Author: Aimee Eddy

The world is constantly moving, people are going through different stages, stores remodel, buildings go up, life takes a new direction, and around we go on the Ferris wheel of change. The world is forever on a cycle of change. People change, technology changes, our lives change, and the places we live in change. We all grumble about it. Many people don’t like change. Sometimes it’s for the better, sometimes it makes no sense, and sometimes it’s for the worse. For people with mental illness, change can be extremely difficult. It can send a person down the hole of darkness and some feel safer when life and their daily routine stay the same. When the routine is broken, the person can become very upset.

How many of you complain when you go in a grocery store and find they are remodeling and moving everything around? We blame the employees and the company and claim we will shop somewhere else, but the next day or week we go back. For people who have mental illness, this change can trigger an anxiety attack or panic attack. They keep coming back because they have been going to that store for years and they refuse to go to somewhere new. Yet their regular store is totally different. It’s stressful and to some devastating.

I hate change. When my older sister grew up and moved out of the house, I had a choice. I could leave the bedroom I’d spent most of my childhood in and move to my older sister’s room or allow my younger sister to take my older sister’s room. The room I was used to had no door, it was cramped, it had sesame street wallpaper, and two small closets. My older sister’s room had one big closet, a door, and the room was spacious and had paneling on the bottom half of the wall and white paint on the top half. It was a wonderful opportunity to take, but I turned it down.

I was used to my bedroom. I felt safe in it. It was my room and changing to something new scared me. I know it was just a room, but it was my fortress of safety. The idea of moving out of it made me feel anxious and sad. I felt like I needed things to stay the same. If I changed I’d be further away from the nightlight, further away from the stairs, further away from my daily routine, and a part of me couldn’t handle the idea of all that being different. So my little sister got the bigger room and my mom helped me put up new wallpaper.

Now as an adult I am struggling with a new change. When she was younger, my oldest niece came to me about everything. She confided in me about her life as a teen. Each summer she spent a week with me and we’d go school shopping and to the movies. I watched her grow and change from a baby to a teen and now to an adult. When she graduated from high school and moved out on her own, I seemed less important to her. As she continued to grow into an adult, she stopped confiding in me. Recently she became a mom. I am happy to have a new great niece, but deeply saddened by the change in my relationship with her mom, my niece.

I now learn about what’s going on in my niece’s life by Facebook. I feel like I’m no longer important. This change in our relationship has threatened to throw me down the hole of depression. I feel lost and sad. I’m struggling with my feelings about this change. I feel like my niece no longer loves me.

My therapist taught me coping techniques to deal with change. I try to point out the positive side to change, like I have a new great niece to build that special relationship with. I journal out my feelings, turn to my support system for encouragement, logic, and comfort, and use self-reassurance to take that leap into something new. I reassure myself things will be different at first, but I will adapt and find the change is a good thing. I practice my breathing to avoid anxiety attacks. I’ve learned to look at change as a new adventure and not the end of my world.

Change doesn’t have to send you into depression, an anxiety attack, or a panic attack. Look at your daily routine; you might find by not allowing yourself to experience something new, you have put yourself into a rut or closed yourself off to better things. Don’t see change as a bad thing, but as a new journey. Don’t let your fear of change stop you from living. Take that leap. We are adaptable, so allow yourself to adapt.

I’ve taken many leaps into something else. Since I have taken steps into change, my life has gotten better, I have become stronger, and I am happier. Sometimes I struggle with change, but I turn to my coping techniques and I make it through. I’m dealing with the change in my relationship with my niece and learning even though we no longer talk as much, she still loves me and I’m still important to her. Dealing with change has helped me dance within the light.

 

2 c. Therapy                                  4 c. Acceptance

3 c. Positivity                                 1/2 lb. Courage

4 Tbsp. Medication                       1 lb. Perseverance

1 bunch of Support                       5 c. Self-love

1/2 lb. Determination                    1 Ray of light

 

Turn your heart and soul to 100%. You must put all of yourself into the recipe for recovery to bake fully. Allow yourself to heat up while you put together the ingredients. You must open your mind and understand you have an illness. Pour acceptance into a large bowl. Once you have accepted you have an illness, you must seek help by telling someone and finding professionals who can properly diagnosis you and give you what you need. Mix in therapy and medication.

In order to fight mental illness, you must dig deep inside yourself for strength and endurance. Mental illness is evil and you must stand tall to fight it. In a separate bowl, melt courage and determination together. Once it’s melted, mix it into the big bowl.

For recovery to rise properly, you must push forward no matter what. Life may get in the way, you may slip a few times, and you may feel like giving up, but you must go on. Mix in perseverance.

In order to find wellness, you need friends, family, and groups to lean on, to listen to you, and to encourage you. You can’t do it alone. Turn to anyone whom you can trust and depend on. Chop up support and put it in the bowl.

