BOUNDARIES

When you're struggling with darkness, you forget that other people have limitations. We often see only our problems and no one else's. We expect too much from our family and friends. We want them to drop their lives and problems for us. I have stepped on my friends' and families' boundaries many times and have lost friends because of it.

When I fell deep into the hole of depression and darkness overtook me, I became obsessed with my illness. I couldn't see beyond my own pain. I became friends with a woman at work and her husband during a period of my life when I was doing well. In time I fell into depression and began injuring. I expected my friend to be supportive and at my side no matter what. When she became busy with her grandchildren and family, I felt like she was turning her back on me. 

 

I started giving her notes expressing my feelings. I asked her why she was abandoning me. I described my inner pain and graphically wrote about my injuring. I even sent her a note with blood on it. I couldn't understand why she wasn't sacrificing everything for me. I was blinded by my inner pain. I wrote her angry letters, telling her off for not being at my side. She told me she couldn't handle my illness because her father committed suicide. I got even more upset. When our friendship ended, I hated her and myself. I hated her for not being at my side and I hated myself for ruining our friendship. I punished myself.

I expected my family, especially my mother, to be able to handle all my problems. I would ramble on about my inner pain, even when mom was tired or not feeling well. When I thought she wasn't listening, I'd get mad and say things I didn't mean. I thought my mom should have been able to handle everything I was going through. I couldn't understand that she had boundaries, too. I was blind to her problems. I thought my mother was supposed to only cater to my needs.

In therapy, I learned that everyone has boundaries. I'm not the only one with problems and my problems do not come first. There are times when family and friends cannot be at my side. I also realized that I needed to listen to my friends' and families' problems. I had to learn to accept boundaries without taking it personally. Just because a friends or family members could not be there for me did not mean they were turning their backs on me. It only meant they were human.

Now I respect my friends' and families' boundaries. I stand at my friends' sides and I support them when they need me. I now know everyone is struggling with a battle of his or her own. Respecting boundaries and having my own has helped me find peace, hold on to friendships, and dance within the light.

FRIENDS ARE LIFELINES

If you don't have family to turn to, or if you feel like you can't turn to your family, friends are just as good. If you have both, then you are lucky. Not only did my family stand at my side through the rough times and through recovery, but I also had wonderful friends. One friend in particular stood at my side during a very rough spell.

I met Cheryl while living with an old roommate. Cheryl transferred from another Giant Eagle to the one where I was and now am working. While living with my roommate and dating a guy, I fell into a depression. When I went to live with my boyfriend, I hit rock bottom. He became controlling and abusive, pushing me deeper into my inner hell. I started injuring and contemplating suicide.

With each put down, I found myself slipping away. I broke down into emotional episodes. My ex handled them by holding me down, and when I got worse, he called Cheryl. Cheryl talked to me, sometimes for hours, until I calmed down. Her gentle voice and persistence to get me to laugh calmed the fire within me.

The hole of depression seemed more hopeless at night time. I'd sit in the dark with a knife in my hand, planning my death. I dialed Cheryl's phone number and she answered. It didn't matter what time of night it was; she answered. She'd tell me how important I was to friends and family. She helped me see how special I was and how much I'd be missed if I were gone. She stayed on the phone with me until I put the knife down and started laughing.

At work, if Cheryl noticed I was struggling, she'd leave me a note that said “smile” with a smiley face. One night when I drove her home, I stood in the middle of a busy street determined to die. Cheryl pulled me out of the street. She led me into her apartment and talked to me until she was sure I would not try taking my life again.

When Cheryl moved away, we kept in touch online. She continued to support and listen to me while struggling with her own hardships. For a period of time, we lost contact. While we were apart, I reached recovery. When we finally did get back in contact again, through Facebook, she once again became my supporter and still is. Now she can also turn to me for support.

I no longer think about taking my life, I haven't

injured in thirteen years and I have been standing above the hole of depression for a long while. Cheryl praises me on how much stronger I am and on how far I have come, but when I do go through a rough time, she's there to give me words of wisdom and to help me see the light again. The funny thing is she and my husband give the same advice without talking to each other. Cheryl helps me stay within the light.

A MOTHER'S LOVE

Some mothers can be understanding, loving, and supportive, while other mothers cannot mother's can not wrap their minds around their own child having a mental illness. These mothers turn away from their children and sometimes accuse them of faking their illness. I've had friends who have told me they no longer talk to their family. I am lucky; I have the full support of my family and especially my mother.

My mother had her hands full when I was a child. She's the mother of four: three girls and a boy. My father worked long hours in the family garage while mom took care of us and our home. I often burst out into emotional episodes, breaking things around me, crying and yelling. My mom always knew how to calm me down and get me to tell her about my feelings. Even when she didn't understand everything that was going on within me, she stood by me.

