I am a mental health advocate. According to Wikipedia.com, mental health is described as, “… either a level of cognitive or emotional wellbeing or an absence of a mental disorder. …mental health may include an individual's ability to enjoy life and procure a balance between life activities and efforts to achieve psychological resilience. Using this definition, one could say that mental health is directly related to a person’s happiness. Many people do not want to admit that they have a mental health problem or don’t know where to turn. In addition to discussing my own journey, I will be addressing other aspects of the mental health continuum.
When your mental health is out of balance, you may begin to feel down or depressed. It is not uncommon for people to feel this way on a short term basis. However, when this feeling does not leave or begins to impair day to day function, it becomes more serious. If the level of sadness is such that it does not go away after a period of time, a person is said to be depressed. Again, referring to Wikipedia.com, “Major depressive disorder, also known as major depression, unipolar depression, unipolar disorder, clinical depression, or simply depression, is a mental disorder characterized by a pervasive low mood and loss of interest or pleasure in usual activities.”
It is at this point a person should seek professional help. There is quite a variety in assistance. If you seek help from a therapist, there are many to choose from. Anyone can use the term therapist, so the things to look for are education and references. There are social workers and licensed clinical social workers. A therapist would then have a degree like a masters in social work or psychology. My counselor has a doctorate degree in psychology, and is called Doctor, but has no medical training. His training is all mental health. My psychiatrist is a medical doctor and has advanced education in psychiatry. He, unlike my counselor, can prescribe medication.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Tweak Talk
I have been tweaking the blog a bit. I would love to have comments (which I changed to formatting of how they post) about the blog -- layout, ease of use, what ever is on your mind. I appreciate the reads. If the audience remains so quiet, I don't know if I am hitting targets or not. So tell me, what are you thinking?
Thursday, October 23, 2008
REWARDS
Today, as I was driving home from therapy, I was struck by the fact that fall is upon us. I saw lots of lovely leaf colors as the trees begining their annual chameleon dance. This time of year is a perfect time to get outside and explore the wonders of nature. You can rejuvenate your spirit by seeking out an adventure that not only provides you with an greening of our environmen.
I am supposed to be walking 15 to 20 minutes each day. I am not getting done. I am walking more like 5. My goal is 10 every day by the end of the weekend. Tis baby stops I be takin to get mt to my goal.
I appreciate the cup of coffee Erin bout for me through paypal of al things. After therapy today, I enjoyed it. Soetimes, it is just the smallest thing ... like actually having the money for that cup of coffee! Thank you!
I am supposed to be walking 15 to 20 minutes each day. I am not getting done. I am walking more like 5. My goal is 10 every day by the end of the weekend. Tis baby stops I be takin to get mt to my goal.
I appreciate the cup of coffee Erin bout for me through paypal of al things. After therapy today, I enjoyed it. Soetimes, it is just the smallest thing ... like actually having the money for that cup of coffee! Thank you!
Asperger's Syndrome
One of the best online sites that I have found for Asperger's Syndrome is the OASIS site. I was thinking about it this morning while waiting for my turn in the shower. I have used it many, mnay tiumes. I have included the link. If AS affects your life or the life of someone you love, you might want to check this out.
Have a great day!
http://www.udel.edu/bkirby/asperger/
Have a great day!
http://www.udel.edu/bkirby/asperger/
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Doctor's appointment
I went to the doctor today -- a second opinion. I was originally diagnosed with bursitis, but that was wrong. I have fibromyalgia. That is the bad news. The good news is that some of thesymptoms of my depression might actually be this.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Raikage
Our kitty, Raikage on the day we picked her up in July 2007.
She was 6 weeks old. Patrick picked her out, and she attached
to us also immediately. I wanted a kitty with more gray
coloring, but couldn't turn this precious baby away.
Raikage is Japanese for lightening shadow.
We call her Kage most of the time.
Prounce her name like this: hard k, a sounds like o in cotton, hard g, and e sounds like a long a.
She is just over 1 year in these pictures. The boys found her in Walter's cage.
Therapy, Day 3
Surprisingly, getting ready for therapy and getting there wasn't an ordeal today. I didn't sleep well the previous night, even with taking Ambien CR. I am tired and edgy; I am functioning in a numb mode. I arrive at therapy, log in, and find I am exhausted. I don 't want to participate, but force myself to do so.
