The Joys of Life on Meds

Posted on May 19, 2012 by Elizabeth

Anyone diagnosed with a mental illness is at some point going to be faced with the question of whether or not they should go on meds or not.    I’ve been on meds now for over 10 years now, in fact I can’t really remember what my brain was like without meds, except that before I went on them I was completely miserable all the time and spontaneously bursting into tears at lunch.    Eventually my friends got tired of all the waterworks and not so gently suggested I could benefit from seeing a psychologist.   I got a referal to a psychologist from a friend of mine who was also seeing her, and in a case of blind luck I found someone who was a good fit and very good.    I’ve been seeing her ever since.

Eventually however she said she couldn’t help me any further and that if I was going to continue working with her, I really needed to see a psychiatrist and go on meds.    I was pretty anti-meds at the time, but felt like I was out of options so I took the referal and met with my first psychiatrist.   After sobbing out my story, not particularly coherently for an hour and a half, the psychiatrist suggested I try an anti-depressant.   I expressed hesitation, and she remarked “Look there are some people for whom meds are optional, and other people need medication.  You need medication.   You can either take the script now, or go home and think about it for 24 hours and come back and pick up the script tomorrow.”   Well when you put it like that….   So I dutifully went off and filled my first prescription for Effexor.    I was supremely lucky, I got a med that worked on the first try, when I know people who try dozens of meds before they find one that works.   Anyway after about 2 weeks I started noticing little things, like colours and how cute dogs looked on the streets – my world was slowly reawakenning, from the gray it had been in since I couldn’t remember when, but it felt like forever.   Since then I’ve been pro-meds.

Since that first tentative foray with 37.5 mg of Effexor I have, in consultation with various psychiatrists and as my moods have dipped increased the dose, added an SSRI, added an antipsychotic, and a tranquilizer.   I also take a couple of recovery meds to keep me from drinking and abusing codeine.   In total I’m on 6 meds, which seems like a lot when I think about it, except most of the time I don’t even know I’m on meds, unless I forget to take them for a couple of days, and then things get nasty.

I do have some side effects, nausea and dizziness, and a slight hand tremor foremost among them along with the almost inevitable destruction of my sex drive, but for the most part the side effects are tolerable.   I’ve also been lucky as none of my meds have ever made me gain massive amounts of weight.

So all in all, I’ve been pretty happy until now.      

I recently went with for a physical and since I’m getting older my Dr. ordered a pretty full workup.   Some of the results weren’t pretty and she thinks it’s the meds.   

First off I’m Tachycardic, which really isn’t good, although I’m completely oblivious to it.    She thinks it’s any of my Effexor, Celexa, Naltrexone, or the combo thereof.   Personally I think it’s the Naltrexone since it’s a med I’ve been on and off, and I never had a problem with my heartrate when I wasn’t taking it.   But according to the prescribing Dr. that’s not supposed to be a side effect.   I think she thinks I’m looking for an excuse to go off it so I can go back to using codeine.      

Second my hormones are really wonky – I have really high levels of prolactin and testosterone (not desireable since I’m female).   This explains the lack of periods and sudden spurt of facial hair that has me attacking my face with tweezers every day, and has me wishing that I didn’t have to have really dark hair.   We’re both pretty sure that this is a side effect of my risperidone.    The kicker is risperidone is one of the better meds for me, and I don’t like the side effect profile of any of the other A-typical antipsychotics, although I have to admit that lactating and facial hair do have their downsides.

So at any rate I’ve been dispatched with my latest bloodwork results to talk to my psychiatrist, to see if the meds are the likely culprits of my heartrate and hormonal woes.   We need to find out if they are, and if my levels are within the “normal” range for side effects otherwise it’s off to the endocrinologist with me.    A referral has already been made to a cardiologist.

The thing is I now feel like I’m caught a bit between a rock and a hard place.   I really like the meds combination that I’m on.    Despite my life being in absolute turmoil, I’m not suicidal, and I’m occassionally even happy despite a continued prospensity to burst spontaneously into tears at the slightest provocation.   My psychiatrist thinks the latter may simply part of my brains ongoing attempt to normalize itself to a life without alcohol.     At any rate I really don’t want to rock the meds boat.   But at the same time, I’m not crazy about the idea of my heart / hormones being affected.   So I’m conflicted.

