Today's Crisis Taught Me That I'm 'Neurotic'

Today's little crisis that sent me searching through online research for ways to fix myself has, in all honesty, been building up to this moment for a long time.  The most immediate trigger being tomorrow's appointment with an orthopedic specialist because I have what they call advanced degenerative arthritis in my right knee.  The same right knee that I've been complaining about for more years than I can even remember.  The same right knee that every previous doctor has said the only thing wrong with it is I'm too damned fat.

I don't want to be fat.  I've tried endlessly not to be fat.  But here we are at an utter impasse:  I am still too damned fat.

And I'm not too proud to tell you about the negative effects this has on me.

• It means that every doctor I see grabs for the prescription pad.  Well, ok... they rush to today's electronic version of a prescription pad.  There's a pill for blood pressure. There's a pill for pain.  There's a pill for depression.  Sometimes it seems like there's a pill they want to prescribe just because there's a pill!  And my internal psyche interprets every single one of them as further evidence that I am defective.
• It means I can never buy clothes that are cute.  No one even expects it of me; I think they are just happy that I can find something to keep all the blubber covered.
• It means my job prospects are limited.  Limited not just because my knee is so worn out that I can't bear to walk or stand on it for more than a few minutes at a time, but there are places my body mass can't squeeze into (not that that is all bad... most of those tight little spaces would be in fast food establishments and ewww! Lord, no!!)
• It means my recreational opportunities are limited, again not just from the crapped out knee but also because it takes a lot of huffing and puffing to even go shopping.  A hike would kill me!  And many activities come with weight restrictions to keep machinery functioning safely.  So there are thousands of things I would love to do, but simply cannot.
• It makes me feel ugly and unattractive.  I've got classes coming up that require posting videos of myself which my instructors and fellow students will watch and respond to.  That's terrifying!

So... I look horrible.  I feel physically awful most of the time.  And the only time I don't feel bad emotionally is when I'm asleep.

More than one person has hinted they think I'm depressed.  I don't think so, or, if I am I contend that sometimes depression is an appropriate response when life continually throws one to the wolves.  Willing to explore the idea, though, I followed several links and ended up reading a  Psychology Today article titled Four Kinds of Depression and Self-Hate that might shed some clues into what's malfunctioning inside my head.  It says that in neurotic depression the conflict is internal and it's like you are moving "through life as if you are a short-tempered nanny with an ugly or annoying baby. Your depressive lens for interpreting the reactions of other people makes you want them to agree with you that the baby is an intolerable burden."

That analogy is so spot on that it made me pause and blink.  More than a few times, even.  But the next paragraph is the one that made me cry...

"When others treat you well, you resent it, like a nanny watching the usually inconsolable baby cooing in someone else’s arms. If a therapist suggests you treat yourself better, it enrages you, because it implies that this is your fault and not a natural reaction to the little brat you happen to be saddled with. You want the therapist to give the baby a sedative."

In another article, Psychology Today suggests cognitive behavioral therapy and practicing mindfulness may help one become less neurotic over time.  And in still another, this one titled Mindfulness, they accentuate the positive aspects of living in active, open attention to the present; of observing your thoughts and feelings without judging them as either good or bad.  I think they may have forgotten the big one, at least in how it all relates to me and my crisis moment:  just suck it up and deal with the problem.

More about that in a moment.

I wanted to tell you about my path to these self-reflections, even they aren't altogether kind, because there's some really good material to read if you are also quietly trying to work on yourself.  It all started when I clicked into a Marc and Angel article that was shared on Facebook: 20 Things to Start Doing in Your Relationships.  #1 made me realize that sometimes I am that negative person I need to stop hanging out with.  Then I jumped over to a linked article:  9 Things it’s Not Too Late to Start Doing for Yourself.  This time it was #2 that sent me to Google 'core values' and that led me to My 2016 Integrity Report.  The content is good but it's the well-explained thought process that really provides the value.

