#122.....Inner Shame...

     I feel like a failure.  I have failed everyone, who knows about my recent suicide attempt.
I ffeel like a loser....I didn't wanr to save myself.    I was beyond saving.  I didn't give a fuck, anymore.
     My Dear Lord, please forgive me.  My wonderful husband, I am so sorry for traumatizing you.
Same to my dear Mama and friends....Those that never gave up on me.
     I can't believe thay I could do this to myself...for the third time. I feel despair within...I feel so, so sad, these days..

#121......I'm Not Ready For Heaven....

     On October 13...which was also the anniversary of my Nana's death, and close to the time that I miscarried, my baby, a couple of decades ago, with a lot of problems in the family, with my loss of my beloved job, in the supermarket, with my half-brother's birthday coming up, the holiday season coming soon, etc., etc., etc., I attempted to end my life. And no, I am not a coward.
     I got up that morning, after a very quiet, depressed weekend before, and told my husband, that I didn't want to live anumore.
      I went upstairs, and tied a plastic bag over my head and hid under the blankets.  My husband came upstairs, sometime later and found me, saying "What the fuck did you do, Christine".
      It's the third suicide attempt, that I have made in my life.  Depression is a killer.
Frank told me that if I didn't agree to go to the hospital, with him, that he would call the police & EMT's,.
     I spent a week on a psychiatric ward, of a hospital.  The food was awful, and some of the patients were shouting, & threatening.
     What did I learn??  I had numerous friends and family visit me and  tell me that they loved me, that I was beautiful & awesome, and that some people would never get over my death.  I had not realized, how loved that I was before.
     This gives me a more positive feeling about life. This makes me want to live.
  

#120.....Fear & Ignorance

     Admittedly, I have numerous fears in life, real and unreal.  One of my biggest fears is rejection.  Rejection,  has happened to me a countless number of  times, in my 47 years, here on Mother Earth, with strangers, with friends, and even with close relatives.
     When it has happened, I feel as if a dagger,  has been driven through my heart.  I feel devastated, lost, rejected, heartbroken, less than human, utterly worthless.  It makes me think about ending my life here, on this Earth.  When I recover from this grief, I feel untrustworthy, of any new person in my life.
      Why, does this rejection happen?  Honestly, I'm still working on figuring that out.  I am realizing, that mainly, it is due to ignorance, about mental illness. People have such deep fears, mostly irrational fears of people like me.
      Just like others  with mental illness, I look "normal".   You would never guess, by having a conversation with me, that I struggle, with inner Hell, at times.  And I feel, just as deeply, as the next person.
     So, what's up with me, you may wonder?  When I tell people that I have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, they ask how I got it.  I tell them that it came from both childhood and domestic abuse, and people usually accept it.
     When I tell people that I have Panic Disorder, people usually know of someone, in their family or circles, who also has it.  That disorder is usually accepted by people, as well.
     When I told people, 2 decades ago, that I suffered from depression, I remember being shunned by several people.  But a lot has changed in 2 decades, people are becoming more open-minded of mood disorders.
     But, when people hear that I have Schizoaffective Disorder, it is a whole different "ballgame".  When people hear that it entails a mood disorder, AND psychosis, which means hallucinations, delusions, and paranoia, their eyes become wide, their pupils become huge,  their jaws drop, they often have no idea what to say to me.  Their voices sound both pained and fearful.  
     And I am left, equally, as afraid as them....but afraid that I will lose their love, because of something that I can't help.   Only 0.05% of the population had Schizoaffective...BUT that equals approximately, 1 in every 200 people.  That is something, that all of us need to think about.

     The wonderful Actor/Comedian, Robin Williams passed away very recently.  There have been loads of tributes to him, however, I have been slow, writing out my thoughts, on the subject.  It hurts.
      The suicide of Robin Williams has affected me, to my inner core.   I have made suicide attempts, also, but I was blessed, not to have succeeded.
     My thoughts keep coming back, to the same thing:  How Robin must have felt, in the moments before dying.  I know that I felt defeated, lost, scared, alone, and an unshakable suffering, in those moments.  I keep thinking that Robin must have felt similar thoughts, in his final moments.
      Dear Robin, I hope that you feel peace, in Heaven, away from black depression and devastating Parkinson's Disease.
     My Friends..If you know of someone contemplating suicide, let them know that you love them, and try to get them help, ASAP.
   

     I had a strange dream a few nights ago.  I dreamed that I was with a bunch of girls, getting ready to go to the Senior Prom.  I couldn't decide on which gown to wear.  Because it was so close to Christmas time, my wonderful friend, Michele suggested that I wear the red, satin gown.
     All of a sudden, I yelled "Help me, I think that I am in labor!"  I felt something odd and reached down to discover, that I was crowning.  I looked down and saw a little head with dark black hair.  I started to push the baby out.  The cramps felt strong, but before I knew it, the baby completely emerged.  She had lots of black hair and an olive complexion.  She looked like a beautiful,  Italian baby.
     I told my friend, Michele, that I was not going to the Prom, after all.  It didn't bother me, though.  I was overwhelmed with joy, at this beautiful gift, of a baby girl.   And then, I woke up.
    What is interesting about this dream, is that I had it in the early morning hours of August 14.
     In reality, my one and only baby, that I miscarried...murdered by my Italian lover, during a brutal beating... was due to be born on August 13, 1992.  This child would be 22 years old now.
    I don't think that I will ever be over the loss of my baby.  I can't forget the terrifying, painful beating, that Pietro gave me, that ended  it's fetal life.   I can't get over the horror of  my miscarriage.  I can't get over the anger that Pietro killed my  baby.   And I was never able to conceive again.
     My heart will always ache for you, my little baby.

     Every once in awhile, like now, I write a description of myself....just to let you know, who I am.....
My name is Christine, and I am 47 years old.  I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Panic Disorder, and
Schizoaffective Disorder.   I have been writing my blog entitled: "My Uncomfortable Mind", for almost 3 years.
     I have PTSD, from childhood abuse, and I have inherited, Panic Disorder, and Schizoaffective Disorder, through my genes.  Some say that Schizoaffective Disorder, is a mood disorder, presenting itself as either Depression or Bipolar Disorder, with Schizophrenia symptoms, of psychosis.  Some say that it is a form of Schizophrenia.  Whatever, the case, it is a difficult life.
     If you were to meet me in everyday life, you would be very surprised to learn these facts about me.
You see, I am a human being, just like you.
     How do my friends describe me?:
Strong,
Unbreakable,
Sweet,
Kind,
Generous,
Loyal,
Artistic,
Intelligent,
Empathetic,
Sensitive,
Passionate,
Compassionate,
Loving....
     I am not a perfect human being, but I strive to do my best, everyday.  I want to show the world that people with Mental Illnesses are truly human.
    