I have an epiphany while talking about my issues. I am so used to thinking that I am not worthy, that I don't love myself. How then can I give to anyone else? One of the therapists talks about how loving yourself allows you to give so much more to others. Have I ever been in this place she speaks of? I don't know. I am certainly not there now. I feel I don't have anything to give. It is exhausting to function as a wife and mother, much less do anything else. I have to leave therapy early to take Patrick to a counseling appointment, and I am thrilled when the time rolls around to leave. I am tired of being tired. Therapy hurts -- I have to face issues that I have stuffed down my whole life. I know I have to face these issues. i have to heal. I am growing old. Today is not the day to move forward, and I don't. Today, I just exist.
I have an epiphany while talking about my issues. I am so used to thinking that I am not worthy, that I don't love myself. How then can I give to anyone else? One of the therapists talks about how loving yourself allows you to give so much more to others. Have I ever been in this place she speaks of? I don't know. I am certainly not there now. I feel I don't have anything to give. It is exhausting to function as a wife and mother, much less do anything else. I have to leave therapy early to take Patrick to a counseling appointment, and I am thrilled when the time rolls around to leave. I am tired of being tired. Therapy hurts -- I have to face issues that I have stuffed down my whole life. I know I have to face these issues. i have to heal. I am growing old. Today is not the day to move forward, and I don't. Today, I just exist.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Therapy, Day 2
Writhing in the pit up my stomach, like there is a demon inside trying to escape by clawing and scraping from the inside out, I walk out to the van at the last possible minute to be able to arrive on time for day 2 of therapy. I don't want to go. I really don't want to go. I blow past the war in my stomach like some pregnant woman about to heave forth her bundle into the universe. I think of every reason I can not to get in the van. My mind is set on heavy duty spin as I pull open the door -- I am sure someone put weights in the door, as it feels 500 pounds heavy. I clamber into the seat, and rest my hands on the wheel thinking, "Maybe if I just skip today." Somehow, as if having a will of their own, my keys find the ignition and light up the engine. My hands are glued to the steering wheel as I maneuver out of the driveway, easing the van into the street.
"Maybe I will get smashed into by some hapless driver. Then I will have a reason for missing therapy," I think to myself. No such luck. I arrive a few minutes later to the parking lot of Anthony House, safe and sound. Rats. Plenty of traffic today, but no one plowed into me. I steel myself, and walk into the building. My heart pounding, my stomach churning, and my head feeling as though it is going to explode, I try to look confident as I walk up to the counter, keys in hand ready to trade for a buzzer, I am greeted by the ever cheerful Tammy with a "You made it back today!"
"Yes, I did." I hand over the keys and receive my buzzer. It is the great summoner to the desk. One might have to see a nurse, a psychiatrist, a counselor, have a phone call, or do paperwork. When mine goes off, my heart beats with a thud, thud against my chest until I find out why I have been summoned. Today, it goes off early. I am still in a morning group. I scoop up my folder and bag, and trot off the desk like the perfect patient. My counselor is waiting for me. We talk about why I am there, my history, and a ton of personal things that may or may not have anything to do with my mental status. I try not to burst into tears, but don't even know why I feel that way. She is, after all, scribbling furiously on the page, clinging to every word like some mooney-eyed high school girl with their first crush. I get gently scolded for not being able to come up with a goal for therapy. Not feeling like shit is not a goal. I promise I will contemplate my lack of goalage as I leave the room.
I also get buzzed out for paperwork, to see the nurse, and to see the psychiatrist. The psych reminds me of Doogie Howser, because he looks way too young to be in his position. He refers to his wall of degrees and certifications as proof of his abilities. I like him. I like his honesty and his forthright manner. He doesn't talk down to me, and I appreciate that. I find him witty and really on top of things. Not once does he make me feel inferior or worthless -- both things that I have felt with mental health professionals before. He allows me to be present for his dictation of the chart of the visit -- somehow, in my mixed-up mind, validating that he sees me as a person, and not just some thing to be medicated and swept out the door. He talks 90 miles a minute, and apologizes for the fact that he is speeding things along. He is running behind on this day. (Imagine that.) He suggests a medication addition and a dose change. I agree with him. I will try almost anything to free myself from this darkness that engulfs me, and threatens to drain my very life force.
My day passes in a blur of faces and stories. It is time to leave before I know it. I am glad. The big point for me to ponder today: one of the other patients said that if we (mental illness patients) had been diagnosed with bone cancer instead of mental illness, that we wouldn't hesitate to inquire about the best treatments, look for the best doctors, and try to locate the specific hospital that specializes in the type of care required, but most people try to deal with depression and other mental illness on their own, they are afraid and embarrassed to tell other people what they are going through, and generally feel put down by society. Why is that?
