Medicines and love

Medicines are supposed to help, but unlike a bacterial infection where there are only a few options to fix the problem there are dozens of medicine that address depression and anxiety. Trust me I've seen the list, it's long and I've tried over 20 of them well over 20 of them. I don't know exactly how many but it's alot. Trying a new medicine isn't so easy, it's a minimum of a two week process unless you're in the hospital, but even in the hospital it takes time. The medicine has to build up in your system, this takes time, on average 2 weeks but up to 6. While this is happening you just have to plug along as best you can hoping the benifits will out weigh the side affects. Side affects that are acceptable range from drowsiness, to insomnia, or weight gain, dry mouth and constipation. Side affects that aren't are ones that make you pass out, really dizzy or mess with the hearts QST wave. Those are all things I've experienced, the drowsiness is helpful but every thing else isn't. The most resent was the messing with the QST progression, a potentially fatal side affect. As soon as it was found out I had to quit a medicine, one of two that I started at the same time in the hospital. So my dr decided to stop the one that had more bad side affects, makes sense.  As the week went by after stopping my heart calmed down but other symptoms weren't so good. No sleep, nightmares, depression all coming back with a vengeance, time for another medicine switch. Stop one start the other back up and try to get through the bad stuff, the bad thoughts and the darkness.
With all the effort and frustration that accompanies trying to find a helpful medicine I know it's just a tool. It's not where my hope is placed. God is sovereign in everything even medicines working or not. God is sovereign over the struggles, the chemicals in my brain and if they work right or not. God is sovereign over everything. He allows them into my life to grow me and others, but growing hurts. I don't like it, it's hard and I don't do well seeing anything good without it being pointed out to me. That's where friends help so much, all I can see is the problems I cause, and the huge messes I make.  I was telling a friend about this and her response was 'Those aren't huge messes. That's proof people love you.' She's right, people adjusting things and being willing to do things differently is proof they love me.  More people know and more people (especially in my church) show love to me and my family. That's what Jesus told us to do and that's how the world would know we are different. It's in John 13:34-35 ESV "A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another.  By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”
It's easy to love people when there's nothing going on, it's much harder when things are difficult and they drag on for months or years, but that's what Christ calls us to and it is in him that there is hope. I am redeemed not for anything I do but because He is love.

A Simple Errand

     Today I had the rare opportunity to eat lunch with Aaron, just him and me. I took advantage of it even though it's so freezing cold out that I'd rather stay in and warm. Truth is I had to run to the store too so I had to leave already so why not make it special.
     It sounds so simple you probably already missed it. I had to run to the store. I haven't been to the store by myself since some time in December when something crashed to the floor at the grocery store right behind me and sent my fight or flight response in overdrive and I barely made it to the car before completely losing it, and by losing it I mean hyperventilating, sobbing, shaking, forgetting how to ground myself, call a friend in a panic to help me out.  So today I met Aaron for lunch and I was doing well still so I was determined to try to go to the store by myself.  I could feel the knots in my stomach starting on the the drive there, it was only 6 minutes so they didn't have much time to form but you can think of a lot of things that can happen and go wrong in that time period, trust me tons. I put math on my side and tried my best to convince myself that the probability of any of those things happening was slight at best and that I only had 8 things on my list, which I had memorized so I wouldn't have to look down to read, and I knew exactly where each thing was and I could be in and out in no time at all. As I walked into the store with a cart, because carts help create space around me people won't enter, I could feel the anxiety rise. I was focused though, I was going to do it and it was going to be ok I mean it's Aldi it's not that big.  I find the first two things on the list and as I walk past the buzzer they have on the wall to call for another cashier it goes off. I try my best not to jump out of my skin. I am startled but it's Aldi it should an acceptable things that happens there and I should expect it. Well, it still startles me and of course I'm the absolute closest you can be to it when it went off. So much for probability, flight is heightened and I start to panic but try to talk myself down with all these logical arguments but it's not working my chest is tightening, it's getting harder to breath my memorized list becomes fuzzy and I start trying to go through the store as fast as I can so that I can try to hold it together long enough to get to the car. This works well until I get held up my a elderly couple blocking the row, the wife patiently waiting as her husband browses, I just wanted through but I could tell that wasn't going to happen. Fortunately there wasn't a line at check out and the aforementioned elderly couple had like 5 things. I am trying my best to get out of the store as fast as I can that I end up trying to pay with the wrong card which of course adds panic to the whole thing and takes a longer time. I eventually made it to the car and literally threw everything in the car, put up the cart and then sat in the car texted a friend and worked on calming down so that I could drive safely.