     This past week and a half, have been wonderful for me.  I have been busy, doing things that I love,and I think that business can contribute to happiness.
    I spent some hours volunteering, in the office of my church, last week, doing basic receptionist work.  I will also be doing work there tomorrow.  I have been volunteering at my church for at least 7 years, and I love doing it.
   I went out for a few meals with friends.  I got to have lunch, on one day, with the interim Pastor Marlayna, of our church, at a nearby diner. It was delightful, getting to know her one-on-one.
     Yesterday, I went to see our Associate Pastor Judy, after baking her a loaf of homemade cinnamon bread. YES, I bake sometimes.... She is also a wonderful friend of mine, and she fell down some stairs, and broke one foot and the other ankle.  So poor Judy, has been stuck at home, for the most part.  She is blessed to have a wonderful, helpful, partner at home, taking care of her.  Judy, I have been praying for you.
    I  saw my psychiatrist, last week, and she was pleased that I was recovering from all that ailed me over the past few months.
    As a survivor of PTSD, and Schizoaffective Disorder, life can really hurt, at times, but the good days are so appreciated, so unbelievably joyful.  That is what makes life worth living....the good days.

     I resigned from my job at the supermarket about a month ago, and my life is finally showing me signs of joy again.  I'm not saying that my life is perfect, now, but it is starting to show promise.
     My deep depression has lifted, and my anger is dissipating.  I am, at times sensitive and irritable, but that can be cured, usually by some alone time.  I find myself frustrated at my husband, because he doesn't like to leave my side, and there's times when I need to be alone, to write.  I am having some trouble sleeping, still.  I start off in bed, and end up downstairs on the couch at 1 AM, watching television, hoping to fall back asleep.  I am still eating only about 1 meal per day, but my doctors' do not feel concerned because I weigh 200 pounds.  I have lost 30 pounds, so far, in the past year.
     I have had one unsettling experience, however.  While my husband and I, were driving to the movie theater, this past weekend, I noticed a man standing in a doorway, in the rain, about one block away from the theater.  We went into the theater, got our popcorn, and sat in our seats.  About 15 minutes later, the man from the doorway walked in, and sat a few rows directly in front of us.  I panicked.  I said:  "Frankie, that man in front of us, is following me. He's going to hurt me", I said, and I started to cry.  I was waiting for that man to pull out a pistol and blow my head off, in my mind.  I started to cry.  Frankie said to me, in his wonderful, kind, understanding way:  "I won't let anyone hurt you, you are safe".  "I will always protect you", he said.  And I was able to finally, calm down.
     To look at me, and spend time with me, you might never guess that I experience these types of psychotic breaks.  I am bright, intelligent, creative, artistic, kind, easy-going, passionate, loving, pretty, compassionate, empathetic, non-judgmental.  Overall, I try to do my best at everything I do.  Unfortunately, though, my brain has "glitches", that I will probably always have.

     I felt completely miserable for a few weeks after quitting my job.  My sleep cycle was wrecked.  I never wanted to eat.  I was crying a lot.   I felt hostile towards my husband.  I couldn't really help my friends that were in need of help.  I was pissed off at the world. Just  totally depressed.

     When I saw my therapist and psychiatrist last week, however, things began to change.  My psychiatrist increased my Seroquel dosage.  I am still adjusting to it, but it does make me feel quite drunk.  It does take away a lot of my anxiety and irritability, though.  Eventually, I will adjust to it.

     Both my therapist and psychiatrist felt that I had made the right decision in quitting my job and getting out of that toxic environment.  I felt depressed because, I loved working there up until the end.  I love to work, period.  So I was in mourning, basically.

     I felt angry at my husband, I couldn't even look him in the eyes.  I was angry, because I felt guilty, that I no longer had my income from the supermarket to provide. I felt guilty because I was so depressed, that he had to take care of me.  I was contemplating jumping off the edge of the Earth.

     I don't feel that way now, thanks to the good Lord, and the wonderful people that He put in my life.  I am starting to feel pretty good again.   Soon, I will try to find another occupation.   I am still having bad dreams about work, though.  But, they will disappear, in time.

     I just want to say thank you, to everyone who supported me and prayed for me.

     I had thought that after I resigned from my job I would feel great relief.  I was dead wrong.  I am greatly suffering inside my soul, instead.

     This past week. I had a few days where I slept all day and all night.  And then, I had nights where I didn't sleep at all. 

    I have no appetite, I am eating about 1 meal per day.  On the days where I slept all day and all night, I did not eat anything.  Which is not a good thing for me, as I have Type 2 Diabetes.. I am also having sugar cravings.  There's nothing like food with real sugar in it, so appreciate it.

    Basically, I am neglecting my physical self.  It's not intentional.  I am just still shell-shocked from my last job.

    Emotionally, I feel like running away and hiding somewhere, hiding from the world.  I have done some really sad sobbing.  I feel like a failure.  I feel that I can no longer provide as much financially.  I feel like I have no purpose, I feel like I have no identity.

     As you may have read, in the last blog entry, I resigned from my job.  I was working, as a Meat Clerk, at a supermarket.  I had been there for 5 1/2 years and always felt secure in my job, until about 10 weeks ago.
     No, it was not a high paying, super-professional occupation.  In fact, it was a lot of physical labor, a young person's job, really.  But it kept me in good physical shape.  And I was really good at my job.  I knew what to do, always helped my co-workers, worked my ass off, was awesome, awesome, awesome with customers.
    I have an educational background in agriculture, I studied about farm animals, from gestation to slaughter.  I felt that my background in this field encouraged me to succeed at my job.
      It was a low-paying job, but I did not care.  I was just happy to have this job, and I loved doing it most of the time.  I appreciate the fact that I can work at least part-time. And I LOVE to work.
    But I had been out on medical leave numerous times over the past 5 1/2 years, and lost my position in the Meat Dept., while out on a medical leave.  They "accommodated" me by putting in another department.  And in the other department, I was driven to tears several times, with their scolding, whenever, I made a mistake in this new position.
     In the past, I was asked what my diagnosis is twice, which is not legal,  I was forced to bring in two notes from my psychiatrist, to accommodate my work hours, when I only needed one.  Another employee boldly walked up to me after I had come back from my first medical leave and exclaimed "Hey, I heard you had a nervous breakdown".  In other words, my confidentiality was never respected.
    In the end, the store manager harassed me and threatened to terminate me over Family Leave Act paperwork.  I felt that she was trying to push me out the door.
     Because of the stress, I started to become ill, I wasn't eating, wasn't sleeping, was crying excessively.
I took a little time off from work, talked to a lot of people, professionals included, and after many suggestions, made a painful decision to resign from my job, at the supermarket.
     I have been in a bit of a grieving state, after all, I had  been working there a long time.    I miss the guys that I worked with.  I was the only female in the Meat Dept.  They looked out for me, I spoiled them with daily goodies from the bakery or cookie aisle.  My boss said that I was his best worker, that he wished that all his workers were as good as me.  He wasn't the one who transferred me.  It was a "corporate" decision.
      So now, I don't know what to do with my life anymore....It's the end of an era for me....

