Author: Aimee Eddy

     When someone is facing illness, injury, or surgery, it seems like everyone has a story to tell and advice to give. Some people have had bad experiences and others have had good ones, but usually when you’re facing the problem you hear all about the bad stuff. It seems like everyone has advice on what you should do, and no one’s advice is the same. These people have good intentions. They want to help you, but they don’t realize they are only hurting you. When you are struggling with mental illness, all these experiences and advice can lead to worsening of your illness.

In a past blog post I wrote about injuring my back. One of the physical therapists thought that maybe I had a bulging disk and she told me that it could be treated by therapy. She suggested I get an MRI to get a diagnosis. I tried everything to get better. I went to my chiropractor, I took a week and a half off from work, I called my doctor who prescribed muscle relaxers and pain killers, and I started physical therapy. Everything caused more pain, so my doctor set it up for me to get an MRI.

I prayed and prayed it would just be a bulging disk and therapy would make it better. I even convinced myself that my therapist was right, and I would be fine. When the nurse from my doctor’s office called, I was devastated. She said I have degenerative disk disease and narrowing of the spine. She went on to tell me she was going to schedule me with a surgeon to discuss my options. I called my husband at work, crying, and then I called my mom, crying. I couldn’t stop crying. I’ve already been through so much. Seven surgeries and breast cancer.

I texted a family member and the response I got was, “Don’t have back surgery. Back surgeries are not good. You can go through pain management.” I told another friend and she started telling me stories of back surgeries that went wrong and caused more problems. In the first place, the last thing I wanted to think of was another surgery after I been through so many. Secondly, their stories and advice made me even more scared to see a surgeon.

The more stories and advice I heard from friends and co-workers, the more my anxiety grew, and I began to worry obsessively. What if I have no choice but to go through surgery and end up crippled? What if surgery makes my back worse and I must quit my job? I fought so hard to keep this job while struggling with mental illness and now a back injury could take it away. How could I live with this pain? If I just manage my pain, then I can’t workout anymore and I’d gain back all the weight I lost. I can’t go through another surgery. Not one that would ruin my life. The worries go on endlessly. 

The surgeon’s office called last Tuesday with my appointment day and time, July 8^th. How could I wait three weeks? What am I supposed to do for three weeks? Listen to more advice and people’s experiences? I can’t wait that long!!! I’ll go crazy wondering, “Will I need surgery or are there other procedures they can do?” I need to know now!! How do I stop worrying? How do I keep calm? I’m going to fall apart. I can’t fall apart. I came too far to lose it now. I’m going to have to go through another surgery and I’ll have to do it with Lou at home. I can’t do it without Lou. I can’t do this. I can’t have another problem.

One co-worker told me, “Join the crowd. You just have arthritis like everyone else. You’ll learn to deal with it.”

This made me feel like my pain was no big deal. The sudden shooting pains that made me nearly drop to my knees were nothing. The pains that made me cry out during the night were no big deal. One minute a family member was telling me to try pain management, and the next a co-worker was telling me my pain was normal like everyone else who was aging. I couldn’t just do nothing but learn to deal with it. I wanted to scream at her, “This is more than just arthritis. I’m suffering.”

Depression began to drag me into that hole again. The emotions ran through my body like a raging thunderstorm. I wanted to lie in bed and cry, but lying in bed hurt. The only way I can sleep in bed is with pain killers. All those people with their stories and advice meant well, but instead it hurt me. I felt like I was losing control of my mental wellbeing. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t risk my mental health. I came up with the idea that I would from this point on only share my back problems with positive and encouraging people. For those who couldn’t provide that, I would kindly ask them to keep their negativity and advice to themselves. I also sit each night and journal my feelings.

If you are facing a situation where everyone has an experience to tell you about or advice to give you, politely ask them to stop. Tell your friends and family you need positivity and encouragement. In the end, it’s your body and your choice. Don’t let others’ attempts to help you hurt you and push you down the dark hole. Stand up for yourself and tell others what you need and only tell those who can be supportive and uplifting.

