My Newest Outlet

Rachel has been telling me since the beginning of therapy that I need to find outlets for my excess energy, both physical and mental.  We've tried many things, some which have worked, some which have BOMBED.  For some people, running or other forms of exercise work.  With my sciatica, bursitis, and asthma, that doesn't always work well.  Many times, it makes my body ache which makes my depression and anxiety worse.  I have found a wonderful yoga DVD that works wonderfully though.

I've also found that music, books, and cooking all give me ways to focus my energy on something much healthier than the ruminations that would occur otherwise and also give me a sense that I'm accomplishing something.  Still, I'm the type that gets bored easily.  Sometimes, I just need a different outlet.  So, I'm always looking for something, something to keep my mind busy and off all the negative thoughts, some way to channel that mental energy into something good when my body just can't keep up with it.

My newest outlet is Colourlovers.  It is a website that lets you create patterns or color existing patterns.  It keeps my mind focused while allowing me to feel creative.  Also, I can use those patterns to create backgrounds for Twitter and even this blog.  (Yes, this new background is one that I personally created from scratch using Colourlovers.)  Because I can create so many different patterns and styles in so many colors, it keeps me from getting bored as easily.  Also, I love getting messages that others have "loved" my patterns or even used them in their own new colored backgrounds.  It gives me a sense that I'm being helpful, useful, and doing something that brings a smile to the faces of others.

Will Colourlovers stay one of my major outlets?  I'm not sure, but for right now, I'm greatly enjoying it.

So, what are your favorite outlets?

(To find me at Colourlovers, look for Hoosier_Kat.)

Riding the Waves

So, this week has been a bit crazy.  My mom has been sick with a horrible flu, so bad that I truly thought she might have pneumonia.  (She is 66, has asthma, and has had pneumonia twice before.)  Just so you don't think that was simply my anxiety talking, I was finally able to convince her to go to the doctor on Tuesday (as she had been sick since the previous Thursday).  The doctor did and chest x-ray and sent home a container for a sputum sample.  He also proscribe a cough syrup and a very strong antibiotic to fight the lung infection.  Unfortunately, he didn't look at the precautions for the antibiotic first.

At lunch, my mom took the first dose of that antibiotic.  About 20 minutes later, I read the package insert only to find that my mom should NEVER have been prescribed this medication.  My mom has a heart condition called Long QT Syndrome which is a type of arrhythmia.  It's something we both have.  This antibiotic she was prescribed has a tendency to worsen this, which can lead to fainting, abnormal heart rhythm, and even death.  Also, this antibiotic was not to be used by anyone on diuretics (she's on two), anyone with low potassium levels (which she has to take potassium for), or anyone on corticosteroids as the combination can contribute to tendon rupture (and she's on steroids for a muscle disorder and also has a patellar tendon that was rebuilt less than two years ago).

Needless to say, I made my mom call in immediately and talk to the nurse about it.  She only told them about the heart issue and asked if this was safe for her to take.  The nurse said she'd speak to the doctor and get back to us.  About twenty minutes later, my mom started to feel very sick.  She tried to go lay down in bed, but started to feel very dizzy, nearly passing out.  These are signs of issues with the Long QT Syndrome.  I've had these before.

I helped her to bed, and stayed in the living room where I would be able to hear her if she needed anything or tried to get up.  About 90 minutes later, she was starting to feel slightly better.  I wasn't!  The nurse still hadn't called back.  When the nurse finally did call back, hours later, she said the doctor wanted to change the medicine.  My mom told her it was a good thing and described the symptoms she'd had.  The nurse made sure she wasn't alone and told her if she had any more of those symptoms to go to the ER immediately.

So, I had to run into town to get the new prescription, all the while worried about my mom at home alone.

That wasn't the only stress of the week.  That same day, my dog was sick, waking me up at 5:30 am and causing me to have to strip and wash my bedding.  When I went to take her out, a neighbor's massive dog was in our yard.  I had to immediately grab my little poodle as soon as we came around a set of plantings.  She was going nuts, I was trying to get the neighbor's dog out of our yard, and the neighbor's dog just kept coming toward us!!!  (For someone who was bit by a neighbor's dog at age six, this definitely sets off a whole set of fears.)  Finally, the dog starts across the road, but then stops, right in the middle, with a semi coming.  So, I get the "Don't let the dog get hit by that truck.  If it gets hit it's all my fault being I was chasing it out of our yard." thing going.  Luckily, the semi honked it's horn and the dog moved before the truck got to the point where it had been standing.  Still, it wouldn't leave from that spot.  So, my sick dog couldn't go to the bathroom in our own yard!  And all the commotion woke up my poor sick mom!

And....I was dealing with all this while fighting yet another two week migraine!

So, it's been a tough week.  Then, Rachel canceled my therapy appointment, because she came down sick.  It's already been three weeks since my last appointment being I'd had to cancel the week before due to the migraine.  Now, due to scheduling issues, it will be five weeks between session.