     I made my decision, about my job, finally.  After 5 1/2 years, at that supermarket, I resigned.  In fact, I resigned, on July 1, which is my birthday.
     It was not an easy decision for me, but I felt that I had no other choice.  When I worked in the Meat Dept, as a Meat Clerk, I was quite happy & satisfied with my job.  I know..... it was only a lower- level clerk position, but I was really good at it.  I didn't mind the heavy, laborious work.  I knew my products.  I knew how to do my job, I was great with customers, I loved the guys...all guys.. that I worked with, I loved how they stood up for me, when I was I was ill, I loved how my boss said that I was his best worker.  And I was proud of myself that I could perform this pretty much male-oriented position.
    But as I said in an earlier blog, I became ill and had to be hospitalized.  I was on leave for about 8 weeks, trying to repair my mind and soul.  And when I went back to work, they had given my part-time position to a full-time guy, and my great boss, was transferred to another store.
    They put me in the Deli Dept. to try to appease me, but I was miserable there.  To give you an example, the last day that I worked, I was asked to look through some loaves of bread "To look for holes in the bags where mice had eaten through"....Yes, I really said that...'MICE.  So I looked, and didn't see any holes in bags.  Apparently, I was wrong.  Because the Deli Manager collected several bags with mice-eaten holes in them, and scolded me because a customer, brought one of these mouse-eaten bags to the manager of the whole supermarket.
    Yes, it appears that I fucked up, I didn't look carefully enough. I was distracted because I was overwhelmed by my change in jobs.  I was quite depressed, in fact.  But my feeling is::  "Why were there fucking rodents in the supermarket to begin with?  Why come down hard on me, when it is clear that you are a fucking unsanitary department, violating public health codes?"
    To make things clear, I am a really hard worker.  If my boss has faith in me, I will work my ass off for him / her.  I am a totally loyal employee if treated right.  But I could sue this supermarket, because they were violating my civil rights, in many ways, that I have not mentioned.  But suing them might drain me of positive energy.
     So, who knows what I will do occupationally now.  maybe I will go back to college...who knows.  I didn't make much money at the supermarket, but it was my money, and will be missed.  Fortunately, I do get a small monthly check from SSDI.  It saddens me to think that I will never   pull in a good income.  But peace of mind is crucial.

Dear Pietro,

     It has been 23 years since we were together, yet I had a very vivid dream of you last night.  Then I realized that today, is your birthday. 

     In the dream, we ran into each other, in a restaurant in Boston.  We spent the day together, and you were so kind to me, so loving, so gentle to me.  I realize now, that I never fully grieved our relationship, because in reality, it was a horror show, a real nightmare for me.

     You were an illegal immigrant from Italy, but you were working hard as a talented musician, and waiter, in the North End of Boston.  You were also working hard on me.  You seemed attentive, and caring to me.  I felt alone, and vulnerable in this big, bad world, and you knew it. You put a baby in my belly, much to my shock, after just 4 months of being with you.  You knew that a marriage to me would get you a Green Card. 

    But you didn't love your fetal baby, or me, because you began beating me, and finally I miscarried.  Once I was pregnant, your kindness disappeared, you were a truly angry person.  I was so scared, being young, pregnant, and fighting for my life.

     One night, you beat me for the last time.  I called several family members that night, but found no sympathy, so I almost ended my life, in a suicide attempt.  I survived, by the Grace of God.

     After that, I had to leave you for good.  In fact, I had to hide from you, for months, because you were stalking me.  But you gave my no choice, because I knew that in time, I would try to kill myself again, or I would try to kill you.  I've wanted to hurt you badly, because you killed my baby, and I was never able to conceive again. 

     Sometimes, when I am in Boston, I think that I see you, but it just turns out to be some other blonde guy with gold-rimmed eyeglasses, I'm seeing from a distance.  When I think that I see you, my heart beat speeds up, fear kicks in, I feel like I can't breathe, etc.  It's called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  And you did this to me, Pietro.  

     I doubt that our past haunts you, because you are a true Sociopath, but one day, you will meet our Maker and He, will recall how you hurt me, and destroyed that little spark of life within me.  May you burn in Hell.

Christine

     For the past week, my mental health, has been failing me, again. I have been going to bed at 6 PM, every night, because, I cannot stand to be awake.  I am surviving on coffee, and 2 slices of wheat toast, with peanut butter, a day.  My husband will have to bathe me tomorrow, because, it seems like too much of a big project, for myself. It has been 5 days, since my last shower.  This is unheard of for me.  The most horrible experience, though, is the uncontrollable crying spells.
     I went back to work about 2 weeks ago, only to find out, that I no longer have the same position, in the Meat Department of the supermarket, where I work. I work in this supermarket's Meat Dept, for almost 6 years.  I have 10 years experience total, working in various Meat Depts, and 4 years education in agriculture. They gave me a position in the Deli Dept. I have no Deli experience. I had no choice but to accept it.
     This change, in job positions, is going wrong for a few reasons.
     One reason, is because, to me, it is a big change.  I have never been able to accept changes easily.   I thrive on a routine.  When I am having a relapse, in my mental or emotional health, I am vulnerable.  I simply cannot make changes, or I will crumble.
     I am having a difficult time because, I was not given any choice, in this changing of positions, also.  I feel angry & helpless now.
     I am making mistakes, in my job duties, partly because, it is new to me, but partly, because I am so upset inside.  I simply cannot remember things, or concentrate.
    My new boss is impatient with me, because I am making mistakes.  Every time she scolds me, my PTSD is triggered, I feel like a scared little kid, and I panic and cry.
     I feel like the manager of the supermarket, where I work, is trying to cause me to quit, slowly, pushing me out the door.  Several people have suggested this to me, in fact.
     I went to see my therapist today, because, I am falling apart, over this situation.  She told me to take 2 weeks off to work on getting better, and figure out my next move.  She gave me a note to give to the management.  I am going to bring it into work tomorrow morning.  I have a feeling that I may lose my job.

