I’m not writing to tell anyone that the struggles I deal with are easy and simple. I’m writing to show you how even in my tough days, I regroup/refocus, and keep moving on. Am I always going to have good days? NOPE. Big, fat, NOPE. Will all of my days be bad ones? Again, NOPE. As trying as some moments are, I have to keep on keeping on. Every. Single. Day. It’s not always easy, but it is always necessary! Always. I have depression, and anxiety issues, as well as PTSD. They, yes I see them as a separate entity within me, are part of me. They may well be forever part of me, and that’s okay. Why, you ask? Because I survived what was thrown at me! I overcame a lot, more than most will ever know. I never gave up, even on my darkest days. I never wanted to stop living, though I almost did just that – without realizing what was happening. A Nervous breakdown overtook me for quite a while, but again, I survived. It wasn’t easy, nor is it something I would want to see anyone go through. It paralyzed me for a while, more emotionally and mentally than anything else. It was such a heavy weight, oh my, so very exhausting to carry. When I was carrying that weight, my life was crumbling beneath it.
I finally saw that I needed help, or I would not survive. I never wanted to die, yet I was letting it happen because that weight was far too much for me. My anxiety took over, and didn’t allow me to eat. My depression covered me up, and didn’t let me care for myself. I was a mess, in more ways than one. My recovery didn’t happen quickly, or easily. Inpatient in the psych ward was nothing less than pure hell. Then I was moved to another hospital, because my symptoms and health issues were more than could be handled at the prior location. I was on the heart floor for a couple weeks, since my magnesium and potassium were depleted, my heart was not stable. Not to mention, my weight in general was killing me, quickly. At this point, I was 68 pounds. I had to have a G-tube inserted, so I was able to have some nutrition pumped into my stomach. Ensure, I will never like the taste or smell, but it saved my life. Since my stomach was being stretched with the tube feed, I was able to physically able to eat again. Two or three bites at a time, but that was a miracle at the time! My anxiety was extremely high my first few weeks in, due to the new environment, being away from my family, and coming off of the Xanax my doctor had given me for years. High dose for someone as close to dead as I was – 4mg a day. He over prescribed me for a long time, making me an addict. As well as the fact that it almost killed me. Or at least aided in my near demise. So, I was given a medicine to help my withdrawals from Xanax, making me even sicker than I was. They changed that and it helped. Within 10 days I was off of Xanax completely. I have not wanted one since then, no cravings for it at all. Knowing what a poison it was to me, no desire at all! After 6 weeks, I was moved to a long term care facility. It had physical therapists and such on staff, and a good group of nurses. I felt comfortable for the most part. They all did everything in their power to help me gain strength, weight, and overcome my extreme anxiety issues. During all of this, through the middle of June, I was in a wheelchair. I had little strength to get out of bed, let alone walk. Physical and Occupation therapy helped me tremendously, daily. I was walking in the workout room, a little at a time, gaining strength. My muscles were tired every single day, but I knew I was healing. It felt so good. Knowing my body was recovering from what it had went through was amazing! Also knowing my mind was following suit was such a blessing. Weekly therapy sessions, as well as a lot of journaling, helped get me back on track.
More on another blog maybe…brain fried.