Author: Aimee Eddy

When you are working towards recovery, you stumble, you slip, and you tumble, but do you give up? Do you say, “It’s not worth the fight if I can’t get better right away?” If your therapist isn’t helping, do you just quit therapy? When your therapist makes a suggestion you don’t like, do you walk away? The sad thing is many quit and never reach recovery. Why? Because they want to reach recovery overnight and they want their therapist to always be good and right. These people who give up end up in an endless cycle of despair and anguish. They never reach recovery; instead they sit at the bottom of their holes.

At the grocery store where I work, I recently waited on a nurse who works in a mental health hospital. I told her about my recovery and she told me, “It is so good to hear about someone who sees recovery through. So many get impatient and I see them often back in the hospital. If only they would keep fighting, they could reach recovery.” She is so right. If only more who suffer with mental illness were patient and willing to keep fighting there would be more of them enjoying recovery.

A woman I know is having mental health problems. She went to her doctor who referred her to a therapist. She went to a few appointments with the therapist. The therapist made suggestions she didn’t like so instead of telling her therapist or finding one she liked better, she quit going. She continues to struggle on a revolving cycle of deep sadness, hopelessness, and negativity. She goes to work and home. She finds the bad side to everything and has driven away some of her friends. When she is invited out, she finds a reason not to go. She may never reach recovery because she refuses to fight. Instead, she gave up on her chance for recovery.

Another woman I know has gone from psychiatrist to psychiatrist and therapist to therapist trying to find recovery. She has chosen to change her own medication because it’s not working as fast as she wants it to. She keeps searching for a fast road to recovery to only find herself falling back down the hole. She goes to her friends looking for comfort, and when they can’t give it to her, she turns away from them. She keeps giving up on those who are there to help her because she is impatient, so her sadness goes on and on.

I, too, at one time wanted a fast recovery. I wanted to be better right away. I didn’t want to wait. I just wanted my inner pain to end. I got mad at my therapist and at myself when I kept tumbling backwards. I was up and down. When I thought I was getting better, I slipped down into the hole. I felt that recovery was impossible, but a voice within me said, “Don’t give up. Keep fighting.”

I had a therapist tell me I was cutting to hurt others. Another therapist told me to think happy thoughts. One psychiatrist played around with my medication and I went through withdrawal. Another psychiatrist put me on a lot of antidepressants and even though I wasn’t improving, he wouldn’t do anything. I felt like quitting, but I didn’t. Instead, I tried out several therapists and psychiatrists until I found ones that I liked and ones that helped me.

Recovery took several years. I struggled through bouts of depression and anguish. I stumbled and tumbled down the hole, but I didn’t give up. Instead, I fought. I wanted to find happiness, I wanted a normal life, and most of all I wanted to reach recovery. So with determination I worked hard and I fought to climb up out of my hole.

If you want to reach recovery, learn to be patient. Allow yourself to slip and fall. If you don’t like your therapist or psychiatrist, search for new ones. Try several until you find a therapist or psychiatrist that best suits you. You don’t have to approve of all the advice they give. Use the suggestions that work best for you. Recovery doesn’t happen overnight, so buckle down and prepare yourself to fight for as long it takes. Fight no matter what happens and remember you must do the work. So work hard and in time you will stand tall within the light.

I didn’t give up. I fought over several years and I did fall down the hole many times, but I pulled myself back up. Because I didn’t give up, I bathe in the light.

This week due to the holiday I was unable to put up a blog post. I do want to say the Christmas spirit has been alive. While working as a cashier I watched as customers paid for other customers groceries. They asked for nothing in return they simply said, ” Merry Christmas.” So this Christmas give a piece of yourself to others. It’s not about gifts that money can buy, but gifts from the heart for God gave us a gift from his heart. His one and only son.

Give from your heart each day and into the new year.

Merry Christmas!!!

 

 

Who likes winter? Those who participate in winter sports, those who plow driveways for a living, those who live in warm climates, or those very few who just like the colder weather. Many of us who live in the areas that are known for cold weather and snow get the winter blues. Many suffer with Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) which is a type of depression that comes around during the change of season, particularly winter. Even if you’re not diagnosed with SAD and you have depression, winter can make your depression worse.

When I was a kid, I loved snow. I’d go sledding with my siblings, we’d build snowmen as big as we could make them, and we’d have snow ball fights and stay outside until we could no longer feel our fingers. We even built ramps out of snow and jumped them with our sleds. We had so much fun. Childhood was fun, but as I got older, I began to hate snow and winter.

