chronic illness, domestic violence, mental health, mindfulness, Self-Esteem

Needing to be heard

I’ve been quiet. My goal back in December, when I started to blog was to do it 5-6/7 days a week. I’d like to lend my knowledge of life experiences and circumstances to those going through a similar situation through my written word. This is one of the reasons I was re-trained, while being on disability from being a “retired” Certified Veterinary Nurse and Nationally Certified Professional Massage Therapist to Certified Peer Specialist in the Mental Health Field. I wanted to share my past and present current struggles and knowledge with people in recovery from mental health “issues” and help them to start enjoying their days again. With having chronic illnesses and flares, lately seeming like every 3 weeks for like 5 days each, having a job that I can do from my bed, or a chair is quite helpful. I want to carry a candle to light both your and my way through the darkness.

As those of you who have read my previous blogs have seen, I struggle with “The Mood Swing.” Friday was a happy day….but slowly unraveled to a shit-storm of horrible, terrible, negative feelings. I felt like not one person had time for me. Everyone either turned down my help, or just didn’t have the time to respond. Now being that my mind has been awoken with self-awareness about virtually everything….but we’ll stick to mental health diagnoses right now, I can realize some things. Like, (1) power outages from the NorEaster winds blowing through Pennsylvania. (2) jobs. (3) families. (4) out in public in a store and needing to pay attention to others. (5) YOU, too are worn down and need somebody to talk with. (6) etc. BUT…do you think my mind could convince my thoughts on those things? I mean, hey, everybody seems to say I’m intelligent….why couldn’t I think these things and make them stick and be “The Truth?” Nope.

Since December, I got rid of my original Facebook account and downsized to those whom I deal with on practically a daily, or weekly basis. I had problems unfriending people because it seemed so cold….like, “Hey, I appreciate you being my best friend in like third grade, but now you avoid me in the local grocery store, so….um….bye.” And geez! the creepers!  There are some people I do need to add back in and explain my absence, but I just can’t seem to do it. Remember that Seinfeld episode where he had enough friends in his circle? The one with the pool towel guy? That’s kinda how I was feeling about the almost 300 people on my account. “I don’t really need to be your friend just because we are both at Dunkin Donuts every Thursday at 2pm for the past five months. I’m sorry. Go back to your postal truck and have a great day.” And another thing! Just because I manage to say something witty you liked ONE time on my friend’s meme, doesn’t mean we need to be friends. And another thing! Constantly making put-downs about me doesn’t win you any points. Even if you do have a damn cute dog.

So are the struggles of my life…..wanting to contribute to society, but not wanting to really talk to many people. I realized in my last job, which I primarily loved, that I was good with connecting to MOST people, on some level.  I really just could not keep up with the astronomical amounts of paperwork to document and turn in for billing to the medical insurance companies. I just want to help people, primarily by my research and life-learned knowledge. I want people to know they are not alone. I may not want to invite you on to my Facebook page, however. So don’t ask until we get to know each other better. There are some personal things about me, you just don’t need to know.

But back to my meltdown. Chronic pain is hard. It is always there, but sometimes, I can push it to the back of my mind and go on with my day. Like when it’s really nice out and I want to take Simon for a walk. That happened today. My CRPS/RSD foot was hurting, but I ignored it and got outside into the sunshine. Thank goodness he cut the walk short, so we didn’t go as far. My big toe/first metatarsal and phalanges, and ball of the foot was killing me. Hydrotherapy is a godsend and I have no clue what I would do without a bathtub to soak in. The CRPS/RSD and Fibromyalgia are part of the issue. I’d say mainly the foot issues. The multiple traumas caused me (as you may recall from previous posts) to give up teaching tap and ballet to little ones by 2009 and I haven’t been back too very often since then….after being a ballerina on the verge of semi-professional since 1980 (when I was in my early 20’s). It was my life outside of school, college, and veterinary nursing. You don’t know how I’d love to put those toe shoes back on. What I’d really love is to squeeze out a few lyrical dances in bare feet and flowing dance-dresses to songs that have some emotional meaning to me that I can also act out with my facial expressions. Bringing the arts to the public, even if it is in a local middle school auditorium, once a year, with all ages of dancers was like the highlight of my year. Nothing beats slapping on some extremely long eyelashes, bold make-up, throwing your hair in a bun or slicked back, dousing yourself in glitter, and sweating out an awesome performance. It’s like one of the few times I can get out of my head, is when I am dancing. It’s how I have survived multiple traumas since about 4 years old on.  Dancing, especially an emotional, moving piece, is my gateway to true mindfulness and enlightenment.