For years you have seen the worst side of everything. You became blind to the good. In order for recovery to bake properly, you must change your way of thinking. Mix positivity in and stir well.

You are no good to anyone if you do not treat yourself well or like yourself. You have neglected your needs and you have learned to hate yourself inside out. You must change this and start to look at yourself in a better way. You need to take care of your needs and nurture yourself during the rough times. Pour in self-love.

Mix all the ingredients with a mixer on low speed until it becomes doughy. Take the dough out of the bowl and gently knead in until all the lumps are out. Put it on a sheet and allow it to bake. As it bakes it will slowly rise over time into a loaf of recovery. Once the loaf has risen, you have taken control of your illness. You have finally made your own recovery, but recovery takes continuous work. In order to keep recovery from deflating, you must take care of it daily. You must hold on tight when the tooth pick of illness threatens to poke a hole in all your hard work. Now that your recovery is baked, dance on top of it within one ray of light.

Add more ingredients in if you need to in order to help bake your own recovery. Recovery is a beautiful thing, but only stays full for as long as you’re willing to sprinkle it with a new self-esteem and lots of love and maintain it with antidepressants and self-care. Enjoy your recovery. Dance in the light with pride.

 

I had a busy weekend and didn’t have time to write a blog post. Here is a old but good one. Enjoy.

Have you noticed that you have experienced some of the symptoms of mental illness in your life, but you don’t have mental illness? Do you wonder how the same things you have struggled with affect someone with mental illness differently? When my friend asked me how it was different for me, I told her to multiply her experience by three.

Everyone has suffered with a period of sadness, struggled at a time with self-esteem, worried too much and made things out to be worse than they are. Many symptoms of mental illness are things people face during the course of their lives, but there is a difference when you experience them on a regular basis.

For me the symptoms of depression and borderline were intense, painful and at times debilitating. The darkness of my hole spread throughout my soul and my body. The darkness nearly drained the breath from my lungs. My emotions hurt worse than a root canal and I felt as if I had no control over my feelings and actions. At times I forgot what happiness was and I wondered if I had ever felt it.

Getting out of bed became a struggle, sleeping was hopeless, making decisions seemed impossible and even eating became a challenge. I cried over the smallest things. I tried watching funny movies to only fall deeper into the hole. I couldn’t enjoy the company of friends and family. My writing, my biggest passion, couldn’t even shine a light within soul.

Imagine feeling your sad moments so intensely that no matter what you do, you can’t pull yourself out of it. Imagine worrying so much that it engulfs your every thought and churns your stomach until you’re sick. Sick to the stomach and sick within the body with aching muscles, tight chest and gasps for air. Imagine seeing a problem so big it makes you want to curl up in a ball and pray you could just slip away. This is what mental illness was like for me.

Even now while I am in recovery, I struggle with some of the intensity of the symptoms of mental illness. The difference is I am stronger and I know how to ask for help when I’m not strong enough. My worrying becomes overpowering at times and even my sleeping medication doesn’t work when I’m worrying. That’s when I turn to my husband and he reassures me and helps me find comfort.

When you face a bad day and are able to pull yourself up with a smile and a funny movie, think of the many who cannot recover so easily. Step into the mind of someone who is struggling with mental illness and be glad for the light that shines in your life. Lend a shoulder to someone who is struggling, and even though it is overwhelming, let him or her know you care. People who have mental illness feel the same things you do, but much more intensely.

 

Even though sometimes my feelings become overwhelming, I now have control and friends and family who help me stay within the light.

Families come in many forms. Most of us think of family as the people we are related to, but you don’t have to be blood-related to be family. Family can be good friends or even a pet. Family are the people whom you care for deeply, people whom you trust, and the people who stick at your side no matter what. In the process of working towards recovery and staying in recovery, having the support of family is very important. No matter what kind of family you have, they are essential to the process of reaching and staying in recovery. They are the strong shoulders that keep you going when you’re at your wits’ end.

The support of my biological family helped me climb the walls of my hole to recovery. My mom knew for a while something was wrong, but I kept denying it. She even took time each week to visit me at my grandparents, while I was living with them, to take me out and do things. One day I crumpled in her arms and told her all about my self-injuring, how sad I was, and my attempts to take my life. Mom didn’t waste any time.

She moved me back home and started a search to find me help. She took me to a therapist who only made things worse. When she couldn’t find me another therapist, she went to the mental health department of a nearby hospital for advice. She stopped at nothing. To this day she remains an important part of my recovery. When my husband is not around, I can just pick up the phone and call Mom. She’ll talk to me for as long as I need her. She always listens, encourages me, and gives me good advice. My dad has always been there to0. He loves me no matter what and he also encourages me.

