Author: Aimee Eddy

    2021 ended, and we ushered in 2022. Do you look back at 2021 and think of all the bad things that happened? Do you reflect on the good things, or do you look ahead? Many make resolutions they never keep in the new year. Many plans on starting diets, declare they will exercise more, decide they will tighten their budgets, and so on. Some of the resolutions get off to a good start and then the person loses interest. We can make resolutions we never follow through with or we can look at a new year as a new beginning.

     The past years have been rough for me with surgeries, illnesses, and loss of loved ones. It’s easy to worry that a new year will bring more problems and heartaches. It would be easy for me to fear 2022. I’m already having problems with my carpal tunnel in my left wrist. It hurts, and I must take several breaks to get the feeling back in my fingers. I had surgery on my right hand in 2021 and I’m worried about how long I can go without having surgery on my other hand. That would be my tenth surgery. I don’t want another surgery. I could dwell on this or think about the new year in a more positive light.

     What new things can I do? What changes can I make to my life? How can I take a leap into a new beginning? 2022 doesn’t have to be another bad year. I could have another surgery, but by doing the surgery, I would be without pain. I could instead of worrying about surgery  focus on finishing edits of my memoir. In the new year my new beginning could be me holding my first book and autographing it. There is always a better way to look at the negative side to life and life’s challenges.

I don’t want to think of the New Year as another bad year. I want to think of it as a year with new beginnings. This is my year to shine in my writing and speaking. It’s my year to try new things and make new memories. I’ve been through so much and the health problems seem to keep popping up. I could worry that more problems will come, but I choose to look at the brighter side. I can’t live my life worrying if another health problem or tragedy is going to happen.

2021 wasn’t totally bad year. I finished writing my memoir, my book went through its first round of edits, I rekindled some old friendships, and my right hand no longer hurts when I write. I accomplished that despite having another surgery, finding out I have osteoporosis and working on the front line as a cashier as we continue to face covid. I have a whole year to make many strides in my life. I will grow, learn from my mistakes, and take new steps.

This could be your chance to start your life over. 2022 can be the year you take control of your mental illness and find recovery, it can be the year you kick breast cancer in the butt, it can be the year you start a life with the man of your dreams, and much more. It’s a new year and your chance for a new beginning. Welcome 2022 with open arms, big dreams, and much more, and reach beyond the inner pain for a new start.

Don’t look back at the bad things that happened in 20121 and dwell on them. Instead, cherish the good things and reach for a better year. Start something new; do something new. 2022 is your year to shine.

I’m not going to look at 2022 as the year I may have another surgery. Instead, I’m going to look at it as a new start with lots of new steps and dreams. I’m going to see it as the year I will have my first book published and my dreams will come true. The light of 2022 is bright, and I am dancing in the light of a new beginning.

With the holiday craziness I planned to post a older post but things didn’t work out. We surprised my parents with a TV for Christmas. My dad put it up and guess what? You guessed it the TV is broken. Only half the screen works. So I spent time at my parents and on the phone with my siblings working out on how to return the TV and get them a replacement. I think we have it figured out. Anyways I’m very sorry there is no post this week. Please enjoy New Years Eve and day. Be safe, enjoy yourself and may you all find the light in the new year.

Surprise we got you a broken TV for Christmas!!! I can’t help but laugh.

Rush, rush, rush

From store to store

Buying this and that

For loved ones and friends

The best of the best gifts

Hundreds of dollars spent

Cash spent, credit card bills climb

Hours of pushing and shoving

Fighting for something money can buy

Grumpy, tired, and flustered

Snapping at others

Patience worn thin

Forgetting the true meaning of Christmas

Neglecting the gift given from the heart

A present given to save our souls

God’s son born to save us

Christmas day, the birthday of our king

Stop rushing around

Wipe the frowns away

Smile with joy

Remember what money can’t buy

Give from the heart like God did for us

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL!

I was recently interviewed for a podcast called “Don’t Let This Disability Fool You.” Please listen and leave your comments.

Hey here you go https://anchor.fm/domojo/episodes/Dont-let-AIMEE-fool-yoi-e1bb6ok

Last week I wrote about the cognitive distortion called catastrophizing, and this week I would like to write about another many struggle with, including me. It’s called All-Or-Nothing Thinking. It is seeing your personal qualities such as your success or mistakes in black and white. Like if a student in school got two questions on a test wrong, that student would automatically see himself or herself as a failure. The student wouldn’t be able to celebrate his or her got a passing grade. Instead, the person would only see the situation in extreme black and white or in a negative viewpoint.

