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Thursday, May 8, 2014

Once again...

Here I am laying awake with my mind running wild.  Really I should be sleeping like the rest of my entire household, but I'm not.  I'm not really even sure what I'm thinking about.  For the last two days, I've been really struggling with anxiety. I've been feeling over stimulated and overwhelmed.  Everything seems to make my skin crawl... my daughter bouncing around the house in her adorable chipper way, nursing my baby, the dogs playing in the floor... everything.  I think this episode was brought on by some outside issues I'm having in regards to having a good support system (other than my husband because he is magnificent).  My husband can't be everything I need.  I only tell a very select few people what I really have going on, but they act as if they don't care, and offer no support.  I've stopped reaching out to certain people because I figure it will hurt my feelings less if they use the excuse that they didn't know what's going on with me.  I have been seeing my new doctor, and have been on medication that is slowly building up in my system to help my depression and mood swings.  My doctor says once my lows are brought up and my mood and emotions are more stable, we can address my anxiety.  I wish it could all just happen. I could snap my fingers and be to the point where I've found the perfect combo of meds to make me feel normal.  I have enough outside issues right now, that I could really do without what's going on inside my head.

My name is Lacey. I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Just deal with it.

I'm not really sure how others in a similar situation to me feel about this matter, but it's something that weighs heavily on me.... "just dealing."  I don't mean me just dealing with things, I mean people "just dealing" with me.  So often I feel like the people that I love are forced to just deal with me, and every once in a while someone even reminds me that I'm something that has to be dealt with, whether they mean it literally or not.  I get that my moods swing, and my emotions sometimes go unchecked.  I get that.  It makes me feel like I'm such an emotional burden on everyone around me, and I don't know how much of that is just my "I wear me heart on my sleeve" personality, and how much of it is the fact that I am mentally ill and I have a lot of stuff to work through.

I mean how do I even tell what's me, and what would go away given proper therapy and medication?  I don't want to be the bad mood wife that my husband has to deal with, or the bad mood mom that my kids have to deal with.  I get exhausted at the idea of even trying to fake it, though.  For example, one or both of my kids have been sick for the past two weeks, I'm sleep deprived and in an allergy medicine fog, and my 5 year old dropped and broke my phone that she wasn't even supposed to have (leaving me phoneless for going on 5 days now).  Do all these things qualify me to be in a bad mood without someone blaming my shitty disposition on "my problem," or am I just shitty for letting everything get to me and bringing down those around me.  

Sometimes I really do feel like a sinking ship taking everyone down, or a vacuum that sucks all of the life out of the room.  Is this just who I am?  Is this just who I'm destined to be?  This feeling of not being good enough, or happy enough, or carefree enough is all just too much.  I didn't wake up one day and aspire to be Debbie Downer, but I feel like that's exactly who I am - the girl that ruins everyone's good fun.

My name is Lacey.  I'm a mother, a wife, a sister, a daughter, a friend.  I'm living with mental illness.

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

hush hush

I had a nice little conversation with my cousin tonight, whom I shared my blog with. My cousin thinks that I should share with everyone. I think I'm ready to share my thoughts with the world; I even made my blog easier to access, subscribe to, and share. Then it hits me....how open can I truly be? The issue isn't fear of what others may think of me. I'm no longer worried about being judged. People are always going to judge me, make assumptions about me, or even pity me. Whatever dude. I'm over that.  My issue now is how to share things about my life, my past, my childhood, the things that have led me to who I am today, without divulging information that other people don't want the world to know? This is, after all, a public forum. I'm not hiding who I am.

My name is Lacey.  I'm a mother, a wife, a sister, a daughter, a friend.  I'm living with mental illness.

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Not good enough.

“I’m not good enough.”  That is phrase that us who live day in and day out feeling different from everyone else know all to well.  There are so many times where I feel like I’m not a good enough mom, or wife, or sister, or student, or singer.  In reality, I know this isn’t the case, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling like it’s so true.
I have battled depression, and it sucks in a major way.  People ask “Why are you depressed?” or “What do you have to be depressed about?  You have a great life.”  My answer?  NOTHING.  When people make statements or ask questions like that it just makes me feel even worse.  They’re right.  I have a fantastic life with a fantastic husband, and two perfect kids… but I’m still depressed.  The thing about depression is that you don’t have to have a reason to be depressed.  You just are.  Depression isn’t just mental, it’s a physical illness too.  Depression can make you feel like you’ve been hit like a bus.  Depression can make you feel like you don’t have the energy to do anything and even take away your desire to do things you generally love to do.  You know what depression can look like? Laziness.  Yep.  That’s right.  I’ve even been accused of being lazy, when there is nothing I want more than to actually have the desire and energy to get up and clean the house spotless or do 15 loads of laundry.   
Where am I going with all of this?  That feeling of not being good enough.  It tends to creep in when I’m afraid others will assume that I’m just lazy.  When others say “I kept my house clean with two small kids.”  I feel useless.  Not good enough… but they just don’t get it.  I’m not like everyone else.
I know.  I know.  I AM good enough.  I am the best mother and wife that I can physically and mentally be, but it doesn’t change what others assume or think they know about me.
My name is Lacey.  I'm a mother, a wife, a sister, a daughter, a friend.  I'm living with mental illness.

Monday, March 3, 2014

What's the point?

I'm sitting on the couch with a 24lb hunk on baby man sleeping peacfully (and drooling plentifully) on my chest.  I love being close to my kids. When everything is quiet, and I'm covered in sleeping baby, things seem peacful... at least as peaceful as they get inside my head.  These quiet times are often when I try to slow my thoughts down and really process things.

Today, I find myself thinking about two things; how craptastic today is, and how I don't even know my true intentions when it comes to this blog.