     That is a simple trip to the store when you have PTSD.  I didn't finish my shopping, I had another store to go to but didn't because I knew I wouldn't be able to do it. I made it home and crashed, exhausted from my outing, I laid down for about an hour and cried on and off trying to get control over my breathing and heart rate. I write, not this, but I write, it helps, then crochet the blanket I'm working on and then think about those who say they are reading and learning.  I knew that the experience would lose feeling and realness the longer I was removed from it happening so here I am almost reliving all the feelings again writing it but thankfully with less intensity.

Being Real

     This isn't my first battle with depression and anxiety. This time, however, I've been more honest and open with my church family and others I'm around.  There is a freedom in being honest, it means I no longer have to hide. I don't have to pretend to be ok or have it all together and for the most part people have been loving and helpful.  I have friends that have gone through another tough time with me and when seeing it starting again didn't hesitate in helping. Newer friends that I didn't have years ago haven't been  scared away in fact their willingness to learn and help gives me hope.
     Being real and talking about hard stuff together isn't easy, but having people walking with me makes it bearable. I struggle with self worth and shame, among other things, and I'm able to share the lies that go through my head with confidence that they will give me biblical truths to fight them.  They are also willing and have pushed through the walls that I have built and continually try to put back up. It's not easy being my friend when stuff gets hard. I never imagined that I would be able to speak about the darkest moments and darkest thoughts that go through my head and not be abandoned.  I always thought that people would hear them and say 'forget this' because that's what had happened before.
     So, since my friends stuck with me the last time I decided to try to be more open with the church in general this time. I have found acceptance, love, support, and willingness to learn  mixed with a little confusion.  I'm thankful for my church being what a church is supposed to be.  I'm thankful for the friends that I can share anything with that won't be scared away and those that don't expect me to be anything other than me.
     I'm also thankful for 10th Avenue North, that may sound weird but some of their songs have been quiet helpful. From the lyrics of the songs they have written I can tell that they or someone they are close to have been through hard times. Their song 'Healing Begins' hits what it's like to be depressed. From trying to hit it to trying to let someone in to finding someone to help pick up the pieces.  Their song 'Worn' speaks to the seemingly endless battle and where our eyes should be focused.  Some other songs have helped too but these stand out. If you haven't heard them here are links to videos with lyrics.

Worn
Healing Begins

Thank you to the friends who speak truth into and help me fight for my life.

How to help

     I was asked what would be helpful during this time from friends and family so this tries to address that.  I can only address what would help me specifically but this may have some helpful hint for others in your life that are dealing with depression or anxiety.
     One of the hardest things for me to do is reach out, ask for help or even talk to people. I isolate, I hide. At church I'm really good at holding up walls, because they won't sneak up behind me, I know they are there.

1. Say hi, say something about the weather, say anything really, just acknowledging my existence is helpful.

2. Call, text or email when you think of it.  I only leave my house when I HAVE to.  I like being around people but I'm too anxious to even go to the grocery store by myself.  I hope this gets better soon but for now I only go places when someone I know is going to be there.

3. Pray and if you find an encouraging verse send it along.

4. Ask before you touch or hug me. I know weird right, I would just rather not have a panic attack.         Right now I'm ok most of the time when I know it's coming but sometimes I'm not.

5.  Don't be afraid of tears.

Truth is meeting someone where they're at is the most helpful thing to do for anyone. When I'm not doing well like now I won't make contact with anyone, I'll wait till they come to me. Since I stand out on the perimeter I just watch as everyone lives their life never engaging just watching.  This then feeds the depression and the really bad thoughts that go with it.

Hope that helps, if not I'll try to answer any questions. I'm trying, and I'm learning. Please remember there isn't a quick fix and the struggle can last years.  Attached is a cartoon of what depression feels like to me, it is my attempt at helping a friend understand, maybe it will help you too.

Observations part 2

This is a second post on observations because if I put everything in one it'd be way too long.

