Loving You

At work, I am a beauty adviser for Estee Lauder.  At home, I am a wife.  I run errands, cook, do laundry (Jordan and I do share this responsibility), and help with some of the cleaning.  I am also almost always the "driver."  To my dog, I am mom.  I take him on walks.  I'm the one he wants when he's hurt or doesn't feel well.  I put him to bed each night.  And I take him to puppy training classes on Thursdays.  Don't get me wrong, Jordan spends time with Eli too...but I'm the one he won't go anywhere without.  I have so many other roles in this world...these are just a few.  And we wonder how we get burnt out!  How do we "find ourselves" amongst all of the roles society has created for us?

When I started this blog, I had no idea people would read it.  That sounds silly.  Why would I write something and post it on a public forum without expecting anyone to read it?  Well, it's unfathomable to me that someone actually wants to know about my life.  Why, of all the things you could be doing, are you reading this blog??  Do I want you to read it?  Absolutely!  I'm amazed by how much support I've received...but I never expected it.  This blog is a form of release for me.  This is a way for me to get my thoughts straight and maybe even help you get your thoughts straight.  It's relaxing.  I get excited about writing something new.  This is my "me" time.

We all need to treat ourselves right.  That sounds obvious, but how often do you actually do it?  How frequently do you allow yourself to just relax one night.  When is the last time you hired a babysitter so that you could go out without your children or stay home for a quiet night alone?  Do you show yourself that you love yourself?

Today, I am getting a massage before work.  It's not something I do frequently, but sometimes you deserve a treat.  I've been working really hard.  Over the course of this year, I've planned a wedding, moved twice, got married, got a dog, lost loved ones, and SO many other life events.  We're approaching October.  Today, I get to treat myself.  You don't have to go to the spa once a month.  It doesn't have to be a grand vacation.  Just do something quiet.  Take time to read a book that doesn't relate to school or work.  Have a sleepover with a good friend.  Spend a full day watching movies in your pajamas.  Just allow yourself to feel relaxed and special.  No one knows what you need more than you do.

Show yourself, that you love yourself.

You are not alone.

The world health organization estimates that about 121 million people worldwide have some form of depression, although less than 25% have access to effective treatment.  About 14.8 million adult Americans experience clinical depression in any given year.  Women are more likely to have major depression than men.  And people over the age of 65 commit suicide at a higher rate than the national average.  (Source: http://curiosity.discovery.com/question/how-many-people-experience-depression)

Numbers are numbers.  You've heard it all before.  But have you really thought about it?

I promise, you are NOT alone!

Because I'm blind...

We all pretend for a while or a lifetime.  But pretending is not living.  I believe that life was meant to take our breath away, sometimes because of the sheer joy of it all and sometimes because of the severe pain.  To choose living over pretending means that we will know both.

Being blind to the world means never feeling.  Being blind to our feelings means never living. You can pretend that everything is okay, but that doesn't fulfill you.  I met a woman that I believe pretended that she loved her life.  She looked happy to all of her friends and family, but she was so broken down and it hurt my heart to see how scared she was to let the world see the real her.  She once said, "For some reason, every time we have a social function in our home, the girls always end up talking about the spinach dip. So and so's recipe is just to die for!  I don't give a damn about the spinach dip!!"  Her frustration seems invalid...it's just food.  But it wasn't the spinach dip that actually frustrated her.  It was the pain of the mundane life she's been stuck in.  She was in a rut.  Nothing gave her pleasure anymore.  Her life didn't turn out the way she wanted...and now she's been living it for so long that she doesn't know how to do anything else.  This woman just wanted purpose...purpose beyond making great spinach dip.

Ignoring unhappiness doesn't make it go away.  And you can only pretend to be happy for so long.  Everyone wants a purpose.  As humans, we have an innate desire to accomplish.  When we run out of things to accomplish, we search for something else.  When you're blind to the world, that something else can be nearly impossible to find.  When you're blind to your feelings, your accomplishments are meaningless.  Opening your eyes to both the world and your heart means that you will have to face many challenges - it also means that you can experience the joys of the world.

