Facing Challenges

So I’ve been trying to figure out how to write about my current load of issues.  So much has happened since I last posted anything.  I did find a therapist who is wonderful.   I am very optimistic that she’ll be a big help in my journey to better mental health.

I’ll need it because my physical health is…well, not so great.  My follow-up with the nephrologist was rescheduled by that office until next month.  My labs show a slight decrease in kidney function so I really need to consult with him.  My primary care doc continues to be my champion.  One of my labs is elevated which indicates either liver impairment or something else.  I had follow-up labs this week and it’s not my liver.   I will be seeing a hematologist next week to try to figure out what the heck is going on.  Unfortunately, I spent time consulting with Dr. Google and now I’m all freaked out.   There is a chance of bone disease of some type including perhaps, cancer.  So there’s that.

Speaking of bones, I now know why my back hurts all the time.  I have a bulging disc and degenerative disc disease.  Yay me.  I’m waiting to hear back from the neurosurgeon’s office about an appointment. disc29120100_M_0.jpg

How am I coping?   ~sigh~  Well, music therapy helps some.  Today I’ve been rearranging the house which has also helped.  I’ve asked for support from friends (go me!  actually asking) and they’ve been wonderful.   I am reminding myself to take things one step at a time.  Cope with the bits that I am able and don’t sweat the what-ifs.  I’ll have more information soon enough and can then decide how to handle things.

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A quickie

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Not up for a lengthy essay today but I did want to tell y’all about something that happened today.   Through an interaction on social media, I was forcefully reminded about the stigma surrounding mental health.  I was distressed quite a bit about this.  It hit harder because it came from a person that I’d never thought would cotton to such an idea.  It floored me, frankly.  I’m still kinda reeling from it.

What it’s done, however, is to make me more resolved in speaking out about my condition, sharing resources and letting folks know that they are *not* alone!  I got your back!  You have value and worth and there is support out there.  There is help available. It is not a character flaw!

 

 

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The second thing I wanted to mention was that, well, I did it!  I created an Etsy shop!  Woohoo!  DragonWolfCrafts.  Now all I need to do is fill it with stuff for folks to buy.

 

Go me!

 

Thanks and have a happy week!

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The benefits of being open

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The 4 most ridiculous moments from my recent clinical depression.

I love this piece.  I have a nice dose of anxiety to go along with my depression so the experiences outlined in it resonated with me.  However, the intro to the piece is really, really, really important.  Those of us who can be open not only help ourselves, we help destigmatize mental illness.  We try to show those with mental illness that they are not alone and others do grok.  We try to show those without mental illness just how incredibly brutal and debilitating it is.  We try to sow compassion and understanding.

Coping

It is so hard sometimes.  Now and then, it seems that life is determined to grind you into the dirt, spit on you, set you on fire, toss you off a cliff and then kick you in the shins.

I’ve been having a difficult time of late.  It culminated when I found that I’d managed to really, thoroughly  fuck up.

So, my brother, the only family I have left invited me to his wedding (he’s been married for 6 years and they are finally throwing themselves a little ceremony).  This is a huge bright point that I eagerly, enthusiastically tried to grasp.

I poked around for inexpensive flights (there are none between here and the three airports that are sort of nearish to him).   I bought a pretty dress, and underpinnings and things.

Did I mention that it was short notice and the wedding very soon?

Anyway.  Back to me fucking up my finances.

I managed to catch the flu of hacking snotfullness and spent a week out of work (sleeping, taking meds, sleeping some more, hacking my lungs out, putting them back into my body).  Somewhere in there, I lost track of what the hell I was doing and managed to make myself broke-ass.

Now I am trying to get a refund on the airfare.  I’ve returned some things I bought.  I have no idea is any of the things I’ve done will get me out of the deep hell hole I managed to dig.  But I am trying.  I will keep trying.

Meanwhile.  I have not see my brother in over a decade. I have not met my 5 y.o. niece or my 3 y.o nephew.  I have not been back in my home state in…well, I don’t know for sure exactly.   I desperately want to go to this wedding and see them.

Plus, I have been not sleeping at night.  My dreams are full of dead people and strangeness.  Like Supernatural levels of strangeness.   Actually, I think Dean & Sam showed up in one or two.

Then.

On Saturday, my partner took me to the beach.  I don’t know if I can express what that means to me.  No, I really can’t.  There are simply no words.

I needed to stick my toes in the sand and the surf. And just sit and be.  There in the sun and wind, hearing the crash of the ocean, watching the tide come in.

It was glorious.

I don’t know exactly what I will do but I feel much better to handle whatever.