 

For a few years I found recovery and started living the life I dreamed of. I had friends and a social life and I started dating. I had everything I didn’t have when I was in school. Then once again I fell back into my illness. In that time I became very close to Cheryl. She and I became so close it was like we were sisters, even calling each other sis. I could call her anytime: morning, day, and even late into the night. She stuck by me through an abusive relationship. She was there to pull me out of the way of an oncoming vehicle, she talked to me when I cried my eyes out and stayed on the phone until I was laughing, and she put her own needs a-side to help me when I needed her the most.

Cheryl and I lost contact for some time, but once we found each other again, our bond stayed just as strong. I text her all the time, and she gives me advice and is still very supportive. She reminds me when I start slipping to think positively and uses my own blog post against me. She reads all my posts and remembers what she has learned from them to help me when I am struggling. I am now able to be there for her, too. We help each other out and I still call her sis. She is my big sister in my heart and that’s all that counts.

When I was sick, I was pretty mean to my biological siblings, but they continue to stand at my side. Just knowing that they care and love me is enough support to keep me going. They could have disowned me for things I have done when I was down, but they haven’t. I talk to my sisters when I can and even though my brother isn’t as talkative, he supports me in his own way.

Then there are my dogs. I have had four throughout my adult life that were and are my babies. My dogs have always been a comfort to me. They loved me unconditionally and gave me comfort in a way humans couldn’t. They gave me strength and endless love. The dog I have now, Esther, follows me everywhere and loves to snuggle. Just feeling the softness of her fur beneath my skin is soothing. She and my past dogs are the children I can’t have and they always knew when I needed them most. When I had foot surgery last year, Esther would not leave me. Not even to get down to eat, and my husband had to carry her outside to get her to go potty.

 

 

Lean on your family for support. Family can be anyone who cares about you and loves you for who you are. No matter who your family is, biological or non-biological, look to them for support and allow them to help you reach recovery and stay within the light. If they love you, they will stand at your side no matter what.

I could go on and on about the family support I have. Like my husband’s aunt, uncle, and cousins who welcomed me into their lives with open arms, but I can never forget the one who is my strength, my logic, my rock, my inspiration and much more: my husband. Lou, my husband, is always there for me. I depend on him a lot. He never fails to be at my side. He has helped me reach recovery and stay within it. He always knows the right thing to do and say.

I have a lot of family who stand beside me, listen to me, care for me and help me stay in recovery. Because of their support, I stand within the light of their unending love.

 

After being sexually abused, you ask yourself, “How will I ever move on with my life?” You often wonder if you’ll ever heal and be able to live a normal life again. Does the pain and anger of what happened fill you and ruin any chance for you to have a normal, happy life? Do you ever forget? Will you ever look at yourself the same again?

The questions go on. What will your future be like? Will you stop trusting everyone? Will you forbid yourself to love again? Will you ever love yourself again? What will life be like after the abuse?

There are no simple answers to these questions. Everyone heals differently and is affected in different ways. The question you should ask is, “How do I choose to live my life after sexual abuse?” You can choose to fight or give up. You can be a survivor who fights to keep going on or a victim who closes him or herself off to the world. It’s all up to you. An abuser wins when you give up, but he or she loses when you fight to rise above what happened to you. It’s your choice; will your abuser win or lose?

I was sexually abused by a boyfriend and a friend. After the abuse from my friend, a girl, I became confused about my sexual orientation. I read books on it. I wasn’t sure who I was. My body reacted in ways I didn’t understand. It took time to sort out my thoughts and understand what happened to me. I even let a guy I barely knew touch me just to see how it felt and how I would react. I had to do some soul searching. I was already in a depression and the depression deepened. The abuse left me feeling angry, confused, lost, disgusted, and helpless. I knew healing from it would take time, but I had to fight for it. I couldn’t let her win. I wanted to be a survivor, not just a victim.

I thought I could never trust a friend again or become close to another woman again. I had dreams of the abuse, but something in me wouldn’t let me give up. When I started working after taking a year off from college, I made new friends, some bad and some good. I wanted to hide in a corner and pretend I didn’t exist, but what kind of life would that be? I kept fighting. I tried hard to bury the memories, but I realized I had to face them first and accept I was not at fault.

When I was abused by my boyfriend, I swore off men. I stopped dating and spent my time going to work and back home. How could I ever love again? A friend offered to set me up with a guy who was renting from her. I kept saying no, but my therapist and friends encouraged me to go on at least one date. I found it difficult to open my heart up again, but I gave it a try. He made promises I couldn’t walk away from. My life had to go on. I had to let myself love again. When the new man said, “I love you,” I said it was too soon. So he kept telling me using sign language, and in time I to was able to say, “I love you” back. I learned to love again, and after thirteen years and almost eleven years of marriage, I’m still falling in love with him.