Still, with all this, I felt relatively good, happy, much better than I'd usually have been.  Until yesterday afternoon when I was finally hit with the wave of emotions that comes after that much suppressed anxiety.  I was feeling sick, battling the same bug my mom had, and was getting ready to take a nap when I knocked a glass of water out of my own hand, spilling it all over the floor, and covering myself with water in the process. That was all it took for the flood gates to open.  I just couldn't hold it back anymore and the wave just came crashing over me.

This isn't unusual for me being I'm a stuffer.  What was different this time is that I knew exactly what was going on and why it was happening, which makes it much easier to accept.  The emotions are still there and knowing me, they'll probably be there for awhile, but I'm able to deal with them, to cope with them.

 I will get through it, and I'll come out the other side with a better understanding of myself and the way my emotions work.  So, I've come to the conclusion that when the waves come and the surf's up, there's not much I can do but hang ten and enjoy the ride.

Fear of Failure

I woke up this morning in a good mood.  The sun was shining brightly after what was a dark and stormy day yesterday.  I thought it was such a beautiful day.

Then, the thoughts and anxiety started to intrude....

I haven't been in the best of places recently anyway.  This was something I addressed yesterday with Rachel.  My thoughts have been wrapped up in the holidays as well as the anniversary of the death of a former student of mine who was killed two years ago while crossing the street.  She was only eleven.

After delving into things, we soon realized that one of the main roots of the anxiety and depression was the thought of seeing my father if I went to the holiday dinners at my brother's.

At first, we simply thought it was my anxiety about my need to be perfect and make everyone happy.  The need to create that Norman Rockwell kind of holiday.  Perfectionism is a constant issue with me.  We address it almost every therapy session.  I'm trying to chisel away at it little by little, but it's so ingrained for so many reasons.  Rachel gave me an "assignment" this session.  The "assignment" was to try to fail.  Well, not exactly to try to fail, but to allow myself to fail and not to judge myself for it.  She doesn't want me to try to create failure.  She just wants me to accept it if it happens.  She wants me to allow myself to be human, something I never do.

There are two main reasons I strive for perfection.  The first is to keep everyone happy.  In my childhood world, when things weren't perfect, my dad could get angry, and then people got hurt.  After my parents' divorce, if things weren't perfect, my brother could get angry and take his anger out on me.  Even after we all grew up, if things weren't perfect, if I wasn't perfect, my siblings would be unhappy.  They may be a lot less likely to take it out on me physically, but they have no problem taking it out on me verbally.  My need to be perfect stems from me trying to protect myself and my family from making anyone unhappy, to protect anyone from being hurt, physically or emotionally.

The second reasons for my perfectionism also leads back to my father.  This is what we really discovered yesterday.  It is another reason I don't want to be around my father, at all.  This reason is that I'm scared of being like my father, of turning into someone like him.  He also had OCD tendencies.  He especially had food contamination issues.  Some of the anxieties I have, some of my obsessions and compulsions remind me so much of his when I was a child, and this scares me.  This scares me because if I have his OCD tendencies, can I also have inherited, and eventually develop, his other tendencies???

I don't want to be the kind of person who would beat their spouse until I cracked their skull.  I don't want to be the kind of person who would hit their children with a hammer or chase them through the fields with their pick-up truck.  I don't want to be the kind of person who would put their four-year-old in the bucket loader of their tractor, raise it twenty feet above the ground, and dump it hoping that their child would fall twenty feet and land in pain.  I don't want to be the kind of person who would kill their child's pet right in front of them just to see the anguish on their face.  I don't want to be the kind of person who would torment the people who loved them just to get pleasure for their pain.

I'm so scared that if I inherited his genetic predisposition for the OCD, that I could have inherited his genetic predisposition for this as well.  I'm scared that if I'm not perfect, that if I lose control, that this could slip out.  I'm scared I'll hurt someone I love, that I'll become the kind of monster my father was.

Rachel pointed out that the fact that I even worry about this shows that I am NOTHING like him.  People with issues like my dad's would never think twice about it.  She said that I am not him, I will never be like him.  The fact that I am willing to put myself through so much, to make myself so miserable to prevent it, just for everyone else, shows that I would never be like him.

Still, the entire idea of failing, of being less than perfect, of being human, being fallible, terrifies me.  It fills me with so much anxiety, so much paralyzing fear.  It fills me with anger toward my father for doing the things he did, for putting me in this position.  It fills me sadness and depression for the child I used to be, the one who endured all this.  It fills my mind with so many racing thoughts and images, past, present, and future...of things that were, of things that maybe, of things I wish weren't and things I pray never will be.  I'm just so overwhelmed by all the thoughts and emotions, by all the fear and anger, that I'm not sure how to dig myself out and move past it all.  I'm sure that after a few days, my poor mind will be able to process everything and figure it all out, but right now, I just feel stuck and helpless, and I just feel scared.

Trying to Scrape the Barnacles Off My Mayflower....

I've been reading everyone's lists of what they're thankful for.  It reminds me of all the great things we have in this world, of all the things to be thankful for myself.  Unfortunately, my mind is currently in a place where every good memory, everything I'm thankful for, brings up something I'm NOT thankful for, something I'm angry about, aggravated by, or just want to forget.  This just makes me feel SO ungrateful...which I'm not!  It also makes me feel like a brooding misfit for not being able to move past those negatives that come to mind and focus on the good things.