I really hope that I don’t have to change my meds and once I know more about the risks I may simply decide that the biological side effects are within the realm of acceptab

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Facing my fears – financial

Posted on May 13, 2012 by Elizabeth

The last few years have been rough with unemployment.  I’ve now been unemployed except for a brief period for almost 2 years.  I’ve been living off my savings,which thank God I had.   But I’ve pretty much exhausted them, except for my LIRA, which you need special government approval to access.   I’ve just sent in my request to withdraw funds from it- but they don’t let you withdraw very much, it’s enough to live on, if you live cheap.   I’m just lucky that I got into subsidized housing.   

And I can’t get any form of social assistance while I have the LIRA – too many assets, so I’m effectively being forced to draw down my future to live today.  

This doesn’t seem fair.  I did everything I was supposed to.  I graduated with a decent degree from a good university, I got my MBA, I’m a designated accountant.   Unfortunately I also have mental health and addictions problems.   Now all employers see is a middle aged woman who has a couple of significant gaps on her resume.   But oh well.   I’m going back to school in the fall for retraining.

No the big thing that’s freaking me out now is filing for bankruptcy.   Unemployment, a compulsive shopping problem, that I struggle to control, and some bad financial decisions have meant I’ve hit a debt wall.  I basically am out of options.   So I’m filing for Bankruptcy.   Never in a million years did I think I’d find myself in this position.   But it is what it is.   I have a meeting with a trustee on Mon. to start the process.   She says that given my income level, I should be out of bankruptcy in 9 months, or worst case scenario 21 months,which in the grand scheme of things isn’t that long.   Then once I find a job, I can work on repairing my credit rating.

I’m selling most of my stuff, and just storing basically one bedroom set, my grandmother’s desk and an oak chest I really like, along with some select pieces of china and linnens.    Hopefully that will generate some cash to supplement my LIRA income.

I frequently ask myself how I let my life get so messed up.   I certainly didn’t ask to become an addict, and the mental health stuff wasn’t exactly voluntary either.    It’s just that I never bargained for this growing up.   But then again, I’ve always known life isn’t fair.

So it’s not the end of the world.  So I’ll be broke for awhile.  I’ve been broke before, and survived it.   So I know I’ll be ok.

Just another case, of life not turning out how I expected when I was growing up.

Elizabeth

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Starting Over: 2 harps, some clothes and a whack of knitting needles

Posted on May 5, 2012 by Elizabeth

My life is in major upheaval right now.   On April 30 I got a call from St. Clare’s Residence for women.    It’s part of the shelter system of Toronto, providing long term assisted, subsidized, living to women who are recovering from mental health and or addictions issues.    I’d applied to them back in Dec. and then kind of forgotten about them.   At any rate they said they had an openning and did I want it.   Going purely on instinct and doing what I know all my Dr’s would agree was best, I said sure I want it, and they told me I had to move in on April 1 – they wouldn’t even hold the room until April 2.   So  I packed a bag with 4 days worth of clothes and moved in.   

I’m now sharing a basement room with one other woman.   I’m sort of happy that it’s a basement, as it’ll be cooler in the summer.   

Now I have to deal with the rather overwhelming job of packing up my apartment, and getting rid of my stuff.    I have until June 1′st to make the apartment presentible for showing, and until July 1 to have everything out.   It’s a bit daunting but I’ll do it.      I’m going to keep a few pieces of furniture, some art, and some china, and my harps, and my rather large collection of knitting needles.   Actually the knitting needles are coming with me, as is the smaller of my two harps.     My harp teacher is kindly agreeing to take my big pedal harp and store it in her studio.      Nothing quite like having a deadline to get you focussed.

And while I kept delaying it, downsizing was going to be inevitable, given that I’m going back to school in the fall.    So even though it’s hard, I’d mostly made my peace with it.     What I’m struggling with is the idea of living at St. Clare’s.

