As the fog lifts and I begin to interact more with those around me, I’m less starry-eyed about this adventure.
Letting go of people, placed and things has not been easy for me. Making the decision to let go is not too hard. Actually doing it, however, is a process.
It recently come to my attention that I truly believe I am not enough; not for others and not for myself. At 46 years of age, you would think I already knew this about myself. Perhaps I did, logically. But it hit my heart yesterday when I was in therapy exploring my overriding feelings of guilt and shame.
When I looked at what I do to feed into this belief, I saw with the clearest eyes that I cared about others perception and judgement of me. So much so. that it would be impossible for me or anyone else to measure up to everyone out there. Then I realized I have people in my life who validate my belief that I am not enough.
As a result, I have chosen to reset my personal opinion of myself on a daily basis. Throughout the day, I have to tell myself, “I am enough”. Enough for what or who doesn’t matter. I am enough just by being; just by breathing. And I am choosing to accept that giving myself time each day does not come with a deadline. It is an indefinite action. And then my favorite new choice is to live life with an exclamation instead of an explanation.
I owe "me" more to myself than I do others.
So as the new year approaches, I am choosing to load new personal settings!
Friday, December 31, 2010
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
When In Doubt, Just Shout Out!
I don’t have problems with the first of the 12 steps after my relapse. This isn’t my first rodeo, so I sorted all of this out before and lived it for many years. Occasionally, I will forget that turning my life and my will over to my higher power means things are not in my control. That’s when my life can get a bit tangled and dark. As soon as I recognize this (or someone close to me does), I get out of my way and back where I belong!
I was recently reminded of how miraculous my life can be when I’m not the one controlling things. My husband and I were in an office at a medical plaza getting him a pre-op lung xray (he’s a smoker). I ran out to our truck to check on the dog. On my way back to the office, I spied who I though to be an old acquaintance entering a different medical office. I checked the parking lot to see if this individual’s truck was parked there and it was. This was a friend both my husband and I owed amends to and we had avoided him for far too long. I marched into the same waiting room he was in and just stared. To this day I don’t think I walked myself in there. I’m almost certain my higher power overtook my motor skills and did it for me. Our friend’s reception was a bit cool, but we did hug. I briefly shared some relevant facts with him and suggested lunch in the next few days. Had we been left to our own devices, my husband and I might never have done right by this man.
Directly after my husband’s xray, we went to Sam’s Club. Since it was three days before Christmas and the parking lot was full, he dropped me off at the door to go look for a parking space. While I was taking my blood pressure, I heard him call for my attention from somewhere in the store. I spotted him and got up to go his way. As I approached him, I saw he was talking to his parents. This is a couple we hadn’t spoken to since our son left home (about four months before). When my son left he didn’t want to talk to or see us, yet was getting help from other family members. This left our relationship with all of them quite strained. My husband has not spent a Christmas Eve away from his mother once in his entire life. Nor have I in the 19 years we’ve been married. In light of recent happenings, this would be the first year we didn’t attend the family get together. Running in to them was awkward, but my mother-in-law was pleasant. My father-in-law kept his distance and did not engage in any conversation with us. Once again, left to our own devices, I’m uncertain how long it would have taken to get in touch with them again. I’m sure that initial contact would have been dreaded. But that part is over with , and not by our design!
I should mention, too, that earlier in the week, my mother had to come to town (she lives about 70 miles away) for a medical test. Although my husband had been estranged from my mother and sister for over two years, he called them when I was in the hospital to keep them updated. Although he had talked to my sister on the phone recently, he had not seen either of them during this two year period.
My mom hadn’t seen me since I got out of the hospital and felt it would put her mind at ease if she were to see me. At the last minute my sister asked if I could meet them at the doctor’s office. Since it was such short notice we decided I would take a trip up North to see her the following week, instead. When my husband heard this, he said, “Let’s just drive over to the doctor’s office and see her anyway”. So it is that he saw them for the first time in two years; another band-aid ripped off.
In a one week period, there were three run-ins we didn’t plan. I discovered that nothing shattered, exploded or imploded upon these meetings. I also learned I didn’t need to act on my immediate reactions. I remained calm and cordial and parted on a friendly note so that I could sit on my feelings for a day or so before acting on them. I didn’t need to “fix” everything that was wrong between us just because we ended up face-to-face. I could be confident in being me.
My final lesson was, if I’m not sure what I need to address in my life, my higher power does; I just need to turn to him. When in doubt, just shout out!
