Author: Aimee Eddy

October is a busy month: It is not only Breast Cancer Awareness Month, but it is also International Blindness Awareness Month and National Disability Awareness Month. On October 18 my good friend, Amy Bovaird, a very talented author, is putting together a seminar called Disability inSIGHTS. There will be seven speakers on different topics like mental illness, Autism, blindness, and deafness. It will be an uplifting seminar that will encourage its attendees to work around their disabilities to inspire and touch the world.

Amy Bovaird messaged me on instant messenger, asking if I would be willing to speak about mental illness for this very special event. I was excited and a bit scared. She wanted me to write a twenty to thirty minute lecture. I’ve never written longer then a ten minute speech. My first question was, “Can I do a speech that long, and what will I talk about?” I confided in Amy about my concerns. She was very encouraging. She is a reader of this blog and made suggestions of different topics I could write about.

Then I worried about how I would write my lecture. For a fifteen-minute speech I used index cards, but there would be is a lot of cards for a twenty to thirty minute lecture. So how will I remember everything I want to say? I asked Amy and others who speak. They suggested I do an outline of the different things I want to say. It is my story, so what can go wrong? So I am working hard on my outline.

The title of my talk will be “Recovery from Mental Illness is Possible.” I decided I will share my story about how I suffered with mental illness and struggled to reach for recovery. I will give some examples of coping techniques I used to reach recovery and the steps to take toward recovery. I hope to inspire other attendees to also reach for recovery from mental illness. Just as the seminar states, I want to give insights into living with mental illness and becoming capable of reaching recovery and becoming an important part of society.

I urge you to come and listen to not only me, but the other six speakers. First, I want to tell you about the one putting the seminar together, my friend, Amy Bovaird. She is legally blind and is also losing her hearing. Despite her disabilities, she is an author of three wonderful books, and she is a powerful speaker and a blogger. She is a very determined person who doesn’t let any obstacles get in her way. She has been working tirelessly on making this seminar a success. I find her to be a very inspiring woman who is living her life to the fullest despite her disabilities. Let’s help her make this seminar a success.

Here is some information about the other speakers. Maxwell Ivey, Jr., aka the Blind Blogger, speak about, “Life is like a River: Overcoming Adversity and Moving Forward.” He has a rare, incurable hereditary eye condition that results in blindness. He will have an inspiring lecture about his struggles and how he overcame his disability to become a successful author, speaker, online media coach, and podcast host.

Emmanuel Lee’s topic is, “The Life of a Deaf–Blind Adult.” He will share stories about his life, like facing abuse at home and bullying at school. He’ll tell how the Helen Keller National Center for Deaf–Blind Youths and Adults taught him to adapt to his newfound abilities.

Stephanae McCoy’s topic is “How Losing My Sight Expanded My Vision.” She will share three tips about what she learned to help you also navigate the road to social entrepreneurship.

Chelsea C. Nguyen will have a table center for “Blindness and Adaptive Hands–On Makeup, Hair Styling, and Shaving Demos.” She will give demonstrations on adaptive styling and shaving tools a person with limited or no vision can use. She will give others the opportunities to touch, feel, and practice on a mannequin head.

There will also be an expert panel on Autism, starting with Erica Ploski, MA, LPC, a licensed professional counselor and mother of three children. Casey Ireson is a college senior and public speaker sharing autism awareness and insights from his personal journey. Dr. Paul A. Bensur Jr., who is a published author of Autistic Spectrum Disorder A New Outlook, will also be on the panel.

This will be an inspiring seminar not just for people with disabilities, but for anyone. So come hear me and the others on October 18 at the Tomridge Center, Erie, PA from 10 am to 3 pm. Register now at the site below. Space is limited, so register right away. You can also find out more about the speakers and the conference at this site. Let’s all reach beyond our disabilities and challenges to dance in the light of success.

https://amybovaird.com/disabilityinsights

God worked really hard when he made my grandmother. He put extra love in her heart, warm arms to hug with, and strength that could endure the toughest hardships. I don’t have the right words to completely describe how wonderful my grandma was. She made a big impact, not only on my life, but on the lives of everyone she met. Even while she was sick in the nursing home, struggling, she touched the people around her. She had a glow about her. It shone from the inside out. The glow was God’s light. God placed it within her soul, and it shone so bright that it radiated in her smile, her warm eyes, and in the things she did.