I chose that from now on I will only discuss my back problems and whatever lies ahead of me with those who will encourage me, be positive, and who will just listen. These people will hold me up in the light despite what is to come.                  

     I hope you all had a wonderful Father’s Day. Fathers are special men who raise us, who love us unconditionally, who teaches us important lesson, and so much more. A father can be the man who helped bring us into the world, a friend or uncle who’s there when you need him the most, the man who steps in when the real father is unable to, the man who raises you like you’re his own and so on. There are fathers who fail to fulfill their role and fail at being good dads. Father’s Day is for the men who put in the hard work; these are the father’s who deserve to be honored.

My dad is a special man. When we were kids, Mom stayed home and took care of us four kids while Dad went to work at the family garage. He worked long hard hours to provide for us. Mom worked hard at home taking care of us and the home while Dad worked hard fixing cars and semis. Mom and Dad were a team: they both worked hard at providing for us, loving us, and raising us. 

The family garage was a very demanding job for my dad. Sometimes Dad worked late at the garage and late into the night when he was on call. The guys of the garage took turns being on call. On call meant during the night and on days when the garage was closed, they had to go out and help someone whose car or semi broke down. Sometimes the calls came on holidays, pulling my dad away from the celebrations. Other times calls came in the wee hours of the morning depriving him of sleep.

No matter how hard my dad worked, he found time to play with us. He loved and still loves to chase us around and tickle us. All of us kids and Dad had dog piles. I was scared to be on the bottom, so I always got to be on top. Dad loved to give us piggyback rides and swing us around in circles. We had whiffle ball and kick ball games in our yard. Even Mom joined in on those. We split up into teams. We played and laughed together as a family. Dad was never too busy for us.

Dad was always a hard-working man and still is. Sitting still is a sin in his eyes. He worked so hard during the garage years it became second nature. He can’t sit still. He thinks he’s being lazy. When he went to a new job after the garage was sold, he found it too easy. He worked the job and worked on people’s private airplanes on the side.

My dad is a very handy man. He can fix just about anything. Not just cars and semis. He can fix lawn mowers, airplanes, bicycles, and more. He can also do carpentry work. He remodeled the bathroom in my parents’ home and in the home my grandparents moved into after the garage. He has put windows in my home and when one window was too big, he found a way to make it fit. He’s replaced steps on our porch and much more.

There isn’t much he can’t do. He is an incredibly talented man. Whenever my husband and I have a problem my dad comes to the rescue. He works on our car, he fixes things around our home, and he never asks for anything in return. When I was in college, I couldn’t afford nice cars, and the cars I did have always broke down on me. Dad came to my rescue and towed my car home with a chain hooked to the back of his pickup. I don’t know how many engines, transmissions, and so on he put in my cars. He was my superman coming to my rescue when my car decided to die on me.

My dad didn’t always understand my mental illness. Sometimes he lost his patience with me when as a child I had bad episodes, but he never stopped loving me. When I was in an episode, I pushed him beyond his limits. I argued with him, I called him awful names, and I screamed at him, and he still loved me. No matter how mean I was he never tuned his back on me.

When I was diagnosed with mental illness, he was supportive. He was willing to stand by me no matter what. He’s not as good with words as Mom is, but I knew he was there for me. He’d ask me if I was okay and encourage me to fight the illness. I didn’t confide in my dad like I did my mom, but he always was willing to listen if I needed him. When I wrote about my illness, he read it and it helped him understand more.

My dad is a hero. He comes to my rescue when I need him. I’m not sure what I would do without him. He doesn’t need a cape or a mask to be a superhero, he just needs to be himself. He’s very special. I can’t be any more thankful to have such a wonderful Father.

If you have a father or someone who is like a father who is always there for you, let him know how grateful you are. Don’t just spoil him on Father’s Day but spoil him every day. You don’t need to spoil him with gifts. You can give him hugs, tell him how much he means to you, and thank him from the bottom of your heart for all he does.

