Author: Aimee Eddy

     Many who suffer with depression and anxiety become recluse. Their depression makes getting out of bed to leave the house seem like an impossible task. They hate the idea of going out in public. They feel safe at home and alone where they can keep their emotions under control. Home is their safe place. Not everyone who has depression is a recluse. There are sufferers who need to get out of the house and be near people or a person to feel better. For some, loneliness causes the brain to work on over time with racing thoughts, obsessive worrying, deepening of depression, and so on.

     No one person’s depression and anxiety are the same. We are all individuals with different personalities and feelings. Not everyone has the exact same symptoms. That is the same with any illness. Some symptoms are the same and some aren’t. We are each unique individuals and our illnesses also match our differences.

     I’m not one of those people who can sit at home and feel comfortable. I have had those days where I have had to fight just to get out of bed, but  staying home alone is bad for me. I’m not a recluse. I do like my alone time, but I also love being among people and friends. That’s why being a cashier is a good job for me. I love working with people and talking with my customers, especially my regular customers.

I spent too much time as a child alone, wishing and dreaming of the perfect friend and feeling no one would understand me. Through my struggles with my mental illness I felt these same feelings. These feelings only made my inner pain worse. I felt the release of those feelings when I finally confided in my mom about my illness. It’s a heavy burden to carry your illness alone. After college when I struggled with my relapse into depression, I found myself needing people around me. Not everyone was able to handle my illness, but I often leaned on those who were able to.

Now I find myself stuck between the light and the dark hole of depression. I wanted to work up until my surgery date, but I can’t. I want to be around my regular customers chatting with them when they come through my line and with my co-workers joking around with them just to make it through a day of work. Now I’m spending a lot of time home alone trying to keep busy, so my mind doesn’t push me all the way down the hole of depression.

     My husband works all day until four P.M. We only have one car. With COVID some of my friends are weary of getting together, and there are friends who are busy working and managing their families. Depending on my friend Denise’s schedule, we go walking a couple of times a week. This is a big help, but she’s not always available. On days when I am stuck at home, I start to think too much and worry. I begin to feel lonely and unloved.

     I start to think that no one at work even misses me or cares. I start to worry about how we are going to pay our bills and if we will be so far in debt that we will lose everything. I sleep in until one-thirty because there is no reason to get up. I blame myself for unemployment denying me. I filled the application out wrong. A fund at work will pay two months of our mortgage, but what about our other bills? We’ll lose everything or we’ll be so far in debt that we’ll never get out. Yes, I magnify our situation.

     When my husband gets home from work, he suggests we take a ride. He knows how important it is for me to get out of the house. Sometimes our rides lead us to my parents’ house. One time we stopped in to see my older sister. We never know where our rides will take us. Sometimes we go to stores and look around. Just leaving the house helps distract my mind.

     Last Monday I took my husband to work so I could go to my parents. I spent the day with my mom looking through pictures and talking. I stayed there until it was time to go pick up my husband at work. Spending the day with my mom lifted my spirits. It felt good to be around her. On days I’m unable to go anywhere I try hard to keep busy. I try to do housework that won’t hurt my back, I woodburn and I take my dog for a long walk. If I can’t be around people or get out of the house, then I have to keep active. I must do something to keep my mind from running wild.

     Last Friday I felt lazy, so I watched television until my husband came home. It was the worst thing I did. The depression took over, my thoughts raced, the negativity swirled around in my head, and I magnified everything. I felt the ache of loneliness throughout my body. The one thing that made me feel better was my husband and I meeting my parents for dinner. I like people, I like being around people, and I feel better when I’m not stuck at home all the time.

     Do you feel better by yourself, away from people? Or do you feel better getting out of the house and being around people? Recluse or not, you have to find ways to keep the symptoms of your illness under control. If you are a recluse, make sure you are practicing coping techniques, make sure you are nurturing yourself, and you don’t spend your time dwelling in depression. If you’re the type of person who feels better getting out of the house and being around people, then find ways to do that. If you can’t get out of the house, find things to do to keep yourself above the hole of depression.