I was recently reminded of how miraculous my life can be when I’m not the one controlling things. My husband and I were in an office at a medical plaza getting him a pre-op lung xray (he’s a smoker). I ran out to our truck to check on the dog. On my way back to the office, I spied who I though to be an old acquaintance entering a different medical office. I checked the parking lot to see if this individual’s truck was parked there and it was. This was a friend both my husband and I owed amends to and we had avoided him for far too long. I marched into the same waiting room he was in and just stared. To this day I don’t think I walked myself in there. I’m almost certain my higher power overtook my motor skills and did it for me. Our friend’s reception was a bit cool, but we did hug. I briefly shared some relevant facts with him and suggested lunch in the next few days. Had we been left to our own devices, my husband and I might never have done right by this man.
Directly after my husband’s xray, we went to Sam’s Club. Since it was three days before Christmas and the parking lot was full, he dropped me off at the door to go look for a parking space. While I was taking my blood pressure, I heard him call for my attention from somewhere in the store. I spotted him and got up to go his way. As I approached him, I saw he was talking to his parents. This is a couple we hadn’t spoken to since our son left home (about four months before). When my son left he didn’t want to talk to or see us, yet was getting help from other family members. This left our relationship with all of them quite strained. My husband has not spent a Christmas Eve away from his mother once in his entire life. Nor have I in the 19 years we’ve been married. In light of recent happenings, this would be the first year we didn’t attend the family get together. Running in to them was awkward, but my mother-in-law was pleasant. My father-in-law kept his distance and did not engage in any conversation with us. Once again, left to our own devices, I’m uncertain how long it would have taken to get in touch with them again. I’m sure that initial contact would have been dreaded. But that part is over with , and not by our design!
I should mention, too, that earlier in the week, my mother had to come to town (she lives about 70 miles away) for a medical test. Although my husband had been estranged from my mother and sister for over two years, he called them when I was in the hospital to keep them updated. Although he had talked to my sister on the phone recently, he had not seen either of them during this two year period.
My mom hadn’t seen me since I got out of the hospital and felt it would put her mind at ease if she were to see me. At the last minute my sister asked if I could meet them at the doctor’s office. Since it was such short notice we decided I would take a trip up North to see her the following week, instead. When my husband heard this, he said, “Let’s just drive over to the doctor’s office and see her anyway”. So it is that he saw them for the first time in two years; another band-aid ripped off.
In a one week period, there were three run-ins we didn’t plan. I discovered that nothing shattered, exploded or imploded upon these meetings. I also learned I didn’t need to act on my immediate reactions. I remained calm and cordial and parted on a friendly note so that I could sit on my feelings for a day or so before acting on them. I didn’t need to “fix” everything that was wrong between us just because we ended up face-to-face. I could be confident in being me.
My final lesson was, if I’m not sure what I need to address in my life, my higher power does; I just need to turn to him. When in doubt, just shout out!
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Another trip...
Detox was another trip. I don't recall much of the first three days other than making sure I heard them call my name when it was time for meds. They had a hard time keeping my pulse rate below 100, I had tremors, was sweaty, had a headache and was highly agitated. The treatment for withdrawal was vitamins and valium (for the first five days). I didn't like it much when they took the valium away; a lot of feelings surfaced without being medicated and most of them were negative in nature. I had been depressed for a long, long time (at least a couple of years if not more). Supposedly, depression is anger turned inwards. Well, that anger started oozing out on day 6 of detox. I was pissed and asking for a punching bag. "Use your pillow" the techs, nurses and case worker said. Really? A pillow? I wanted to punch the living shit out of something. That whole debacle (and it was) subsided in about 24 hours. Actually, most of my emotional crisis did.
My nine days in detox equaled a lifetime of memories, that's for sure. Some of the residents going through detox from opiates had to be so medicated they nodded into their pudding. Sad fact, but true and it has great entertainment value. We'd have to go to a 12 step meeting each night we were there unless we wanted to stay in our room. Inevitably, you'd hear someone snoring five minutes after the meeting started because they just couldn't stay awake! Poking them was kinda fun.
As my doctor and I worked on the psych cocktail that suited my needs best, I had some entertaining times of adjustment. There were a few manic episodes during which I laughed uncontrollably, made inappropriate jokes, or spoke many sentences that segued into show tunes. Kind of miss those times. However, I know all too well there is a huge downside when the fun ends.
My entire experience with the staff and residents was pretty remarkable and surprisingly smooth. The day of my discharge I let out a loud "Woo hoo" as I walked through their front doors into the fresh air. Then I smoked about six cigarettes. Ahhhh. There wasn't any smoking in that facility and I had worn a nicotine patch the entire time.
My mood was still a little high the first few days I was home, but it was au naturelle. That was good enough for me!