     With the love of my dad filling me, I stand strong in the light of recovery.

     Life is challenging. When everything seems to be going great, an obstacle gets thrown in your path and everything gets turned inside out. Sometimes you find yourself stuck in this whirlpool of frustration and disappointment. When you have mental illness, an obstacle may leave you dwelling in your dark hole, feeling like your life has ended. You can’t see around the problem. It becomes huge and overwhelming.

As I wrote in my last blog post, I am dealing with a back problem. I have been working so hard at losing weight and I have come a long way. I can run further than I ever thought I could, my asthma has improved, and for the first time in a long time I went a whole winter without getting sick. I feel stronger than I have ever felt. My self-esteem is better than it has ever been. I have lost a total of twenty-two pounds.

For the longest time I thought exercise was just an annoying chore that was recommended by doctors. I read that it helped with mental illness, but I couldn’t understand how getting hot, sweaty, and breathless can make a person feel better. I wanted to lose weight for a while, but I didn’t have the willpower to keep at it until Denise.

Someone whom I love dearly harped on how I needed to lose weight. When my husband and I visited him, he would make comments on how much I was eating and lecture me about eating healthier. I felt insulted. Like he couldn’t love me for who I am. He meant well, but he went about it the wrong way. He made me feel worse about my weight and exercise.

Denise totally changed my mind about exercise and about weight loss. She helped me look at it in a positive way. With her help, I found many benefits from working out and losing weight. I found more benefits than the physical changes. I found that working out helps you release pent up emotions. Working out the body is also working out the emotions. Denise tells me when we’re running, picture the bush at the end of the road as people cheering you on. I thought of it as people cheering me on to the victory of finishing the run and the victory of reaching recovery.

Before my back injury, my self-esteem changed, coping with my bad days changed, and my viewpoint of exercise changed. I wasn’t just losing weight, I was building a new person from the outside in. I felt great and proud of myself. Then suddenly life threw an obstacle in my path. I had a back injury. My chiropractor said no more working out, but I could still walk.

I fell a little way into that hole again. I began to feel hopeless. I feared I would gain back all the weight I had lost. All this hard work I did ruined by my back. Then the injury got worse and I started physical therapy and pain killers. I have scoliosis and am used to having back problems, but they are usually resolved with a visit to my chiropractor. I knew more was wrong because I wasn’t getting better. Instead I kept getting worse.

Then one of my physical therapists said I may have a bulging disk. I began to magnify everything. She said in most cases it’s resolved by physical therapy, but I’m not most cases. I’m the one who usually has surgery. I’m probably going to be laid up with back surgery. I worked so hard to lose that twenty-two pounds to just end up gaining it all back plus more. Everything I worked for would vanish and I would go back to the fat woman being lectured by someone whom she loved.

I felt hopeless and discouraged, but Denise didn’t give up on me. She told me to keep my chin up and we made plans to walk. Then I watched her deep in thought. It was as if I could see in her head and see her mind work like a clock. I could see the gears going around moving her arms like the hands on the face of a clock. I knew she was coming up with ideas. She asked me questions and then went deep into thought.

Then Saturday she came over to walk. We went for a nice long walk until my back started getting sore. When we returned to my house, she pulled out some rubber bands with hand grips on them. We began to do exercises that would work out my biceps, triceps, shoulders, and upper back. With each workout we did she asked me how my lower back felt. If I felt no pain, we did more reps. She kept trying new exercises until the muscles in my arms were screaming, “Denise stop torturing me.”

After our workout I felt renewed. My self-esteem was back. My mind was screaming, “I’m back! This darn injury of mine didn’t stop me.”

My obstacle no longer seemed huge. It suddenly looked like a small pebble on a smooth path. Life was no longer hopeless. I could still work out despite a probable bulging disk. I could still lose weight and build muscles in other ways. I felt strong and hopeful again. Who knows, maybe by the time by back heals, I’ll be arm wrestling my husband and winning. Maybe he’ll no longer say fleas are biting when I punch his arm.