I developed all-or-nothing thinking in high school. In school I became obsessed with passing and proving to everyone I wasn’t stupid. I pushed myself to succeed at all costs. I spent hours finding ways around my learning disability to study for tests. I had a hard time remembering what I read, I was a slow reader, and I couldn’t keep up with the notes in class. So, I had to make notes from my textbook and put them on index cards. I read them over and over for hours to remember them. I had to pass all my classes no matter what. A low grade was unacceptable to me.

If I didn’t get an A on a test, I saw myself as a failure. I pushed myself hard. I gave up time with my family and had fits of anger when I couldn’t remember things well enough. If I didn’t pass with high grades, then everyone would be right about me. I would be the stupid, loser they all said I was.

This type of thinking followed me into my adult years. I had my future planned when I started college. I was going attend a two-year college to get a degree in journalism, then go on to a four-year college and become a journalist. College was much harder than I thought. Because of my disability, I couldn’t meet the requirements for a journalism degree and instead I got a humanities degree. Then mental illness and my disability made completing college difficult. It took me four years to graduate from a two-year college. My plans were destroyed.

For years I viewed myself as a failure for not being able to go on to a four-year college. I became a cashier, not a journalist. I was a worthless loser who proved that I was good for nothing. I didn’t succeed at my dreams. I let myself down. I dwelled on what I didn’t accomplish instead of what I did succeed at.

For years and even now I tell people I have a journalism degree when I have a humanities degree. I’m ashamed of myself for not getting the degree I wanted. A humanities degree is a basic degree that doesn’t really amount to much. I wasn’t good enough to get a journalism degree. I failed. I was and am a loser. I can’t admit to peoples’ faces that I am a worthless failure. If I tell people the truth, they will look down on me like they did in school. I’m just a cashier not a journalist like I planned.

Repeatedly I tell people I have a journalism degree and I am working as a cashier because I couldn’t get a job as a journalist. I couldn’t see past what I couldn’t do to what I have done. Right now, while I write this, I see myself in another light. For so long I have viewed my life as black and white, but now there is color in my life.

I didn’t fail when I got a humanities degree and became a cashier. I worked around my learning disability to be a cashier, I have written a book, I have a small woodburning business, and I have kept the same job for 26 years despite many illnesses. I didn’t get the degree I wanted, but I continued to pursue my writing. I didn’t go on to a four-year college, but I have touched many lives as a cashier. I have customers who have been coming to me for years. I advocate against bullying and for mental illness awareness through my writing. For so long I felt I had failed when I have succeeded.

It’s so easy to strive for perfection and when you don’t quite make it you look at yourself as a failure. It’s hard to see the small things we do in our lives as successes. We want to be on top, but often the best we have done is distorted into all-or-nothing thinking. We fail to see and celebrate the small accomplishments we make in our life. Instead, we see ourselves as losers when we are winners. All-or-nothing thinking clouds our minds and keeps us from celebrating the positive.

When you think you have failed or are a loser, take another look at the situation. Even though you didn’t get that promotion, look at how far you have come to get to where you are now, and celebrate that. Look for the positive. Write it down and celebrate it. Rejoice that you got a B on a test instead of seeing yourself as a failure. Be proud of that speech you gave, even though you stumbled over a few words. Stand with pride for the job you are working even though it’s not the one you wanted.

I’m standing in the light of recovery admitting I have a humanities degree and rejoicing in the success I am today.

When you’re in the depth of the dark hole of depression it is easy for your thinking to become distorted. There are several types of cognitive distortions such as all-or-nothing thinking, overgeneralization, mental filter, disqualifying the positive, jumping to conclusions, magnification (catastrophizing)and so on. It’s easy for your thoughts to take on a life of their own, sending you deeper into your illness. You become stuck in a defeating pattern of anguish.

It’s easy to take a small incident and in your mind turn it into a catastrophe. David D. Burns, M.D.’s book Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy lists this type of thinking as magnification (catastrophizing). It describes it as exaggerating the importance of things. It’s taking a simple mistake and turning it into a disaster or worse. Just recently I found myself caught in this type of thinking and I wanted to share it with you.