When I was a teen, it meant darker days which matched the darkness already lingering in my soul. The cold became a nuisance, boots and hats weren’t cool, and I no longer liked going outside. I sat alone in my room with thoughts racing through my head: mean, ugly and nagging thoughts. My thoughts ripped at me and tormented me. There was no escape from them. The fun of winter became only a memory. I fell deeper into my hole of depression.

Then I started driving. Driving down icy roads, through blizzards and hardly being able to see. Next it was scraping snow off the windshield, getting stuck in snow drifts, and sitting in a cold car waiting for it to heat up. I began to dread the winter more. I’d hold on to my steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. Where-ever I went I worried about the weather and whether or not I’d make it home. The winter blues settled in. My heart grew heavy and the hole seemed darker. My stomach twisted and my worries overwhelmed me.

Now my husband drives the car to work and I have to walk down to the end of our road and wait for the bus. Some sidewalks are shoveled and some are not. It can be very cold and the wind stirs up the snow and throws it in my face. I feel my soul sliding down that hole. I want to lie in bed until spring. I don’t want to face another day of dark skies, cold temperatures, and endless snow, but I push myself to keep going.

To get through the winter blues, I had to find somethings good about it like: I have a warm home to go to. If I look out the window, the snow seems to glisten with an unspoken beauty. No matter how cold it gets there’s a way to get warm and no matter how bad the weather gets, I don’t lose my home and all my possessions. On days that I don’t have to leave the house for work, I keep myself busy with writing, housework, journaling, reading, and so on.

Beat the winter blues. It’s hard, but there is good in winter. Think of the people who are losing everything they have to natural disasters; think of those who have no home to go to and be grateful for what you have. Stare out a window at the snow. See how it hangs from the barren tree branches, see how it glistens when the sun peeks out, and watch how it falls from the sky in perfect flakes. Be a kid again. Make snow angels, make a snowman, and throw a snowball at a friend.

I grumble about the winter and sometimes I find myself sliding towards the hole of depression, but I remind myself that there is beauty in all God has created, even winter. When the winter blues settle in, I chase them away and look for something positive hiding in the dark and cold of winter. Finding something good helps me feel the light shining through the billowing clouds.

 

We are always in a hurry. Everyone’s always rushing around trying to get everything done in a flash, especially this time of year. With the holidays coming, we are trying so hard to send our cards out, buy gifts, plan meals, and wrap gifts. We lose track of things like the meaning of the holidays, the feel of the sun on our face, the meaning of life, the kindness of a stranger, and so on. When you’re working towards recovery from mental illness, you want to rush the process. You want to get better right away, but unfortunately, it takes time. You have to take it one day at a time.

Recently I have been reminded to slow down and not to push myself. I got sick last month with a cold that turned into a viral infection and into a sinus infection. I worried about work, my writing, and editing my memoir. I didn’t have time to be sick, but my husband told me my health comes first. He sentenced me to the couch to sleep and watch television. The doctor told me I needed to take time off from work and to rest. I hated the idea of missing work, but Lou made sure I stuck to it. I had to take it one day at a time.

Patience was also something I had to learn while working towards recovery. I wanted the sadness to go away over-night, but unfortunately, it didn’t work that way. After my ex-boyfriend threw me out, I went into the hospital, and in the hospital I decided I wanted to get better. I wanted to live a normal life. I wanted to find happiness and live in the light.

After I left the hospital, I started seeing a new therapist, I went to a therapy group, and I started on new medication. I even began going to church with my parents. After some time off I returned to work. I was doing all the right things, but yet I cried in therapy, I sat alone in my room, and I struggled to stop injuring. I still had so much hurt in me from the abuse of my ex, and my sadness wouldn’t just go away. I wanted it to just disappear, but it took time.

Day by day I worked hard towards recovery. It seemed like progress was slow. My therapist had to remind me to take it one day at a time. Recovery doesn’t happen overnight. I had to change years of negative thinking, I had to heal old wounds, I had to rediscover myself, and I had to learn to love myself. That’s a lot of work.

I worked hard and over a few years I started to find some happiness, but yet I kept falling into episodes of depression. Each day I wrote in my journal and practiced positive thinking, yet I kept falling back into the hole.

I remembered the hymn, “One Day at a Time, Sweet Jesus.” The chorus sang in my mind,

“One day at a time sweet Jesus

That’s all I’m asking from you.

Just give me the strength

To do every day what I have to do.

Yesterday’s gone sweet Jesus

And tomorrow may never be mine.

Lord help me today, show me the way

One day at a time.”