My nine days in detox equaled a lifetime of memories, that's for sure. Some of the residents going through detox from opiates had to be so medicated they nodded into their pudding. Sad fact, but true and it has great entertainment value. We'd have to go to a 12 step meeting each night we were there unless we wanted to stay in our room. Inevitably, you'd hear someone snoring five minutes after the meeting started because they just couldn't stay awake! Poking them was kinda fun.
As my doctor and I worked on the psych cocktail that suited my needs best, I had some entertaining times of adjustment. There were a few manic episodes during which I laughed uncontrollably, made inappropriate jokes, or spoke many sentences that segued into show tunes. Kind of miss those times. However, I know all too well there is a huge downside when the fun ends.
My entire experience with the staff and residents was pretty remarkable and surprisingly smooth. The day of my discharge I let out a loud "Woo hoo" as I walked through their front doors into the fresh air. Then I smoked about six cigarettes. Ahhhh. There wasn't any smoking in that facility and I had worn a nicotine patch the entire time.
My mood was still a little high the first few days I was home, but it was au naturelle. That was good enough for me!
Monday, December 20, 2010
Such a trip!
It dawned on me that there's a distinct possibility no one has any interest in my story. Alas, I continue to blog because I prefer it over journal-ing.
My previous blog left off at .............detox............ If it weren't for a single memory of doors closing behind me as I boarded the crazy train or ambulance (still don't know which), I would swear God carried me on his back to the nearest hospital. In retrospect, I realize I could no longer help myself so he had to intervene to save my life. I was so intoxicated that the floor looked no different to me than the walls or the ceiling. All of my equilibrium was left at the bottom of the bottle I'd emptied. So for me to locate my insurance card and cell phone (which I can't even find sober) then to see well enough to dial that number, is nothing short of a freakin' miracle. Truly.
At some point I either snapped out of my black out or regained consciousness in the E.R. and found myself on suicide watch. I was coherent enough to ask for the phone to call my husband. I knew he'd be freaking out. The nurse wouldn't let me call him at first because she didn't want to upset me. Um, hello? How much more upset do you get than "suicidal"? Anyhow, she finally let me use the phone and that is when I left him the message(s).
At about 4 or 4:30 a.m. the Sunday after Thanksgiving, he came to my room. He had to sneak around Atilla the Nurse, but he found me. He was devastated thinking he lost me. That moment we were back together, we knew we had hit a new bottom.
Somewhere around noon or so, I got a ride, courtesy of the ambulance company, over to a renowned behavioral health facility. When I arrived, the paramedics and I entered through a secure back entrance. I was sat upon a funky little pleather bench in a short little hallway. As we waited for someone to come through yet another secure door to greet us, I looked down at the hospital band on my wrist thinking "Do I really belong here?". I wondered if I'd blown things out of proportion. This kind of thing happened to people who were scraped up off the sidewalk or found unconscious on the bathroom floor, but I had called them myself (apparently). Then I got real. I was suicidal, I was out of answers, I was severely depressed, I was (and still am) an alcoholic. Yes, I belonged there regardless of how I got there.
They took my clothes and examined my naked body for scrapes, bruises and abnormalities of the like. Then I was handed scrubs to wear during my brief time in an observation room. This room had weird recliners only a hospital could want. They were actually numbered and lined up in front of a television. The "observing" staff was behind a wall of windows in a secure office. I know, everything was secure; even the bathrooms had a keypad entry. Anyway, talk about feeling like a lab rat. It was a trip.
I must have passed, because I graduated to a bed in a room and a roommate! I had arrived to the detox unit!
My previous blog left off at .............detox............ If it weren't for a single memory of doors closing behind me as I boarded the crazy train or ambulance (still don't know which), I would swear God carried me on his back to the nearest hospital. In retrospect, I realize I could no longer help myself so he had to intervene to save my life. I was so intoxicated that the floor looked no different to me than the walls or the ceiling. All of my equilibrium was left at the bottom of the bottle I'd emptied. So for me to locate my insurance card and cell phone (which I can't even find sober) then to see well enough to dial that number, is nothing short of a freakin' miracle. Truly.
At some point I either snapped out of my black out or regained consciousness in the E.R. and found myself on suicide watch. I was coherent enough to ask for the phone to call my husband. I knew he'd be freaking out. The nurse wouldn't let me call him at first because she didn't want to upset me. Um, hello? How much more upset do you get than "suicidal"? Anyhow, she finally let me use the phone and that is when I left him the message(s).