Holidays are never a good time for me.  They bring on so much anxiety.  We used to have family holidays at my house.  I would cook and clean for days, and spend more money than I had trying to make sure everything was perfect.  I wanted everyone to have their holiday favorites.  I wanted the kids to enjoy themselves and the family to play games together, but I also wanted a formal table.  I wanted the best of both worlds.  I wanted tradition and casual fun.

The trouble would start with the scheduling of holiday gatherings.  Between my sister's ex-husband and my sister-in-laws family, we never got to have a Christmas on a Christmas Day or even a Christmas Eve.  Thanksgiving was always done late in the afternoon or early in the evening.  Everyone was already stuffed on food.  They would show up long enough to put me down, scarf the food, put me down a little more, then take off leaving me to clean everything up.  Most of the time, I would have to take care of getting the kids' plates filled and getting them settled as well as cleaning them up when they were finished.  Usually, everyone else was almost done with their dinners before I even got a chance to sit down.  I don't know how many holiday meals I finished sitting by myself.

Of course, there were also those holidays when my sister would have a major fight with her ex and take it out on her children, me, or my mom.  I seriously don't remember a truly happy holiday in my household.  Sure, I still tried each year to make them perfect and make everyone happy.  I still slaved for days trying to make the house and the menu perfect.  I always struggled to ignore the passive aggressive, belittling comments my family throughout.  Still, none of this can make up for an unhappy, dysfunctional family.

The death blow for holidays came a few years ago when, after our traditionally terrible Christmas actually celebrated on Christmas Eve for the first time EVER, scheduled by my sister and sister-in-law, my sister got into a fight with her ex-husband on her cell phone.  It had to do with the time he thought he was supposed to get the kids that night.  She got angry and ended up throwing her cell phone across the living room, filled with family members, shattering the phone against our bookshelves.  She then proceeded to storm out of the house, ending the not so festive festivities.  Oh....but she wasn't done yet.  My sister proceeded to call my mom the next morning, on Christmas Day, and yell at her about how her Christmas was terrible because of her fight with her ex and how it was all my mom's fault for having our Christmas celebration the night before.  (I guess she had forgotten that she and my sister-in-law had scheduled it.  My mom had had nothing to do with that.  She was NEVER given a choice on when we celebrated.)  My mom ended up breaking down in tears when she hung up the phone.

That was it for me.  I ended up sending out a not so friendly e-mail later that day, telling my brother and sister that I was DONE with holidays with them.  I was no longer spending my time trying to make them all happy when they constantly put me down and then ended up making my mom miserable as well.  (Rachel says that I may not realize it, but this was a HUGE deal for me.  A very positive step.)

I haven't celebrated with them since.  In recent years, my brother and sister-in-law have begun to have celebrations at their house.  My sister and nieces and nephews are all there.  My father is there as well.  I don't go.  My mom and I celebrate our holidays at home, then my mom spends the afternoon or evening at my brother's with the rest of the family.  I still refuse to go.  I just don't want to deal with all that crap again.  I know that I would be miserable.  I know that they would pick up on that and just make things worse.  I really don't want to have to deal with all that.  Still, it's hard to say no.  I feel guilty doing so.  This battle of emotions starts weeks in advance.

I've been talking to Rachel about this for weeks.  She always reminds me that I'm an adult and get to make my own choices.  If I don't want to go, I don't have to go, and I don't owe them an explanation.  They're adults and can just deal with it.  I shouldn't have to make myself feel like crap in order to make them happy.  I can love my family and still not like them, and if I don't like them, I shouldn't have to spend my holidays with them.  Still, I feel this mix of anxiety, guilt, anger, annoyance, sadness, etc., and it gets worse and worse as the holidays approach.

Emotional Whirlwind

I'm sorry for not posting.  I really haven't felt up to it.  I'm still dealing with a swirl of emotions left over from the emotional "perfect storm" that occurred last week.  Besides watching the Dan Wheldon Memorial Service on Sunday as a way to get a sense of closure, I've also had to take my mom to the cardiologist to go over what happened at the neurologist and what her 24-hour heart monitor showed.

Everything went smoothly with both things.  The Memorial Service was beautiful, sorrowful, and funny.  (Who knew Dan Wheldon had OCD???)  I really did feel better for watching it.  I had debated with myself for days.  I felt I needed to watch it as I was still having a difficult time believing he was really gone.  I felt nervous though as I don't tend to deal well with funerals or wakes.  I was worried that it would set off an entirely new set of emotions that I just didn't want to deal with.  Finally, I made the decision to watch it and record it as well, in case I wasn't yet ready to actually watch the entire thing.  Then I could watch it in bits and pieces as I felt ready.  I did get through the entire service.  I still feel some deep sadness (depression???) over the situation (and all it reminds me of), but I've come more to terms with it.  I no longer feel that doubt and uncertainty I felt before.