My grandmother never had a lot of money, yet she would give her last pennies to help another in need. I remember holiday meals at my grandparents’ home where Grandma would invite a lonely elderly lady to join us. My dad told us stories where Grandma would give food to strangers when she barely had enough food to feed her eight children. She gave endless love and compassion when she had nothing else to give. While she was in the nursing home, my husband and I brought her cookies we made, and she offered them to some of the other residents. She lost her independence, her home, and almost everything, and yet she was still giving.

As a child, I always felt abundance of love from my grandmother. She didn’t spoil me with gifts, but with love. No matter how bad I felt after being bullied at school, I would always feel better after a hug from Grandma. Grandma was a good listener, and I could talk to her about anything. She always had comforting words to share, and she knew how to make me feel special and important. When I felt rejected at school, I felt accepted at my grandparents. She always believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself.

Grandma could write the most beautiful letters that brought tears to my eyes, and she loved to write them. I believe it is from her I got my writing talent. She beamed with pride each time I read her a story I wrote. Each time I got published, she had to have a copy. She loved my writing, and I was more than excited to share with her my accomplishments. Even while she lay dying, I read her a chapter from my memoir, and in a very weak and low voice, she told me she liked it. Even while life was fading from her, she loved the words I read to her. I believe they gave her comfort.

I never left my grandma’s home without a hug. She hugged everyone, even strangers. Her arms were always warm and gentle. When I brought my friends to my grandma’s, they too had to have a hug, even though she didn’t know them well. I looked forward to her hugs. Her hugs were more than just two arms wrapped around me; they were magical. They lifted me up when I felt down, they filled me with strength, they brought light into my dark soul, and they helped me face a harsh world with courage.

Grandma said that she loved all her grandchildren the same, but in my soul, I felt like her favorite. Ever since I was a child, people said I looked like a younger version of her. I believed that made me extra special. Before I went to writing conferences, Grandma would pick a day to take me shopping. She would buy me two nice outfits for the conference and take me to lunch. She even bought me a suitcase set I still have.

I lived with my grandparents for a bit while I was in college. At church and on the phone, Grandma bragged about my good grades to friends and family. She wouldn’t let me help her around the house. She said my college work was more important. She bought me my favorite foods, and when I got sick she nursed me until I was well again. I just wish I hadn’t been so sick and could have lived with them longer.

Even though I was at the deepest depth of my mental illness, I couldn’t let my grandparents know how sick I was. They enjoyed having me live with them, and I couldn’t crush their hearts with the knowledge I was trying to take my life. Even though she didn’t know, it was her endless gifts of love that kept me from succeeding with suicide. She was the one light I had to hold onto in my darkest times.

Grandma had a deep love for God. She didn’t have to preach the word of God, because she lived in his light. She spread her passion for the Heavenly Father by the life she lived. She gave kindness to everyone around her, she gave endlessly, she never judged anyone, and she touched people with a smile. Her faith is what got her through some very rough times in her life. When her son was killed by a drunk driver, she got on her knees and prayed. When she got in an accident that left a mother childless, she prayed for strength. When she had little money to feed her children, she prayed. God was her strength and guiding light. Her love for the Heavenly Father was so great that you could see it in her eyes and smile. She was the most faithful and religious person I’ve ever known.

My grandma has always been a huge part of my life and will forever remain in my heart. She watched me take my first steps and from heaven she’ll watch me take my exciting steps into publication when I publish my memoir. I believe she will continue to watch me with each new step I will take in my life.

Grandma always said, “Never say goodbye, because I will see you again.” So when I went to see my grandma lying in bed, skin and bones, her glow fading and death calling her, I didn’t say my goodbyes, but instead I told her, “I will see you again.” Some day when it’s my time to go to heaven, I will be reunited with my grandma and I will give her a big hug.

Today, the day this post goes out, I will be sitting at Grandma’s funeral whispering, “I will see you again someday.” No matter how long it takes, I will see her again. Until then, I will live my life to the fullest and use my writing the way God wants me to, to help others. I’ll give from my heart and I will live in God’s light, like Grandma did.

See you again Grandma. You live in my heart and I will always be thankful to be your granddaughter.

Many resist going on medication when they find out they have mental illness. The idea of being on an antidepressant for life can be frightening. Some medications also have a bad reputation. There are stories of people going on them and becoming like zombies. The person just sleeps, can’t function or even think. This scares people. They want to get better, not become a zombie. So many turn to alternatives like medicating with drugs and alcohol, natural remedies, or just go untreated.