Living at St. Clare’s offers  a number of distinct advantages – I didn’t have to look for a place, it’s cheap (subsidized rent), food is included, there’s on-sight laundry, I can have private internet in my room.    There are also a ton of rules that need to be followed such as turning in all my meds, signing in and out, paying rent only in cash, because as the admissionss officer put it ever so gently – “Cheques can bounce”.    It’s a whole different world than I’m used to.      I realize that this may make me sound classist, but I don’t want to belong there.   I’m more educated than any of the other women there, and they all look like they’ve been around the block a few dozen times.    I don’t like admitting that I need that much support, both financial and emotional.    It’s really doing a number on my ego.   

I liked it even less when I expressed this to my psychiatrist and he said he felt it was great for me, because I’ve been battling a serious illness on my own for years and this is potentially a great time to get support.     I don’t like it when my psychiatrist describes my illness as serious – because I don’t want to accept the limitations that are somewhat inherent in that label.   But he’s write, and the fact is I haven’t been coping particularly well on my own.

One major bonus about St. Clare’s is it’s a sober living facility, so that’ll make it easier for me to stay sober, which I really need.    If I can build up some sober time, and get through school, then I’ll be much better positioned emotionally to get back to work next spring.

It’s incredibly hard, and stressful, and overwhelming, but so far so good.

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Scars

Posted on April 21, 2012 by Elizabeth

I don’t remember the exact last time I cut, but I think it was a little over a couple of months ago – I don’t get hung up on dates and cutting.   But at any rate, for the first time ever the scars are taking forever to fade, and I know I’m going to wind up with permanent scarring.     I do have some minor scars on my left arm, but you’d have to look hard to see them and know what you’re looking for.   Not this time.    Some of the scars are still red, and others are a visible raised white line.   This despite copious application of vitamin E oil which has always prevented scarring in the past.   Who knows, maybe it’s because I’m getting older, that I’m not healing as fast, or mabe I accidentally cut deeper than normal this last time.   

Whatever, I have a very obvious set of scars on my arm, and since they’re in a highly geometric pattern, I can’t exactly blame it on the cat.   (My poor imaginary cat used to get blamed for a lot of “scratches” back when I was actively cutting.)

Now I look at my arm and really wish I hadn’t cut that one last time, and it’s a reminder to me of how much pain I carry around with me at all times.   Most of the time I can keep it under control, and the DBT program I’m doing is helping me learn to regulate it better and cope in less destructive ways.   But every once in a while the pain errupts – last time it happenned, I cut, I started abusing OTC meds, relapsed on alcohol for a few weeks, and accidentally OD’d all of which culminated in 3 weeks intensive outpatient psych treatment which I vehemently objected to at the time.

Looking at my arm now, I can see I really was in crisis and that it’s probably a good thing I was forced into more intensive treatment.  But it makes me sad.   And it makes me wonder if my life is always going to be like this – periods when I’m mostly ok periodically interrupted by a spell of self destructive activity.

My psychiatrist says it seems like a pattern to him, where I’ll go along and be ok for a number of months, and then it’s like my brain misfires, I have a crisis, and revert to something self destructive as a coping mechanism.    Sometimes a crisis is truly epic, like when in 2009 when I lost my job, got drunk, crashed my car in a subconscious suicide attempt, and landed in the psych hospital for a month.    Sometimes it’s less severe and I just cut, OD, or relapse.   And I find it sad that I inhabit a world where my psychiatrist sees OD’ing as minor.

It’s all just sad really – and now I have a permanent visible reminder.    But the good news is I haven’t cut since the last time.  I have a month and a half sober again, and I’ve stopped abusing OTC meds.  I’m in rehab, and I’m getting back on track. Kinda sorta.

I wouldn’t mind about the scars really – except I have a full physical booked this coming Thurs., and there’s no way my Dr. is going to miss seeing them, which means I’m going to have to talk about cutting, and probably the sexual abuse, and I’m going to have to reassure her that I’m ok, and that I’m getting appropriate treatment.     Just a conversation that I’m not looking for as I know from past experience that my family Dr., likes to refer to self-injurers as “slashers”   Maybe I’ll take this as an opportunity to educate her about proper terminology.    Or maybe I’ll just shut down and grumble yes or no responses.   Either way it won’t be fun.