The trip to the cardiologist was nerve racking.  I always hate going to any doctor, but knowing I was taking my mom to find out why she had the episode she did at the neurologist, the one that landed her in the ER for six hours, had my anxiety level sky high.  I knew that there was the possibility that her Long QT or her mitral valve prolapse had worsened.  I also knew that it very well could be nothing, but just the thought that something could be seriously wrong had my mind racing.  Would she need surgery???  This thought kept whirling through my mind, as did other darker ones I don't want to revisit.  I did my best to hide all of this from everyone, to act as if it was no big deal, but a did let out a silent sigh of relief from deep in my soul when the doctor said that the monitor didn't show anything very interesting.  Her heart rate and blood pressure have been running slightly low, but there were no abnormally rapid arrhythmias which was good.  He took her off her beta blocker and reduced her water pill.  He also asked her to record her BP twice a day, and she is to go back in two weeks.  Despite this good news, I still feel overwhelmed and scared by the entire situation.

The worst thing is that my moods have been all over the place.  From day to day or even hour to hour, I can go from sad, to anxious, to giddy, to fearless, to angry at the world, or even to just plain numb and apathetic.  It is this last one that has me the most concerned.  I can figure out where all the others come from, what causes them, and even how to deal with them.  The numbness makes me fear that I'm simply checking out, because I can't deal with things.  This is usually what happens when I hit my darkest times, when things become the most overwhelming.  I simply don't care at all.  Nothing matters.  Nothing affects me.  I'm simply not feeling.  I recognize this when it's happening, I just can't figure out how to bring myself out of it.  This brings about feelings of failure on top of everything else.  ARGH!

I think this is why I haven't felt like blogging, or really doing much of anything, because I can't figure out these emotions, and at times, I just don't care.  I know I'll have to discuss all of this with Rachel today during therapy.  Perhaps she can pull out some of her special Rachel power and figure it all out.  She has a tendency to do that.  Sometimes, it's quite annoying, especially when it's something I just don't want to deal with.  LOL

Also, I have an appointment with the doctor on Monday.  We will be reviewing meds and hopefully figuring out what to do with these stupid allergies.  This has me nervous as it is a trip to the doc, time out of the house, and a possible/probable change, but I've been trying to keep in mind that it is a good thing.  Dealing with the allergies and tweaking my meds should make me feel much better.  I'm going to try to continue to focus on this and hope that I can make it through without too much anxiety.  I will try to keep you all informed of what changes we make and how they affect my anxiety level.

I also want to say a huge thank you to all those who have sent me support during the last couple of weeks and even before.  Your support really makes a greater impact than you could even imagine.  Thank you.  Virtual hugs.

Help! My Therapist Has Morphed Into Nancy Reagan!!!!

Ugh!!!  So Tuesday's therapy session set me off a little.  Yes, it has taken me two days to even get to the point where I can blog about it.  It started off with the construction in the parking lot.  I couldn't park where I normally do, and there was only one space available.  The problem was that the cars parked on either side of the empty space were hugging the line.  Once I finally got squeezed into the skinny strip of asphalt available, I had a new problem.  I could barely get out of the car!  UGH!!!  Don't people know you're supposed to park in the middle of the space???  Come on people!  Show some courtesy!

Once I finally made it inside, less than five minutes before my scheduled time, the waiting room was crowded.  There was a college student near the door (blowing his nose for five minutes straight) and a flock of other people spread around the room.  I had to wait in line behind a woman who must have thought she had all the time in the world, just so I could sign in.  I finally took a seat as far away from everyone as possible (without being near the bathroom).  Unfortunately, this was right by the reception desk, at which the woman with the temporal issues was still standing.  So, of course, my body automatically leans toward the right and the other empty seats.  But wait...this can't be the end of the ordeal.  In walks a snotty-nosed, hyperactive little boy who immediately leaps into the chairs next to me.  HELLO!!!  On top of all this, my therapist was running late....fifteen minutes late to be exact.

By the time I finally got back to my therapist's office, my head was spinning, my pulse was racing, and I was ready to throw up and run away screaming all at the same time.  Just thinking about it now has my pulse rising.  Whew.....Breathe....Okay.....

So, I finally start my session...fifteen minutes late....and my therapist asks me how I've been doing and what I want to talk about.  The problem is, I can't think straight, because my mind is still out in the waiting room.  So,  I tell her that.  Which sets off a whole, "Why didn't you ask to wait in the back?" thing.  Yes, I get that plenty of people wait in the back.  Yes, I get that it is an accepted thing for them.  Yes, I get that it is more than okay with the staff, that they even expect it.  Still, it's not acceptable for me.  I try to explain this to Rachel, but I'm not sure if she gets it.  Yes,  the waiting room sent my anxiety sky high, but for me, waiting in the back (which I've never done) sets of an entirely different set of worries and anxieties as well as a feeling of failure and "why can't I just suck it up and wait in the waiting room like a "normal" person?".