Thanks to Denise I found a way to work around my obstacle. You can too. Life’s obstacles do not mean it’s the end of the world or that there is no hope for you. It just means you need to find a way to work around it and rise to a new challenge. Don’t give up.

If you don’t have a friend to encourage you, then look for support from deep within yourself or from your support team. Don’t look at your obstacle as a boulder you can’t get around, but as a pebble on a smooth road. A pebble you can walk around so it doesn’t get into your shoe and slow you down. Rise above your obstacle; don’t be defeated by it.

Because I have a friend who cared enough to not give up on me, I am above the hole smiling in the light.

     We live busy lives. Often, we find ourselves stressed out and on the go. There is so much to do and not enough time in the day to get it done. We get overworked and stressed out. We don’t take time to just relax and have fun. When you have mental illness, the stresses of life can bring on anxiety attacks, panic attacks, and depression. We over think and worry about everything. It’s enough to turn our minds and souls inside out.

     Recently I hurt my lower back and hips. I started seeing my chiropractor for it. I have scoliosis, and when my back is hurting, my chiropractor usually adjusts me and in a few days I feel better. This time the pain didn’t get better. Instead it kept getting worse. My chiropractor had me take a week and a half off from work with no relief.

I called my doctor for a second opinion. She put me on muscle relaxers and light duty at work and she ordered physical therapy. Even with the muscle relaxers I kept waking up in the early mornings with intense pain shooting from my back down my hips. So, I called my doctor and she prescribed pain killers. I started physical therapy and even on light duty I struggled with pain. My mind began to race.

What if something serious is wrong? What if I need a hip replacement? I just know this is more than my usual scoliosis. I don’t want another surgery, but what if I need one to end the pain? I can’t take the pain anymore. Will I ever get better? I hurt so bad; something serious must be wrong.

The pain medication is helping me sleep through the night, but when I get up, I hurt. Working hurts. Everything hurts. I’ve been stressing out. I had to give up exercising with my friend. I can’t snuggle long with my husband. My friend Cheryl keeps telling me to stop magnifying and thinking the worse about my back and hip pain. I put a heating pad on it each night, I rub bio freeze on it, and take my medication. I feel like the pain will never get better. My body is tense, I cry in my husband’s arms, and I feel sad and hopeless. This has led to some depression. Everyday my life has been consumed with my pain and my worrying about it. I haven’t had a chance to relax.

On Thursday at work my friend Denise asked me what I was doing on Friday. I told her the only thing I had planned was physical therapy. Since we were both off, she invited me to go with her to Keystone Safari, an hour and a half away. I agreed. I’ve never been there but was excited to be asked. I needed a day away.

Denise picked me up at physical therapy at eleven a.m. and we were on the road. We talked and sang to music on the way there. At the safari we were given a cup of food and a bracelet to get more food to feed the animals. We walked around to different caged-in areas where animals were kept. We fed llama’s, goats, sheep, and pigs. We went to this one area where we were given lettuce to feed giraffes. One of the giraffes stretched its neck over the fence and ate the lettuce from my hand and then I posed next to it so Denise could take my picture.

My hip ached as we walked, but it didn’t seem to matter. For the first time in a while I felt relaxed and free from worry. I was enjoying the animals and my friend. My mind was free from racing thoughts, negativity, and worry. Denise and I talked, laughed, and enjoyed each other’s company. If it weren’t for the nagging pain in my hip, I would have totally forgot about my injury.

After we were done at the safari, we went a few miles on the freeway to an animal park called Living Treasures. There we got to go in with the goats. The goats jumped up on us begging for food. They even pulled my shorts down and I was suddenly showing off my underwear to the other guests! Instead of being embarrassed I laughed. I must have been a sight, with me trying to pull my shorts up with one hand and pushing goats off of me with the other hand.