So about me being too damned fat... I made an appointment with my doctor to see what medical interventions might be available because nothing I've done on my own has helped even a little bit.  Here's to whatever adventure Tuesday launches!

The Science of Happy

Today in Relief Society we were talking about happiness.  I love that I am part of such a practical Church!  Much of our discussion was based on this 2006 Conference address by Jeffrey R. Holland called Broken Things to Mend.

I especially love the image he describes here of our walk with the Savior and how He can heal our brokenness if we will let Him:  "It seems clear that the essence of our duty and the fundamental requirement of our mortal life is captured in these brief phrases [refers to times He said "Follow me."] from any number of scenes in the Savior’s mortal ministry. He is saying to us, “Trust me, learn of me, do what I do. Then, when you walk where I am going,” He says, “we can talk about where you are going, and the problems you face and the troubles you have. If you will follow me, I will lead you out of darkness,” He promises. “I will give you answers to your prayers. I will give you rest to your souls.”"

We also talked a little about the science of being happy... and yes, there really is a scientific background to it.  Much of our feelings of happiness stem from what's going on in the frontal lobe of the brain.  If you can imagine looking at an MRI image of the brain.  When a person is depressed one side of the frontal lobe is lit up with activity.  When he or she is happy the other side is lit because substances like serotonin and norepinephrine are plentiful and active.  The trick is to keep the activity primarily on the happy side.  Some of that is chemistry and that's why there are so many prescription drugs available to assist.  But there's also much we can do for ourselves.

A researcher named Hank Smith developed a list of 10 things that supremely happy people do.  Since that was our handout, I'm going to share his list.

1. Happy people surround themselves with other happy people.  Joy is contagious.  People are four times more likely to be happy in the future with happy people around them.
2. Happy people try to be happy.  When happy people don't feel happy, the cultivate a happy thought and smile about it.
3. Happy people spend money more on others than they spend on themselves.  Givers experience what scientists call the "helper's high."
4. Happy people have deep in-person conversations.  Sitting down to talk about what makes a person tick is a good practice for feeling good about life.
5. Happy people use laughter as medicine.  A good old-fashioned chuckle releases lots of good neurotransmitters.  A study showed that children, on average, laugh 300 times a day versus adults who laugh 15 times a day.
6. Happy people use the power of music.  Researchers found that music can match the anxiety-reducing effects of massage therapy.
7. Happy people exercise and eat a healthful diet.  Eating a poor diet can contribute to depression,
8. Happy people take the time to unplug and go outside.  Uninterrupted screen time brings on depression and anxiety.
9. Happy people get enough sleep.  When people run low on sleep, they are prone to feel a lack of clarity, bad moods, and poor judgement.
10. Happy people are spiritual.

I think at my core I am a happy person.  I've just taken a detour on this adventure called life and I'm struggling a bit to get back on my path.  Mr. Smith's list is a good starting point... some good things to keep in my conscious thought and build better habits.

Redeemed From the Poo Pit

For those who have felt concern for me the past few months, here's an update on what's going on to keep me away from doing the things I want to share with you here.  Hang with me on this post and read the whole thing because it does finally get around to the start of a happy ending!

A couple of days ago, I was stretched out across my bed reading scriptures.  I was working through a challenge to complete the Book of Mormon before the year ends, in particular.  Now... I've read these verses thousands of times before but on that day different phrases caught my attention and spoke as if they were written just for me.

Mosiah 27:28 says (emphasis mine): "Nevertheless, AFTER WADING THROUGH MUCH TRIBULATION, repenting nigh unto death, the Lord in mercy hath seen fit to snatch me out of an everlasting burning, and I am born of God."

Mosiah 29:20 says (again, emphasis mine):  "But behold, he did deliver them because they did humble themselves before him; and because they cried mightily unto him he did deliver them out of bondage; and thus doth the Lord work with his power IN ALL CASES among the children of men, extending the arm of mercy towards them that put their trust in him."

Photo courtesy of Dairy Carrie.