Rachel tries to explain that waiting in the back is normal, accepted, and even expected and that removing myself from a situation that makes my anxiety flare is not failure, but a positive step.  Cognitively, I get that, but emotionally, I'm not there.  The entire idea of waiting in the back raises my anxiety even more than just waiting it out.  Why in the world is something so simple so difficult???!!!

Anyway...this brings the entire session to the good old conversation that I feel I've had a thousand times within the last few months...putting myself and my needs first.  I just can't seem to get this.  Rachel and I have been over this time and again.  We've talked about voicing my needs and setting boundaries, etc.   I get the need.  I just can't seem to do it.

It is so complicated.  I can't seem to reconcile the idea that putting some focus on my need is not the same as being selfish.  We're always taught to share, to eat what you are served, to give to others who are less fortunate, to be a good sport, to be there for your friends and family when they need you, etc.  Not doing so is equivalent to being selfish.  If this is true, then how is it not selfish when I say, "No, I can't babysit my niece and nephew this weekend" and do so for no other reason than I simply don't want to, that babysitting them drives up my anxiety until I am physically ill?  How is it not selfish to say, "No, I understand that you really want chili for dinner tonight, but I don't.  Let's have something else"?  To me, being unselfish means giving others what they want and need and making them happy.  Taking away what they want simply because I don't would then make me selfish.

I'm sure this is all just some warped idea my brain has conjured up.  I just can't find my way out of it's mess right now.  Rachel asked a question.  Do I give in because it's easier, or do I give in because I don't think I deserve to be happy and have what I want as much as others deserve to be happy and have what they want?  My blunt, truthful answer???  Both.  Yes, it is easier to give in, especially with family.  My family knows how to bully and manipulate to get what they want.  When they do so, they prey on things that make me feel worse about myself.  Of course, I want to avoid this.  If the purpose of "Saying No" and setting boundaries is to avoid things that make me anxious and to make myself happy, then how is submitting to their bullying and manipulation helping???   It definitely doesn't help me avoid things that make me feel worse.



I know that this is more of my mind's messed up thought process.  I can't keep everyone happy, and I can't keep everyone safe.  It's not possible.  I don't have that kind of control over the world.  Still, I can't wrap my mind around the thought of not doing everything possible.  I can't wrap my mind around the fact that my saying, "No, I can't go shopping today.  I know it's better for you, but I'm just not in a place, mentally, to do it.  Let's go tomorrow instead..." isn't going to hurt someone's feelings and make them upset at me, or if it does, then that's their problem, not mine.  That getting upset over something as little as that is their problem to deal with and doesn't reflect on me.  That they are adults who can deal with it themselves and make their own decisions.  That they'll either get over it and move on, or they won't, and that if they can't respect my needs, then maybe it's better I'm not around them.

All of this has made this week's "homework" overwhelming.  I'm supposed to focus on putting my needs first and setting boundaries.  I'm supposed to work on "Just Say No".  The thought of doing so makes me physically ill.  I literally started crying at the thought of this as Rachel and I discussed it during my session.  Rachel noticed and asked if we needed to back off.  Of course, I couldn't even say no to that.  I smiled, wiped away the tears, and told her I was fine, but for the last two days, I've been in a whirl of thoughts and emotions, sick to my stomach, and just an overall mess.  I know this is something I need to work on.  I know it will be hard.  I know it will eventually be possible.  I'm just not sure how I can do this, if I can do this, especially right now.

Am I Worth the Investment???

Today is World Mental Health Day, a day dedicated to promoting awareness and open discussion of mental health issues.  This year's them is "Investing in Mental Health".

I think that this is the hardest thing about therapy for me.  I have never thought of myself as worthy of an investment.  My focus has always been on making everyone else happy, doing for others as I would never do for myself.  Holidays dinners had to include all my nieces' and nephews' favorite foods.  It didn't matter how many hours I stood over the stove to do it.  It didn't matter how stressed and tired I was or whether there was anything I liked to eat.

School was always about getting the best grades.  Making my teachers and my mom happy.  In high school I felt the necessity to become involved in every activity I thought might impress a college administrator.  It didn't matter whether I chose the classes or paths I enjoyed.  It didn't matter how stressed or overwhelmed I became.

This same idea that I didn't matter spilled over into all my relationships.  I wasn't worthy of good relationships so it didn't matter how friends, family, or lovers treated me.  Because I knew that I wasn't worthy of good relationships, I never really became fully attached to anyone.  I kept a small part of me separate, knowing that in the end, people would hurt me and/or leave me.  That had always been the way my relationships had worked in the past.

Moving past these ideas and realizing that I am worthy has been the toughest thing.  The idea of my limited worth has been so ingrained for so long.  It wasn't until my mom insisted that I take time to get help through Disability Medicaid so that I could receive treatment that I even considered the option.  I had never considered therapy, because I had never considered myself worthy of it.  I didn't consider myself worthy of it, but my mom did.  It took someone else showing me that they saw my worth before I could even begin to see my own.