     Wow!!  It has been more than 3 weeks, since I have written.  That, is a long time for me.
My work situation has changed.  About a than a month ago, I received a telephone call, from the manager of the supermarket, where I work.  It was a Saturday morning, and the manager demanded that I have my Family Leave Act application in, by Monday morning, or I would be terminated..  I told her that it didn't give my Psychiatrist enough time to fill it out.  Honestly, I had no idea, that I even needed to fill out such paperwork.  The store manager was on a warpath with me.  I finally started crying, during this phone call, and said:  "Look, I'm really sick right now, I don't need this hassle".  She replied:  "Then you should have no problem getting the paperwork in".  I later found out that Human Resources, came down on her, hard, before she spoke to me, because, she hadn't informed me of the Family Leave Act paperwork, in time.
     I submitted the Family Leave Act paperwork, only to find out, that I didn't qualify for it, anyways, because, I don't work enough hours.  So, the manager demanded that I submit another form instead.  So, I had to go back to my Psychiatrist again, so she could fill it out.
     When my Psychiatrist decided, that I could finally return to work, I went back, to learn, that they had given my job, in the Meat Dept, to someone else, a week before.  I cried and cried, and learned that they were putting me in the Deli, to stock products.  I told them, that I could not use a slicer, because my medications impair me.  My Psychiatrist backs me up, on this fact.
    So far my job in the Deli, is OK, but after the threat of being terminated, just a few weeks ago, I expect to lose my job, at any moment.  I had about 10 years work experience, in a Meat Dept...now, I'm working with a lot of cheese.  And I don't really like cheese.

     I have been out of work since April 4, and it is now May 16.  Oh my Lord, why is this recovery so slow?  When will I be back in remission again?
     I have a few things to write about, but my mind is still not quite right.  In other words, it takes me a lot longer to collect and organize my thoughts.  It feels like a huge effort to do anything.  Even though, I love to write, my desire to do so is almost non-existent, at this time.
     At this time, I'm going to give you an update, about how I am feeling at this point.  Basically, I am still not doing so well.  I am taking my medications, attending psychotherapy appointments, going to support groups, and trying to do little things that would normally bring joy to me.  My personality, however, has changed a bit, it seems.
     Less then 2 months ago, I felt a good amount of joy, for a fairly long stretch of time.  Now, I am overly serious, I don't smile as much, I don't laugh much, and every little thing pisses me off.
     At this current time, I am prescribed Effexor, Trillifon, Neurontin, BusPar, & Seroquel for psychiatric medications.  I was taken off of Abilify, while I was in the hospital, and now I'm wondering if I need to start taking it again.
     

    This is the beginning of my second week, at home, since being discharged from the hospital.  I had spent 5 days on the psychiatric ward.  Like most patients, I have needed this time at home, to become well again.  There is a fair amount of aftercare needed by doctor's and therapists, also.
     This morning, my husband took me into Boston, to meet with my psychiatrist and therapist.  My psychiatrist and I discussed my paranoia, last week.  She made a dosage increase, on a new antipsychotic, that I started taking, about 2 weeks ago.  We may even double this dosage, in time.  I also asked my psychiatrist, if I could go back to work this week.  Her response was a firm, solid "NO, That would be just crazy".
     I am feeling less paranoid, at this point, but I still feel very ill, emotionally.  Until a few weeks ago, I had been smiling and laughing a lot.  I had felt thankful, that my life was better in a lot of ways.  Life was not perfect, but it had been a couple of years, since my last hospitalization.
     Now, I am feeling a deep sadness, within my inner core, I am feeling defeated, I am feeling like a failure.  I am having nightmares almost every night, now that I am starting to sleep again.  I am eating only 1 meal a day, and I am a diabetic, so, this is not good.  My new antipsychotic, is making me feel very intoxicated in the morning, and seems to be slowing down my thoughts, and actions.
      Writing this blog, is very difficult now, because my thoughts are slower, and because I am not well. I have proofread this entry, at east 5 times, in the last 10 minutes, and I keep finding errors in spelling and punctuation. I will continue to try to write it, though.

     I have been out of a hospital's Psychiatric Ward, for a week, now.  I am doing fair.
I am smiling, on the outside, and trying to enjoy the company of friends, but I've also been in denial, of what has been going on in my head.  I am suffering from paranoia.  On Thursday, after 4 days of not showering, I finally realized: "Christine you must get in the shower, stop feeling like you'll be vulnerable, naked, and slashed up by a stranger".   I have been afraid to go in the cellar, for the same reason.  I feel like people are talking about me, saying that I am crazy...I feel that I'm being watched.
     I can't begin to tell you how uncomfortable, and terrifying it is.  My mind, is playing tricks on me...
My own psychiatrist was not working today, as it is Good Friday, a holiday.  Another very kind, psychiatrist talked with me over the telephone and increased my Trillifon, an antipsychotic.
     If you are the praying type, please send prayers my way.  People say that I am strong and brave, but honestly, sometimes I feel like a scared little kid.  I just want to get better.

     I don't want to scare anyone, away from psychiatric hospitalizations, but I will say, that my most recent experience was disruptive, loud, scary, uncomfortable, etc.
     My other hospitalizations, in the past, have been peaceful and without incident.  I was able to heal and recover peacefully.  But this time, I fought to leave early, because of all of the commotion, by other, very ill, very psychotic patients, was triggering my Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.
     To put it bluntly, I do not handle yelling and screaming, well.  This yelling and screaming, were never directed at me, but all the tranquilizers in the world, would not have taken my fear away.
      I told the nurse, "I understand that these people are very ill, but they do not have to be mean".
Finally, after much tearful protests, from me, the psychiatrist, allowed me to go home 3 days early.
      When it came time to leave, however, the psychiatrist did not want to give me a prescription for my new medication, Seroquel, which I had had success with, for several days.  He told me to "Follow up with your own doctor about Seroquel, she can give you a prescription".  I told him that:  "I wouldn't see her until Monday and I would be without this medication, which was helping me sleep and remain calm, for 3 days".  His response: "I don't believe the medication was helping you".  I told him that it was helping me, and he said very firmly: "It was being in the hospital, that helped you".  I asked him if he would give me 3 days worth of Seroquel, until, I saw my own psychiatrist.  "I suppose, that I can do that", he finally agreed.
    In all honesty, I was angry, by the time I left to go home.  They had wanted to keep me prisoner, for another 3 days, in this hospital, even though I was no longer a danger to myself, even though I was never a danger to anyone else, even though I was feeling much better.  And then the doctor wanted to refuse me the medication that he had put me on.  I felt as if I were being punished for speaking up, about all the shit going down on their floor, because I refused to tolerate it.  It will certainly affect my future decisions to seek help, in a hospital setting.  I am sorry, my friends, that I cannot say better things about my recent in-patient stay.