Today sucked because Mother Nature is not my pal.  I have a couple friends and Mother Nature IS NOT one of them.  The one doctors office that could squeeze me in within the next month, was willing to see me today.  That is until Snowacolypse 2014 v.2 came through, and the psychiatrist decided to take a day off. I was so looking forward to seeing a new doctor and getting my head right.  I had even settled my soul to the idea of paying $200 to see an out of network doctor.  I'm starting to feel like I'm doomed to feel totally insane for the rest of my life.

Now, for my blog.  I started writing this because it's usually cathartic for me to talk about how I feel and what I'm thinking. Now, I'm not sure who I want listening. I've hesitated sharing this blog with people I know.  I'm not sure why I'm hesitant. Maybe I'm afraid of being judged, or afraid of people handling me with kid gloves because they think I'm weak or dammaged.  I know that in theory, I'm not supposed to care about what people think. Right?  I should assume that anyone who would pass judgement on me is either ignorant to mental illness or is a total asshat. Right? In theory I shouldn't care, but for some reason I do.  I'm going to work on letting go of that fear.

My name is Lacey.  I'm a mother, a wife, a sister, a daughter, a friend.  I'm living with mental illness.

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Back to the drawing board... without a pen.

What started as something very hopeful now feels hopeless again.  I was so excited about finding a new doctor and actually being able to schedule an appointment for next week.  I got a call from the doctors office this morning informing me that the doctor is not in my insurance's network after all.  If I want to see the doctor next week, I have to pay up front until my deductible is met, and then I have to pay 40% of my treatment costs.  I am so frustrated and overwhelmed.  I pay for health insurance and still can't see a doctor.  Al of the doctors in my network aren't accepting patients or they're booking into the summertime.  How is the system so messed up and difficult to navigate that someone who is in desperate need to see a psychiatrist has to jump through hoops and do backbends?  I understand why people neglect their mental health; why I have neglected my own mental health.  When I'm having a bad day, it's hard to find the motivation to go to the grocery store, much less make 20 calls to be refused.
Back to the drawing board.
My name is Lacey.  I'm a mother, a wife, a sister, a daughter, a friend.  I'm living with mental illness.

Who am I?

As I lay here in bed at 3:30am, my thoughts are racing. I'm struck by an overwhelming sense of anxiety, and a preoccupation with the fact that I am mentally ill.  Mental illness had been a huge part of my life; a massive, dark, scary, painful part of my life.
Shortly after hitting puberty, I started to realize that maybe I was different from other people.  Maybe my mental illness reared it's head before I began to notice.  Who knows?  What I do know is that I remember changing from a happy little girl to someone I didn't even know.  I was different.  By the time I was around twelve years old, it was clear that I wasn't dealing with typical pre-teen problems.  I was mentally ill.  I am mentally ill.
Since junior high I have been on and off of medications.  I have been put in the hospital a couple of times.  I've had numerous psychiatrists and therapists.  I've heard doctors say "major depression," "bipolar disorder," "OCD," "ADD," BPD," and just about every other combination of letters in the alphabet.   

Mental illness has taken a lot from me; feelings of self worth and friendship being two of the biggest.  I notice now as an adult how hard is has been for me to make and keep friends.  I seem to attract fair-weather friends, or the friends who will drop you when things get tough.  I understand that sometimes people with mental illness aren't fun to be around (I'll hit more on this in a later post.).   I get it... I don't even like me.  Growing up, my friends didn't realize that the compulsions, the impulsiveness, the anger, the grandiose behavior, the desperation, the poor decisions, that girl who acted desperate to be a part of something, that wasn't me.  Sure, my friends may have seen me as kid who acted out, but they didn't realize it was mental illness.  Close friends would assume that I was "acting out" because I had issues at home (another story), others would assume that I was a bad person.  What was  I supposed to say?  "Yo! Don't hate me.  I only do stupid shit because I'm crazy."  There is so much stigma in regards to mental illness, and most teenagers can't grasp the concept anyway.  I was embarrassed that I was sick, and I was embarrassed about how my illness effected me and my actions.  I will say that I managed to keep a couple friends from my teenage years who have stuck by me through everything... I think that's because they know a little about mental illness themselves.
I've been unmedicated and without therapy for a few years now, and I am realizing now, more than ever, that I am sick.  SICK.  The kind of sick that requires medical help.  The last year and a half have been very trying, due to a very difficult pregnancy that was followed by my mental illness rearing it's ugly head, and tearing into my life with full force.  I am defeated.  I have reached the point where my bad days outnumber the good.  There are days where I feel utterly exhausted at the thought of doing anything.  Some days I struggle with even the thought of being hugged, because my skin is crawling and feels as if it might fall off.  Some days I am so anxious that a tapping foot will send me into a rage filled fit of tears.  I'm pulling my hair out, literally pulling my hair out.  I know that I cannot continue to live as a slave to the terrible monster that is this sickness.  I have two perfect kids, and husband that has to be some sort of saint to have been able to put up with me for this long.
Over the last couple of weeks I've been battling my insurance company for information, and have called around 100 doctors offices to find a psychiatrist.  So many of the doctors I contacted are booking into June, and I was just about at my wits end.  I finally broke down in tears to a receptionist on the phone, and she found a way to squeeze me in with a doctor next week.  I have mixed feelings about getting "shrunk," but I am looking forward to having a solid diagnosis as an adult and getting on the road to recovery.  I want nothing more than to enjoy life with my kids and husband.
If you have made it this far, thank you.  I plan on using this blog to share my past experiences with mental illness as well my present struggles and recovery.

My name is Lacey.  I'm a mother, a wife, a sister, a daughter, a friend.  I'm living with mental illness.