Start small.  Just acknowledge one little thing today.  My eyes opened slowly.  Hell, they're still opening!  I still struggle with it.  It started with one little feeling for me.  I woke up, and for no reason, I felt really angry.  I was just SO mad.  I didn't know why and I wasn't mad at anyone in particular.  I was just angry.  I was acknowledging a feeling that was inside me and had been buried in there for God knows how long, which allowed me to heal.  It takes time and it's a grueling process.  But feel one thing that you've been neglecting.  Just allow yourself to hurt for 5 minutes.  Then as a reward, allow yourself to enjoy something for 5 minutes.  Take a walk or listen to your favorite song.  Grab some frozen yogurt or a cookie from your favorite bakery.  Make the reward worth the pain.  If it was a particularly difficult day, treat yourself to a bubble bath and a glass of wine.  Whatever helps you relax, feel happy, and most importantly, at peace.

You don't have to live blindly.  Life can take your breath away again.  But healing is a process.
"Happiness is a direction, not a destination."

Empowerment

There are certain moments that resonate with you for the rest of your life.  These are moments of empowerment.  Empowerment is a process that challenges our assumptions about the way things are and can be.  It challenges our basic assumptions about power, helping, achieving, and succeeding.  Empowerment differs from strength, in that it is more defining.  You feel empowered for a fleeting moment...but strength is something you build over time.  Empowerment is that feeling of victory that you get when you've completed something that seemed so impossible.  It's also a small glimmer of hope that you were made to do something great.  When you're deeply depressed, empowerment does not exist.  There are no glimmers of hope and there's no encouragement from any source.

My therapists' name is Emily.  She was my counselor when I was younger (approx. age 9).  I stopped seeing her after about 2 years.  After my first hospitalization, the hospital referred me to the Mental Health Associates of the Triad, for whom Emily just happened to work.  When beginning counseling through MHA, you have an intake assessment in which they match you with a counselor that fits your needs.  Emily was my match.  When the woman told me who my counselor would be, I could hardly believe it.  Emily has truly had my back through everything. She's very dear to me...she also knows me better than anyone.

During my first session (as an adult) with Emily, she said two things to me that have stuck with me:

1. I can't help you unless you believe that rescue is possible.
Emily has seen me at my best.  She has also seen me at my worst.  And this statement reigns true regardless. When things are low, Emily needs me to know that it can get better.  When things are great, Emily needs me to be prepared for "triggers" that could bring me down again.  If you're going through hard times, you have to believe that they can get better because you can't see change unless you believe that its worth looking for.

2. We're going to walk down this road of healing together.
Emily told me this to let me know that I was not alone.  You need to know that too.  You aren't alone.  No one knows that you're having a hard time unless you tell them.  I know, as women, we try to keep ourselves together and put on our "best face" for everyone around us.  I also know, as women, we need to break down sometimes.  That's okay.  You don't have to have it all together.  You can fall apart...you can also ask for help when you're falling apart.  You don't have to heal alone.

The Truth

During my senior year of high school, I missed two consecutive weeks of school.  It was strange for me to miss even one day, so naturally, people had questions.  I told everyone I had the flu.  That was my story...and I desperately stuck to it.  Very few people knew the truth, but even those who knew, didn't talk about it.  Now, a year and half later, I'm a new person.  And the new, stronger me isn't afraid of being "weird."  The truth is, we all have issues.  The truth is, even the straight-A model student has issues.  Lots of them.

I left home at 18.  The term "left home" is used loosely, but that's for another day.  I left on a Sunday.  I spent the next few days driving back and forth figuring out living arrangements, obtaining my belongings from my parents, and dealing with my life.  The Thursday after I left, I had my first panic attack.  It was no joke.  You can say you've had them, but not many people experience them like this.  I was sitting on the couch talking to Jordan (then my girlfriend, now my wife), and all of the sudden, I felt like my body was out of control.  I was completely out of control.  Panic attacks feel like impending doom...and dying feels like the only way out.  Jordan tried to calm me down, but her attempts failed.  I don't remember much about that night.  I remember Jordan holding me to the ground, until I fell asleep because she was scared of what I would do if I made my way to the kitchen. The next day, she monitored me closely.  She wouldn't (well, couldn't) leave me by myself.  The day seemed to go okay.  I thought it was just a "bad day" for me.  Everyone feels low every now and then, right?  The next day was Friday.  We decided to go to NoDa (Charlotte's art district) that night.  Everything was going okay, but then my reasoning got irrational again.  That night, Jordan Poole and Carissa Berglund made the decision that I should be taken to a hospital.   At 2am, I was hospitalized for the first time for suicidal ideations.  