Written on April 9, 2014

A Psychiatric Patient's Prayer

My Dear Lord, how my heart aches, how I long to smile and laugh again,
My soul feels heavy, for those that I have lost, my Lord,
I want to join you, Sweet Lord, in eternal peace, but now is not the right time,
I must not die, by my own hands, for it would break your heart, Lord,
Please guide the Doctors, Nurses, & Counselors, to make the right decisions for me,
So, that I may once again rejoin the Land of the Living, and find joy once again,
My Lord, my soul is so lost, in my own private Hell,
Please, please, please, Dear Lord, let me rise above it.

   

     I had a bit of a temporary relapse recently, in my emotional & mental health.  I spent last week in a psychiatric ward.  I signed myself in, voluntarily, to try to save myself from my own self-destruction.  I am far too sensitive for this world, sometimes.
     It was not an easy experience.  When I arrived, at the emergency room, I was asked why I was seeking medical treatment.  I was scared and paranoid, and could not answer "in front of all these people, looking at me".  So, I wrote "psychiatric reasons", on an index card, and gave it to the woman, working at the check-in desk.
     Within a few minutes, I was called into the ER.  I asked to bring my husband in, with me, but I was told to come in alone, to "get settled in".  They brought me into a room, with only a stretcher, that had leather handcuffs, ankle cuffs, and lots of straps.  It also had a camera, near the ceiling, and a mirror near the ceiling...no chairs, no TV, nothing else.  I saw the straps on the bed and panicked.  "You're not going to tie me down, are you?", I cried.  The nurse said no, and said that they had no other beds available. "I want a chair", I said.  They brought me a chair, and told me to remove most of my clothing, and put 2 johnnies on.  They could see me changing my clothes, through the window, in the locked, heavy door, and through the camera. I was scarily, aware of this.
    When they came back, they took all of my clothes and belongings away, and searched them.  They took me to the bathroom, and insisted that I pee into a cup, to drug & alcohol test me.  When they took me backed to the locked room, they also insisted on drawing my blood.  I wouldn't let them take my blood, until my husband was allowed in the room with me.
    I complained about the room, saying it was scaring me, and complained about all the people "staring" at me, and the camera "spying" on me.
    A few hours later, an even more psychotic man arrived in the ER, and they needed my room, and gave me a regular room, with a regular stretcher, a chair, a TV, etc, and a bit of my fear left me.
     I was asked extensive questions..."Why are you here?"  "Do you want to hurt yourself, or anyone else?"  "Did you have an actual plan to harm yourself?"  "What type of health problems do you have?"  "What medications are you on?", etc, etc.
   After several hours, I was told that there were no beds on any psychiatric units available, that I would have to spend the night in the ER, until a bed was found in a hospital.
   I was transported about 24 hours later, by ambulance, to a psychiatric ward, at a different hospital.

     I am starting to feel good about myself.  I am realizing that I am a great person: kind, empathetic, intelligent, artistic, always giving.
     I am starting to feel good about life. Just a few years ago, life felt like an enormous uncertainty.  I wasn't too keen on this thing called Life.  I didn't realize that I had to be pro-active in creating my own happiness.
     In fact, it took until my early 40's, that I discovered what happiness is.  In some ways, I am so delighted & thankful, to discover happiness, but in other ways, I am extremely pissed that it took 1/2 of my life to find it.  I grieve for the time that I have lost to misery.
     I hated myself for decades.  I hate my Schizoaffective Disorder, and the games it plays with my mind: severe depression, anxiety, paranoia, delusions, hallucinations.  I hate my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, because of the nightmares, flashbacks, triggers, fears....but really, I truly hate the men that caused it, in me.  For decades, I was a slave to my emotions and fears.
     I am now starting to like myself and I am proud of myself because suicide no longer seems like a good alternative to living. I am proud of myself because I work hard to keep my sanity strong, by taking my medications, going to therapy and support groups.  I am proud of myself, because I am a writer now, and also an advocate, and I never thought this opportunity would come.  I am proud of myself because I have been able to work part-time, at the same job for over 5 years.  I am proud of myself for maintaining my volunteer job at my church for over 7 years.  I am proud of myself because, even though we have had trials, I have been married for 20 years.  I am proud of myself because I have been able to maintain long-term friendships with some wonderful people.  I am proud of myself for letting go of my anger towards God, and strengthening my faith.
     I just keep telling myself that I am a valuable child of God, that He created me for a purpose, and I am now fulfilling this purpose.  I too, am worthy.
 

     This is #100.   Can you believe that?  I can't.  Because this is my 100th blog entry, I originally felt that this would be a celebratory piece.  In truth, I have something different on my mind.  I am going to use this one to make a written prayer to make peace with God.  You see, I have a lot of anger towards God.  I felt like He failed me, when I felt I was left to face my horrible childhood and younger adult years all alone.


My Dear Lord,
I  love You and long to accept You into my soul, but I feel so much anger and mistrust towards You.

Where were You, my Lord when my Violators were violating me?  I was so young, didn't You hear my cries?

Why did You not answer my prayers, Lord, when I was a little child, begging to be saved from the Hell that I was experiencing?

How could You let me lose my half-siblings, Lord, whom I loved so, so much, when I tried to save them from abuse, tried to save their lives?  You should have been my ally, Lord.

Why did You let that bastard beat me and kill my fetal baby, and leave me sterile?  I will never get to experience the joy of motherhood, my Lord.

Why weren't You there to persuade me from attempting suicide, shortly after I lost my baby?  I called out to You that lonesome night, Lord.

Why was I stricken with Schizoaffective Disorder, a serious mental illness, my Lord?  Do You see my everyday struggles my Lord, to survive, in this prejudiced, ignorant world?