Just a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving I got sick. I had to take two weeks off work. I had my doctor send an excuse for my absences. When I was feeling better, I had my doctor send a return to work note. When I came back, they were surprised to see me. They thought I would be out longer. I worked three days the week of Thanksgiving. We get our schedules online or on an app on our phones. The day after Thanksgiving I checked my app and there was no schedule for the following week. I called the store where I work and was told I wasn’t on the schedule. The coordinator (takes care of the front end and gives breaks) said he would message the front-end manager to find out why.

Early that day I received a paper about applying for disability through work. Before Thanksgiving the store’s personnel manager asked me why I had a doctor’s note to be on express checkout. I explained to her it was because I have osteoporosis and it is worse in my back. She told me they would try to accommodate me but at times I may have to go on full size register.

After hearing the coordinator saying I didn’t have a schedule my mind went crazy. I became determined that personnel was forcing me to take a leave of absence. Osteoporosis doesn’t just go away. It can improve with treatment, but it doesn’t suddenly get better. I have had one infusion so far to stop it’s progression. It would take time to improve. If I had to take a leave, I would never be able to return. It could take years for my bones to become strong enough for me to lift heavy items and to work regular register.

A simple problem suddenly grew into a catastrophe. If I am forced to take a leave, I will lose my job. I can’t sit around home all day and do nothing. I need my job. It’s how I manage my depression. Without my job I would slip deep into my illness. I wouldn’t see my customers anymore and I’d lose my insurance which pays for my medication, part of my infusion, my psychiatrist, and many health problems. I could apply for Social Security disability but that could take a long time and we would go broke and lose our home.

I ran upstairs and woke my husband. I told him what happened and began crying.

He wrapped his arms around me. “It’s probably a mistake. Don’t worry about it.”

I cried harder. “I’m not stupid. I know what they are doing. They are making me take a leave because I have osteoporosis. That’s why they sent me the disability papers.”

Lou wiped my tears away. “Come to bed. You need to be up here with me.”

I went back downstairs and shut the lights off and went to bed. I lay in Lou’s arms and cried uncontrollably. Lou held me, telling me everything was going to be okay.

I sniffled. “I can’t lose my job. I can’t be stuck at home all the time. I can’t go back into depression. They can’t do this to me.”

“Now, now, you’re not going to lose your job. Tomorrow you’ll talk to your manager. It’s probably a mistake. They wouldn’t make you take a leave without talking to you,” Lou whispered.

I buried my face in his chest. “I know what they are doing. They don’t want me working there because I have osteoporosis. I’ll lose my job. I wish I would have killed myself years ago.”

Lou continued to comfort me until eventually I cried myself to sleep. The next morning my manager contacted me. She said because I was off work the company took me out of the computer and she was unable to put me on the schedule. She apologized and assured she would get me a schedule for the following week when she got to work, and she did. The union representative said I probably received the disability papers because they thought I was going to be on sick leave longer than I was.

I took a simple situation and turned it into a catastrophe. I let my mind magnify me not being on to the schedule into something horrible when it was a simple flaw that could easily be fixed. Even in recovery I can have times where distorted thinking takes control of my mind. Who knows what I would have done if my husband wasn’t there to comfort me? I might have hurt myself over a simple mistake.

If you find yourself magnifying a simple incident into a catastrophe, turn to someone who can help you talk it out and see your thinking is distorted. Get David D. Burns, M.D.’s book Feeling Good and read through the types of cognitive distortions and identify which ones you struggle with. Talk to a therapist about them and learn how to change your pattern of thinking into something more positive and how to cope when the distortions become overbearing. Educate your support system about the types of cognitive distortions you struggle with so they can help you.

Through this blog I have educated my husband and friends about the cognitive distortions I struggle with. My husband and friends are good at using what they learned to help me. Without my husband that night I might have harmed myself. I’m happy to have a husband who talked to me and held me until I was calm enough to sleep. With his help I stand in the light of recovery.

November is the month to be grateful for the things in our lives we have and for the family and friends God has blessed our lives with. In this month centuries ago Indians and pilgrims put aside their difference and sat down at a feast to give thanks. Many put on social media something they are thankful for each day of November. When struggling with mental illness, it’s hard to look past the dark hole to what they do have that is good in their lives.

A good way to combat the darkness is to start a gratitude journal. Take a notebook, a journal, or put papers together in a folder and on the front write “Gratitude Journal.” Each day write things you are thankful for. It doesn’t have to be anything big. It can be something simple like waking up in the morning. If you’re an artist draw something you are grateful for.