     I really miss working and talking with my co-workers and customers, but I won’t let being out of work throw me down into the hole again. Finding ways to keep busy or to get out of the house and spending time with others will help me stay in the light of recovery.

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     During our lives we meet many people and we develop friendships. Throughout our lives some friendships come and go. No friendship is perfect, and some friendships were never meant to last. Other friendships last for years. Special friendships become engraved in our hearts. Neither miles apart nor years lost can destroy such a special bond. Reuniting with an old friend can rekindle old memories and a bond that can never be broken.

     High school was rough for me. The bullying I faced in elementary followed me into high school. It didn’t help that I lived in a small town where everybody knew each other. K through twelfth grade were in the same building just in separate sections of the school. Once you are labeled, that label follows you throughout school. I made friends only to have them turned against me or watch them move away. In high school I stopped talking unless I had no other choice. Along with the bulling I suffered with mental illness, but at the time I didn’t know what was wrong with me.

     In tenth grade a new family moved to town, a mother and her three girls. One of the girls, Patsy, was around my age and was in some of my classes. I’m not sure how she got me talking, but she did. Before I knew it, we were talking about everything and anything. Our history teacher called us the Bobbsey Twins. In time we became inseparable. We began to spend the nights at each other’s houses. I even became friends with her sisters.

     Patsy, like me, was teased in school. Together we drowned out the bullying with our talking and laughing. Patsy and I told each other everything, yet I kept a secret from her. I couldn’t tell her about the darkness that lingered in my soul. It was a sadness that even I didn’t understand. How could I tell her about my feelings if I didn’t even know what they were? Would she even believe me if I told her?

     When I was with Patsy, the darkness within me wasn’t so smothering. There was some light. I never had a friend before that I could spend hours talking to and one that I had so much in common with. Not only did we spend the night at each other’s houses, but we went to the festival of lights in Niagara Falls, we visited each other’s grandparents, we talked for hours on the phone, and watched the Waltons on the television. I never did so much with a friend before.

     Some of my teachers commented, “Aimee, I didn’t know you could talk.”

     Patsy broke my silence. We could confide in each other about the bullying we both faced. We shared the pain that words caused, and we formed an unbreakable bond. For once I had a friend no one could turn against me. Patsy brought me out of my protective shell and allowed me to be myself. She liked me for the person I was.

     By eleventh grade we made friends with a girl a couple grades beneath us who transferred from another school. We all hung out together when we could. I felt lucky to have Patsy, her sisters, and the new girl. In twelfth grade my cousin was killed in a car accident. I tumbled further into darkness down into the hole of depression. By the time I graduated from school, I became suicidal. Patsy moved to a town an hour away and I moved in with my grandparents closer to college.

     My friendship with Patsy continued. I drove to her home and spent some of the weekends with her and other weekends she stayed with me at my grandparents’ home. When we didn’t see each other, we talked on the phone or wrote notes. I also continued to be friends with the other girl. The friendship with the other girl became unhealthy, yet I couldn’t let go. I fell to the very bottom of my hole of depression. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t keep food down, I self-injured, and I began to plan my death. The deeper I fell, the worse the abuse I got from my other friend.

     What happened with the friend became a burden I silently carried within my soul. I never told Patsy what was happening or how bad I felt. Being a writer, I put my anguish in letters and one of those letters separated Patsy and me. We stopped talking and before I could apologize, she and her family moved away.

     That was back in 1994. For years afterwards I wondered where Patsy was and if she thought about me. When I got onto Facebook, I tried to search for her, but I couldn’t remember how to spell her last name. Recently I was going through some things I saved from high school. In a small notebook I found Patsy’s name and last name. I searched Facebook but still couldn’t find her. So, I searched her older sister’s name and “Bingo!” I found her older sister who gave me Patsy’s married name.