During my senior year of high school, my cousin was killed in a car accident, and I fell into a deep depression and started injuring. No matter how hard I tried to hide it from my mom, she knew.

During the first semester of college, I lived with my grandparents. I hid in my room planning my death, injuring, and falling further down the hole of darkness. My mom started visiting me each week to take me to the mall or out to eat. When she found out I was suicidal, she had me move back home.

While at home, my mother took me to a therapist in a nearby town. When that therapist told me I was injuring for attention, and I left her office crying, my mom searched endlessly to find me a new therapist. She even took me to a mental health hospital to ask for a referral. The hospital gave us a number to a therapist. I didn't have insurance at the time, and the new therapist charged on a sliding fee. They accepted what I could afford to pay. Eventually, I reached recovery.

Years later, when I hit the bottom of the hole again and my ex-boyfriend kicked me out, my parents brought me home to live with them. My mother spent a day taking me to mental health crisis and other mental health faculties to find me help. When I was hospitalized, it was hard for my mom to see me in the mental health hospital, but she and my father came every chance they could. My mother gave me a Bible and told me God will get me through this. That Bible became my lifeline.

My mom has always been there for me no matter what. She still is. She has stood by me through my illness and through my recovery. She always listens, supports, and believes in me. I can still turn to her when I need someone to listen and to give me words of encouragement. She will never stop believing in me and my ability to stand within the light.

FINDING THE RIGHT PSYCHIATRIST

Like therapists, doctors, and so on, there are good and bad psychiatrists. Finding a good one is a process that can take time. Unfortunately, there are a number of bad psychiatrists out there. Like finding any medical professional, you may have to see a few before you find the right one. It's extra hard to make the right judgment about a psychiatrist when after an hour long first appointment, you see him or her for twenty minutes or so on your next appointment. You're asked a number of questions and given a prescription.

 

Some psychiatrists over-medicate and some do not give enough. There are also ones who take you off all your medications without slowly taking you off or one that gives you a wrong diagnosis.

I went to a psychiatrist during my college years who asked me a few questions and put me on an antidepressant. My depression worsened. He told me to give it two weeks to take effect. Within a month I was no better. He automatically took me off my medication and started me on a new one. Not only did my depression worsen, but I went into withdrawal. At my appointments, he asked me unusual

questions that had little to do with my illness and wrote me a prescription. After a few months, with no change in my depression, I decided to change psychiatrists.

I went to another one who had me on four different medications. When the antidepressants started causing side effects, he added another medication to counteract the side effects. He showed little compassion and made me feel uncomfortable about coming to see him. I decided to ask a friend which psychiatrist she was seeing and once again decided to change.

This therapist slowly decreased my medication and explained my illness to me. He showed me compassion and continued to be my doctor for years until he retired. I was referred to another doctor who works in the same building. I noticed I started having uncontrollable shakes and memory loss. After testing by a neurologist, it was determined that my medications were causing these problems. After being on my antidepressants for several years, I was starting to have side effects. The new psychiatrist took me off all my medications immediately sending me into withdrawal. He prescribed sleeping medications that said in the information not to give to those suffering with mental illness. I couldn't sleep for over a week.

Another friend referred me to the psychiatrist I see now. He shows compassion, he's very knowledgeable about medications and never takes me off of my antidepressants without weening me off. Thanks to his knowledge and compassion I continue to dance in the light.

Ask friends for referrals, ask your doctor, talk to someone at a mental health hospital and look into mental health associations for psychiatrists. There are also websites that can guide you in your search for a psychiatrist. With the right psychiatrist, you can also dance in the light.

I NEED YOU

Dependency can be an illness called Dependent Disorder or a symptom of Borderline Personality Disorder. I believe my dependency is part of my Borderline Disorder. It's a fear that you are incapable of taking care of yourself. Due to this fear, you become dependent on others such as parents, spouse and friends.

While I lived at home with my parents, I depended on them for my meals, to make sure I took my medication, to take care of my needs and to make sure I took care of myself when I was sick. I tried moving out on my own several times. I got apartments with friends, but each time I ended up back home. I couldn't depend on these friends to take care of me and our friendships were unhealthy. I made poor choices. I didn't eat right, I went to work sick and I got depressed.

When I moved in with my ex-boyfriend, he took control of my life. I thought I needed him to control me, but I emotionally was losing control. As he told me how to spend my money, what pan to cook with and how to take care of myself, my illness deepened. When my illness became more then he could handle, he kicked me out and once again I moved back home.

I feared and fear I cannot take care of myself on my own. I hate the idea of being alone. So I lived with my parents until I got married. While living with my parents,I applied for special housing through programs based on income, and when they called to show me apartments, I made excuses not to go. My parents agreed that I should stay home until they were sure I could take care of myself better. My fear of being alone led to my inability to handle my own needs properly.