Self-injury is my oldest coping mechanism.   I first deliberately burned myself at age 10, then graduated to scratching my skin off, then onto cutting.    And at 43 for the first time I’ve managed to leave visible scars.    For the first time, I can’t pretend everything with me is fine.   It’s not fine.  I hurt.  But I’m determined not to hurt myself any more.    I’m out of options.   I have to get better.  And I have my scars as a reminder.

Elizabeth

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Choices

Posted on April 15, 2012 by Elizabeth

As I mentioned in my last blog post, I’d applied to go back to school in the fall to retrain as a fraud examiner & forensic accountant.   I had it in my head as a distant plan B.   Well today I found out I’ve been accepted into the program.    That makes the plan seem a little more real.    Obviously I’m going to accept the spot, and hope the deposit isn’t to big, as I can always withdraw should I find a job.    In a way it’s good to have choices, lots of people don’t.   It means downsizing and going back to the life of a broke student for a year, but I think I can handle that.    It would also fit nicely in with my addictions teams recommendations for me that i pursue more treatment over the summer, and build up some more solid sober time, while going to school before starting job hunting.

Of course I could go back to school and find myself  a year later, in exactly the same position, since going back to school doesn’t guarantee me a job.

In my perfect world, I’d get a full time job now.   I found out I didn’t get to 2′nd interviews with one of the companies I interviewed with, so that leaves me with the educational publisher, and the company that can’t seem to schedule an interview.    I’m feeling slightly positive about the educational publisher, but don’t want to get my hopes up.    Also been contacted by another recruiter about a SFA job in Mississauga on Fri. so I’ll at least talk to her about that, but I don’t have any great expectations.

So the universe seems to be nudging me, for the moment, into going back to school.   Next thing I have to work on is starting to downsize, and start the process for withdrawing funds from my LIRA.

Just feeling tired, sad,and stressed, when I feel like I should be feeling excited at having the chance to start over.

Either way, I’m determined not to drink over it.

Elizabeth

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Hurry up and wait & back up plans

Posted on April 10, 2012 by Elizabeth

As many of my long time readers know, I’m struggling with long term unemployment.   I am currently in the running for three jobs.   By in the running I mean I have had first interviews with 2 of the companies both of which I felt went well, and am waiting to hear if I get a second interview.    Company number 3, in theory, wants to interview me but will not set up a time for the interview- after my not being able to drop everything and go in for an interview the same day several weeks ago.    This is discouraging.      When companies want to interview you have to drop everything, reschedule and go at their convenience, and then they leave you hanging.   Yes I recognize that last week was month end & a long weekend so hiring is probably not a top priority, but how about respecting my time too.    If you don’t want to give me a second interview, would it be so hard to call the recruiter and say thanks but no thanks.    I had a company do that two weeks ago.   I interviewed on Fri. and heard on Mon. they weren’t interested.   Was I disappointed? Yes.  but I could move on.   It’s the endless waiting that’s the killer.   Or at least it is for me.

And that brings me to plan B.   If none of these jobs work out by the end of the month, then operation downsizing begins, which means selling 98% of my stuff, and moving into shared accommodation.   That was exciting at 20, it’s less so at 43.   And I’ve applied to go back to school.   I’ve applied for the Fraud Examination and Forensic accounting program at Seneca College.    If I’m going to be living like a broke student I might as well be one, and hopefully with additional qualifications, it’ll be easier to get a job.   I hope.

I also hope it doesn’t come to that.   I’m hoping that one of the three jobs I’m applying to comes through, but at least I have a half way viable plan if they don’t and for once it doesn’t involve suicide, so that’s progress at least.

Some days being a grown up really sucks.

Elizabeth

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When in doubt – Go to Bed

Posted on April 2, 2012 by Elizabeth

I’ve had a roughish few weeks, being back in rehab combined with multiple sudden job interviews, plus facing my financial reality that if I don’t get a job soon, I really will have to sell most of my stuff, and move into shared accomodation.    Anyway this weekend, all the preceeding weeks’ stuff and my fears took over, launching me into one of the worst negative thinking spirals I’ve had in a while.     Now I’m a natural born catastrophsiser, so believe me I was feeling like a complete messed up looser for allowing my life to get so screwed up.   Not a happy headspace to be in emotionally.