Let me give you an example from my life. Here are some things I am thankful for.

Date: November 25

• I’m thankful to wake up next to my husband.
• I’m thankful for Thanksgiving dinner at Cracker Barrel.
• I’m thankful for phone calls to family.
• I’m thankful for not having to cook.
• I’m thankful for a relaxing day.
• I’m thankful for Christmas movies.
• I’m thankful for a ride in the country even though it was raining.

November 26

• I’m thankful to have a home.
• I’m thankful I woke up this morning.
• I’m thankful for my husband being there when I had a meltdown and cried in his arms.
• I’m thankful for my friends and family to turn to when I’m feeling discouraged.
• I’m thankful for my dog who always knows when I need extra cuddles.

November 27

• I’m thankful I made it to the bus stop without falling on the ice.
• I’m thankful my manager was able to give me some hours to work next week.
• I’m thankful for my customers who were nice today.
• I’m thankful for a dinner out tonight.
• I’m thankful I could help a friend with produce codes.
• I’m thankful I could spend some time with my husband tonight before he went to bed.

Now you try it. Take out a piece of paper or a notebook. Grab a colorful pen or pencil and start writing. Look around you. What do you have in your life to be thankful for? Do you have a home? Do you have friends? Did you get up this morning? Did you watch a movie you really like? Did you call a friend or family member? Did you eat today? All of these are things to be grateful for. Even though they seem small and meaningless, they aren’t. They are wonderful parts to your life. For many just getting out of bed is a big accomplishment. So be grateful for that.

I know your mind and heart may be clouded, but while you sit at the bottom of the hole there are still good things all around you. It’s hard to see when your soul is being tormented, but positive things exist in your life. Now look around, find them, and write them down. Start your gratitude journal today.

It took me a while to find stuff to be thankful for, but now that I’m in recovery I have found many wonderful things in my life. I’m grateful to be in the light of recovery.

One of the most misunderstood illnesses is mental illness. It’s an illness you can’t see. Television comedies make fun of it, and the news programs point it out whenever mass killings take place. Years of stigma have accumulated when we discuss mental illness. It’s hard to see an illness of the mind as a serious illness, and it’s often associated with people who are dangerous or eccentric. Because of misunderstanding and stigma, many who struggle with mental illness go untreated because they fear they will be judged.

Years ago, when I came home to my ex-boyfriend and found he had packed my things “he couldn’t handle me anymore,” I put my hand through a window. He called his mom who then sat at my side, rubbing my back, and telling me if I had treated her son better, he wouldn’t have kicked me out. I was bleeding and crying uncontrollably, and yet he didn’t call my parents until I was taken to the hospital.

At the hospital the doctor asked if he needed to numb me while he stitched up my hand since I was a self-injurer. He assumed I liked pain. He had no idea what self-injury is. I didn’t injure because I liked pain. I injured because the pain on my body relieved the pain in my soul. It was am unhealthy coping technique and a cry for help.

When my parents finally came, I cried and pleaded, “Don’t put me in the looney bin. I’m not crazy.”

I was misinformed by stigma and television. Many refer to the mental health hospital as the looney bin when it is a hospital that treats people with serious mental health problems. No hospital is a fun place to go to, but they are necessary to treat illnesses. Without doctors, nurses, and in mental health hospitals psychiatrists, many patients would suffer and die without proper treatment. Patients in the mental health hospital are not crazy; they are sick. It took me some time to realize that the hospital was where I needed to go to start on the road to recovery.

I took several months off while working on my recovery. My mom helped me investigate places for counseling after the hospital. I had moved back home with my parents in another state. I was just on leave from work and still had health insurance. The common problem I faced was that many felt that I would never return to work, and I would not have health insurance that would cover the costs of my treatment. I finally had to use my sister’s address to join a therapy group paid through by the state. My sister lived in the state. Then my therapist filled out paperwork for me to go on social security disability. She insisted that a person with mental illness could not work. I told her I was going back to work, and I ripped up the paperwork.

After several months off I finally returned to work, but in a different department. It was leaked by another employee I was a self-injurer. I was put in the bakery department and the employees asked me if I were safe to use knives. Then each time I got a paper cut they asked me if I did it on purpose.