Through therapy, I have begun to look at this.  I have begun to see that others, not just my mom, do see worth in me.  If they see worth in me, how can I not see the worth in myself?  This has been one of the major eye-opening moments for me, simply realizing I'm worth investing in.  Realizing that investing in my own wants and needs doesn't mean that I don't care about the wants and needs of others.  Realizing that investing in my own needs is a requirement if I truly want to be there for my friends and family rather than be detached from relationships.  Therefore, for me, the first step in investing in my mental health has simply been realizing that I'm worthy of being invested in.

World Mental Health Day: Investing In Mental Health

October 10, 2011 is World Mental Health Day, a day to "raise public awareness of mental health issues" and "promote open discussions about mental disorders".  This year's theme is "Investing in Mental Health".  This obviously has multiple connotations.

The first is obviously about financially investing in mental health services.  According to the World Health Organization (WHO), mental health services are highly underfunded around the world, especially in low or middle income countries who focus less than 2% of their health care budgets on mental health care.  Many countries have less than one mental health care specialist for every one million people (in population).  When you calculate that much of these funds and many of these specialists are allocated to large mental hospitals, how much is left for smaller community services?  It is obvious that more funding is needed for mental health care in order to fund personalized and effective care for those dealing with mental health issues.

Another connotation of "Investing in Mental Health" is more personal.  It is the time, energy, and emotion that those dealing with mental health issues invest every day.  It is also the understanding and support that family and friends invest in these individuals.  People don't always realize how much dealing with a mental health issue is like investing in the stock market.  Those of use dealing with these types of issues may invest money in our therapy, our medications, etc., but even more so, we invest ourselves, our whole selves, in our therapy.  We invest countless hours digging though thoughts and memories, understanding triggers, focusing on being mindful and staying present.  We invest energy finding outlets for our stress and discovering coping mechanisms.  We blog.  We craft.  We meditate.  We invest in relationships with our therapists and our doctors, trusting them with our deepest emotions, our darkest thoughts, and our happiest triumphs.  We invest all that we can in order to help ourselves in our struggles with our disorders.

Like the stock market, struggling with mental health issues has it's ups and downs.  Just when you think your investment is starting to pay off, something comes and knocks you back down.  Just like investing in the stock market, investing in your mental health is most successful when you invest long term.  You can't be frightened by the ups and downs and bail out, no matter how much you might want to.  You have to ride it out.  Eventually, it will turn back around and regain its upward trend.  Whether you are investing in your mental health or the stock market, the key is the same.  If you invest enough and stick it out long enough, fighting through the ups and downs and never giving into the panic that the ups and downs cause, it eventually pays off in dividends, and you can become wealthy beyond your wildest dreams.

Power Over Poultry

For those who don't know, I have huge food contamination issues.  One of my worst has to do with uncooked meat.  I don't even like to touch the packages in the store.  I've been know to go into full panic attack mode if I do.  Hyperventilating, sobbing, the full nine yards, right in the middle of the supermarket.

I do love to cook, and this has made it really hard for me to do so in the recent years.  I'm the wash the hands several times, every minute or two, kind of girl.  Crack out the Clorox wipes and scrub down the kitchen a few times as well.  Yes, it makes sense and is important to wash your hands and disinfect surfaces when working with raw meat, but for goodness sake, it takes me 45 minutes to prepare a meatloaf for the oven!???

I understand why I have these food issues.  It's a complex combination of things.  We had to be extra careful with cleanliness and food prep when my brother had cancer.  On top of that, I have had food poisoning three times (thanks to two restaurants and a boxed food item).  One of those times, I ended up in the ER and my mom ended up hospitalized.  I've also had an uncle get E.Coli from a restaurant in Chicago.  It nearly killed him and he hasn't been the same since.  So, you can easily see where my food issues come from.

Last night, I decided to make roasted chicken legs for dinner.  It was a challenge to myself.  About a week and a half ago, I roasted a whole chicken.  Poultry is usually a HUGE issue for me.  As soon as I know I'm going to work with poultry, the OCD voice in my head starts chanting "SALMONELLA...SALMONELLA".  It starts out slowly and quietly at first and builds in both speed and volume.  Usually, by the time I finally get the bird (or bird parts) in the oven, I'm frantic and hyperventilating.  Still, I go through it, because I love chicken.

Preparing that whole chicken a week and a half ago was different though.  I prepped in advance as Rachel and I had discussed I should do when working with raw meat.  I had the oven preheated, dish out and sprayed, everything ready in advance.  All I had to do was open the chicken, remove the giblets, and get it into the dish before I could wash my hands.  All of this went off without a hitch.  The first part of Battle Poultry went as planned.  (I will admit one squeamish moment when trying to tuck back the wings.  The stupid things just didn't want to cooperate, and I felt as if I was torturing the poor creature.)  Next, I prepared the olive oil and my homemade seasoning salt by removing the lids and setting them to one side.  This allowed me to pour and season with one clean hand while rubbing the olive oil and seasoning into the bird with my second hand.  Once that was done, I used my clean hand to open the oven and stick in the bird.  Done!