I friended Patsy. We gave each other our phone numbers, and a couple days ago we talked on the phone. We talked about our husbands being Steelers fans, about our lives, and so much more. She now lives in Virginia miles away, but we plan to visit each other when things get better with COVID-19. We are reunited and we plan to keep in touch. Our friendship never died. It continued to hold strong even though we lost contact.

Being reunited with Patsy is a blessing. We still have a lot of catching up to do, but now I can openly tell her about my struggles with mental illness and my recovery. Being reunited with my friend gave me a chance to let go of my guilt of losing contact with her. I stand in the light of recovery rebuilding a friendship I thought I lost.

     Our world is full of fear with COVID-19. For some people, the fear of this disease is crippling, keeping them from leaving their homes and living their lives. There are other fears than just this disease that cripple people. Everyone has fears. Who isn’t scared of something? Whether it be of spiders, snakes, close spaces, water, and so on, we have fears. How do we deal with our fears? Do we run from them or face them?

     I have many fears like fear of being held down or trapped, fear of not being able to pay bills, fear of being abandoned, and fear of heights. When I was a kid when we played dog pile, I always had to be on top because of my fear.

     Recently I have been down because I have been unable to work due to unforeseen circumstances. My biggest fear of not being able to pay bills filled my body with anguish. Depression settled in and the worries ran through me endlessly. The best way I knew how to cope was to keep busy. My friend and personal coach had last Monday off.

     She messaged me while I was still in bed. “Do you want to go Putt Putting?”

     I replied. “Sure.”

     It was just what I needed. Getting out of the house and having fun would keep my mind off my worries. I got up, took a shower, and covered myself in sun lotion. Denise showed up shortly after. As she drove, she talked and I listened. My mind was racing with worries about paying bills with no paycheck.

     Denise glanced over at me. “You’re quiet. Something wrong?”

     I went on to tell her how I didn’t know how we would pay our bills if I wasn’t getting paid.

     “That’s understandable, but today we’ll have fun. Are you afraid of heights?” she said.

     I looked over at her. “Yes, I am.”

     What did my fear of heights have to do with my worries and playing Putt Putt?

     She smiled. “You might not like this, but we are going zip lining.”

     Me, zip lining. There was no way I could climb a tower and then go down a wire over a mountain side. When I go to a store     on the top floor and I walk near the railing, I get this feeling like I’m going to fall, and I back up. My husband, Lou, will look over while I hug a nearby wall. When Lou and I went to Atlanta Georgia to Stone Mountain, he would go to the edge and I would stand as far back from the edge as possible. How would I climb a tower, jump off, and hang over the side of a mountain?

     I swallowed hard. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

     Suddenly I was no longer worried about paying bills. As we drove to Findley Lake, New York, to a resort I started wondering how I could possibly zip line. I could chicken out. I started thinking of ways I could tell Denise I couldn’t do it. Fear twisted my stomach.

     “Don’t worry; it will be fun, and I’ll be right there with you,” she said.

     When we got to our destination, we paid and went over to the area where they put harnesses around us, and we picked out helmets. We walked outside and the final tower we would zip line to stood tall above us. I looked up and felt my knees tremble.

     There is no way I’m getting up that high. I must tell Denise I can’t do it, but she already paid. I can’t back out.

     I followed Denise to the ski lift, and we got on. I held on to the bar in front of us very tightly as it went up the side of a mountain. How could I zip line if I’m scared just going on a ski lift? When we got to the top we walked over to the tower. Denise started up the twisting stairs first.

     As I slowly walked up the stairs Denise’s voice rang through my ears. “Don’t look down. Look up. Take it slow; you’ll be fine. You can do this.”

     My heart pounded, but I made it to the top. That was the first step of facing my fear. The second step was getting up on this platform near the edge of the tower and being hooked to the wire. My heart sounded like a drum in my ears. I grabbed a hold of the side of the tower. Denise encouraged me to let go of the tower and to hold onto the rope that was attached to the wheel that would take me down the wire. I couldn’t let go of the side of the building. I looked down and I began to shake and sweat.

     My mind repeated, “I can’t do this.”

     The guy who hooked us up to the wire told us we could go.