Behavioral Health Units suck.  In case you're unfamiliar with the process, it goes a little something like this: once you walk in,  you can't leave.  You enter the building and are handed a clipboard with paperwork to fill out.  Once your paperwork is finished, you're sent through a metal detector and then taken to a small room where you'll speak with an intake nurse.  The nurse decides whether or not you need to be evaluated.  The evaluation is done by an MD or PA.  They will determine if you need to be admitted to the hospital or provided with other care options.  If you come in the middle of the night (like I did), you don't see a doctor - the nurse makes the decision on her own.  Once admitted, they strip search you.  Most of your belongings are taken away.  You can't even have conditioner in the psych ward (they're scared you might eat it).  Then you're taken to your room.  In the Moses Cone BHC, there are three units.  The 300 unit, also known as "party hall."  This is where you have the most freedom.  It's monitored, but not as closely as others.  There's the 500 unit, aka "high hall."  This is for recovering addicts.  A lot of lounging happens here.  It's the warmest unit, to accommodate people having withdrawals. There is generally snacks on this unit as well.  The 300 and 500 patients can interact with each other as often as they like, as long as the interaction takes place in common areas.  Then there's the 400 unit.  These are the "crazies."  Most of the people on this unit have a serious mental illness and will be transported to a long term facility.  I spent my first night on the 400 unit.  I didn't actually need to be there.  The nurse that placed me wasn't able to tell if I was "competent" or not.  Nonetheless, I was there and it was scary.  My roommate thought Jesus was her boyfriend.  She also insisted on showing me around and providing me with underwear from her drawer (they were kindly rejected).  GTCC nursing students came once a day to "interact" with the patients in the 400 unit.  I did not want to interact.  Finally, around lunch time, I met my psychiatrist who decided that I did not need to be placed in this unit and moved me to the 300 unit.  

I spent my first 24 hours being quiet and learning how things worked.  Every time Jordan called, I begged her to take me home.  The thing is, once you're there, you don't leave.  Jordan came every day to visit.  We could have 30 minute meals together (during the allotted times) and there was a 2 hour visitation, once a day.  She came as much as she could.  I was doped up on sleeping medications and anti-anxiety pills.  It doesn't take long to learn the rules:

1. Take your medications.

2. Eat, even when you want to vomit.

3. Interact as much as possible.

4. Sleep, even if you have to pretend.

5. Shower as much as possible.

Nurses carry around clipboards and write down everything you do.  They check on you every 15 minutes.  And each time, they record exactly what you're doing.  What and how much you eat is recorded.  How much you talked during "group therapy" is written down.  If you were taking your meds, eating, interacting, sleeping, and bathing it was signs that you were "healthy" again.  The more you did, the sooner you left.  I spent 4 days in the hospital.  It felt like forever.  I probably should have been there longer, but I don't know if I could have handled anymore.

In my 4 days, I learned a lot about myself.  I learned that asking for help is one of the hardest things you'll ever do.  I learned that what I thought was my biggest weakness, was actually my biggest strength.  I also learned to hate the mental health system.  The rules that govern it are strict and generally unnecessary.  Without insurance, there's no way to obtain any sort of care unless you go directly to the hospital, which is VERY expensive.

I've been hospitalized a total of 5 times and I've been labeled with a million different diagnoses.  I've given you details about the first hospitalization.  The second was pretty similar.  The third, I was referred by my therapist who thought I was acting a little "too apathetic."  The forth, I was in an intensive outpatient program that tended to make me more depressed.  And the fifth, I overdosed on benzos.   It's been a year since my last hospitalization and, this sounds cliche, I really do feel like a whole new person.  For a while, I thought Prozac saved my life.  Don't get me wrong, medications do help, but what saved my life was the strength that I found within the walls of that hospital and the support that I found outside of the hospital.  I wouldn't be here today without a handful of people...and they all know how true that statement is.

So, that's what has brought me here today.  My wife is currently obtaining her master's degree in Clinical Mental Health Counseling.  Based on the events of our past two years, we've felt an overwhelming desire to dive into the mental health world.  We really want to help people.  There were times when I, as an insured individual, could not obtain my medications because of the lack of resources available in the mental health field.  Now, as an uninsured individual, it is still difficult to receive medications and counseling.  My therapist and I are constantly coming up with loopholes to make sure I receive the care that keeps me "stable."  We've decided even if it takes 10 years and we only help one person, it will be SO worth it.  It's something we're passionate about and something we can be proud of.  We aren't naive enough to think that this will happen over night and we aren't expecting to be able to save the world.  But we are proud to stand up for a community that needs an advocate.  

These are real people with real stories of strength.  This is my story.  This is my truth.

-Leah