One day I made a mistake on a cake order. The manager gave me a long, angry lecture. I went in the back, squatted, and cried. I had a closed box cutter in my hand because I was using it before I got in trouble. I was taken by a manager to an office and was locked in there and forced to talk to a mental health crisis worker by phone. The managers assumed I had injured myself when I did not. When I took it to the union, we met with the store manager, and he said because I had mental illness managers could do what they wanted. They thought I was a danger to the employees and customers. The union did little to defend me and I was labeled dangerous.

What they did not know was most with mental illness are only dangerous to themselves. I never hurt anyone but myself. No matter how many times I tried to educate my bakery manager on self-injury, she refused to listen. Self-injurers hurt themselves in a private place like in their bedrooms or bathrooms. They hide their injuries because they fear what others would think or say. Self-injury is a very private thing. The only time an injurer would do it in public or tell someone is if he or she were desperately calling out for help.

My illness was misunderstood by my fellow employees, my manager, and the store manager. They judged me based on their own lack of knowledge and stigma. I was treated unfairly, and for reasons like this many struggle in silence. There are a lot of people struggling with mental illness who are afraid to ask for help because they fear they will be judged and misunderstood. They shouldn’t be afraid to ask for help, they shouldn’t fear being judged, but they do. Our society needs to be educated about mental illness and stigma needs to be dispelled. Look around you, how many of your friends, family, and co-workers are suffering alone because they fear how they will be treated?

It wasn’t until I started writing this blog that I learned of several people who had been struggling with mental illness alone. Some of their families won’t speak to them because they just can’t comprehend an illness of the mind. No one should be afraid to ask for help. Educating the public about mental illness begins with us, those who have fought the fight and those who are fighting it. We need to tell the world the truth and we need to educate people about this greatly misunderstood illness. It’s our job to fight stigma and pave the wave for those who need help but are afraid. We are humans with a serious illness that in most case can be treated. Many of us can live productive lives with proper treatment.

I educate people with this blog. If you have a story to tell and are comfortable at writing it, let me know and I will help tell your story though this blog. Because I write this blog, I am bringing understanding and fighting stigma one person at a time. Writing my story helps me stand proudly in the light of recovery.

I’m sick so here is a older post. Hopefully I will be well by next week to write a new post.

     Anxiety comes in different forms for people. Some can’t breathe; some feel like they are having a heart attack. Some have tightening of muscles, some become dizzy, and some get cold or sweaty hands and/or feet.

     For me, it comes like a rare flu I can’t get rid of. I become nauseated, I dry heave and sometimes I’m over the toilet.

     I first experienced this anxiety attack in college while I was being abused by a friend. I woke up each morning feeling sick, I could hardly keep food down and during the day I would dry heave. Sometimes I’d dry heave until I got sick. I’d be fine one minute and sick the next. A doctor gave me anti-nausea medication and it did little to ease my stomach.

     When the abuse ended, the anxiety attacks went away for several years. They came back suddenly, without warning. My life was going well. I had married a wonderful man, I worked at a good job, and I had been in recovery from my mental illness for several years.

     I had a doctor run several tests to rule out health problems. I couldn’t believe I was having anxiety attacks at such a good time in my life. The doctor found that I was healthy, and he put me on xanax. The nausea went away as long as I remember to take my medication.

     In therapy I was able to point out different things in my life that caused stress: things like worrying about finances, work, taking care of my home and health problems. My therapist and I started working on ways to take control of my worries and to relax. My husband’s Uncle Richard Gross, a clinical psychologist, gave me a relaxation tape which helped calm my nerves.

     My psychiatrist told me many people with depression have anxiety. He said the illnesses are different and they were not the result of having one or the other. It’s just one of those things that seem to go together.

     With the help of medication, relaxation techniques, and therapy, I keep my anxiety attacks under control. There are times they get the best of me, but I know I can stand up to them. I have a wonderful husband who reminds me when I’m worrying too much. It helps to have a friend or family member to share my problems with. Having someone to remind me to relax or to help me calm down is important.

     With relaxation techniques, my support team and medication I stand in the light of recovery facing my anxiety with strength.

Last week I was on vacation and my husband got a bad cold. For a change I have stayed healthy knock on wood. So instead of my husband taking care of me I took and still am taking care of him. It’s a nice change for me to get to give back to him by being the caregiver.

Since I’ve been busy taking care of him I didn’t write a post this week. I will write a post for next week. Until then remember to keep fighting to reach the light.