All that was left, was cleaning up the mess.  I resisted the urge to wash my hands first before picking up the chicken wrappings that were laying in the sink and tossing them in the garbage.  Why I ever thought I needed clean hands to do so is beyond me.  Once the mess was out of the sink, I washed my hands, washed the kitchen shears used to open the bird, and wiped down the sink, faucet, countertop, etc. with a Clorox wipe.  I washed my hands again for good measure and left the kitchen.  I didn't return until the bird was done.  : )

You might still think that is a lot of hand washing, but really it is greatly pared down for me.  Only one Clorox wipe to boot!  That's not the biggest deal, however.  The biggest deal is that there was no panic mode, no hyperventilating.  I think the OCD voice must have taken a vacation that day, or possibly had a sore throat.  I'm not sure.  Either way, there was no chanting of "SALMONELLA...SALMONELLA".

Needless to say, I was so proud of myself that I did a little happy dance.  When I told Rachel during our last session, she said that I had every right to be proud of myself.  It is a big deal.  Yet, my OCD voice (obviously fully recovered and/or back from vacay) kicked in and told me, "It's just a one time thing.  There's no way you can do that again.  You're not strong enough."

So, last night's chicken legs were a challenge to myself and my OCD voice, a way to prove it wrong.  I'm happy to say, it went relatively well.  Was there panic?  No.  There was a moment when one of the drumsticks flipped out of my hand, flew across the counter, and came to a rest on the lid of the container to my homemade seasoning salt.  (The seasoning salt itself remained unaffected as I'd opened the container earlier.)  My first thought was, "CRAP!!!  Now the entire counter is dirty and full of germs, and I'll definitely have to wash that lid.  Will the lid dry enough to be able to put back on the seasoning salt without making the seasoning salt clump???"  Still, that was the extent of it.  They were valid thoughts.  They were reasonable and there was no repetitive chant of "SALMONELLA...SALMONELLA" and no panic.  Just annoyance at having to wash the lid and deal with the mess.

Therapy Anxiety

I have to say, the last week has been a relatively good one.  Despite the allergies, I've been relatively upbeat and have even seen a slight decrease in rituals.  The weather has been abnormally cool, rainy, and overcast.  It's more like late October than lat September.  I LOVE IT!!!!

I'm a fall kind of girl.  I love the crisp, coolness and the breeze filled with the smell of bonfires.  I love brilliance of the leaves finally showing their true colors.  I love that it is the season of pumpkins, apples, and sweet potatoes.  I am happiest in the fall.

Given the unexpectedly fall-like weather, I've been on cloud nine.  I've been curled up with a cup of tea, my dog, and a good book.  Nothing could be better.  Heck, I've even felt so energized that I've been jumping on the recumbent bike with my book, pedaling out 16-17 miles while enjoying the unusual love story between a vampire and a witch.  (Yes, I am rereading "A Discovery of Witches for the fifth time.  Don't judge me!)

Until yesterday afternoon.  At first I thought it was do to the little pop-up storm we had that turned the sky black and sent everything in my backyard swirling in circles.  But the storm passed, and despite that fact, I'm still anxious beyond belief.  Then it hit me.  Today is therapy day.

It does seem that I always get worked up the day of therapy.  There is a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and my heart feels like it's going to beat out of my chest.  It's more than just the fact that going to therapy means leaving the house.  I occasionally have to leave to go shopping, and while I do get anxious, it's not this level.

I think it's a combination of knowing that in reality, I don't really control my therapy, no matter how many times Rachel tries to tell me that she works for me, and knowing that I will have to address issues that I just don't want to address and feel emotions that I just don't want to feel.  I adore Rachel.  She is a great therapist and I feel more comfortable around her than I do most people (including half of my family), but sometimes I just wish she'd get horribly lost on her way to work, blow a tire in the middle of nowhere, and have no cell phone signal, so that they would call and cancel my session.  I know.....it's terrible!  Yes, it makes me feel guilty to even think that.  (God forbid she actually gets lost, blows a tire, and has no cell signal.  I don't think I'd ever be able to face her again.)

Still, I have never cancelled or walk out of a session.  That's a good thing, right???  Despite that, I'm worried about why therapy makes me so anxious.  Is this normal????

Wonder Woman I Am Not

Today, I had someone tell me that I was their hero on a discussion board pertaining to a book I've been reading, and rereading, and then reading again.  (It's titled "A Discovery of Witches" and is by Deborah Harkness.  I love it because there is so much history, mythology, etc. embedded and so much to research to do.  The lead character also deals with some anxiety issues of her own, which I can definitely relate to.)  Several of us have been discussing and researching the book for the last few weeks and have been doing a real-time read for the last week or so.

So, why was I suddenly considered a hero???  Because after discussion about the difficulty of sifting through all the threads to find all the research everyone had done, we decided we needed to make a new thread and compile it all there.  When no one else did so, I decided to go ahead and do it myself.  Why not, I have the time and it's just the kind of thing I like.

So, with that I was suddenly a hero.  Which reminds me of something Rachel is constantly telling me during our therapy sessions.  "You are not Wonder Woman.  It is not your job to save the world."