The Mood Swing threatened to go up and around the bar Friday. I had become so distraught with people turning my actions away, that by the time my 3rd-shift-working husband grumbled at me and turned over in bed because I tried to wake him for dinner, I had had it. My night just went down hill from there. I, as a 43 year old, crawled under the pile of covers and slowly cried. And had loops going in my head that I could not shut off. One of them being the voice of a hypnotherapist that had agreed to help me two years ago say, “Gee, what did you do to Karma?” When we were going through the history of my traumas. Which involves a bunch of foot injuries from my ex-husband, who was a gas-lighting, animal abusing, foot crushing, narcisistic poor excuse for a human being that promised to love and take care of me, as I did him. NOT that I was perfect….remember the Mood Swing.  By the time my husband had left for work, I was pretty far down the “I wish I’d just fade away and not bother anyone anymore” road. I so wanted to call my therapist, and I certainly could have, but it was about 9:30pm. So I didn’t.

I still haven’t called him. I see him on Tuesday. I missed this past week’s appointment, due to a killer migraine. I’m so tired of feeling up and down and would L-O-V-E to just be even. But would I feel as much then? Would I be able to really enjoy the good points in life then? But why do the lows have to be so far down? I know I’m really tired of asking for help to the people who just don’t have time. I feel like I need to get some intense daily sessions going with my therapist to really delve into the anger, which I believe is from the C-PTSD and feeling like I had no control over being abused in many situations for a couple decades. Speaking of anger…I mentioned my anger to my psychiatrist a few weeks back and right away, he wanted to up my Latuda…..Forgetting that in October, I discovered and told him, along with the package insert, that I had all but the high fever symptom of Neuroleptic Malignant Syndrome from being on too high of a dose.(It’s quite similar to Seratonin Syndrome.)  The package insert said to go off of it immediately, but here I am, in March, still on 40 mg. The doctor NEVER even batted an eyelash to ask me why I thought I was angry……right away…..”Here! Have more poison for your kidneys and liver.” Not to mention that I actually had a swollen liver on all the CT scans surrounding my kidney stones in 2015 and 2016, and the discovery of a malignant adrenal tumor. (August 2017’s CT scan, my liver had returned to normal size.)  BUT I did have hyperlipedemia (fatty blood… looks like a strawberry milkshake after the sample is centrifuged down and shipped off to the lab) the last time my blood was tested in August. I am actually due to have it tested again shortly. But the psychiatrist just looks at me, or the form he’s filling out, doesn’t really say much.


Anywho, somehow, through a very detailed post, I reached out to my friends and, essentially, asked for help. Now I was not, and still am not, really, looking for compliments. I mean, hey, they are great and I’m appreciative, but this is what I really want….TO BE HEARD. I want to be listened to. I want a shoulder to cry on when I can not bear the weight of my chronic illnesses anymore and need to vent. And after I cry and use a box of tissues that Simon will, no doubt, steal and shred on the bed; I want to take him to the park or lake, or around the block. I want to go for a coffee with “you” and laugh and giggle about the old guys discussing current events in the next booth at Dunkin Donuts. Or watch the people get blown in the door at Starbucks and try to fit their fast food garbage in the always-full garbage can. Then I want to get on and try the next path on my journey. I want to be able to help YOU feel better! (WHY can’t I find a job to accomodate me and my health needs?)

Chronic illness is just sucking lately, over these past three months, if not the whole 43 years. I just keep having hope that somewhere, I can do something that is not too stressful and truly help people to enlighten their day from the weights that they are carrying.

Thanks for reading. Here is a picture of Arthur and Simon today after Simon and I got back from our walk.

Screenshot-2018-3-4 Instagram Photos.png

Take Care. Be As Well As Possible. And Until Next Time…


4 thoughts on “Needing to be heard”

  1. I just want you to remember, you are SO. VERY. LOVED! Sometimes I wish we were closer, so I could quick meet you at the DD or Starbucks for coffee! We must do it SOON!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Sometimes, I think we are in each others brains LOL I go through the “motions” of I wish I wasn’t born, to yeah this is great and everything in between. I wish I could see my friends more and actually live outside of my bedroom. Just most days that isn’t possible. And it sucks ass. Deactivated my FB and setting up a new one where I only have people on there that I fully trust was one of the best things I could of done. It wasn’t until I started reading Chronic Babe 101 that I found out what AWAP meant and now I told friends about it. Because frankly, I hate being asked “how are you?” Truth be told, that is a very dumb question to ask a chronically ill person. It is a thoughtless question like Jenni states in the book(btw thank you for introducing me to her stuff). Ok, I am done hahahah Love you and be AWAP *hugs*

    Liked by 1 person

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