At about 4 or 4:30 a.m. the Sunday after Thanksgiving, he came to my room. He had to sneak around Atilla the Nurse, but he found me. He was devastated thinking he lost me. That moment we were back together, we knew we had hit a new bottom.
Somewhere around noon or so, I got a ride, courtesy of the ambulance company, over to a renowned behavioral health facility. When I arrived, the paramedics and I entered through a secure back entrance. I was sat upon a funky little pleather bench in a short little hallway. As we waited for someone to come through yet another secure door to greet us, I looked down at the hospital band on my wrist thinking "Do I really belong here?". I wondered if I'd blown things out of proportion. This kind of thing happened to people who were scraped up off the sidewalk or found unconscious on the bathroom floor, but I had called them myself (apparently). Then I got real. I was suicidal, I was out of answers, I was severely depressed, I was (and still am) an alcoholic. Yes, I belonged there regardless of how I got there.
They took my clothes and examined my naked body for scrapes, bruises and abnormalities of the like. Then I was handed scrubs to wear during my brief time in an observation room. This room had weird recliners only a hospital could want. They were actually numbered and lined up in front of a television. The "observing" staff was behind a wall of windows in a secure office. I know, everything was secure; even the bathrooms had a keypad entry. Anyway, talk about feeling like a lab rat. It was a trip.
I must have passed, because I graduated to a bed in a room and a roommate! I had arrived to the detox unit!
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Relapse, Recovery, Bipolar Disorder
I originally got clean & sober on 03/14/1988. Somewhere around 1994 or 1995 (you'll learn I am horrible with dates) I was diagnosed with Bipolar II Disorder.
About a year and a half ago, after 21 years clean and sober, I picked up a drink; then another and another. It didn't take long before the progression of addiction became apparent in my everyday life. The day I picked up that first drink I knew exactly what I was doing. One drink was going to be too many and a thousand could never be enough. It was not lost on me that Pandora's box had been opened. I simply did not care anymore. I was no longer spiritually, emotionally or mentally fit so instead of dealing with my life, I needed to erase it one drink at a time, one pill at a time.
The Saturday after Thanksgiving this year, I started drinking so early that I don't even know when then blackout started. My first recollection is being in the ER on suicide watch sometime after midnight. Being there wasn't a shock as I'd had thoughts and half-assed attempts at suicide for the past three months. The events that lead me to the ER were completely unknown to me.
They finally let me call me husband to tell him where I was. His phone was on silent so he never heard the calls. He awoke at 2:30 a.m. only to discover me missing. He was well aware of my downward spiral, as of late, so he panicked thinking I had already gone off and killed myself somewhere. After a few minutes of shear panick, he checked his cell phone and heard my messages.
As best as we can figure, I got out of bed after my husband fell asleep, drank what was left of the Vodka, turned all of my purses upside down to locate my insurance card then called the crisis line on the front of the card. I must have met the paramedics (?) out front so the dogs wouldn't bark. I think I wanted to silently go where I could get help. I was so sick and tired and being sick and tired.
Apparantly, I made it out of the house wearing only one boot and with one nasty knot and bruises on and around my chin.
My next stop was detox.
More to follow.....
About a year and a half ago, after 21 years clean and sober, I picked up a drink; then another and another. It didn't take long before the progression of addiction became apparent in my everyday life. The day I picked up that first drink I knew exactly what I was doing. One drink was going to be too many and a thousand could never be enough. It was not lost on me that Pandora's box had been opened. I simply did not care anymore. I was no longer spiritually, emotionally or mentally fit so instead of dealing with my life, I needed to erase it one drink at a time, one pill at a time.
The Saturday after Thanksgiving this year, I started drinking so early that I don't even know when then blackout started. My first recollection is being in the ER on suicide watch sometime after midnight. Being there wasn't a shock as I'd had thoughts and half-assed attempts at suicide for the past three months. The events that lead me to the ER were completely unknown to me.
They finally let me call me husband to tell him where I was. His phone was on silent so he never heard the calls. He awoke at 2:30 a.m. only to discover me missing. He was well aware of my downward spiral, as of late, so he panicked thinking I had already gone off and killed myself somewhere. After a few minutes of shear panick, he checked his cell phone and heard my messages.
As best as we can figure, I got out of bed after my husband fell asleep, drank what was left of the Vodka, turned all of my purses upside down to locate my insurance card then called the crisis line on the front of the card. I must have met the paramedics (?) out front so the dogs wouldn't bark. I think I wanted to silently go where I could get help. I was so sick and tired and being sick and tired.
Apparantly, I made it out of the house wearing only one boot and with one nasty knot and bruises on and around my chin.
My next stop was detox.
More to follow.....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)