My life had to continue. I couldn’t give up. It took a lot of work, but I did it. The scars from the abuse were still deep in my soul, but the wounds did heal. I went to therapy. I wrote notes to my abusers and I continued to push forward. I didn’t want to be just a victim; I wanted to be a survivor. Sometimes the memories come back in dreams. I can never completely forget, but I choose not to let the past ruin my life, my future, and me. The memories no longer control me. I learned to forgive them for my own benefit. I live a happy life because I rose above my abuse and my abusers lost. I am a winner.

Don’t let abuse make you just a victim; fight to continue on, to trust again, to live again, and to heal. Live your life and find strength to stand tall. Ask for help, tell someone, and work hard to help your inner wounds heal. Be a survivor. Don’t let your abuser be the winner. Share your story with others. Your story can help others become survivors, too.

I learned to love again, I learned to trust again, and I fought to go on. Because I did, I stand before you a survivor. I share my story with you so you, too, can become a survivor. Because I fought to heal, I stand within the radiant light of strength.

Who knows why some people get illnesses–like cancer, diabetes, multiple sclerosis and other illness–and others don’t? Scientists and doctors try to find links to why people get ill. They have theories, but no absolute answers. We ourselves question why. We ask, why me? What have I done wrong? I try to stay healthy, I exercise, I try to eat right, and so on. How could this happen to me? People with mental illness have similar thoughts. Sometimes they feel they brought their own illness on themselves. They blame themselves for having an illness they have no control over.

When I was suffering from my illness, I lay awake in bed at night staring up at the ceiling and trying to figure out what I did to cause my illness. Did I put the awful thoughts in my mind? Did I do something that caused my mental illness? Maybe I’m making myself sick. Maybe my sadness isn’t real. Maybe my illness was a figment of my imagination and I was just using it for attention, but if that was the case, why couldn’t I stop it?

I’d twist around in bed trying to figure out how I was causing my illness. There were plenty of others walking around with smiles on their faces and laughing like they didn’t have a care in the world. How come they could be happy and all I felt was sadness? Did I do something to make God punish me? Did I lie about something, did I cheat someone, did I break one of God’s commandments, or maybe I wasn’t a good person?

I screamed into the silent night, “What did I do wrong? God, please tell me what I did to cause my illness and I’ll make it right.”

There never was an answer. I just lay in bed fighting my racing thoughts and anguish. My insides twisted into knots and sleep became impossible. If I wasn’t to blame for my misery, who was? In my distorted thoughts I could find no one to hold responsible for my inner pain but myself. I even thought maybe I deserved to suffer. I wasn’t a good Christian. I hated God. I stopped going to church. I questioned his existence. I thought maybe God was like Santa, make believe. I made God mad, therefore causing him to give me an awful illness.

There I had the proof I was to blame for my mental illness. I came up with my own evidence to convict myself. My sentence was a life of inner anguish, deep sadness, emotional episodes, getting sick to my stomach, sleepless nights and inner pain so deep nothing seemed to ease it but hurting myself. I didn’t even get a trial or a chance to prove my innocence. I was automatically thrown down into a dark endless hole.

It wasn’t until I started going to therapy that I found out I was all wrong. My therapist told me I had an illness that could have been caused by many factors, such as the harassment I received in school, by inheritance or a chemical imbalance in my brain. She told me I didn’t cause my illness and no one could really know why I had it while others didn’t. Just like no one knew why one person had cancer and another didn’t. Maybe we’ll never know why. It’s just one of those things. She told me by no means was I to blame for my illness and my illness was real, not something I made up.

In time I started going to church, and with the help of a friend, I asked God back into my life. I realized God was never punishing me and even though I turned my back on him he was always there. He waited patiently for me to come back to him and he kept me going when I didn’t think I could. He kept me alive when I tried to take my life. He was never mad at me for questioning his existence, and even though I did, he stayed beside me.

Once I reached recovery, he helped me use my illness to write this blog, to write for a website, to write inspirational quotes for a web page, and to write my memoir to help others. I turned my back on him and he forgave me. He has opened doors for me. I use my experiences to help and reach others suffering with similar problems. I didn’t suffer for no reason. Now I have a purpose. I suffered to inspire, help, and teach others. Despite what I have done, God was there for me and still is.

If you’re blaming yourself for your mental illness, stop. You’re not to blame. You didn’t do anything wrong. Once you accept that there are natural and environmental causes that are out of your hands for your sickness, then you can move forward. Let yourself off the hook. Accept your illness as something you didn’t cause and move towards recovery. No one is to blame for your illness, but you can be the one to overcome it by fighting to climb out of the hole and standing in the light.

Now that I know I’m not to blame for my illness, I can stand in God’s light and the gleaming light of recovery with joy.