     Denise looked over at me and said, “On the count of three let’s go.”

     One…two…three

     Dang, it’s too late to chicken out. I swallowed hard and let out a scream as I stepped off the tower. Soon my scream turned to laughter. I couldn’t believe it. I was having fun!! I was enjoying my ride down a wire nearly fifty foot in the air. By the time we made it to the third tower, I was in awe. I just faced my fear of heights head on. I texted my husband about it once we got to solid ground.

     If I could face my fear of heights, then I could face my fear of not being able to pay our bills. I could face anything. I realized the only way to deal with fears is to face them head on. That night I applied for a employee grant and came up with a plan to do if I was denied. I could borrow money from my 401k plan. One way or another we would pay our bills and be okay.

     If you have a fear that keeps you from doing things, find the strength deep in you to face it. You might find by facing one fear you’ll find the strength to face others. Fears don’t have to cripple us from living life and being happy. We can rise above them by facing them head on.

     I faced one fear and it helped me face another. I’m very proud of myself for stepping off a fifty-foot tower and flying down a line hanging in mid air by a harness. By facing my fear head on I was flying in the light of recovery.

Maxwell Ivey interviewed me on his podcast What’s Your Excuse? Check it out and leave a comment.

Aimee Eddy Gross has survived and thrived over childhood bullying, mental illness, and breast cancer

     There are some false beliefs with religion and mental illness. Some believe if you have enough faith, your mental illness will go away. God does work miracles, but he also gives you help in different ways. No matter how much you believe in God and praise him, your mental illness will not disappear into thin air. There is a saying, “God helps those who help themselves,” but I’m not sure that saying is completely right. God is always helping even when we have given up. God helps those who need help.

     When I fell the deepest down my hole of depression, I turned away from God. I hated him for the agony that I felt. How could a loving God let me go through an internal hell? I denounced him. I stopped praying to him. I stopped going to church with my parents and I questioned his existence. God didn’t give up on me. He continued to help me even though I turned my back on him.

     I took a year off college because I was too sick to continue. I started seeing a therapist in a town a half hour away. She was so nice. She gave me videos to watch on depression and I found myself confiding in her like an old friend. I started to see a psychiatrist in the same office as hers. I had no insurance since I had just started a job. They allowed me to pay what I could afford for my appointments and the psychiatrist found me a program to get my antidepressants free.

     After six months of therapy, I was living a life I only dreamed of as a teen. I was dating, I had lots of friends and I had a social life.

One day at my appointment, my therapist sat across from me with a bright smile. “Aimee, you are doing so well. You can stop taking your antidepressants. You’ll be fine without them, but in a few years your depression will return. Until then enjoy life.”

I did enjoy life. The kid in me came out. I went bowling until 2 a.m. and went to work at 8 a.m. I had more friends than I knew what to do with. I spent the night at friends’ homes and sat up all night talking. I did many of the things I missed out on as a child. I had the social life I dreamed of. I returned to college and graduated.

Before my graduation I went to the office where I saw my therapist, and the office was empty. I asked someone in the building if my therapist had moved, but no one ever heard of her. The office had been empty for years. I looked through the phone book and found nothing. My wonderful therapist just disappeared. I soon learned that a therapist never takes you off antidepressants; only a psychiatrist or psychologist can do that.

Even though I lost my faith in God, he provided me help and a chance to live life to the fullest. Was that therapist an angel? I believe she was. A couple of years later the depression did come back and I knew to seek help. See, even though I lost my faith, God did not stop helping me. He provided me the help I needed. I learned that even though we may abandon God or lose faith in him, he never turns away from us. I hated him, but he continued to love me.

     Another time when I was living with my grandparents and really struggling, I took a bottle of pills. I was disorientated and groggy. I had a night class and it was snowing bad. Somehow, I drove to college and back. I had no idea how I got there and back to my grandparents’. I didn’t even remember driving. Was I driving or was God? I hated God for my deep sadness and inner pain, so why would he help me? Why did he spare my life? I wasn’t being faithful to him, but he still took care of me.

