The Unrelenting Illness: Physical Health

There really aren't any introductions I can think of anymore. Yes, I'm depressed. More so than last time. Along with that, my health hasn't been super great.

June was rough. We were short-staffed at work all month, so I ended up working a lot of extra shifts. I also helped with paperwork, especially with getting ready for our audit in July. It became draining. I didn't have time to do stuff around the house, most of my plants died, the only quality time I had with Dustin usually was right before we went to sleep and we would chat. There was no respite from work, and it became draining. 

Along with that, I've been extremely irritated. Day by day I have become more unfriendly. Poor Dustin has had to put up my constant bitchiness. I have felt like I can't ever just be happy or even neutral-- I am just a total grump.

Then set in the complete disinterest in everything. Our therapist suggested Dustin and I plan a small trip sometime this year because we have been overworked and it's taken a toll on us. I tried to think of a place to go that I would be interested in, and absolutely nothing sounded good. The next week our therapist had us write down our individual and couple goals and what steps we're taking to reach them. It was difficult because I wasn't interested in anything. The few things I had listed mainly had to do with photography, and even then I was pretty vague in what I wanted. 

All through this I keep getting nauseated, motion sick, ear pain, headaches, fever-like heat flashes, and was completely sapped of energy. A lot of the time the onset is from noises, which has been frustrating because I never listen to loud music, minus at concerts (but even then I wear hearing protection). And I hardly ever use headphones either.

I went to my hometown to take my sister's bridal photos on a hot Monday and felt incredibly sick the entire time. The heat was overwhelming and I felt like I was spinning and close to throwing up. And it keeps happening. The times I usually feel okay are when I'm in a cold, dark room. Like a sickly polar bear. 

Everything mixed together has been a clustercuss of garbage. Because mental health affects physical health and vice versa, my life is a Catch 22 of one making the other worse. After our last session, I got a phone call from my therapist-- she had been looking through my notes from the past month and a half and strongly suggested that I get a med change for my depression. So I scheduled an appointment with my doctor, but it was going to have to wait a couple weeks. I was pretty miserable about everything.

And then two weeks ago I felt even more sick. I called into work (for the first time) because I just did not feel well. Plus, my sister was getting married in two days and I desperately needed some time to recuperate. I barely made it through the wedding and home before I got worse. So then I scheduled an appointment for that Friday. From my visit, my doctor believes it's tension headaches, but some of my symptoms don't quite match up. I was prescribed a muscle relaxant and a new antidepressant (that was one good thing-- I was able to get a med change much sooner than I expected). She also suggested I get an MRI to make sure nothing else is going on with my brain. So I got an MRI yesterday, and it was definitely a different experience. I don't know the results, but all I know is that the contrast they put in my IV made me nauseated for quite some time. They did let me see pictures of my brain though, which was pretty neat.

So here I am. This post is seriously so boring to read, so thanks for giving it a go.

Plants.

I've been meaning to blog. It's been a couple months since my last post, and a lot has gone on since then. Lots of nights as I lie on my bed trying to sleep I think of wanting to write out what I have been feeling and thinking. I write in my journal when I am having a really hard time and trying to piece things together, but other than that, I don't talk much about things unless it's with Dustin or my therapist (or both).

So just know that I'll let you in on some things, but not today. I don't really want to try right now. But what I do want to show you is some of my house plants that I love. (I have a lot that are dying that I'm attempting to rescue, so we'll see how those go...) I love plants. I am no expert at keeping them alive or what the plant even is; all I know is that I love them. They are almost on caliber with how much I love animals (which is quite a lot). So here's a simple glimpse:

Check-In

You're probably going to have to get used to me writing depression posts. Because that's essentially all I've become at this point.

My therapist suggested Dustin and I do daily check-ins. There are four categories: physical, social, emotional, and spiritual. So let's do a check-in.

Physical

The past two weeks have been full of physical pain. My ears started aching last Saturday, which I didn't think too much of. Monday and Tuesday at work I had strong headaches that I had never felt before, and I was getting really motion sick at work which lead to sharp nausea pains. I had very little energy and would come home from work and lie on the couch. It kept getting worse, so on Thursday I went to the doctor, thinking I had an ear infection. Turns out is was serous otitis media, which is essentially the tubes behind my ears creating negative pressure on my eardrums. In layman's terms, my ear was sucking my eardrums inside my head. Although the pain has lessened and I'm not as nauseated, it's still there.