I think this is something that a lot of us deal with.  We want to make sure everything is perfect for everyone.  Sometimes, that keeps us from taking care of ourselves and focusing on our wants and needs.  It is such a difficult, constant struggle to decide, "Am I being a kind, supportive friend/family member, or am I trying to be a superhero?"

When this woman said I was her hero, I immediately had to stop and think about it.  Was I creating the thread and compiling the information because it was something I wanted to do or was I doing it to please everyone else?  Was I doing it simply because everyone wanted it and no one else wanted to do it?  Was I doing it because I felt it would make others look up to me with added respect?  Was I doing it because it actually interested me and made me feel fulfilled?

After stopping to sort through all of this, I was secure in my choice to do it.  I really did want one centralized place to put all of my research and be able to look back on everyone else's.  That's the main reason I love this book and this discussion group.  I also love the "tedious" task of sifting through it all.  I actually find it mentally stimulating.

Still, the entire event brought to my attention the fact that I don't think through these things as much as I should.  I really need to get back to taking a breath and thinking things through in advance, figuring out what I'm doing and why I'm doing it.  I've been focusing on this with some of my rituals, such as hand washing, but haven't been applying it to these types of situations.  Who knew such a little thing on a discussion board for a piece of fiction could cause me to have such an epiphany?

I know that it will be tough to do this, but what isn't tough when dealing with anxiety disorders?  I'll try to take it one day and one decision at a time and keep reminding myself that I'm not a superhero and don't want to be one.  Being a superhero is too hard for a simple country girl like me who can't fly and doesn't own a lasso of truth.  I'd rather just be me than hide behind a mask and a secret identity.  Besides, no one would want to see me in tights and a cape.  ; )

Outlets vs. Receptacles

Wednesday was therapy day.  Usually, therapy day is not a good day for me.  Actually, the two days before and two days after therapy day are usually not good days for me.  Usually, the two days prior to therapy and therapy day itself is filled with amped up anxiety.  My need to have perfection around me increases, hand washing increases, the number of lists I make in a day increases.  I tend to rant over every little thing that sets me off.  Boy do I feel sorry for those around me.  The two days following therapy tend to be the exact opposite.  i go into a deep funk of depression.  I don't want to deal with anyone or anything.  I just want to be left alone to wallow in my thoughts.  Not a healthy time.


This Wednesday was slightly better, however.  I'm becoming more comfortable with my therapist, Rachel.  She and I share similar personalities.  We both have super sarcastic senses of humor, and we both prefer alt rock (especially when compared to the cheesy spa music played in most relaxation cds).  It has also helped that Rachel is no longer "flooding" me as part of my sessions.  Let's just say "flooding" and I don't get along.


Instead, we're taking it slow.  She's helping me to look at the events that happen between sessions and the emotions that go along with them.  This is much more pleasant than diving head first into my past.  Instead, I can explore which emotions are amped up because they are linked to my past experiences.  She also helps me understand which behaviors I experience due to these emotions are appropriate and which are illogical.  (Ranting for a couple of hours and including some choice words in those rants, because a semi-driver wouldn't move into the fast lane and nearly ran me down on the interstate is okay.  Following said truck driver until he exits the interstate and beating him with a tire iron would not.)  


While I acknowledge that this is an important part of my therapy, it is also extremely difficult.  I simply don't do well with emotions.  I often find them overpowering and simply can't understand them.  So, I lock them up and let them build up until they all come out in an eruption that cannot be reigned in let alone controlled.   Not only is this not good for those around me, but it's also terrible for me.  When this happens, I immediately feel guilty for having such outbursts.  The guilt leads to depression, which leads to anxiety, and around in the whirlpool we go.


So...needless to say, one of my "homework" assignments is to work on finding "outlets" for my emotions.  Since I have trouble voicing them, I have to find another way.  What is an "outlet"?  Let's look at the definition:  "A means by which something escapes, passes, or is released, in particular".  In this case I need to find some means by which my frustration, anger, sadness, etc can escape or be released (before it explodes like Krakatoa).  I've never really focused on this.  Instead I've relied on "receptacles":   An object or space used to contain something.  


Think of an electrical outlet versus an electrical receptacle.  What good is the receptacle (which contains the plug) if there is no outlet to allow the energy to pass through the wires and into the cord which carries it to our appliances of choice.  All this time, I've been plugged in, but the juice hasn't been making it's way through to the necessary destination.


So....I need outlets (other than 2 hour rants about the decline of civilization as seen in traffic violations).  I love to cook and it does make me feel better.  I mean, I get to torture food by hacking it into pieces, beating it up, and baking or frying it under high heat.  What better way to work through frustrations?  (Plus, in the end I come  out with something beautiful and nourishing to share with my family.)  Still, sometimes I just don't have the energy to hack, beat, and bake.  Sometimes my anxiety level is so high that I simply dread touching the raw ingredients.  So, what do I do when I can't cook?  I'd love to take up kickboxing, but I'm not sure the injuries to my hip, elbow, or back would cooperate.  Goodness knows meditation is not my forte.  So, where does that leave me?  


Any ideas for me to try out?  What kind of outlets do you have that might be helpful for me?