     I soon learned that God has other ways to take care of us. I went to a writers’ conference at a college several miles from home. I was very shy and depressed, and I barely talked to anyone. One day at lunch I heard a woman, named Kelly, talk about the grocery store I worked at. I told her about how I worked there. We became friends. She invited me to a Bible study she held at the church she was going to. In time she prayed with me to accept God back into my life. God brought us together miles away from home.

     I had my share of bad therapists. After my breakup with my abusive ex, my therapist informed me she was moving away. She referred me to a therapist who told me to think happy thoughts. A program at work found me a new therapist, Linda. Linda gave me homework, she listened to me while I cried, she encouraged me, and she used my writing to help me. She gave me assignments to write out my feelings and problems and we worked on them together. When I started dating my husband, she did couple therapy with us to teach my then boyfriend how to help me with my illness. She even came to our wedding.

     Linda became a friend. She helped me to reach recovery and to stop injuring. She told me I was one of her success stories. After my husband and I married she released me from therapy. When I started to struggle with being a married woman who worked nights and her husband worked days, she was willing to counsel me and help me find ways to cope with being alone while my husband was at work. Linda was the best therapist I ever had. I wish I could sit down and talk to her about all the things I’m doing in my life. She is now a therapist at a college, and it would probably be against rules for her to be friends with a former client, but in my heart she is more then just a therapist.

     I struggled with bad psychiatrist too until my friend, Kelly referred me to one. This psychiatrist, Lance, knows his medication well. He never takes me off a medicine that isn’t working without weaning me off. He is nice and easy to talk to. Lance allows my husband to go to the appointments with me and asks my husband how he feels I’m doing. When I started with Lance, he had to try several different antidepressants until one worked. So, I wouldn’t have to spend a lot of money on prescriptions that didn’t work he provided me with samples. I am now on an antidepressant that is very effective. I see him every two months so he can keep track of how I’m doing.

     You don’t have to be a strong believer, you can lose your faith, you can turn your back, but God never stops helping you. No matter how much faith you have, mental illness doesn’t just disappear on its own. God created therapists and psychiatrists to guide you through your illness. He carries you through the rough times and gives you help in many ways. He provides for his children in need even when they deny him. He doesn’t give up on us. He gives us the right people, therapists, psychiatrists, and so on at the timing he feels is best.

     Without God’s help I would not be alive to write this. God carried me through my mental illness and helped me climb the hole to the light of recovery. I stand in the light with God holding me up.

As a child,

Teacher’s words ripped at my soul,

Creating a deep wound on the heart and soul.

Years passed;

The wound became a scar,

Reopened by an unkind person.

Child’s fear returns.

Anxiety churns the stomach.

Hiding in silence no longer an option.

Can no longer cower.

Must face the fear,

An adult comforting the child within,

Standing tall with new strength

Shouting out, “I will no longer be stepped on!”

The wound closes,

The scar fading,

The child within set free.

A strong adult emerges.

As you know from my past posts, I must lose 20 pounds to get back surgery. The dietitian suggested I drink protein shakes to help curb hunger and to fill me up on a fifteen-minute break at work. She sent me recipes in an email with a packet of information. A year ago, my friend Amy mailed me a Ziplock bag of powder protein, a cup with a lid, and a hand mixer. I tucked it away in a drawer. I had no idea what to use it for until now. I was eager to try them out.

I found one recipe that called for sparkling water and berries. I had fresh blueberries in the fridge, a case of sparkling water, and the protein powder. I went to work. I mixed the berries, half a can of sparkling water, a scoop of protein powder, and a handful of blueberries. The cup Amy gave me wasn’t big enough for the mixer to fit in, so I put it in a bigger plastic cup. I mixed it up and poured it into the cup. I took a sip and it was delicious.

I put it in the refrigerator to take to work the next day. I couldn’t wait to drink it on my break. I was excited to see if it would keep me from craving all the wrong foods. Later that night I reached in the refrigerator for some cheese and the cup tumbled out. The delicious shake spread across my kitchen floor. My dog, Esther, raced over and started licking it up. I cleaned up what she didn’t get.