That day was the most relaxing day I’ve had since I hurt my back and hips. I needed it. I didn’t worry about my pain or about my injury. I was free to laugh, to smile, and to be me. I didn’t want the day to end. On the way home Denise took me on a scenic route. I sat back and enjoyed the scenery. Denise took me through areas where she ran when she was in college. She told me different stories about her college days, and I enjoyed listening. When she dropped me off at home, I felt sad that the day had ended.

During our stressful lives we need days where we just have fun and forget about our worries. When we are struggling to manage our illness, we need time where we can distract ourselves from our worries, hopelessness, and racing thoughts. We need to find things to do to relax and let go. Getting away for a day, going out for a nice meal, spending time with friends, or going for a walk can help. When I was at my worst and I was living with my grandparents, my mom would come once a week to take me shopping and out to lunch.

Find something that will help you let go of your stress and anxiety. Free yourself from the chains of your illness and do something relaxing. It’s not easy, but give it a try.

Friday, a day of fun and relaxation helped me shed the darkness from my soul. It helped me rest in the light of recovery.

I was interviewed by Diva on Kulcharama and it aired today. I hope you all take the time to listen. Please leave a comment on how you felt I did or a comment about the topics I talked about.

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/kulcharama-diva-anniversary-special-featuring-mrs-aimee/id1476439467?i=1000477060231

     There much confusion and misunderstanding of mental illness. Some think sadness following a dramatic or traumatic event is mental illness. When things get better, they think their illness is cured. All people face hard times that put them into periods of depression, but that doesn’t make them mentally ill. Mental illness is something you can’t get past without medication and therapy. It’s a sickness that can not be cured. There is no magic potion or wand to make it go away. It’s not temporary. It is a lifetime battle.

     It’s confusing to think of this illness as not temporary when there are people living successful lives and working at successful careers after struggling. How can a man with schizophrenia be the CEO of a company? How can a person with major depression go from being non-functioning to working a job and going to college? Some come up with the automatic assumption that the illness must be temporary. If it’s temporary, many assume you can just watch funny movies, think happy thoughts, and tada! your illness is gone. The moment of insanity will suddenly disappear. Then the old happy person with no problems will return.

Sorry to disappoint you, but mental illness doesn’t magically go away. If it did, I wouldn’t have gone through years of suffering and therapy. It is easy to mistake recovery for a cure, but unfortunately it is not. Those people who are doing so well after struggling are managing their illness with coping techniques, medication, and therapy. Their illness is being treated and they must work each day to keep it under control. It’s like any illness. When you have high blood pressure, you have to cut down on salt, eat healthier, and take medication to keep it down. It’s the same with mental illness.

I’m in recovery, but I work each day to keep my mental illness under control. I take antidepressants, anti- anxiety medication, and medication to help me sleep. I go to my psychiatrist every two months to let him know how I am doing. I no longer go to therapy, but I have a big support system to lean on during bad days. My husband reminds me to stay positive, lets me vent on bad days, and talks me through anxiety attacks. I journal out my feelings instead of keeping them inside. Like high blood pressure, I manage my illness to stay well.

Recovery is in a way like going through remission from cancer. Remission doesn’t mean the person suffering with it is cured and the disease will never rear its head again. It’s only temporary. Recovery from mental illness doesn’t mean you’ll never struggle with the illness again or that you’ll never fall down that dark hole again. It means your illness is being controlled. It’s not a forever fix. Even in recovery you can still tumble down into darkness again. You’ll just know how to handle it better.

I struggled with my mental illness through-out school and college. After taking a year off from college, I found recovery. I made friends, I had a social life, I started dating, and I was enjoying the life I never got to have as a teen. My life seemed great. I went back to college and graduated. I moved in with a friend. I sometimes went with a friend and her husband to their cabin to spend a few days. I went bowling late at night to early in the morning with a group of people from work. Life was going wonderfully and yet I tumbled down into that hole again. I went back to therapy and an abusive relationship made the illness worse. I was hospitalized.

I found my husband and I found recovery again. We married, bought a house, and were incredibly happy. My therapist told me I no longer needed therapy. Then a few years later, I started obsessively worrying about paying the bills and my husband was working days and I was working nights. I couldn’t handle being alone while he was at work and once again, I fell. I went back to therapy.