Why must I live with PTSD, as a result of my suffering?  None of this is my fault Lord, why must I pay the price, for other's crimes against me?

After giving me this lot in life, my Lord, what it is that You want from me?  What is it that You expect of me?

I shall try my best, Lord to accept You into my life more, regardless of our complicated history.

I shall work my hardest to let go of my anger, and to shed my tears, until there are no more.


Yours Eternally,
Christine

     It has been a rough couple of days for me.  I am dealing with some work problems, that are leaving me feeling disheartened about my job.  It's true, I am starting to long for more, job-wise, but I have been at my job for 5 1/2 years, and I have felt very comfortable there.  I am great at my job, and up until recently, I loved working there. I don't want to be forced into making a move.  I don't handle changes well.
     Frankie and I went to church this morning.  It is Lent, and the parishioners were asked if they would like to light a candle and say a prayer.  I had several prayers in my mind, but I did not want to go light a candle.
I realized that I was angry at God, for letting me feel that my emotions were spiraling, once again.  I felt that too many sad, bad things were happening in the world and in my life.
     The tears started falling down my cheeks and I could not stop them.  And then I found myself praying, asking God to make my tears stop, and then telling Him everything that I wanted to pray about.

     My Dear Lord, it is 4 AM, and I cannot sleep.  My nights are filled with horrendous nightmares, when I do sleep.
Please grant me a night's peaceful sleep, so I may feel a bit of peace in my restless soul.
 Please let me sleep like a newborn baby.  Let me be your little child, my Lord.
I surrender my soul to You.
Thank You Lord, for all that you have given me.  I shall spread Your love to others.

     My husband, Frankie & I had an interesting conversation, this morning.  I wondered aloud, about what it would be like, if I didn't take the medications that I am on.  At present time, I take Effexor, Abilify, BusPar, Trillifon, & Neurontin.  It seems like a lot of medications, and honestly, it really is.  But it all seems to create a balance in me, that I had not felt, until this point in my life.
     I am a firm believer, in medication, when it is needed.  But on days, where I feel really good, I tend to wonder, if I can make it, without psychiatric medication.  I wonder just what the REAL Christine would be like.  Would I be very different?  Do my medications mute or accentuate my personality?
     Upon thought, I realize that medication, is a necessity for me, at this point in my life, and maybe for all of my life.  How else do you fight off demons like deep depression, paranoia leading to fears of being slaughtered alive, feelings of wanting to die, suffocating anxiety, etc.?  I have been in therapy for over 25 years, but it takes medication to treat these ailments.
     There may never be a cure for me, I know.  But I will continue to strive to reach sanity.  I will continue to take my medication.  I will continue to attend all the therapy that I need.  I will continue to write about my life, as it is therapy for me, too.  I will continue to seek happiness.....

     I had an interesting morning, today.  I only got about 3 hours of sleep, last night, but I was on the 7:10 AM Commuterail this morning.  My destination was Boston.  Did I mention how freezing cold it was this morning?
     Once in Boston, I had a visit with my psychiatrist.  She said that I was doing very well, and did not make any medication changes.  I had been having anxiety attacks and flashbacks, just 2 weeks ago, but told her that now, I didn't think that I would need any tranquilizers.
     After that appointment, I had a session with my psychotherapist.  During this session, I discussed the possibility of pressing charges against my father for sexually abusing me 40 years ago, when I was just 6 years old.  My therapist and I, then discussed several scenarios that could take place.  In the end of the discussion, I realized that, because it was 4 decades ago, my chances of a successful prosecution were very low.  And I know that if I don't succeed at sending that pervert to jail, I will be devastated. I will feel that the judicial system failed me also. That experience could send me into a tailspin, emotionally.  It is a lot to think about.....
    In the near future, I will probably write more about my experiences with my father, and my feelings about him.  I will only sum him up in one word now:  MONSTER

     At times, like a lot of people, I question myself, wondering, if I am in the right occupation.
Presently, I work as a part-time clerk, in the Meat Department of a supermarket.  This requires me to stock the refrigerated meat products, check for expired products, weigh and price products, wrap meat, clean work areas, and assist customers on the store floor, and at the butcher case. Not exactly rocket science.  And not exactly, making much of an impact on society.  Unless, of course, you want me to recommend a great steak for you to eat.
     On one hand, its a great job for me.  The guys I work with, are great to me.  Because of a strong union, I have taken several leave of absences, due to my illnesses, and always had a job, to come back to.  The job requires me to be on my feet, doing a lot of lifting, so it is a great physical work-out, also.  I know how to do my job well, and I love helping the customers.  My boss, says that I am his best employee, and that I am great at customer service.  And my job is located close to home and I usually have a ride (very few taxi rides).
     I wonder, quite often though, where I would be occupationally, if I did not have PTSD, Schizoaffective Disorder, and Panic Disorder.  Would I have ever made it through college?  What occupation would I have chosen?  Would I be more satisfied with my life?
     I may consider going back to college at some point.  I tried to go back to college about 10 years ago, but for many years, I was taking super heavy-duty anti-psychotics, and it was like a chemical lobotomy.  I just could not focus, concentrate, or even learn.  Later on, for one year, also, I was receiving electro-convulsive therapy  (shock treatments), and my memory would be wiped out, making learning impossible.  I no longer receive shock treatments, and my medications have been changed since then, so maybe I will have a chance at college, at some point.
    Honestly, I have no clue, what I want to be "when I grow up".  I have decided that I would like to make some type of good impact on society.  I ask myself, how do I go about doing that?  And now I wonder, with "My Uncomfortable Mind", if I am already doing just that......
   

     My post, on my personal Facebook page today, reads:  "I'm just not feeling it, today".  It's true.  I feel wiped out, and sad.
    I suspect, that I know, the reason why.  It is because I forgot, to take my morning & afternoon psychiatric medications, on yesterday morning & afternoon...5 different types of drugs, Effexor, Abilify, BuSpar, Trillifon, and Neurontin.
     I remember to take my medications, 98%, of the time, I'd say.  Nobody is perfect, but I strive to be.  The reason, I try so hard, to take my medications, on time, is because, when I miss a dose, or 2, I feel insecure, paranoid, frustrated, scared, panicky, depressed, guilty, etc.
     Yesterday, early in the evening, I had a one-way texting disagreement with a friend from my high school years. It didn't make a lot of sense, frankly.  It wasn't until evening, after my nonsensical, texting, that I remembered that I had forgotten to take my meds.
    This morning, until now, I have felt guilty, for frustrating my friend.  Always remember to take your medications, my friends.