That part reminded me I had to take each day one at a time and I need the heavenly father’s help to do it. No one knows what tomorrow holds for us. We have to slow down and be patient. I slowed down and prayed. God introduced me to my husband, we started couple therapy, and with his help and in time the episode of depression went away. In time I reached recovery.

So, don’t rush your days away and don’t hurry your recovery. Slow down and take it one day at a time. Go to therapy, work on your thinking, fight with all that’s in you, but be patient. It doesn’t happen overnight. It may take months or years, but in time you’ll reach recovery. Pray to Jesus for the strength and guidance. Take it one day at a time for we never know what tomorrow holds. Tomorrow the sun might shine even brighter. Pace yourself and learn from the journey.

Now and again I have to be reminded to slow down and enjoy each day, but since I learned to take it one day at a time, I am enjoying Jesus’s light shining down upon me.

Self-love is more than loving yourself for who you are, but it is also taking care of yourself. To love yourself is to take care of your needs, to pamper yourself, to respect yourself, and to love you as the person God made you to be, not only as a person with an illness. Learning to love yourself inside out is important to reach the road to recovery from mental illness.

When you’re sick with mental illness, you lose your self-esteem, your self-respect, and self-love. You begin to hate and neglect yourself. You rip yourself apart with your thoughts and you may harm yourself. You don’t give yourself the care, love and respect you deserve. You don’t even know you deserve it. You’re too stuck in self-hate and darkness to see your own worth.

Practicing self-love will help you reach into the light and pull yourself out of that hole. It took me a long time to learn how to love myself properly. When I was sick, I hated everything about me, how I looked, how I acted, my personality, and so on. I had to learn to love me as I am and not the illness that plagued my mind. To love myself I had to learn and practice self-loving techniques.

Here are some self-loving techniques you can practice:

• Get help with your illness. Find a therapist you feel comfortable confiding in and a psychiatrist whom you trust. Good therapists and psychiatrists may be hard to find. Try different ones until you find the ones you feel the most comfortable with.
• Go to the doctor when you need to. Don’t ignore your health. If you’re sick, don’t push yourself to work until you collapse. If you’re having health problems, go to the doctor. If you love yourself, you will take care of your health and not let it go until something major happens. You will also do annual physicals to make sure you’re staying in good health.
• Pamper yourself. After a hard day of work, take a soothing bath. When you feel down, treat yourself to something special like a movie or that shirt you’ve been wanting. When you accomplish something, treat yourself to something special like a piece of cheese cake or just do something to help you feel good, like get a haircut or get a massage.
• Practice positive thinking. Keep a journal of the positive things in your day or in your life. Use your journal to turn negative thoughts into positive. Practice complimenting yourself.
• Ask three people four things they like about you. Take those things and put them on index cards. Post them around your home where you will see them. Read them over and over again until you begin to believe them.
• Write self-affirmations. Write one each day and slowly increase it to two, then three, and four a day. Don’t write something you don’t believe in. An affirmation like, “I am a strong and beautiful woman.” Look deep within yourself and find the positive behind the sadness.
• Find God. Go to church, go to a Bible study, or sit down and pray. God made you and he is the one who can guide you and show you how truly unique you are. Loving God will help you love yourself.

When I was working towards recovery, I struggled with many of these techniques, but in time they became natural. When I find myself dipping into self-hate, I turn to these techniques. Loving me is an important part of staying in recovery. Practicing self-love taught me how to not only love myself, but how to take care of myself, and this helps me stand tall within the light.

I’m still struggling with sickness so here is another older post and perfect for the holiday. Have a Happy Thanksgiving!!

 

Many times while we’re depressed, we forget to be grateful for the things we do have in our life. We often think we have nothing good in our lives. We see the worst side of everything and we believe there isn’t anything to be thankful for. How can we be thankful for the darkness that blankets our souls?

There is more to our lives than the illness that plagues our minds. We need to open our eyes and look at what we do have, and I don’t mean just material things. God placed many people in our life to help us survive.

When I was depressed, I felt as if I was being tortured. How could I thank God for that? My mom often said I saw the glass half empty. I did. I saw the negative side to the world about me, and when Thanksgiving came around I felt more depressed. What did I have to be grateful for? I was sick with anxiety, I was depressed, my emotions were out of control, I couldn’t sleep and my existence seemed hopeless.

What I couldn’t see was I had a lot to be thankful for. I had and still have loving parents, wonderful

grandparents, caring siblings, a home, friends, food to eat, and much more. Most importantly I had lots of love surrounding me.

