worthless, so inadequate, so horrible. I've let myself slip back into the darkness pretty far...too far. I've tried to keep on the armor not just so I can protect myself, but so I can hide where I really am at this point.

But, I realized something tonight: this may not be the best way or a way to live really at all. We have to stand up, we have to fight, and we have to be the reason why we live our lives. We can't let the thoughts or opinions of people completely run the show. There's a really great speech that Theodore Roosevelt (yep, I like all the Roosevelt people...why do you think my daughter is named Eleanor?) that I think says what I'm trying to say so much better:

(You can read the full speech if you go here and scroll down a bit...http://www.theodore-roosevelt.com/trsorbonnespeech.html)

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."


So, that sounds great, right? The struggle of making those words a reality in the life I live daily is huge, though. It's not just reframing, it's completely taking apart not just how I have lived since childhood as well as taking apart myself...because I'm the main enemy of myself. My brain tells me that the whole world is against me, waiting for me to stumble or fall so that they can point and laugh...but really it's me against myself every single step of the way. I am the one taunting myself, I'm the one doing the failing and the ridicule. I'm setting myself up for hurt from myself.

But you know what? It's time to stop this somehow. It's time to stand up to myself because there's no way I will ever stand up to anyone else unless I do that first. It's time to tell myself that the extreme measures need to stop, the internal critic must stop. I am going to only listen to my true self, to my heart and what it is fighting for, because that's the part that matters is the part that feels, that lives, that loves. The part that hurts, that tricks, that hates isn't the me doing the work, so it doesn't deserve a voice. Or, as Brene Brown says, "If you aren't in the arena also getting your ass kicked, I'm not interested in your feedback."

A is for Accountability

Accountability: we all hear the words, say the words, or read the words almost daily. As a teacher, I am held accountable for showing growth in all of my students; I am accountable for helping them actually learn. I receive yearly scores based on evaluations my boss performs by observing me teach and scoring me using a rubric and by the data obtained on student achievement by the end of year standardized tests the state provides. As I parent, I am held accountable for making sure my children are cared for properly and I hold my children accountable for growing into (hopefully) smart, productive people by giving them chores and rules to follow. Our government and law enforcement hold us accountable to the laws established. The list goes on and on...

But in all of those cases, there is one person/body holding another person/body accountable. And in that lies the problem: someone is answering to someone else. But what happens when there needs to be accountability but there is no person or governing body to hold that over us or make us answer to when we fail?

My journey over the last several months has been nothing short of intense and a bit of a roller coaster. I went down the rabbit hole fairly deep, and stumbled into quite a dark place for quite a while. For a bit, there was no real accountability at all: I was continuing to dig myself in and nobody really knew where I was going or why I was trying to get there. By the time those closest to me saw what was happening and tried to help or hold me accountable for climbing out of the deep, dark pit, it was kind of too late for me to even care. For some, that meant trying to take scare tactics or extreme measures with threats. For others, that meant making themselves the accountable ones for my safety and life by having me on as constant of a watch and communication as they could. And for a few, that meant surrendering and backing away so that they didn't have to feel any sense of accountability at all; for some they needed to wash their hands of the responsibility of what might or might not happen to me because it wasn't worth the mess to them.

Since starting my "treatment," I've had lots of accountability from outside sources: my individual therapist has held me accountable with weekly appointments that have included requests to check my arms and lots of questions; during my week inpatient the nurses held us accountable by watching us take our meds one at a time, forcing us to attend all the sessions during the day, and having us sleep with our doors open; in my Intensive Outpatient Program I'm held accountable by two therapists and a group of about a dozen people that I spend 3 hours with 3 nights a week talking about not only my daily life, but facing some of the bigger, underlying issues and the demons inside; my psychiatrist is holding me accountable by seeing me every two weeks until he feels I'm stable and my medication is in full effect. I still have friends holding me accountable as well by checking in, by talking me through some of the continuing dark spells, and by still monitoring me to some degree.