And I don’t like emotions – most especially not negative ones.   I’ll do anything I can to avoid negative emotions – that’s how I became an alcoholic in the first place.     

So there I was on Saturday – my anxiety levels so high I felt like I was going to come out of my skin feeling really down about myself.    I can’t drink as I’m on Antabuse.   I can’t take Tylenol One’s, as I’m on Naltrexone.   I couldn’t bring myself to cut since I really don’t want to go back there, and I’m in so much debt I didn’t dare shop.     So all my negative coping mechanisms were out the window

So in the words of the Victorians I “Took to my bed.” and decided to basically just keep myself safe.   I associate my bed with safety.   Plus it’s comfy.   I basically spent the day alternating between reading a recovery book, doing deep breathing exercises, and dozing.   That’s my body’s ultimate stress response – shut down and sleep.   

So I made it through the weekend without hurting myself, or making my situation worse in any way, which is progress I guess.   Or at least they felt it was progress when I told them about it, in group today.    

My problem is it also means I didn’t get much accomplished, and I feel bad about that.   I also hate that 6 years after I had my implosion, I’m still not better at dealing with my feelings.   DBT is helping, but it’s hard.     My therapist today said trauma survivors have a really tough time and that it takes a long time to learn to deal with emotions in healthy ways.   That only makes me feel marginally better.

I want to be well and back working now.   And life isn’t working out that way.   And that makes me sad and angry.    But I’m determined to not do anything stupid that would make my situation worse.  

So ok, I spent a day in bed.  Tomorrow is another day.

Elizabeth

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Feeling trapped in the system

Posted on March 22, 2012 by Elizabeth

I can’t believe it’s been almost a month since I last posted.   My life has been strange and a bit out of control, and writing – outside of my personal journal – hasn’t felt like a priority.

As I said in my last post, I was forced into a day hospital program.   It was by and large a disaster.   The psychiatrist I was assigned, is apparently well known for not liking addicts and she made that very clear in every interaction I had with her – I felt about 2 inches tall after every session.   I’m still debating writing a letter to the chief of psychiatry about her, but in the world of mental health the word of an alcoholic psych patient really doesn’t carry a lot of weight, so I feel kind of helpless.   Some of the groups were good, but one every day was purely psychoeducational and I’ve had more education on depression and anxiety than I can shake a stick at, so I didn’t really get a lot out of it.    As a result I drank most of the first week I was there – stupid and self defeating I know.

The only good thing about the experience was that I had the opportunity for the last two weeks I was there to see the addictions counselor, who was amazing – really blunt but amazing.   The thing though was that despite his amazingness as an addiction counsellor I felt he really pathologized me.      There was a huge discrepancy between how sick I see myself and how sick he saw me, and he made it clear that he felt I was really really sick.    He was quite persistent that I needed further intensive addiction treatment and recommended a facility that’s women only and specializes in trauma – my addictions Dr., and my psychiatrist all subsequently agreed with that recommendation.   

But he was very concerned about my safety, so he pulled out the big guns – community care.    Now technically community care is available to anyone who lives in north York, in reality you have to be in pretty bad shape to access their services.   So I had an interesting meeting with an ER nurse who also worked on the Crisis Management team.    She made a point of speaking very slowly, softly, and maintaining eye contact at all times.   Level 1 support – crisis support, available 24/7 if I just need to talk, and she made it very plain that if I called in saying I was feeling suicidal they took it to mean I just needed to talk, they wouldn’t automatically call 911 on me.  Ok so I took the card, I mean it can’t hurt.   Level 2 support.  “We like to start some clients off by calling to check on them, just to kind of get them used to the system, would you like us to call you.”  Erm no thanks – I had a great day of fantastic activities planned for Sat., and I was working on a contract project on Sun. so I didn’t need a phone call.  Level 3 support.  I’d like to set you up with a case manager who can help you find community support.   Ok they only do this if you’re SERIOUSLY ILL.   No thanks – I explained the supports I have, and said I could manage on my own.  Ok – but if I ever change my mind, here’s the number to call.   And FINALLY Would I like a peer support worker.   UH no – I have friends.   I left the meeting beginning to doubt my own sanity.