Recovery doesn’t mean you will never struggle with your illness again. Recovery doesn’t mean mental illness was only temporary and you’re cured. It means your sickness is being controlled and you have the proper techniques to cope with it. It’s the same with any illness that is incurable. You treat the illness and its symptoms to maintain it.

That person who struggled with panic attacks who is now a lawyer is maintaining his or her illness. That woman who once was too depressed to get out of bed and is now enjoying time with friends is not cured. She is taking care of her sickness so she can live a happy life. Mental illness is not temporary. It is a lifelong battle. That CEO who once heard voices in his or her head is controlling his or her illness with medication, coping techniques, and maybe therapy.

I had a manager tell me she got depressed when her husband found out she was seeing another guy. She told me how she wanted to end her life. Then she and her husband discussed the situation and he forgave her. She was happy again. She claimed to have had mental illness, but she didn’t. She had depression brought on by an event. Mental illness is a chemical imbalance in the brain. A person may have a happy, wonderful life and still be sick. Life situations can increase the severity of the illness and can bring the illness to the surface. It’s the unbalance of chemicals in the brain that causes it.

I have been in recovery from mental illness for several years. I no longer go to therapy. I work hard each day to maintain my illness and this keeps me in dancing in the light.

What is a disability? Wikipedia defines a disability as any condition that makes it more difficult for a person to do certain activities or interact with the world around him or her. These conditions or impairments may be cognitive, developmental, intellectual, mental, physical, sensory, or a combination of multiple factors. Does this describe someone with mental illness? Some say mental illness is only a disease and others say it’s a disability. How would you categorize it? Does mental illness make it hard for you to interact in the world or do your normal activities?

There is a wide variety of types of mental illnesses. Some mental illnesses can be treated with medication and some cannot. Some are too severe to treat with just medication and therapy. In any form this sickness can be debilitating, and it does impact your life and how you function. If your illness is severe enough you may never be able to have a normal life or function in society. There are illnesses that people can rise above and live normal lives.

When I was in the mental health hospital, I saw people suffering from different kinds of this sickness. My hospital roommate walked the halls in a daze, like a barely functioning zombie. I felt bad for her. A while after I left the hospital, I joined a mental health support group. It was there I saw my roommate again. She was still unable to function fully. Her illness was so severe she could barely exist in the world. She told how she was in and out of the hospital and no matter what she did she couldn’t feel better. She lived with her parents, and she had no friends, no job, and no life. I felt for her.

When my mental illness was at its worst, I cried a lot over small things, I couldn’t sleep, many of my relationships were unhealthy, I spent a lot of time alone, and I had to force myself out of bed. My mind was riddled with racing thoughts, negativity, suicidal thoughts, and self-hate. I couldn’t even make a simple decision like what kind of shoes to buy. I buried myself in my college work while I self-injured. My illness soon became so overwhelming I had to take time away a year off from college. I went to work while I was off.

While working I called in sick because I couldn’t get out of bed. One day I got in trouble for a no-show. I forgot I had to work, and I slept all day. I struggled to interact in society and to do regular activities. It took all my strength to get up each day and put a fake smile on my face.

Many at their worse struggle to function in their daily lives, but there are many who work their way through these stages and live normal lives. How do you define a normal life? Is it living life without any signs of sickness? Is it a life where you must work to face each day? Can you really define normal? To me a normal life is being able to work a job, have healthy relationships, be able to smile and laugh, and live life to the fullest. I do that each day while still managing my mental illness.

There is no cure for the illness of the mind. There will always be bad days. I must use many coping techniques to continue to live my life. If I don’t take my medication, I fall down that dark hole. If I don’t have my support system and my coping techniques, I will slip into darkness. Is having to manage my illness daily make me disabled? I have my limits and I must set boundaries. I need to say no to things and people who trigger my illness. I can’t work fulltime because the stress is too much for my anxiety and mental wellbeing. Does that fit under the definition of a disability?