The last workers that I didn't really talk about was the social workers.  They are the unsung workers on that floor. They are in and out talking to people and arranging appointments, finding places for people to live temporarily and getting people ready to go home.
Most people need them, they need a therapist and or psychiatrist and the appointments to be set up for them to be seen. They know people are more likely to go to an appointment that's already been set up then do that themselves. They also know of other resources and groups that target specific people. Anyways their knowledge of what's available in the area is extensive.
When I talked to the one I was assigned she was a bit confused.  I already have a psychiatrist, I already have a therapist, groups are not particularly a good thing for me right now, and I have a great group of supportive friends. So she looked at me and said why are you here? Hopefully to find some medicines that actually work for me.
The days are long even though there's a schedule that they stick to. Meals come close to the same time everyday and you have to tell the tech how much you ate. Ya they keep track of everything. Like if you showered, if you're sleeping, if you attend the group sessions, and what goal you set for the day.
Again, it's a hard place to be, and all the things that people that usually land there don't have I do have. I have friends and family that are supportive understanding and helpful. They watch the kids and make it possible to go to appointments and have play dates so we could talk in person. They also aren't afraid to talk about hard things. I can be real with them and say the ugly thoughts and lies that are going through my head and they don't dissapear, they stay the speak truth they fire back at me and I don't like it all the time but I do appreciate  it.
So being surrounded by people like that how do I still fall so far down, how do I land in the hospital? Good question, it means I'm really really really not doing well, not thinking straight and don't think I can live in the darkness and fear any anymore.

Observations from the BHU

If you know me you know that I watch and observe people places things, well just about everything.  

So here are some observations  about the Behavior health unit:

Their motto is Healing Starts Here.  

There are 20 beds on the unit and it was full most of the time. As soon as someone was discharged the room was cleaned and someone was brought but to fill the vacant place.  

The unit is in the shape of a large U with the bottom and left sides filled with patient rooms. The other side is where the day area nurses station and meeting rooms are. The day area is where pretty much everything happens; eating, group time, spending most waking hours and exercise.  There are two recumbent bikes that only get used by a few people.

  There are a few reasons to be placed in the BHU, chemical dependency, suicidal thoughts or actions, severe confusion, and other risky behavior  (like sleeping in your car when it's 0 degrees out).  Most of the people where there on some sort of chemical dependency and other risky behavior.  A few of us were there because of suicidal thoughts or behaviors and the rest were really confused.  For all of us it was a stopping place without much to do but think or try to avoid thinking.  Most people spent all day sleeping or watching TV every moment there wasn't a group session going on.   I personally don't get watching TV as I don't watch much TV at home and couldn't watch what they were watching because it's too scary, and the shows often hit too close to home.

It's a sad place, people coming off drugs, visibly shaking as they go through withdrawals, others only able to remember their name first and last if you're lucky.  Others were there wishing they were no longer alive, that's the category where I fell. It's a place where hope is needed, and people are searching.  You don't end up there if you're doing well, you end up there when you're overwhelmed and you've lost your way.   So many people never had anyone visit, they stared at the TV day after day hour after hour not finding anything just existing.  I spent my first day mostly sleeping and others spent a lot of time sleeping too, they'd only appear for meals then vanish again.  

The people come from all walks of life though there tend do be several commonalities.  Most had been brought in by the cops on drug charges and this was the place they went before they went to jail. Some didn't have a place to sleep as all the homeless shelters are full and the cops found them and brought them to the hospital. Something I kept hearing over and over is that they'd isolated themselves from almost everyone. In fact there are a couple of social workers that try to aid patients for when they are discharged. They help people find a place to stay, set up counseling appointments or psychiatry appointments, and try to connected them back to friends or family.  

The doctors come around first thing in the morning. I was barley awake and he was asking how i'm feeling, how I slept, what side effects I'm feeling and I am doing my best to respond semi coherently.  I ask a couple of questions and he's off to the next room.  The nurses are in charge of 6 or 7 patients each. They are the ones that give out medicine and get in contact with the doctor if something needs to be changed and since they are around for hours they make observations that can determine whether or not you get to go home.  The techs are the people that hang out most with the patients.  Most of them are fun and have a great sense of humor, I guess you'd have to working around people like me everyday.  There were several staff there still from the last time I was hospitalized back in 2010 and they were exactly like I remembered them.  One in particular I didn't believe could really be that happy/crazy all the time was still there and was exactly the same.  I thought maybe she just hasn't been on this floor that long but I guess if  ten years hasn't changed anything then she must really have that personality. She and another tech on the floor are awesome, they are the go to people if you need anything, and they work so well together it was inspiring to watch. They are both so giving trying to make each others day better by taking 'the worst job' so the other didn't have to then trading off.  You can't help but smile around them.