At any rate I was sucessfully (?) discharged from day hospital with a plan that I would go back into core, and get on the waiting list for Jean Tweed, and continue to focus on my recovery.   I am doing some part time work, but it’s a long way from paying the bills, so it’s a little unclear to me how I’m going to support myself while I do all this treatment, but I kind of resigned myself to it.    After all if the addictions counsellor, my addictions Dr, and my Psychiatrist all agree that I need additional treatment, and am not able to handle anything more than part time work, who am I to argue, so I make peace with the plan and figure I’ll figure out the finances somehow – probably by further depleting my retirement fund.

Then simply because I seem to have a strong self destructive / self saboting streak, I went into a downward spiral last Fri. night and took a bunch of Tylenol 1′s – they contain codeine.   I didn’t take enough to hurt myself, just enough to numb the pain.    Then being me I was honest and told them about it in rehab on Mon.   Honesty is not always the best policy.   Tues. my addictions Dr. informs me that the only way I’ll be allowed to stay in core is if I go on Naltrexone, which is an opiate antagonist – blocks codeine and other opiates from working.     So I realize it’s my choice as to whether or not I want to stay in core but I do – I need the stability and the support right now, but it still feels like I’m being forced to take meds.   And I have a very strong objection to forced medication.

Now while all of this is going on and I’m trying to my hardest to be a nice compliant addictions / psych patient, I got contacted by a recruiter.   To make a long story short it resulted in a job interview yesterday that I think went ok, and I think I have a shot at being called back for a second interview.   That would be a GOOD thing as it would get me out of my financial mess if I got the job.

This of course concerns my treatment team – what about my plans for further treatment that they all felt so good about.    Well, I admitted I was scared of starting a job, becoming overwhelmed and relapsing.   They think I’m at a high risk of that, so then we started talking safety net.    My addictions Dr. thinks that if I get the job I should call in for a daily check in with one of the team members – Brenda was my choice.   That way they’ll know if I miss a day, that I’m headed off track and “we” can intervene early.    Then, and I can’t believe I suggested this, I said that if I could work it so that I started work at 9, I could arrange to be at the hospital for 8:15 or so, and could take my antabuse under supervision.   They really liked that idea.    Now I hate taking meds under supervision – it feels like I’m a kid who can’t be trusted, but the honest truth is I don’t believe I can trust myself to stay on it.   My track record suggests I can’t, and it’s been so hammered into me that I’m really sick that I’ve started to buy that I need a lot of support.

Once you’re in that headspace it’s very hard to break out of it & it’s sad.   The system should be about getting you better and getting you back on track.   Right now I’m feeling trapped in the system.

I really hope I get this job, or if not this job another job, soon, because I need some independence and self confidence back.     My psychologist, who is wonderful, has said that all my feelings are totally normal and proportionate to the amount of stress I’m under.   She’s the first person who has said that to me.   That validation felt good.   It meant I wasn’t just some psych patient or alcoholic who couldn’t cope.    She things a job will be a huge stabilizing influence in my life as it will relieve a lot of the stress I’m under so I’ll have less need to self destruct.   My psychiatrist partially agrees except he’d like to see me only working part time for a while.

All I know right now is, I really hope I get this job, and I think I need to start to reaserting some control over my own life.

Eliza

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Mindfulness 2 – When you’re angry play.

Posted on February 25, 2012 by Elizabeth

I’ve had a bad week. I got kicked out of rehab and sent to a partial day hospital program. This is admittedly better than being held on a form, but I’m still angry. It didn’t help that my brand shiny new psychiatrist who I judge as just being out of residency made me feel like an idiot for requiring the meds I’m on. In short I’m pissed off.

I could have drunk. I could have got high on pills. I could have cut. I mentally went through all my negative coping strategies and for a change rejected them all.

Instead I chose to embrace my inner musical warrior. I went to my harp lesson this morning and had my weekly lovely ritual of embracing and scratching the dogs. That always brings my arousal level down several notches. And then I informed my teacher that I wanted to spend my lesson on Brian Boru.

Brian Boru is a call to war. It’s booming, with a lot of heavy bass and big donwstrokes on the first and third beats. If you’re angry there’s no better song.