I sat down with my cheese and she was sitting at my feet with those cute beady eyes begging me to feed her. I gave her a small piece and she swallowed it in a second. Then she was back to begging for more. Obviously, the shake did not stop my dog’s hunger. Would it work better on me?

After I ate my cheese, I got it in my head to make another shake. One way or another I would have a shake to take to work. This time I’ll put it where I can’t knock it over. After I mixed the ingredients together, I started to pour it in the cup and totally missed. It spilled out all over my counter like lava. Except this lava was blue and it was turning everything I had on my counter blue. I let out a scream. Esther sat near the edge of the counter with hopes that some of it would drip on the floor.

I shook my head and looked down at her. “Do you ever stop eating? Wasn’t my first shake enough for you?”

She just looked at me with those beady eyes clueless to my frustration.

What the heck, I’ll give it a try again. My third shake tuned out great and the next day I enjoyed it at work, but my shake saga wasn’t over. A few days later I bought blueberries and blackberries to make another shake. This time I put it in a water bottle that was sealed. I took it to work and put it in the refrigerator in the break room.

My husband came for my break and he brought me a salad. I took my shake from the refrigerator and sat down. I popped open the spout and the shake exploded like a rocket up into my face and down over my shirt. I was dripping with a mixture of blueberries, blackberries, sparkling water, and protein powder. It even covered my glasses. At least I smelled good. My husband attempted to muffle a laugh.

The tragic tale of my attempts to make protein shakes didn’t stop me. I have tried out several recipes and have enjoyed them. While the shake didn’t help my dog, it does help me keep from being so hungry. I have stuck to my new diet even at restaurants. I have shaken up my diet literally with protein shakes, smaller portions, and healthier meals. It does cost more, but I can’t afford not to eat healthier foods. I need the back surgery to reduce my pain, but also to continue to improve my health mentally and physically. My quality of life is more important than money.

It is expensive to eat healthy. Anything that is good for you is costly and all the stuff that isn’t good for you, like chips and cookies, is cheaper. So, you could argue that you can’t afford to eat healthily, but my question is, “Can you afford to eat unhealthily?” Unhealthy eating affects you not only physically, but mentally. Can you afford to risk your mental and physical health on foods that are bad for you?

If you are avoiding eating healthily because it’s too expensive, ask yourself, “Can I afford to put my physical and mental health aside? Is my body and mind worth the extra expense?” Your body and mind deserve to be taken care of properly. Nurture them with healthy meals and exercise. Make eating healthily one of your goals towards reaching recovery.

Eating healthier foods is shaking up my life and making me stronger physically and mentally. I am sure I will lose the twenty pounds and get the surgery I need. I am standing in the light stronger and more determined.

     Life is hard. When we think things are going well, something bad happens. They say bad stuff happens in threes, and it seems true. When something awful happens, we are always looking for the next bad thing to take place. When you have depression, life seems life a never-ending trail of negative events. It seems like you’re the only one that life throws the rough times at. There seems to be no light at the end of the tunnel.

If you remember from past posts, I have been struggling with back problems. Friday, July 31 I went to Cleveland Clinic, sine in the city of Erie where I live, getting help is nearly impossible. One doctor kept canceling and another couldn’t see me until October, but Cleveland Clinic got me an appointment within a week. I was so excited. Finally, I was going to get some answers and hopefully relief from my pain.

I felt relieved that I would get answers and relief. I didn’t worry that much before my appointment. I was confident I was in good hands. The Monday before my appointment I got stomach pains and my insides twisted. I started having diarrhea. Then by Tuesday I couldn’t stay two feet away from the bathroom and I couldn’t eat. I had a piece of toast and lots of water. I began to worry that I would be too sick to go to my appointment.