At some point, though, to really walk out of the darkness completely, am I not going to have to hold myself accountable? Can I even do that? Can I be responsible for myself, my safety, my life?

Personal accountability, unlike general accountability from an exterior force, means making an ongoing habitual commitment to myself. Self accountability means that I am both the one being held accountable and the one holding the accountability. It means being aware of myself, being present with myself, and being willing to catch or stop myself. It means that instead of others keeping me from self harming that I have to make a promise to myself and keep it. It means that instead of having someone else check on me daily that I will have to empower myself to stay safe, use helpful and safe coping skills, and make the right choices in moments of potential crisis. It means instead of answering to other people when I stumble and start talking negatively about myself or buying a utility knife, I have to accept the outcomes and work my way out of it.

So, how do I move from this place of having others holding me accountable to a place where I can hold the accountability for myself? Where do I start in making this shift? Are there steps involved or do I just tear of the bandaid and "go it alone" all at once?

To be honest, I'm quite terrified to make this step. I don't know that I even can or will hold myself accountable. If I could, wouldn't I be already? Shouldn't this be something that is already being done? If I was able and willing to hold myself accountable, wouldn't I have done it so that I didn't end up where I am? Did all of this happen because I was unwilling to put in the effort to hold myself accountable? Did I do all of this to myself as an active choice? Am I still making this choice each and every day to continue to stray into darkness?

Or maybe it's all a process, and although there are lots of people holding me accountable right now, maybe I'm also making that choice myself? Does any form of accountability really work if we are unwilling to put in the effort ourselves? How much do we really care about what others think, what others will say or do, or the impact our actions have on others? If there was zero personal accountability going on for me right now, would I be making the progress I am? Would I even be here to write this right now?

Here's what I do know and can share in a couple of pictures: the first one is my arm just over a month ago, and the second is my arm just a few days ago. Regardless of where the accountability is coming from, the good news is that there is progress happening that can visually be seen. There's other progress, too, but it's taking a little longer and can be harder to provide in such a purely visual way.

Viva Las Vegas

Note: What you are about to read is simply an opinion of one not-quite-thirty year old liberal American mother of two that's a little bit tired and a lot a bit in a mood...don't hate, enjoy!

I'll be honest, I really haven't researched details about the shooter or the type(s) of gun(s) used. I also haven't looked at the timeline, how the situation was handled, or what law enforcement did to end it. I haven't read about all of the victims and why they did/didn't deserve it. I haven't looked at more than a few headlines...but that's all I really needed to know.

Because, here's the deal people: the only words we need to read are "mass murder." All we really need to know is that someone decided that it would be okay to just go and kill other people. All we need to focus on is that the people of our country have decided that the only logical response to anything is violence. We see it daily in the news: murder...attack...riot...brutality...violence. What is going on here?!

Well, for starters, I'm going to tell you that the way we handle mental health in this country is FUCKED UP. Mental illnesses are just that: ILLNESSES. Someone with depression should have the same access to care that someone with the flu, a heart condition, or cancer has. The reality, though, is far from this. We tell someone with these types of illnesses that they need to "grow a pair" or "get over yourself and deal with it." THIS IS NOT OKAY!!! THIS IS NOT GOING TO FIX ANYTHING!!! Then, if this person decides to reach out for help, guess what? They are probably going to wait at least 4-6 weeks to be seen by a psychiatrist, psychologist, or therapist. Their insurance will probably give them all sorts of red tape or extra paperwork to complete, suggest something stupid like "step therapy" for their medications, or call into question the need for the treatment at all. Everyday there are people suffering from anxiety, depression, PTSD, bipolar, suicidal ideation, borderline personality disorder, intermittent explosive disorder...the list goes on and on. We are at an all time high for mental illness in our country, yet we are ignoring these issues. Why?! You can't tell me there's not a link between these increases in violence and mental illness. You just can't.