I had a picture of the "poo pit" at Cannon's Dairy Farm come to mind when I read about wading through much tribulation.  (If you don't know what I mean, follow the link under the photo for a good explanation and more pictures of her farm from Dairy Carrie).  I imagined being called on to go muck out the poo pit and so I put on my tall rubber waders and it was still too deep and flowed right over the top of the boots.  That's a pretty accurate mental picture of how my life has felt most of the last year... no matter what I tried to do about it I was just wading deeper and deeper into poop (equate poop with tribulation) until it completely overwhelmed me.

One of my tribulations is knees with arthritis that suddenly and severely advanced... more in 6 months than the previous 6 years combined... and has now caused a curvature in my spine because I had no money and no insurance and therefore no way to see a doctor for treatment.  I also had some issues with my thyroid replacement drugs and a slow descent into a horrifyingly bad clinical depression triggered by the medical stuff and what was going on in my relationship with Derek. When our problems first started I told myself it was a temporary stress and that we'd find a way to work it out if for no other reason than commitment.  Sadly, it seems we weren't equally committed.

Now I'm trying to wade out of the poo pit instead of allowing myself to dwell in bitterness over it all.  I guess that equates to the scriptural phrase above of "repenting nigh unto death" and hoping that God will deliver me out of this bondage... hoping mine is numbered among ALL cases in His sight.

And I think it just might be.

This past week I received a packet from a former employer and have a small window of opportunity take a distribution from their pension plan.  That hasn't been an option before.  I know there are tax ramifications but in my case, I think it's worth it.  This will enable me to get a basic transportation kind of car come mid-January and possibly begin to address the debt situation.  That's some big stumbling blocks toward recovering my life knocked down to a more manageable size!!  There are a few more things that still need to fall into place and I am beyond excited to tell you about them when they do.

So... See?  My story is going to have a happy ending!!

Pirkle Truck or... Purple Truck?

After my round of screw ups I wrote about nearly two weeks ago, I've only had one more big one that had the potential to be life threatening crazy.  Lots of small stuff, but thankfully only this one last biggie!

Picture by Linda Deal on http://fineartamerica.com/

Coming home from my therapist's office right after we'd talked about the dog fight and the knife I saw a purple semi truck and found it so distracting that I started turning the steering wheel to drive head on into it...  My mind wasn't, however, completely blank like in the previous incidents.  I was remembering Myrtle Olsen and a phone conversation I overheard, anyway I heard her side of it, at the drive-in restaurant she owned in Shelley, ID when I was a kid.  Now this was back in the days before everyone carried cell phones and trucking companies depended on GPS tracking to know where their trucks (and drivers) were at every possible second... and a dispatcher for Pirkle Transport had called Olsen's Drive-In, knowing that the driver she was trying to reach with an urgent message about his load, frequently stopped there.  For at least half an hour Mrs. Olsen, getting ever more frustrated and angry at the disruption, insisted there was no purple truck parked outside.

Simple misunderstanding, I'm sure.  "Pirkle truck" does sound very much like "purple truck."

But still... that little flash of memory had me headed toward plowing right through his grill.  And that was disturbing enough that I had to pull off on the next road and get myself together to finish driving home.  I was truly scared that my mindlessness was going to cause real bodily harm, or even death, to someone.  Maybe even me.

These are the kind of things that make driving exhausting!  I feel like I have to keep an iron grip on the steering wheel and have a constant stream of self-talk reminding me to keep my eyes on the road and not on trees, junk, road kill, advertising signs or whatever might be off to the side.

My therapist, his name is Tom and I guess I should start calling him that because it's easier to type and... it is his name... Tom thinks I'm still over-thinking about mindlessly letting the dogs out in the yard together and causing that huge bloody fight and that's making me read too much into a simple mistake.  He said more experiences that turn out ok along with time and self-permission to simmer down the hyper-vigilance about it will show me that it's ok to forgive, forget and move on with life.  I hope so!  It would be so nice for something to feel normal and right again.

Help! I'm Screwing Up Again

I wrote a little bit here about a painful episode in my current life where everything came crashing down around me all at the same time and my psyche couldn't take it any longer.  I sought out help.