     One thing that I have realized, is that, I need to write more often.  And I need to write about even the ordinary moments in my life.
     I usually get up, out of bed, at between 3-5 AM.  Yes, you read that correctly.  I get up at stupid-o'clock.  Its because I have trouble sleeping, and I'm too restless to just lay in bed.
    At first, I make myself a cup of Starbucks coffee.  I check my e-mails, and read my Facebook, usually in silence, for the first half hour.  Once I have become more awake, I make another cup of coffee, and sometimes watch a bit of the news.  But, I have been escaping the television news ritual a lot more lately, because honestly, the news is depressing.
     Most mornings I put music on, looking through my iTunes account, picking out my favorite music, depending on my mood.  It could range from The Moody Blues, to Pearl Jam, to Cypress Hill....to anybody.  My landlord has severe hearing loss, so she has never been concerned about the stereo playing in the wee morning hours.
     Often, in the early, peaceful, uninterrupted, dawn hours, I will pray, for anyone I feel that needs it.  It is always an emotional experience for me, sometimes leading to tears, because I feel so humbled, that the Lord takes the time to listen to and answer my prayers.  I have felt a close connection to God, since I was a young child.
     My mother and I, talk by telephone, usually very early just about every day.  Even though my mother and I had a rough start, I am crazy about her.  My day feels a bit empty, until I hear from her.  She lives 2 states north of us, in rural Maine, with just her dog, so I worry about her if I don't hear from her.  My nature is a bit paranoid at times, and I have a tremendous fear of her dying
     At some point, I make myself a cup of hot chocolate, and when my husband wakes up, I make him a cup of coffee.  My deaf cat awakes at some point, and runs and scampers all over the house, delighting me.
     On work mornings, I shower & dress, take my medications, try to eat a bagel or toast, and arrive at work by 7 AM.
    On the weekends, we spend hours "couching it", drinking even more coffee, watching educational television, talking, listening to music.
    So, yes, I have PTSD, Panic Disorder, and Schizoaffective Disorder, but do you see how ordinary my life can be?

     Although I have felt mainly happy, for quite some time,  I still have struggles, periodically, that shake up my world.
     This past week, was especially hard on me.  It might sound silly, but my anxiety started around a toothache, and an appointment I had to make to a dentist.  I haven't been to the dentist in about 3 years, because I fear the experience so deeply.
     Anxiety started setting in on Saturday, when my tooth started to hurt, and on Monday the anxiety attacks started.  Tuesday, I started having flashbacks of being abused by my father, in unspeakable ways.  I was, hysterically crying by 7 AM, sitting in the car, in full work uniform.  My gracious husband called my boss and told him that I would not be going to work that day.
     My Mother knew that I was too upset to go to work that day, I could not conceal my pain when she called me on the telephone.  But, I didn't have the heart to tell her about my flashbacks.
     I talked to my Therapist and Psychiatrist over the phone.  My Psychiatrist gave me a prescription for a few tranquilizers, and my life consisted of work & sleep, until Thursday morning when I went into Boston to meet with my Therapist.
     My Therapist asked me why the dentist appointment was triggering terror & flashbacks in me.  I told her that I didn't like things being put into my mouth, that didn't belong there.  She understood right away what I meant, and if you are a child abuse survivor, you will too.   "It's horribly invasive, isn't it?", she said.
      She also asked me if it was possible if my flashbacks were dreams.  I think that possibly, she is supposed to ask me that.  But my gut feeling was to punch her in the face, for what I perceived, was her doubting me.  But, in my calmest attempt, I told her that these flashbacks were so real, that I actually physically felt the abuse happening to me.
      On Friday, I finally went to the dentist.  I took a tranquilizer before I went, and was calm.  Fortunately, just x-rays were taken, and I learned that I need 2 crowns, just for starters.
     I think, however, that as time goes on, my dental appointments will become easier for me.
I am now confronting this fear.

    In the year, 2012, I touched upon, what I believed, were a few keys to happiness, especially, if you are mentally ill, or have PTSD.  But I believe that they can be applied to most people.
     I'd like to review a few of these things, that I believe will help you to lead a happier life:
-Taking care of yourself, physically, is very important.  Take care of your body, by getting enough sleep, eating well, seeing a doctor if needed, etc.
-Taking care of your mind is crucial.  That means, taking your medications as directed, and seeing your Psychiatrist, and talking with them, about your psychiatric symptoms, honestly, as often as needed.
-Taking care of yourself, emotionally.  This means seeing your Psychotherapist, as often as needed, and honestly, opening up with them about your life's struggles.
-Taking care of yourself, also means making changes in your life, at times. These changes may be very difficult, in that, you may have to move to a new home or seek a new job.  Or they may be gut-wrenching, when you have to evict another human from your life, because they are causing you too much pain.
 -Taking care of yourself, means also, to seek your passions in life & run with them!  If there is something that you would love to study, then go for it!!  If your passion is simply to color in coloring books, then do it more often, if it makes you happy
-And giving to others, even with just your smile, can make others feel good, as well, as yourself!
   

     I have a friend, that I went to high school with.  Although, I do not have any memory of him, from those days, almost 30 years ago, we met up 2 years ago, on Facebook.
     One day, he posted, on Facebook, that his very young son was having hallucinations.  I responded, with my own advice & experiences,  as a survivor of both Schizoaffective Disorder and PTSD, and we have become like family, over the past 2 years.
     Recently, my friend's 10 year old son was hospitalized after attempting to strangle his 9 year old sister.  In the past year, he also tried to strangle his mother, who abused him, and has since, abandoned him.
     This child, has over 10 different psychiatric diagnosis', and has the emotional development of a 2-5 year old child.  He is a very sweet, intelligent child, but when he rages, it takes five adult police officers & EMT's to restrain him.  And he is tiny for his age.
      Last weekend, we drove up through the woods of NH, a total 4 hours drive, for my husband Frank & I, to bring my  friend, to see his child, who was hospitalized up there.
     It was a most difficult expedition, emotionally.  What do you say to a 10 year old child who has tried to kill 2 of his family members?
     His father showed me a letter that the child had written to him.  It was a suicide note, a cry for help.
     I told my little friend, that we all loved him very much  and that he would have to work hard to get better. I told him that people like him and me, had an extra hard struggle in life, because we both had mental illnesses and PTSD, from child abuse.  But I also told him that he could be successful, and mostly, happy, if he worked at it.  I told him that he must start to open up and talk about his feelings, because that was the only way he would start to heal.  I hope that my little friend listened to me, and will put my words to good use.
     When the visit was over, both my friend and his little boy cried.  It was so incredibly heartbreaking.