I have a happy life. I am married to the love of my life, I have healthy relationships, I do fun things, and I’ve worked the same job for early 25 years. Does this sound like someone who is disabled? You decide.

Not everyone can have a normal life while struggling with mental illness. Some are confined to a hospital, some are struggling just to survive, and some live in group homes or on the streets because they can’t get past their illness. There are people with this sickness who have had several kinds of treatments and cannot find relief from and they spend their time in and out of hospitals. Does this define them as disabled?

For me, my illness is a challenge I had and have to face and fight to overcome. It is just one of those things life threw in my way to see if I had the strength and courage to fight and rise above it. We all face challenges in our lives. We all have things we have to work through. That is what mental illness is to me. Something I had to work through to live a better and more enriching life and something I must manage to keep living in the light. Managing my illness is just a part of my daily activities and doesn’t keep me from living life to the fullest.

Now that you have read this, what is your opinion? Do you think mental illness is a disability? Do you think it’s just a challenge you have to overcome? Do you think it’s a disease? Does mental illness keep a person from doing activities or interacting with the world around her or him? Or does it depend on how bad the illness is to make it a disability? Does having to manage this sickness make it a disability? Leave me your opinion in the comments.

Seeing my illness as a challenge helps me strive in the light of recovery.

 

 

 

Humor is a powerful tool. It’s good medicine for the soul. Laughter is even good for those struggling with depression. It is no cure, but it can help. I know it’s hard to laugh when your soul is filled with darkness. You may even sit in front of a funny movie and can’t laugh. You’re probably wondering how humor can help with your depression if you can’t even force yourself to smile, let alone laugh.

Humor is a better way to look at your mistakes instead of dwelling on them and beating yourself up for them. It’s a way to let yourself off the hook. When you’re depressed, your human errors become a confirmation of your worthlessness. You obsess over them, you tear yourself up over them, and you internally punish yourself for them. How about instead of beating up on yourself you look at your mistakes in a humorous way?

I did that just recently. I ordered, The 4-Ingredient Diabetes Cookbook by Nancy S. Hughes. It arrived Friday in the mail. I was excited to test out the recipes. I searched through the book for a recipe I had ingredients for and found Extra-Easy Meatballs.

   Perfect, I thought. It’s extra easy. I couldn’t possibly mess this recipe up. It’ll make a nice supper for Lou and me.

I gathered the ingredients. It called for cooking oats. I looked through my cupboard. I pulled out a canister that read steel-cut oats.

   Hmmm, are steel cut oats the same as cooking oats? You cook them for breakfast. They will have to work.

   Dang, I’m out of eggs and it calls for 3 egg whites.

I was ready to give up, but reluctantly my husband offered to go get me some eggs. When he returned I began to mix the ingredients. The recipe called for three egg whites. I had no idea how I would separate the yok from the whites. They all come out of the shell at once. Do I put it on a plate and separate them with a fork? Do I put them in a strainer? I shrugged my shoulders and just put the whole eggs in. I put in the oats, hamburger and a half a cup of spaghetti sauce just like the recipe said.

I mixed everything together with my hands. It seeped through my fingers. I looked at it. I was pretty sure it shouldn’t be so squishy. Maybe this recipe wasn’t simple enough for me. I held up the mixture and it oozed from my hand like slime. How would I make meatballs from this? My husband has lived through my cooking for thirteen years; will this be the one time I kill him with slimy meatballs?

I proceeded to roll the meat into small balls and place them in a pan. Lou is in for it tonight. He’ll have the most interesting meatballs he has ever eaten in his life. Sloppy meatballs for dinner; eat them if you dare. I could just see the headlines on the morning news: WOMAN KILLS HER HUSBAND WITH SLOPPY GOOEY MEATBALLS.

I wanted to turn to my husband and yell, “Run, while you can. Dinner tonight might be deadly.”