That's still not a fully comfortable thing for me to admit.

I'm glad I did it but there's still a little part of me that wants to hold back talking much about it because of the lingering stigma of needing help with mental health issues.  Today I'm going to try and step out of that doubt and talk about therapy a bit.  I'm still seeing the therapist a couple of times a month.  And this last time he reminded me that I haven't been doing so well at keeping up my end of things...

Photo credit: http://www.dailyhiit.com/

I haven't been writing, specifically, so he gave me two assignments to write out before our next appointment.  One is what I'm calling a 'Screw Up Journal" (and no he doesn't like the title, I'm to find something more positive) detailing all the stuff I'm forgetting so that there's a record to help determine if it's just the one big screw up leading to the next and the next and on to the next one after that OR if there's a more serious underlying cause.  The other is an essay about what a happy life would look like to me.   We had talked about stability, which was seriously lacking for a long time, being key but things are somewhat more stable now and I'm still not ok.  I know what's missing:  security is the other half of the equation.  And security is still elusive.  Why must it be so very elusive?

SOME OF THE ENTRIES IN MY SCREW UP JOURNAL

About 10 days ago, my lack of focus/concentration/attention caused an incident that was very dangerous.  Potentially lethal even.  It scared me in many ways.

With absolutely nothing on my mind, truly just a total blank, I let all of the dogs out into the yard at the same time.  They don't get along.  They fight.  That's why we keep them separated and have for many months.  All along I thought I was protecting Lightning from Thunder, but... what I'm really doing is protecting Thunder from Gizmo.

Gizmo attacked.  Then Lightning and Jack jumped in.  And between the 3 of them they took Thunder down viciously.  I had to break them up or they would have killed him.  In the process I was bit at least twice, scratched and badly bruised up.  Somehow I managed to get Lightning into a headlock and restrain him with my right arm while beating Gizmo with his spiked collar that had slipped off over his head as hard as I could swing with my left.  That gave Thunder enough of a break to get out of the middle of it.  I drug Lightning and Gizmo into the house still snarling and thrashing.

All 5 of us were bloody messes.

Luckily all the wounds ended up being small enough that I could care for them at home - no trip to the vet for stitches (and explanations!).  And thankfully I kind of switched into an emergency management mindset and did what had to be done before I sat down and bawled for 3 days.

The tears were partly because my actions put my baby in harm's way and got him hurt.  All of them hurt, really.  That's a huge amount of mental anguish!  And they were partly because I was shaken to the core and crying is how I deal with stress in pretty much any situation.  I don't necessarily feel great appreciation for that feature of my personality... but that's how I've always been.  Stress me out and a river starts flowing from my instantly red and swollen eyeballs.  And still another part of the tears came from fear... Fear of disappointing Derek and fear of having him see me as the utter failure of a human being that I felt like.

The next day, I tried to unsheath a knife that was not sheathed.  The particular angle of the blade in my hand didn't cut... but it had the potential of leaving a deep slice across my entire palm.

The day after that I walked away and totally forgot until the smell got to me that I had food cooking on the stovetop.  Yup, this Idaho girl burned the potatoes... literally.

These 3 incidents we discussed in the session along with the thought that I was feeling like a danger to myself and others.  That's the 'why' behind keeping a record.  Did the one big screw up have me so stressed out and worrying about screwing up that I subconsciously sabotaged myself into the others?  Or is there something more messed up going on inside my brain?

Sadly, my run of screw ups continues.

Coming home from my therapy session last Friday I nearly drove head on into a semi-truck.  It was purple.  And that distracted me from keeping my eyes, and mind, on the road.

Yesterday I nearly cut down the blackberries and tried to replant the poison ivy because I doubted my identification of which was which.  The leaves are somewhat similar in appearance but not in how your skin reacts to contact with them!

I hope we can fix this before someone is seriously hurt or, God forbid, dies from my mindlessness...