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     As you may have read, I was ill with pneumonia, last week.  It was a long, tiring, uncomfortable experience.  Physically, I was really sick, and I found myself way too overly emotional.  Towards the end, I was prescribed Prednisone, a steroid, which has, in the past, made me rather unstable.  This time, the Prednisone caused insomnia in me.  It wasn't until they prescribed me, cough syrup with codeine, that the pain went away, and I was able to sleep through the night. I am so thankful, that I am feeling a lot better, now.
      I went back to work 3 days ago.  I will admit, that even though I am only working 5 hour days, I am wiped out by the end of my shift.  I was supposed to go to my volunteer job, at my church, today, and I just couldn't do it.  Thankfully, the office manager, who is also a good friend, is a very understanding person.
      At this point, however, emotionally, I am doing very well.  It amazes me, how I can be so happy at points, yet so very depressed, at other points.
     As the time goes by, I am realizing what hope lies ahead of me.  Just 2 years ago, I felt that I had no purpose in life.  I felt so unsuccessful, so unworthy.
     Now, however, I am spreading my story throughout the planet, quite literally.  "My Uncomfortable Mind", is my purpose in life.  By writing this blog, I want people who suffer from mental illness and/or PTSD to realize, that they are not alone in this world.  I want people to realize that there is hope for people who suffer from these disorders.  And I want people to see into my mind and feelings and realize that even though I am a survivor of Schizoaffective Disorder & PTSD, I am a total, living, human being, and not just some "crazy" person.
     I have come a long way, in life.  There is hope for me, and there is hope for our brothers & sisters, out in the world who suffer from mind illnesses.

     Although, I have had sleep issues, the past week & weekend went pretty well.  I whistled & hummed happily away, as I worked.  I was feeling happy & thankful to have my job.
    On Friday afternoon, I went to lunch with two friends.  On Saturday & Sunday, we socialized with friends, as well.  I was feeling very happy.
     This morning, it changed.  I woke up with sore lungs, probably from my asthma.  I am coughing and overall, feeling uncomfortable.  I can't seem to wake up from sleepiness.  I also feel, caught in my own little world.  I feel as if I am trapped in a glass box, watching out at the world.
     I first felt the tears coming, when I had been up for about about an hour.  I felt helpless and couldn't keep from crying.  I got dressed, and took my medications, but I just can't seem to eat today.
     I called out from work, when I admitted to myself that I was an emotional mess.  I knew that every little thing would set off my tears, if I went to work.  On more than one occasion, I have had to leave work, because I could not stop crying.  It simply made no sense, to go to work when I am both physically and emotionally unwell.
     I have come to realize over time, that when my body is sick, and my defenses are down,that my mind suffers also.  It's a frustrating, painful experience.
     On days like this, I am trying to learn to just relax at home.  It is hard for me to take care of my ill body, when my ill mind doesn't want to.  All I want to do is cry.
      I will get through this, as I have, for all of my life.  I will keep reminding myself, that this is only temporary.

     It is just after 3:30 AM, as I write this.  I originally, got out of bed at about 2:15 AM.   This happens a lot, in my life, these days, or rather, nights, I should say.
     Most nights, I have at least one bad dream...some nights, the dreams are horrifying.   This is because I have PTSD.
      I take medication to help me sleep, but unfortunately, it doesn't keep me asleep all night long.  Honestly, I'm afraid, to take any more medication.  I think that sleep disorders often go hand in hand with mental disorders.  For many years, I have taken sleep medication.  But it got worse, when I started peri-menopause.
      So, I have a very odd sleep schedule.....sometimes, in the days, I fall asleep with no warning, and end up sleeping most of the day & night.  Sometimes, I wake up at stupid-o'clock in the morning and stay up, until I fall asleep, in the very early evening.
     But I will say one thing about being up in the wee early morning hours....It is so quiet, so peaceful.  I often feel closest to the Lord at this hour, and find myself praying sometimes.  It is becoming so easy, to treasure this time.

     I hate to admit it or even talk about it, but the Holiday Season, of 2013, did not go well for me.
I should have written about it, while it was happening, but in hindsight, it was all one, big whirlwind.
     I will try to tell you about it now......It started a couple of weeks before Christmas.  I was at work, when I started to fall apart and cry.  It seemed to come out of nowhere, but in truth, it was my high anxiety level.
I was beyond overwhelmed, that Christmas was approaching......for so many, many sad reasons.  I told my great friend and co-worker, Bob, that I needed a hug.  He let me cry on his shoulder, and I was able to continue on with my work day.
     The next week, the week before Christmas, hit me hard.  It started with nightmares, then flashbacks.  I was having nightmares & flashbacks of my ex, from decades ago.  I had loved him so passionately, but we had a culture clash as well as, a love clash.  He thought that it was acceptable, to beat me, while I was pregnant with his baby.  I lost the baby as a result.  I never became pregnant again, as a result.  It was Holiday season, that this all ensued.
     Even though I have been through 20 years of psychotherapy to deal with my PTSD, it still hits me hard at times.  PTSD strikes sneakily at times, like a snake in the grass.  I ended up taking 2 days off from work, to try to pull myself together.  I felt bad, to leave my co-workers short-handed, but I also felt that if I didn't take a couple of days off at that point, that I would end up in the hospital for weeks.  So, which is worse?
     My husband became ill with a terrible leg infection, the weekend before Christmas, and  was hospitalized for 2 nights.  I tried my hardest to be a good wife during this time, but in truth, I needed him to hold ME up at that time.  I lacked the patience, that I needed at that time.
      In addition to having difficulties in the Holiday Season, there have been problems, with a few of my in-laws, that have gone back since summer.  We haven't seen several family members, for about 6 months.
I did not want to see them this Christmas, but I did it for my husband.  The tension was beyond my tolerance.  I put up a good front, but, realistically, I have never really felt like part of my in-laws family.
     I am hoping that the year, 2014, will go more smoothly.  I am going to try to write more often.
In the meantime, please share my blog,  My Uncomfortable Mind, to show the world, the mind & soul of a PTSD & Schizoaffective Disorder Survivor.  Maybe we will all learn something.
     And may your New Year be happy & healthy!!