I thought I would live the rest of my life at home until I met Lou. When Lou and I married, I became dependent on him and he enjoys attending to my needs. He reminds me to take my medication, he takes care of me when I'm sick, he makes sure I eat, he helps me make important and simple decisions, he doesn't leave me alone until I go to the doctor when I need to, he helps me remember my work schedule, he texts me in the morning to make sure I get up and he has me call him to make sure I get to work safely. He pays special attention to me and I fear if he was gone I could not survive.

If Lou passed on who would take care of me? Would I die alone? Would my sisters, brother, nieces and nephews take care of me or would I be a burden?

While Lou seems to take care of me more than I do him, I am learning to take care of him. In therapy, I'm learning to fight my fear and become more independent. My future is unknown, but as long as I fight my illness I can still dance within the light.

WORSE THEN THE FLU

Withdrawal is a horrible side effect of being taken off antidepressants suddenly. I learned that you should never play with your medication or be taken off your medication without being weaned off. When your antidepressants are suddenly taken away, the body goes through something that is like the flu, but in my opinion worse. You get heat flashes, chills, shakes, nausea, muscle aches, insomnia, anxiety, dizziness, depression and irritability.

One of my psychiatrists, a while back, decided to change my antidepressants and took me completely off the ones I was on. I became very ill. I felt too sick to eat and my body shook uncontrollably. I thought I had come down with a rare flu. I began to cry without warning and I couldn't sit still. I couldn't think straight. One minute I was cold and the next I was sweating. When I called my psychiatrist, he said it was withdrawal and once I continued to take my new medication it would go away. I thought it was a normal process and suffered until the new antidepressants kicked in. Unfortunately, the symptoms got worse before they got better.

Many years later, while married to Lou, I noticed I was

having side effects from being on my medication too long. I started seeing a new psychiatrist and he had me see a neurologist to rule out any other causes. When the neurologist found nothing wrong, my psychiatrist took me completely off all the three antidepressants I was on. I got the shakes. I made mistakes at work and got suspended. I started getting hot, and no matter what I did, I couldn't cool off. I couldn't sleep. I sat up at night crying. I felt sick to my stomach, and I couldn't eat. Depression settled in.

I felt like my life was ending. Lou became very worried as I got sicker. I went to the emergency room and they treated me for dehydration, but told me I was going through withdrawal and there was nothing more they could do. The ER doctor told us I should have been slowly taken off my medication. A friend told me about a psychiatrist her husband was seeing and I decided to give him a try.

The new psychiatrist worked hard to help me get better. He tried several medications until he found one that worked for me. Each time he changed my antidepressants, he lowered the dose of my medication until I was completely weaned off without withdrawal. While he carefully took me off one antidepressant, he slowly started me on a new one.

I have been seeing this new psychiatrist for three years and he helps me avoid withdrawal. He also continues to help me soak within the light.

ENDLESS WORRYING

I've mentioned in previous blogs that I worry a lot. Recently my worrying got the best of me. My dog, Elli, started throwing up. I took her to the vet and he said she had pancreatitis. I put her on medication and a diet of rice, pasta noodles and boiled chicken for ten days. When I put her back on dog food, she started getting sick again. I got worried.

My mind went on an endless road of worry. What if she's dying? What if something else is wrong with her? What if she needs tests we can't afford? How can I make her better? What am I doing wrong? What if we go broke getting her well again? How could I handle losing another dog if she dies? What if she has cancer or some serious illness where I'd have to put her down?

My stomach began to twist like someone reached inside me and squeezed it. I began to become paranoid. When Elli made a move, I feared she was going to get sick. I started to think she was acting funny when my husband said she was fine. My muscles began to tense and I struggled to sit still.

Lou took me in his arms and said, “You have to calm down. Elli will be fine. You can talk to the veterinarian and we'll do whatever it takes to get her better, but don't worry until you talk to the vet.”

His words swam in my head, but the worries overtook them. I tried to take deep breaths, but my thoughts raced. My stomach continued to turn and I began to dry heave. I took a drink of water and attempted to focus on something positive. Lou continued to tell me Elli would be fine. The problem was I could not seem to control my worries. Before long I was over the toilet getting sick.

The next day I talked to the veterinarian, and he told me Elli has a sensitive stomach and to keep her on the noodles and rice for fourteen days. After those days were up, he would prescribe her a special food. He assured me she would be fine, just as Lou told me.

Worrying is a challenge I deal with on a daily basis. Many times my worries become magnified. I turn a small problem into a huge problem. I think I can see into the future and everything looks grim and hopeless. Many times I worry for nothing. The future always turns out better than what I predicted.

In therapy I'm working on ways to control my worries and to find ways to relax. It's a challenge, but I'm determined to overcome this challenge. When I worry I turn to my husband and friends for support. My support system reassures me everything will be okay. As long as I keep fighting, I will continue to dance within the light.