What A Smile Hides

Sometimes life gives us fortune cookie wisdom.  Short, well-intentioned, and memorable one-liners like:

"A smile is the most beautiful curve on a woman's body."

"When life gives you a hundred reasons to cry, show life you've got a thousand reasons to smile."

"Your day generally goes the same direction as the corners of your mouth."

We all love to see pictures of happy smiling people.  They look happy.  Happy is attractive.  So we all want to be happy, and therefore attractive, too.  But what about days when you don't feel like smiling?  Or times when you wonder if your smile is permanently lost?  Or even days when you paste a smile on your face just to keep people from asking what's wrong?  It's hard to explain to anyone else how you are ill on the inside when you look just fine on the outside...  Sometimes what you truly want, but are afraid to show, is for another person to see through the mask of your smile and reach out with a helping hand because no matter how it looks, or what you say, you're not ok.

I invited some friends who've found the courage to talk openly about their battle with depression to share their stories, thoughts and wishes for the future.  Two of them, Jodi and Jeanne, took me up on it.

Jodi is 47, a wife and mother.  She loves her family and loves taking care of them.  She was officially diagnosed with depression following the birth of her third child and it has persisted since 1991.  Jodi was diagnosed with Hypothyroidism at the same time and that could be a contributory factor.  I know her as kind, thoughtful, open and compassionate... and someone who loves to laugh.  When she revealed her depression, I was very surprised.  She's hidden it well.

Jeanne says this about herself, "I suffer from clinical depression. I am 68 years old, a daughter and granddaughter of alcoholics. I believe the reason my father and grandfather were alcoholics is they also suffered from clinical depression. However, I have never drunk alcoholic beverages, and since it seems to run in families, I wouldn’t dare try. I have a younger brother who was an alcoholic and suffered clinical depression; his son is also an alcoholic and I know his daughter suffers from clinical depression."  Jeanne was diagnosed 30 years ago.  She and I are cousins, though with a 20 year age difference we didn't really know each other well growing up and I had no idea how prevalent depression and alcoholism was in her history.

I've been through short periods of feeling blue and lonely and even hopeless but it's never persisted to the point I've felt the need to seek medical attention, so I asked what true depression feels like.  Jodi says, it "feels like you just lost your best friend and your love for life. It takes away your joy and excitement that you get from daily living."   Sometimes it doesn't take a lot of words to describe something... the grief, the loss of zest, the inability to cope with even the smallest challenges of daily life can feel like you are living in a dark cloud all of the time.  I also asked about their experiences with medication and both have used a variety of prescriptions with varying degrees of success.  Jeanne had an early good result with Prozac.  After resisting for a time, she says "I finally agreed to try Prozac. It was several weeks before I felt any effect, and when I did feel it, it made me feel like I had come out of the "dark clouds into the sunshine!” I took Prozac for several years until my doctor suggested I try to get off of it, which I did. After that, I felt I was in those dark clouds again." Sadly, a later try with this medication didn't yield the same results.

And so I wondered... what does help?  Jodi responded, "It can be a lot of things... doing something fun with family and friends... getting outside myself to think of someones else's needs... putting someone else's need in front of mine... And meds have helped me a lot.  I think you have to try everything your doctor says first.  Blood tests, exercise, socializing with friends, and talking about your feelings."  Jeanne made a similar comment about enjoying travel and social gatherings but noted that she finds it difficult to be the one organizing these activities and is so very thankful her husband, Brad, plans lots of little trips for them.

When asked what they'd most like for others to know about depression, Jeanne summed it up like this:  "I want people to know that clinical depression cannot be cured by being more religious, reading the scriptures more, praying more, fasting more, and helping others more. Yes, these things can temporarily help, but are not a cure."  She went on to observe, "Clinical Depression is not something I would wish on anyone! Having a mental illness is not as socially acceptable as having a disease like cancer."

That last sentence is really a punch in the gut... Having a mental illness is not as socially acceptable as having a disease like cancer.  It should be.  Just because it's hidden by a smile doesn't mean it's not real.