I really nailed the third beat today, and I’m telling you I had the bass going. My biggest problem was overreaching the octave. What can I say – I have long fingers. But I was angry and it came through in the dynamics. I was playing the song in the right way. If you’d had a long sword you’d have wanted to fight.

But that’s not the point. For an hour, I forgot about being forced into treatment I didn’t want. I forgot about my bad coping strategies. I forgot about my fear for the future. For an hour there was only me, my teacher, and Brian Boru. And it was good. I was 100% focused. I was one with the music. And after an hour I felt calmer. I came home and knit.

I’m not recommending picking up the harp for everyone, but if you’re angry there’s nothing like losing yourself in a good song, with a heavy bass line.

Elizabeth

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Sometimes, it’s all about the little things

Posted on February 16, 2012 by Elizabeth

I kind of feel like Alice in the Looking Glass, or like I’m caught in some bad Twilight Zone episode, that resembles my life but isn’t my life.   I’m playing without a safety net kids and it’s scary sometimes, actually make that a lot of the time.

So my employment benefits ran out last week.   I theoretically have a part time contract job, but I haven’t seen a contract yet and I have no idea when the work will start.   In a way that’s almost a good thing because almost everyday I have a session with a mental health care worker.    For those of you who are Canadian and reading this blog, a big Thank you.   Your Tax dollars are hard at work supporting my mental health care, addiction treatment, and attempts to get into supportive housing.

And there’s the rub, the above paragraph rather neatly sumarizes my life at the moment, rehab, more treatment, and navigating the social safety net which has some rather large holes in it.    And this is so NOT my life.   Or at least it’s not what I expected my life to be like in my 40′s.

I got my first part time job when I was 15.    I worked through university.   I got a job immediately upon graduation, ok so it was a really crappy job, but it was the 91 recession and I eventually got a better job, and then built a career.   Along the way I got my MBA, and became a CMA.   I did everything I was supposed to.   Then bad genes, bad luck, bad karma, bad choices,  or just the universe’s sick sense of humour intervened and my heretofore coping with PTSD success strategy of being a workaholic / alcoholic kind of went boom.   And it was an epic BOOM.   And since late 2006 I’ve been muddling along learning about the joys of having a concurrent disorder, or as I like to think of it, I have a ton of coping strategies – it’s just that they’re all bad.

So we enter this weird parrallel universe of rehabs and psych wards, and meet people who talk about safety plans, and who quite rightly get concerned when I do dumb things like OD.    It’s not like I’m trying to kill myself, I just want to numb out for a little, and forget about all the big scary unknowns in my life.  

I don’t know where I’ll be living in 3 months.   I do know I’ll have sold almost all my stuff by then,   I’m taking a weird mid life spin back to my 20′s when I thought living in a furnished room in shared accomodation was exciting.   It’s less exciting now.   I don’t know when I’ll find a job, or what kind of job it’ll be.   I’m now looking specifically at consumer jobs, because I do know the system really well.

So what’s the point of it all really?   I ask myself that daily.   I think about killing myself pretty much daily and pretty much daily decide to live for another 24 hours.   Not because of any big scheme, not because I’m afraid of death, not for deep religious or moral reasons, but because of mundane everyday little things.

I want to learn to play Brian Boru – because it’s a kick ass war song, and I feel like I’m in the ultimate battle right now.   I want to learn to knit socks so that there isn’t a giant hole where the heel, gusset, and foot join because after all who likes socks with holes in them.   I do care about doing a decent Russian Lace castoff, so that my socks will have stretchy cuffs.    I do care about seeing the dogs every Sat. morning and getting my weekly quota of adorableness and hugs.    I do care about talking to my friends, and finding out what’s going on in their lives (They all seeem so normal).   So little things keep me going.

I know I do tend to get a tad obsessive about harp and knitting, but they’re small – I can see progress with them.   I can control them.   In a weird sort of way they keep me going, because I’m never sure what cool tune or pattern is going to come up next.

So if life seems too overwhelming focus on the little things – they can take you a long way.

Oh and I’ve decided on a potential title for my book.    I’m thinking of “Two Harps, Some Art, and a Full Set of Knitting Kneedles.”   Because when it comes right down to it, that’s the stuff I want to hold onto in my move, into my next life.

Elizabeth

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