By Wednesday I was a little better, but my stomach kept twisting. My worries grew. I felt weak. I went for a ride with my husband and I got threw up. I wasn’t sure if it I got sick because of the flu or anxiety. By Friday I felt better and was able to go to my appointment. Everyone thought my stomach illness was anxiety, but a friend who brought me anti-diarrhea medication also got it. I think I had both a virus and anxiety.

Before my appointment at Hillcrest Hospital in Mayville Heights, a suburb of Cleveland, I had an x-ray. When I went to the specialist, she showed me my x-ray.

She looked at me. “You have a broken back. Well, your whole back isn’t broken, but a bone in your back is broken.”

She went on to explain and showed me on the x-ray where there is a gap in my spine when I bend. She told me the only way to fix it is surgery. She explained the surgery and reasons why I needed it. I asked about getting a shot in my back or if continuing physical therapy would help. I wanted options other than surgery. There had to be other ways to relieve my pain. I couldn’t go through another surgery especially on the back, but there were no other options.

She explained the importance of surgery and the importance of losing twenty pounds before surgery. She explained the risks of surgery at my current weight. She gave me the choice to do the surgery with the high risks or lose the weight and lower my risks. We chose the safer option. She referred me to a doctor who could help me lose the weight in two months.

I held it together during my appointment, but when my husband and I went to lunch, the tears came. I couldn’t wrap my mind around my back issue. I was told in Erie I had degenerative disk disease and narrowing of the spine, but there was more wrong. A broken bone. It explained why I wasn’t getting better in physical therapy and why I hurt so much. But a broken back? Would this have ever been discovered if I stuck with doctors in Erie? How long would I have suffered before I got better?

The days after my diagnosis my soul dipped into darkness as my mind went over what the doctor had said. It all seemed like a nightmare. The last thing I wanted was an eighth surgery, but it was inevitable. Losing twenty pounds in two months seemed impossible. My head was spinning. My chest throbbed and tears swelled in my throat. Why me? Why is this happening to me?

Just two years ago I went through breast cancer and had two surgeries within three months. Now I have a bone broken in my back. I began to fall down that hole again. I’m the one all the bad stuff happens to. My husband is twelve years older than me and healthier and my siblings are healthier. It’s like I’m being punished. I cried, I screamed, and I desperately wanted to crawl up in a ball and give up.

I had a virtual appointment with a dietitian, and I learned I must completely change the way I eat. She emailed me two pieces of information. One is forty-five pages and the other is twenty-two pages! So many changes. So much to do. Then on August twenty-fifth I have an appointment with another doctor who is part of the weight loss program. More appointments, and so much information. My mind is on overload. How can I do this? Losing that much weight in two months is impossible. I can’t do it. I’d probably have to suffer until next year before I could get surgery.

My friend Cheryl texted me, “Just think of how much better you’ll feel when you lose that weight and have surgery. I know you can do it.”

My friend Amy instant messaged me, “I won’t even recognize you when you lose that weight. You’ll need a new wardrobe.”

I realized I had to look for the positives instead of dwelling on the negatives. Once I lose that twenty pounds, I’ll feel better and be healthier physically and mentally. Once I get my back fixed, I’ll be able to work out with my friend again. After the surgery the pain will be gone. Each day I continue to write five positive things in my journal.

If life throws something bad in your path, don’t let it pull you down into depression. Look for the positives. Journal your feelings, talk to your support system, and fight to stay above the hole of depression. Life is full of trials and everyone faces them. You’re not the only one who goes through rough times. Push through the tough times and reach for the light.

Through journaling, finding the positive, and leaning on my support system, I will get through this and dance in the light again.

This week I don’t have a post for you. I was sick most of last week and then I got some not so good news from Cleveland Clinic.

On a good note Monday I was interviewed by Randy Mortensen on the podcast Courageous Recovery. I have included the link for it. Please watch and leave me a comment. I would like to hear what you think about my interview. Let Randy know what you think of his podcast. Email Randy at https://www.buzzsprout.com/861964/4839137

https://courageousrecovery.buzzsprout.com/861964/4839137-interview-with-aimee-eddy-a-survivor-of-mental-illness-bullying-breast-cancer-abuse