"Maybe I will get smashed into by some hapless driver. Then I will have a reason for missing therapy," I think to myself. No such luck. I arrive a few minutes later to the parking lot of Anthony House, safe and sound. Rats. Plenty of traffic today, but no one plowed into me. I steel myself, and walk into the building. My heart pounding, my stomach churning, and my head feeling as though it is going to explode, I try to look confident as I walk up to the counter, keys in hand ready to trade for a buzzer, I am greeted by the ever cheerful Tammy with a "You made it back today!"
"Yes, I did." I hand over the keys and receive my buzzer. It is the great summoner to the desk. One might have to see a nurse, a psychiatrist, a counselor, have a phone call, or do paperwork. When mine goes off, my heart beats with a thud, thud against my chest until I find out why I have been summoned. Today, it goes off early. I am still in a morning group. I scoop up my folder and bag, and trot off the desk like the perfect patient. My counselor is waiting for me. We talk about why I am there, my history, and a ton of personal things that may or may not have anything to do with my mental status. I try not to burst into tears, but don't even know why I feel that way. She is, after all, scribbling furiously on the page, clinging to every word like some mooney-eyed high school girl with their first crush. I get gently scolded for not being able to come up with a goal for therapy. Not feeling like shit is not a goal. I promise I will contemplate my lack of goalage as I leave the room.
I also get buzzed out for paperwork, to see the nurse, and to see the psychiatrist. The psych reminds me of Doogie Howser, because he looks way too young to be in his position. He refers to his wall of degrees and certifications as proof of his abilities. I like him. I like his honesty and his forthright manner. He doesn't talk down to me, and I appreciate that. I find him witty and really on top of things. Not once does he make me feel inferior or worthless -- both things that I have felt with mental health professionals before. He allows me to be present for his dictation of the chart of the visit -- somehow, in my mixed-up mind, validating that he sees me as a person, and not just some thing to be medicated and swept out the door. He talks 90 miles a minute, and apologizes for the fact that he is speeding things along. He is running behind on this day. (Imagine that.) He suggests a medication addition and a dose change. I agree with him. I will try almost anything to free myself from this darkness that engulfs me, and threatens to drain my very life force.
My day passes in a blur of faces and stories. It is time to leave before I know it. I am glad. The big point for me to ponder today: one of the other patients said that if we (mental illness patients) had been diagnosed with bone cancer instead of mental illness, that we wouldn't hesitate to inquire about the best treatments, look for the best doctors, and try to locate the specific hospital that specializes in the type of care required, but most people try to deal with depression and other mental illness on their own, they are afraid and embarrassed to tell other people what they are going through, and generally feel put down by society. Why is that?
Sunday, October 19, 2008
On Meet the Press
I am so excited this morning. Colin Powell, a man that I both respect and admire, has officially endorsed Barack Obama. The interesting part of the interview with Powell is that he was very respectful of his friend, John McCain. Powell said that he is not supportive of MCain's choice of vice-presidential candidates.
On another note, Obama drew 100,000 here in St. Louis yesterday. I really wanted to go, but am glad I didn't. I think the crowd would have overwhelmed me. I might be kicking myself for this decision later.
On another note, Obama drew 100,000 here in St. Louis yesterday. I really wanted to go, but am glad I didn't. I think the crowd would have overwhelmed me. I might be kicking myself for this decision later.
Gracie
This is our Gracie. She was a German Spitz. A wonderful, sweet natured little dog. At almost 12 years old, she got quite ill this summer, and we had to put her down. We miss her terribly.
A lap dog, her only goal in life was to be cuddled. She would allow anyone to hold and pet her. She is sleeping in the living room in this photo, but someone's lap was really her favorite place to snooze.
Such a sweet face. I think she loved Patrick most of all, and he loved her. He keeps a framed photo of her in his room.
When not on someone's lap, this was Gracie's favorite place in the house. The floor is tile directly in front of the door and always cool. Gracie, much like me, was always hot.
A lap dog, her only goal in life was to be cuddled. She would allow anyone to hold and pet her. She is sleeping in the living room in this photo, but someone's lap was really her favorite place to snooze.
Such a sweet face. I think she loved Patrick most of all, and he loved her. He keeps a framed photo of her in his room.
When not on someone's lap, this was Gracie's favorite place in the house. The floor is tile directly in front of the door and always cool. Gracie, much like me, was always hot.
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