Friday night I started having an aching in my back and my hands started going numb. Dustin was worried because arms going numb at random is hardly a good sign. I told him my back was a bit achy, so when we got home from dinner he tried to rub my back. We determined it was kidney pain, which, if I might add, there is no such thing as kidney pain that isn't a problem. It's not like "oh, my stomach is achy, it'll go away." So I got really freaked out. I had an eerie feeling I was going to end up in the hospital that night if I didn't ask for a Priesthood blessing. I had my brother and Dustin bless me. The next day it ached a bit, but then disappeared. I did not go to the hospital.

The amount of emotional and spiritual stress is also taking its toll on me. We'll talk more in a bit.

Social

Probably the only slightly consistently good category. I have my bad days in which I don't want to talk to anyone and have nothing to talk about, but for the most part my social life has been decent enough. A lot of days it is my saving grace. I'm glad some of my closest friends are individuals I work with, because seeing them five (or sometimes six) days a week gives me a constant social feed. There are others I wish I could see more, too.

My social life has gotten easier since my anxiety has diminished greatly. My meds have definitely helped my anxiety attacks become virtually non-existent (for now, that is), so I haven't had the anxiety of worrying about getting anxiety around people. If that makes sense.

Emotional

Oh I've been an emotional shipwreck. The past two weeks I've been depressed about 98% of the time. Some days I'm just sad and lethargic, other days I'm enveloped in a stinging reality of my pain and confusion. I have random moments of being happy, content, calm, or motivated, but they are few and far between. I think in about a week's worth of time I've had about six hours of feeling pretty good. Other than that, I feel as if I just exist in a bitter husk.

Loneliness. The loneliness kills me. I feel distant from myself, my husband, from others, from God. I feel as if I'm reaching for a connection, an understanding that cannot be fulfilled. It hurts. So much.

My emotional distress is nearly unbearably heavy.  I cry-- a lot. Usually over feelings I don't understand or feelings I wish weren't there. Sometimes my emotions become so harrowing that no amount of crying can relieve me. I sit on the bathroom floor, unable to cry anymore and just stare off until I can muster the energy to get up and finally go to bed. I wish I could fall asleep during the day sometimes to forget how I'm feeling, but I really can't nap.

Spiritual

This and my emotional category are by far the worst. This one is really hard for me to understand, so if I seem confusing or scattered, perhaps it will be a glimpse into how I feel.

I am at a spiritual bare minimum. Most days I feel like I'm barely scraping by. Other days I don't even feel close to scraping by. Now don't get me wrong, I still have a testimony. I know God is there. I know what the Spirit feels like. I honor my temple covenants. I read my scriptures every day. But it doesn't help much.

You see, I feel as if God has left me. I've had several questions throughout the course of the past couple days, weeks, months; the past year; and some questions that span over a decade. And they haven't been answered. It's not from a lack of trying, because believe me, if I've been asking specific questions for over a decade, it isn't because I'm impatient. For some reason God doesn't answer the inquiries I need answers to the most. I prayed and prayed and prayed. I would get bursts of hope and confidence that finally God would answer at least part of my question, or maybe He would help me ask it in a different way that would be better. I prayed. I got nothing.

Nothing.

Not if it pertained to the things I so desperately grasped and pondered after. Here's the deal though-- anything else I got promptings or answers. So I knew that I wasn't cut off from the Spirit because I could still feel its promptings. And then I would desperately and humbly beg for any sort of relief or insight into what I was (and am) struggling with, there was, and is, silence. 

I got so discouraged that I stopped praying. I felt scorned, abandoned, and left behind-- as if Heavenly Father was completely ignoring me. So when I told the therapist and Dustin that I had lost my personal relationship with God, I was devastated. I remember being a missionary and feeling a deep understanding and closeness with Him. And I understood that the lack of a relationship with my Father was my fault, because God doesn't leave us. So why was it that when I honestly tried to open up to Him for help, I got nothing? So I tried to pray and it felt absolutely useless. I would get so angry or sad that I started crying only a couple sentences in and would just have to stop. The only time I ever prayed was if it was my turn for our nightly prayer. 

And then there's church. I have nothing against the Church, in fact, I quite love it. But right now, I don't have any desire to go. I have struggled for months to get myself to church, and when I do go, it either makes me anxious or sad. Sad because it reminds me of feeling abandoned by God. Anxious because I don't want to be involved in anything social with the church. There are very few Sundays Dustin has off to go, so I usually go alone. The only plus side is that there is one family with three adorable girls that absolutely love me. Of all the things, that has been the biggest blessing at church. They run up to me and tell me they love me and they tell me about their earrings or pajamas or whatever adorable thing they think of. In the past few months, I have found myself going to church essentially to say hi to them. I don't want my calling anymore, and I don't want to be involved. 