Instead I attempted to flip the meatballs and they all fell to pieces. It looked like I was cooking my husband a lovely dog food meal instead of nice rounded meatballs. I added in the rest of the spaghetti sauce. It looked more edible, but how could I serve this to my husband? Maybe as sloppy joes or just meat and sauce?

Then what little sparks I had left in my brain lit up. I could turn my meatballs into spaghetti. I gathered up some noodles and began to cook them on the stove. I place my meatball mess off to the side. Once the noodles were done I added the meat mixture to the noodles and mixed it together. I placed some on plates and called my husband to the table.

Here comes the moment of truth. My meatballs became Dead Meatball Spaghetti. Would my husband die from my cooking or would he just get sick? Did I by some mistake create a new dish that my husband will love? Would my husband run for the bathroom after one mouth full?

My husband placed his fork into the food and I watched as he placed it into his mouth. I had my cell phone nearby just in case I needed to call 911 after he keeled over from my creation. Maybe I should have taken CPR classes for moments like this. That way if my husband falls over, I could at least get credit for trying to revive him. This isn’t exactly the way I wanted to get his life insurance and 401 K plan money.

Lou smiled. “Delicious. What is it?”

I smiled, relieved. “Well, it’s kind of a dish I created by accident. It’s Dead Meatball Spaghetti.”

After I explained my cooking disaster to Lou, we laughed together. I could have apologized to Lou for messing up dinner. I could have berated myself up for my mistake and I could have obsessed over my mistake, but instead I got a good laugh and I created a meal my husband loved.

Instead of being critical of yourself for simple mistakes you make, look for the humor in it. Let a little bit of laughter release the self-torture of human error. Tearing yourself a-part for your mistakes only makes your depression worse. You need to give yourself a break. You are human and humans make mistakes. Don’t worry about your errors. Don’t tear yourself down, but instead just laugh about it.

Laughing about my mistakes helps me stand in the light of recovery.

Here is an old, but good post. It’s been a busy weekend. Next week will be a new post. enjoy. Please leave a comment.

 

In many of my blogs, I mentioned determination, but I have not talked about what determination is. How do you define determination? Is it the ability to make it through one more day of sadness? Is it the choice to face daily struggles? Is it the ability to stand up to life’s challenges? Or is it how you stand up to all of these challenges?

To me determination is to face life’s challenges with all the strength and willpower within you. It’s not giving up when everything around you seems dark and hopeless. It’s pushing forward when you feel as if you cannot go on anymore. It’s surpassing all odds and reaching forward when others have lost faith in you. Determination is the key to recovery from many disabilities, illnesses, and especially mental illness.

In grade school and high school, I struggled with a learning disability. My classmates and teachers thought I wasn’t smart enough to pass my classes or to have a future. I decided to prove them wrong. In high school, I found ways

to work around my disability and pass my classes with A’s. I pushed forward against all odds and graduated with scholarships and honors. I decided I was going to prove to my classmates, teachers, and the world I was not stupid. With determination, I went to college, earned a degree, and held a job for twenty years.

I applied this same determination to my mental illness. My life seemed hopeless and the dark hole endless. I lost faith in myself and when I was hospitalized, I dug deep down inside for the strength to climb out of the hole. I decided I did not want to live my life in darkness. I wanted to find happiness and to live a normal life. I felt like I was dying inside, but I pushed through it to reach towards the light. I mustered up all the strength I could to stand up to my illness. I pushed onward even though I could barely get out of bed or face the next day. It was the hardest challenge I ever had to face, but with determination, I reached recovery.

I’m now using all my inner strength to face physical health problems and to keep within the light. It would be easy to get depressed at the thought of facing another surgery and waking up each day with pain, but I will push forward.

It’s determination that has helped me through all my life challenges and has helped me grow into the person I am. If you’re not determined enough to stand up to your illness against all odds, then you’ll sit at the bottom of the hole in complete darkness. Stand up, take control of your life, and your illness. Push forward against all odds and climb the walls of the hole. Because of my determination, I stand at the top of the hole and I bathe in the light of happiness.