Finding the right antidepressant that works for you is not an easy process. What works for one person doesn’t mean it will work for everyone. You have to keep trying different types until one works for you. Plus, antidepressants are not an automatic cure. You can’t take the medication and suddenly everything is better. It doesn’t work that way. An antidepressant treats symptoms of your illness, but the rest is hard work through therapy to undo years of misguided thinking and self-loathing. You have to change your way of thinking completely and that is not easy.

When I started on antidepressants for my mental illness, I wanted the medicine to take away all the bad thoughts, to make me love myself, and to make me feel like I was worth something. I wanted it to work right away. Unfortunately, they didn’t work that way. The psychiatrist told me it could take up to two weeks for my medication to start working, and if it wasn’t working in that time, he would try me on another one.

My first thoughts were: You mean I have to wait? It doesn’t work right away? I want to feel better now.

The psychiatrist just handed me a prescription and sent me on my way. Two weeks later I was feeling the same. The psychiatrist put me on another one. With the new one I was constantly tired. I needed lots of naps. I would go to college and fall asleep in class, and when I went home for the day all I could do was sleep. It seemed like I was spending lots of money on antidepressants that weren’t working. It seemed hopeless. Would I find any relief from my illness?

I told my therapist how hopeless it seemed and how expensive it was to keep buying medication that didn’t work. She helped me find programs to pay for the antidepressant and encouraged me not to give up. She told me to never take myself off an antidepressant. Why? Because automatically being taken off of antidepressants can cause withdrawal and other complications. She said if I was having any problems with my medication to call my psychiatrist right away.

A good psychiatrist knows medications well and knows that a person must be weaned off of an antidepressant before a new one is started. I had psychiatrists take me off medication without weaning. I had sweats, shaking, nausea, and sleeplessness and became very sick. I couldn’t eat for days. It was awful. After that I found a new psychiatrist. I went through several until I found Doctor Lance Besner and he knew his medications well. I will never leave him because he is the best psychiatrist I ever had.

Before I saw Doctor Besner, I was seeing a psychiatrist who had me on high doses of three antidepressants. After being on that much medication for several years, I began to lose my memory and I had a tremor. I couldn’t remember what day it was and the simplest things. I have a bad memory to begin with, but this was worse. I felt like I was losing my mind. On top of that I couldn’t even hold a pen without shaking. I couldn’t hold my hands still no matter what.

I told my psychiatrist and he sent me for neurological tests. When those came back normal, he took me off all my medication. I started making mistakes at work, I went days without sleep, I went from hot to cold within minutes, and I couldn’t eat. Just the thought of food made me sick. I got suspended from work for a mistake and my whole body began to shake. My husband took me to the emergency room. They said I was dehydrated and going through withdrawal.

A friend suggested I go see doctor Besner and I did. He started the game of trying to find what medication worked for me. It is a rough game, but this time he gave me samples of the antidepressants. That way I wasn’t losing a lot of money when the prescription didn’t work. When one antidepressant didn’t work, he cut the dosage while slowly starting me on a new one. Once I was completely off the old antidepressant, he increased the new one. He did this process until I found one that took away many of my symptoms. I could finally sleep, I had more energy, I could think more clearly, and my depression wasn’t so horrible. I took control of the rest of my depression by going to therapy and working hard to change my thought processes.

If your antidepressant isn’t working or you’re having bad side effects, tell your psychiatrist. Don’t take yourself off the medication on your own. Be patient; there is one that will work for you. Don’t expect the medicine to be an automatic fix. Remember, you have to put work into your recovery. You must go to therapy and do any homework the therapist gives you. Remember, it takes time for antidepressants to work, so don’t expect to feel relief right away.

I have found the right combination of medication that works for me. With medication and hard work I am enjoying the light of recovery.

Many ask, “Which is harder, having someone die suddenly or watching someone die slowly?” In my experience, both are equally hard. Death, no matter how it happens, is extremely painful and heartbreaking. We can never prepare ourselves to lose someone we love, no matter how short or long the loved one’s life was. Grief is hard either way and could send anyone into a depression. For those who have depression or who are in recovery from depression, grief can be especially cruel.