This past week my prayers have brought me some peace. I have been focusing on more day-to-day things, but I dare not ask about any of my problems. I am much more confident when I pray for Dustin than when I pray for anything personal.

I try to remember how I used to be -- happy, full of energy, and always laughing. I can't even remember what that feels like anymore. 

Time For a Serious Post

Our serious faces. 

Depression. Anxiety. We're all familiar. To what degree varies, but most of us have had experiences with these two bitches.

My depression has been going on and off since I got home from my mission. Then the anxiety came after Dustin and I got married. I only remember having one panic attack prior, and it was way back in my junior year of high school. Now they are a semi-regular occurrence. 

I thought that I could take care of it on my own. At first I thought it was just me obsessing over fearful thoughts and that all I needed to do to stop the anxiety was just to think of positive things. Month after month it got worse. The late-night panic attacks were exhausting, both physically and mentally. A couple months ago I tried some homeopathic medicines. It helped the anxiety, but not with the depression.

Every time I was depressed I would tell myself that I needed help. But when I felt better, it didn't seem necessary. So I would push aside the thought that I should go to a doctor, and continue on as "normal." Dustin has been my biggest help from the start. When I finally just started telling him everything, no matter how ridiculous, irrational, or seemingly unimportant it seemed, the better I felt. 

The pattern continued nonetheless. Dustin would do (and still does) everything he could to help and encourage me. Sometimes it was just a really long hug as I sobbed over emotions I didn't understand. He repeatedly tells me I'm not broken. He doesn't even let me joke about it on my good days. That, of all things, has been the most helpful.

So the new year rolled around. And I looked back on 2015 and decided that 2016 wouldn't be that way-- it couldn't. I couldn't keep losing myself to fears I couldn't face or to misplaced guilt. So I found a doctor. I went in this week, knowing full well I would have to finally tell someone the scope of my problems.

I ended up being at the doctor's office for two and a half hours. I talked to three different people, all of who were incredibly understanding and helpful. The nurse practitioner (who I spoke to first) showed a level of compassion and understanding that made me feel as if I could figure out myself completely. Before I left, I spoke with a therapist for a little bit. It was rough because as I tried to sum up the decade-and-then-some scope of problems, I felt overwhelmed. If overwhelmed can even begin to describe how much I felt at a loss. That I was in a mess too complicated to fix. But as she spoke to me, she assured me that I could get to a place where I wouldn't have to be so afraid of myself. 

I left, a bottle of antidepressants in hand and a strong recommendation from all three women to go to a specific therapist. I was teary-eyed as I told Dustin the results of my doctor's visit. The funny thing is, it was exactly what I was expecting to hear. But that didn't make hearing it any easier. 

Throughout that evening, I cried on and off. Dustin hugged me. A lot. I stained his shirt with mascara as his deep breaths slowly calmed me down. I didn't sleep that night. I kept telling myself that I should've seen a doctor months ago and that I would've been better right now. The words of President Uchtdorf came to mind:

"An old proverb says, 'The best time to plant a tree is 20 years ago. The second-best time is now.'"

And now is indeed when I'm starting. 
Well, restarting.

3:00 A.M.

I awoke suddenly.

The reason wasn't immediate, which it usually is when I wake up so promptly (you know, a light in the room, too cold, too itchy, a limb has fallen asleep...). It took me a couple minutes to come to, but when I did, I saw a faint, blurry, glowing orb in front of my face. Still confused and not fully aware, I squinted pathetically to try and see better. With no clearer understanding, I reached out my hand and slowly went to touch it. As my hand reached, my touch encountered a soft material. It was Dustin's blanket.

As Dustin felt my touch, he threw the covers off his face, revealing that the glowing had been coming from his phone. As soon as I registered the phone, I then realized that both my arms were somehow partially asleep. The painful, ticklish feeling of both limbs coming back to life brought my cognitive abilities to full awareness.

Me: "What are you doing?"
Dustin: "I couldn't sleep."
Me: "How long have you been up?"
Dustin: "About an hour."
Me: "Geez! What time is it?"
Dustin: "Almost three. I think I'm going to get up and go to work early." (He usually wakes up at 4:00 and goes to work at 5:00.)

We laid there for a couple minutes, chatting about who-knows-what, laughing a bit; then Dustin peppered me with kisses before getting up to go to work. I, surprisingly, ended up falling back asleep pretty soon after that.

What a pleasantly odd night. Or morning. Whatever you consider 3:00 a.m. to be.