Stigma

*This was written before the last post but I knew it wouldn't make sense without some history.*

 Why does the current American Christian culture make mental health so taboo? I do realize that our church is an exception to this generalization and I am beyond thankful for that. But, even still we didn't tell the church in general I was in the hospital, only those who asked or really know what's going on have that knowledge. why? Is it because Christians shouldn't ever get to that point? Or you can't see it like you can cancer so it must not be real? I don't know. What I do know is that I am on facebook and I wouldn't dare say anything about it on there for fear of people being mean, intended or not, and most of my friends would call themselves christian. Actually I'm more afraid of the Christians than the non Christians, they see to understand suffering more. So I feel like in America right now Christians can only suffer things that can be seen even if it's only microscopically it can still be seen. Since depression and anxiety can't be seen it must not be a true sickness. If I had a choice do you think I'd be doing this I'd be like this? If I could will myself out of being sad and afraid wouldn't that make life easier? I know that God created our minds to be very powerful and able to think on things that are very complex but we live in a fallen world. So many other things hamper humans that are acceptable whether it be a limb that doesn't work like it should or having an enlarged heart that limits what one can do physically. Why is it when the brain doesn't quite work correctly or has been traumatized that there's something we don't acknowledge as being allowed. We live in a fallen world that makes everything stained in one way or another. Even plants and animals can be diseased so why not the brain? Why is it that only somethings that go wrong with the brain are acceptable but others not? (now speaking on general terms, the church in general)

 The stigma that is applied to depression and anxiety it's labeled as sin* and is evidence that you aren't trusting God enough to handle your problems. Doesn't it then become a faith of works rather than faith and hope in what He has already accomplished? Why is it not allowed? I have no answer but I do know that it means suffering in silence. Less for me this time than last but silence none the less. I'm thankful for great friends who came to the locked down crazy part of the hospital to brighten my day and show me support because I saw others who never had anyone come visit. I don't know what it's like to see someone in there because I've always been the one in there being visited but I know even for me with great supportive friends I have learned it hurts so much to get your hopes up that someone will be coming then finding visiting hours end and no one has come that I didn't expect anyone to come. So on the flip side when I was told I either had a phone call or a visitor that I was to truly thankful that someone would take the time to come see me and spend some time with me when I was hurting the most, or remember to call to see how the day had gone.

 So, how do you start tearing down the walls of stigma that surround depression, PTSD, anxiety, and suicide? One person at a time, one pastor at a time, one church at a time. Maybe if it's talked about more it won't be so scary when encountered but can be dealt with in a helpful manner. I shared my depression cartoon on facebook and it was received alot better than I expected; in fact I don't think I had any negative comments though I did preface it with Thumper's famous quote from Bambi... It took so much effort to do and look 'normal' or 'ok' that I used up all the energy I had when I should have been using it to fight the depression and anxiety. God will continue to give me the strength to fight these battles and I know the hospital is available if I feel like I can't fight any more, but what if someone thinks that's not an option? I don't want to ever go to the hospital again, I mean you read what my last 20 hours were like but, even as crazy as they were I know I will be safe there and they wouldn't allow me to take the easy way out. I know it needs to be talked about more I know Christians in general need better education when it come to this area. I feel so much shame when it comes to this but I know shame is made bigger and scarier until light is shown on it. I know that in the hospital when I had to make the choice is the God someone whom I believe in, honestly really truly believe in and hope in or not I had to speak up. I couldn't sit there with the question on the table of what is the gospel or good news to you and be silent. I couldn't, I believe this God is great and His name should be proclaimed even in the psych ward at the rock bottom, His name, His truth had to be proclaimed. I would have no reason for living if I didn't have hope in God, He is my rock (even if it's at the bottom of the pit) and my salvation is assured in what Jesus accomplished on the cross. Apparently I had to land in the hospital to find out if that's what I truly believed. I'm thankful for that tool I'm thankful I'm still alive I pray for those who heard the gospel that morning and I pray that more Christians will gain a better understanding of all this ugly stuff so those who are experiencing it don't have to suffer in silence.

 Thank you to those who have and are walking through the trenches with me.

 *Disclaimer: I do realize that momentary depression and anxiety can be a result of sin like discontentment and unholy fear. It is not that to which I am referring. I am referring to a state of being that isn't a fleeting feeling. I have been diagnosed with major depressive disorder, recurrent severe, without psychosis and PTSD. That is what I can speak to as that is what I know.