Last week my grief was just too overpowering for me to be able to release it on paper. I just couldn’t put it into words. In a way, I have been grieving for my grandma over a period of several years. It first started when she got sick about six years ago and had to go into a nursing home. Slowly, over the years, I watched my grandma’s health deteriorate. I missed visiting her at her home. I missed her inviting my husband and me over for lunch for a feast and then sending us home with a bag of groceries from her cupboard, and having her at family events, and so on.

Even though her health has faded, God’s glow shone in her. During some visits we sat silently at her side holding her hand while she slept, and during other visits we filled her in on what was going on in our lives. One time we helped her play bingo and she won. She insisted we take her prizes home. It was her way of still giving, even when she had nothing left to give. Even though she was stuck in a nursing home, unable to give what little she had, she still had endless love to give.

When she was put in the nursing home, a part of her died. She had always been an independent woman and suddenly she was confined to a wheelchair. She had always been a talker. I used to be able to hold a conversation with her for hours, but the conversations turned to me doing most of the talking. The strong, vibrant woman had turned into a weak, elderly woman dependent on her nurses. I grieved losing the woman she once was.

In December, my mom called me and said Grandma was dying, and I cried. We watched her body slowly going through the dying process week after week and month after month. Each time my husband and I came to visit her, she seemed frailer and she slept more. We spent most of the time sitting at her side, holding her hand while she slept. When she was awake enough to talk to us, her words were few and sometimes she was confused. Yet she still had that glow of God’s love in her soul. The glow shone in her smile and eyes, but that glow was dimming.

Recently, Grandma became bedridden, and the dying process sped up. Hospice told us it’s only a matter of time. Each time I go to see her, I read her a chapter from my memoir. She is now skin and bones, her body dying and her smile completely gone and in its place a frown. I look into her eyes and I can see the glow slowly fading. My heart is shattered. I want to wrap her in my arms and cry, but instead I tell her how much I love her and that I’m happy she will soon be reunited with Grandpa in heaven.

It is so hard watching her die. I pray each night that God takes her home soon. I ask God why it has to be so slow. Each time I see her, the weaker she becomes. Wednesday, when I saw her, her eyes were closed. When she did open them, her breathing was ragged. I could tell she was struggling. I read her another chapter. I asked her if she liked it. Her voice was so weak that I had to get up close to her lips to hear her say, “Yes.”

Each day I wake up wondering, “Will this be the day I get the call she passed?” I find it nearly impossible to get out of bed and go to work. My heart is so broken and filled with pain I can barely breathe. I push myself to go to work and force a smile on my lips, even though a depression is blanketing my soul. I know all the signs of my sickness. I am very aware of my illness and I know that unbearable sadness all too well. I keep pushing myself to keep going because I know that’s what Grandma would want me to do.

I’m turning to my support system for comfort. My husband is very supportive. My close friend, who has been one of my biggest supporters, is dealing with her own problems and she can’t be of much help to me, and I can’t be of much help to her. So instead, I’m turning to some of my other friends. I feel bad not being able to support my friend and it seems strange not being able to confide in her, but at least we have other people to lean on.

My grieving may have put me into a depression, but I know if I keep practicing my coping techniques, leaning on my support system, and taking care of myself, in time I will once again pull myself out of this dark hole. Maybe by the time this post goes up, Grandma may have passed. It’s hard to tell when God will take her home and give her her angel wings. I just know this will get harder before it gets easier, but I will get through this. I’m too strong to let depression keep me down.

It’s easy to slip into a depression when you’re grieving. You may have never had depression in your life, and you lose someone you love, and suddenly you’re in that dark hole. While you’re going through grief, know the symptoms of depression, practice self-care, turn to counseling if you need to, build a support team, and don’t deny yourself the right to cry. Crying helps you let that pain out. Taking care of yourself and your needs is very important. If you neglect yourself, you can fall farther down that dark hole. If you need a higher dose of antidepressants to get you through or to start some medication, then talk to your psychiatrist or doctor. Do what it takes to fight the depression and climb out of that hole.

It may take a little time to get over my depression, but I refuse to let it drag me all the way down to the darkest depth of my hole. I am a fighter, like my grandma. Grandma is fighting all the way to the end, and when she is gone I will continue to fight until I am once again dancing in the light of recovery.

This week there is no post. I’m on vacation and enjoying a week with my hubby and family. I will post something next week. Enjoy.