So, I figured out
one of the problems I have trying to write every week. I don't have
appointments every week, so I don't have much to report, accept for my daily
struggle with uncontrollable emotions. (And that gets boring hearing about
after a while.) Before I started
therapy, I thought it would be on a regular schedule. Maybe I watched too many
movies or something, but I really thought that I would get assigned a
therapist, and then I would be assigned a day and time to see that therapist
every week or every other week. But it's not like that. I see my therapist
anywhere between every 3 to 6 weeks, depending on her schedule. I feel like I
need more structure in my therapy. I mean, I already feel like life is just
tossing me around, and I can't grab hold of a rescue rope. It would help if
that rescue rope were being thrown to me at regular intervals. I don't know.
Maybe I've just been watching too much T.V.. Maybe this is the way therapy
really works.
Anyway, I mentioned
in my last post that I'm seeing an employment councilor. Right now, she's
seeing me every week, and this past week she gave me a couple of job leads.
I've heard back from one of them already. You guessed it. "Thanks, but no
thanks." Hey, at least they actually let me know I was out of the running.
None of the other jobs I have applied for over the last 2 years has done that.
So, if nothing else, working with an employment councilor has led me to more
polite employers.
I also applied to
teach for a non-traditional school that utilizes online courses with one-on-one
teacher time. I was really excited about that one. I had the interview 2 weeks
ago. They said they would be making a decision last week. I guess I didn't get
it, because they haven't called me. I was supposed to do a follow up call last
week, but I didn't. I started to, but when I tried to find the correct phone
number to call, not only did the website not have the number I needed, but I
couldn't remember the name of any of the 4 people I interviewed with. I cried.
Then I looked up memory loss and menopause and found out that it's pretty darn
common for women who have surgically induced menopause to have major memory
problems for the first year afterward. Apparently it starts to get better
again after that first year. Now...if I can only hold on until October...
So...what else is
going on? Hmmm. Oh, yeah. I feel like
crap physically and mentally. Everything hurts, and I wake up feeling more
tired than when I went to sleep. While I don't cry at the drop of a hat
anymore, I still cry every day, sometimes more than once, and for weird things.
For example, the other day, I started thinking about my niece coming home on
leave this week and started to cry. Not happy tears, even though it makes me
happy that she's coming home, but big, ugly, pain-filled tears. AND I DON'T
KNOW WHY! While I was crying I was saying to myself, "You're happy she's
coming home! Why in the hell aren't your tears happy, too?" I kept trying
to convince myself that they were happy tears, but I know how happy tears feel,
and this wasn't it. WTF!
Anyway, my doctor
and I have decided to address the sleep issue, since nothing else is helping
all that much, and studies have shown that poor sleep can be a major factor in
physical and mental health issues. He asked me when the last time was that I
woke up feeling refreshed. I told him I couldn't remember. I can't. For all of
my adult life, and at least some of my teen life, I only remember waking up
feeling like I hadn't slept, feeling in pain. In fact, a lot of times, the
reason I can't get to sleep is knowing that I'm going to wake up feeling worse
than when I went to sleep! He thought it was time for me to do a sleep study. I
think so, too. I'll be doing an at-home study next week. That should give a
preliminary diagnosis and determine whether I need to do a full study in a sleep lab. I'll
let you know later.
One other thing
that I have to talk about is how horrible I feel to complain about my life when
I have a very dear friend who has so many more problems than I do. Her life has
been so hard. She's one of the smartest people I know, and like many smart
people, high school bored her. But because of the time and place we grew up in,
rather than help her, society told her she wasn't worthy. She dropped out of
school and became a bit of a party animal. After a couple years of parties, she
decided to take control of her life and joined the Job Corps, where she was
raped so brutally, she was told she would never have children.
But then came a son
from a truly horrible boyfriend. She got rid of the boyfriend, but kept her
miracle child. She moved in with her parents, and has been with them ever
since, but they had major health problems, so she spent as much time looking
out for them as she did for herself and her son. Of course, they looked out for
her, too, though. While her son was still a baby, she mangled her dominant hand
in an industrial accident and has never regained full use of it, even with
multiple surgeries.
Things went okay
for a while after that. We lost touch due to a misunderstanding, my fault, but
came back together around 2004 when we were brought back together by a mutual
friend at college. (I'll forever be grateful to our mutual friend for that!)
After graduation, we ended up working for the same soul-sucking pharmacy
benefits management company.
Shortly after I
left the company, she suffered a debilitating stroke that put her on social
security benefits. While she eventually recovered much of her functioning, she
still had speech issues and some slight motor issues. But then she and her
father were in a major traffic accident. They both survived, but her father was
placed in a care facility that neglected him. He passed away after being in the
facility only a couple months. It took a
big toll on the family. On top of that, while my friend was in the hospital
from the accident, they discovered that she had a softball-sized malignant
tumor on one of her kidney's. They removed the kidney, and after about a year
of radiation treatment, declared her cancer free, though they will be keeping a
close eye on her other kidney.
Through all of
this, she has been MY rock. She has been the up-beat one. She has been the one
that tells me it's okay to be who I am. It's okay to not be okay. And then last
week she had another stroke. This one was much worse than the first. I went to
see her on Monday, and she can barely speak. She understands, but only a
handful of words come out of her mouth sounding like words. She is also paralyzed
on her right side. But she still smiles when anyone comes in the room. She
still gets excited when she sees the flowers and gifts her family and friends
bring her. She still has positive things to say. It makes me feel so angry that
life has beaten her up so much. Of all the people I know, she has had the
hardest life, but she has remained the most positive. She is my hero, and I
wish I could be more like her.
But I also feel
guilty. I think to myself, "What are my problems compared to hers? Why do
I have depression and anxiety when she is the one who is actually having the
shit kicked out of her by life?" I start to question why I can't be more
positive, why I can't just pull myself up by the boot straps and soldier on? I
know it's because her brain is not wired like mine is, but that doesn't make me
feel any less guilty. I know that what I have is a chronic illness. I know that
my illness is legitimate. I know that my life hasn't really been easier than
hers, just different. I know all of this, but I still feel guilty. Did society
do this to me? Do I feel this way because people who don't have psychological
illnesses don't understand how my illness works? Or is it my illness that makes
me feel this way? Is my illness simply perpetuating itself by feeding my guilt?
Or is it a combination of both? I don't know. I don't know. All I know is that
I'm having a hard time understanding myself, right now. I kind of hate me
because I can't be more like my friend. I kind of hate her because she can't be
more like me.
No comments:
Post a Comment