There's also the problem of what we are teaching our children. When adults resort to anger and violence to solve problems, what are children going to do in response? When we continue to be selfish and unwilling to cooperate as a nation and as citizens, what are students in a classroom or at a school going to model? When we are reactive instead of proactive to problems, how will it ever improve? It won't. We have to break the chain somewhere, we have to rise out of this hole we've let our people fall into. It starts with how we resolve conflict in our homes. It is modeled in how we collaborate in the work place. It is taught to our children simply by what they see us do, hear us say. It's in how we treat each other every single day, from when we buy our groceries to when we talk to our spouses, to the way we interact with the teachers at the school our children attend. It all matters.

Then, of course, there's the issue of gun laws and the wide availability of access to fast, powerful weapons and large amounts of ammo. Yes, it's true that there's no easy fix to this. We can't just slap up new rules everytime something happens...we aren't Dolores Umbridge and our country isn't Hogwarts...but, we seriously need to stop making excuses like "guns don't kill people, people kill people" or "this country was founded on the right for me to do what I want with a gun." We need to look at facts as facts, not say that every fact we disagree with is a lie. I am overweight, this is a fact. I don't like that I'm overweight, but I'm not going to argue with my doctor that he's just selling me "fake news" just because I don't like the fact that I'm a fat ass. The same thing is true regarding gun violence. Just because you are a responsible gun owner doesn't mean that there's not a problem with guns in our country; just because you can do something doesn't mean you should. We need to reconsider what is logical and within reason. We need to look towards the future instead of living in the over 200 year old past. We need to decide what is best for the people as a whole, not one person as an individual.

Everyday I look at my two daughters and worry; every single night my mind races with the list of things that I need to do to protect them. There's the normal parent fears: they might eat something that isn't food, they might fall off their bike and break a bone, they might not eat the right foods, I may not read to them and hug them enough. Then there's my own set of fears because of my past and my own anxiety: what if their classmates make fun of them because they have to wear glasses in the 2nd grade, can I trust that little boy who always wants to sit next to my oldest daughter at lunch, what about that new PE teacher who is only 25 and is teaching my 17 year old, is it okay for my youngest to have a sleepover at a house with parents I haven't known for 20 years. Now, on top of that, I have to be worried that everywhere we go, every movie we see or any outdoor event we think would be fun to attend, some man might have an assault rifle and an agenda...this is just getting to be too much!!!

Now comes my favorite part...you know what everyone in this country seems to think the RIGHT answer is? Buy their own gun and "pray for the victims." Are you serious here?!

Maybe here's some food for thought: maybe praying for the victims is all fine and dandy, but maybe we should refocus our prayer, my friends. Maybe instead of praying for people who are dead and probably already enjoying the eternal party "upstairs" we should be praying for those of us who remain after this newest devastation to see better ways to prevent this happening again. Maybe instead of praying for families who are mourning, we should consider also praying for the people we have selected to "run the country" to come together with level heads, sympathetic hearts, and a renewed strength to figure something out. Maybe instead of praying for yet another city left to deal with the aftermath, we should be praying for our country as it continues to sit on its hands with no change even after all of these mass murders that seem to be so popular now.

And now I will end this with everyone's favorite quote: "The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." Isn't that what we're doing here, people? We keep repeating the same types of events over and over again, and every single damn time we are left with everyone spamming Facebook with "Pray for (insert city name here)!" and "You ain't taking away my guns, brah!" Can we stop with this remix already and come up with some new material? If not for you, if not for our country, at least for the future...at least for my own two daughters? At this rate, they won't even make it to the good parts of life like driving a car, drinking booze, having amazing sex, getting a college degree...they'll all be dead by then because someone will decide that their life is worthless...they'll die because Dwayne or Bobby over here can't see past the end of their nose that there's a difference between "my guns!" and innocent, beautiful lives that keep ending in bloodshed.

#rantover

Submission

submissive (adjective)--ready to conform to the authority of others; meekly obedient or passive

A Submissive Past

I remember learning from a young age that it is important to be obedient, follow the rules, do as you are told. I found myself following this in a very literal way: even if the end result meant pain or heartache for myself as an individual, I would blindly follow, I would passively conform. To be resistant meant punishment, whether it was from my parents, my teachers, an adult at church...there was no room for questioning, no ability to fight. I learned to follow all the rules, to make adults happy in order to avoid the negative consequence. Being invisible was better than being lashed or beaten down with words.

I don't think that being submissive was a choice I made out of joy or even desire. Maybe in the back of my mind part of me craved the love and praise that would come from being obedient, but often that praise never really came for me. There were definitely quick and drastic retaliations if I tried to resist conformity, if I fought back against the rule. 

Also I think that my brain never made the distinction, though, that there should be a difference in being submissive to adults or figures of authority and being submissive to a peer. When faced with a boy of my same age who was taller, stronger, and seemingly more prone to violence than I, I felt there was no choice at first but to submit. Just like with the adults, fighting was met with punishment and questioning was met with reprimand. However, unlike an adult just wanting me to follow the rules, this relationship was different. It contained more than I had ever known and traveled far from my comfort zone in life. There were images, there was touching, there were words that would smack me like sacks of bricks...and any attempt to resist was met with worse punishments. Also, unlike the adults, he would constantly change the game and the rules: when I became numb to one tactic, he'd select another; when I started to conform and accept my fate, he'd try to move up a level.

Growing A Backbone & A Voice

When I played the flute, the world I'd lived in for so many years started to melt away. I instantly was able to start producing sound, and the more I practiced, the better I became. I quickly surpassed those older than me. My band directors encouraged and pushed me. I felt that for the first time in my life, something I touched was beautiful; something in my life let me be the authority and pave the way instead of beating me into silent submission.

Flute playing ultimately led me to many other things and people who influenced my life in positive ways: band, drama, college, career. All of those dreams became a reality because of a choice I made in middle school...to play the flute. In a way, I can contribute every single friend I have today to that choice I made to play the flute.

Music is a powerful language unmatched by any other dialect and understood regardless of our geographical location or upbringing. Music gives a voice to those who have none. Performing music can give those who are terrified a source to shine, a place to build themselves up instead of letting others tear them down. I found a source of joy in playing both alone and with others. I found that praise, encouragement, and love I'd been looking for from my band directors. I've made friendships that stand up to the roughest storms, hardest seasons, and test of time.

I find it easy to stand up on my podium each day and encourage my own students to make music today. I constantly find joy in the progress we make, the wonderful music we perform together, the emotions we express. My job is powerful, it is satisfying, and it builds me up to continue to be strong.

Submissive Me Today

There are times even today that I struggle with resorting to that blind obedience and need to bow to authority. This often happens in times of conflict or in times when I interact with other adults. I find myself constantly resorting to apologies, anxiety, and taking on more than I can or should because of the fear of overstepping the lines.

However, there are places where I have comfort and support for expressing my mind. My inner circle, my support system, my people...whatever you want to call them...they are always there for me. I feel love, I get pushed to stay strong, I am reminded that I am more than I think I am, and that I am enough and perfectly whole just as I am. These people save me from drowning; these people keep me grounded. Through these relationships, I've learned that submission isn't always healthy. Sometimes, we have to stand tall and advocate for ourselves. Who will defend us but ourselves? We must remember to always take care of ourselves and hold our beliefs close to our heart. Sometimes we must be tactful and professional, sometimes we must boldly fight. But never, never should we run away and submit to fear.

It's a work in progress, but I'm getting there, day by day, breath by breath, one foot in front of the other. Progress isn't a straight path, but it's an important one to walk in my journey. I must persevere or I'll parish for nothing and all will be forgotten. Nobody arrives as a historical figure for their ability to conform and blend into the surroundings. Nobody ends their life wishing they would have been more submissive. So why should I?