My grandpa always said the richest people in the world  are people who have family, friends, and love. It took me a while to let those words sink into my dark soul and see he was right. In the process of recovery, I had to learn to see the glass full. I became very grateful for just being alive. If I actually had taken my life, there is so much I would have missed out on, like my nieces and nephews, finding my true love, and finding happiness.

This Thanksgiving I am thankful I am still in recovery, I have a aunt and uncle and cousins on my husband’s side who have opened there hearts to me, I have my parents, my grandma, a wonderful husband, my many nieces and nephews, my dog, my sibling, my happiness, friends, love and much more. With all I have, I believe I am one of the richest persons in the world. I might not have much money, but I’m rich in love.

So this Thanksgiving season stop looking at all the bad things you have in your life and look at the precious gifts God has given you.  Write a list of the things you are thankful for. Tell the people around you how grateful you are for them. Remember, family isn’t always the one you were born into. Family can be really good friends who love and support you.

This Thanksgiving and all year long, I thank God for all I have. Being thankful helps me remember what I could have missed out on if I had taken my life or never reached recovery. I thank everyone who supports me, who loves me, and who care for me. Being thankful helps me stand within the light.

 

We all think bad things at one time or another. Sometimes we scold ourselves for them and sometimes we just ignore them. What if the thoughts become constant and out of control?  With mental illness, the mind becomes plagued with bad thoughts, thoughts you can’t seem to stop. You start questioning yourself. Do I cause myself to think such things? Do they mean I’m going crazy? Do they mean I’m a bad person? Why do I think such things?

When I was sick, thoughts raced through my head. They tore at me and haunted me. They confused me. They were not thoughts that usually popped up in my head. They were bad thoughts, angry ones, hateful ones, and hopeless ones. Thoughts like I am evil, God hates me, I hate God, I have the devil in me, I hate everyone, everyone can go to hell, my life is doomed, and so on. I didn’t know if my thoughts were real or not. I thought maybe I was putting them in my own head.

I started to think I was creating these thoughts. I made myself think bad things. I had to be truly crazy to do such a thing to myself. If I could do this, then what kind of person am I? Am I an awful person? God must hate me. I hated myself for my thoughts, and I punished myself for them. I’d curse myself and get mad at myself. I believed I deserved to suffer. If anyone could think like that, then he or she deserved to be punished or to go down instead of to heaven.

I struggled with my negative thinking and then I added to it with self-hate and anger. I was in a battle with myself. It was a full blown war and I felt like I was losing. It was hopeless. There was no way I could win. There was no room for anything good to enter my head, and when it did sneak in, my mind seemed to squash it like a fly.

I started losing sleep and getting sick. I could barely keep food down. The thoughts hurt like someone was squeezing my insides into a vice. How could I stop this? I wanted it to end, but it was impossible. God was punishing me, but for what? The pain became unbearable and I tore at my skin. I wanted to curl up in a ball and pretend I didn’t exist. For some reason the nights seemed to bring the worse thoughts out. They sped through my mind like a motor-cycle racing down the back roads. My chest tightened. I rolled from side to side. I placed a pillow over my head, but nothing turned them off.

When I was stressed out, the negativity increased and so did my anxiety. Lack of sleep stirred them up, too. Nothing seemed to make them better.

In therapy I learned that my mind was sick, and my bad thoughts were caused by my illness and by the repetition of negative things my classmates and teachers told me in my school years. My therapist taught me ways to combat my thoughts like journaling about them, turning them into positive thoughts, and each day repeating something good. I took index cards and wrote something good on them. Then I placed the cards around my house like on the bathroom mirror, by my place at the table, on my computer, and other places where I’d see them. Each day I read them aloud.

If you have thoughts that are bad and out of control, don’t think you are the cause. You have a mental illness and it likes to play games with you. It taunts you and steals the best parts of you if you let it. You did not make up your illness, and you didn’t do anything to cause it. No one knows why some people suffer with mental illness and others don’t, but you can fight it. Instead of your mind declaring war on you, you declare war on it. Fight it with all your strength. You can stop negative thoughts. Get help, practice positive thinking, change your thoughts around from negative to positive, and stand up to your illness.

Instead of my mind declaring war on me, I declared war on it and I declared war on my illness. I fought with everything in me and I stood up to those thoughts. The bad thoughts became less and less. I can’t say I never have those thoughts, but they no longer control my mind. Because I decided to fight them and get help, I bathe within the light.

Due to illness I am re-posting one of my old post. Hopefully by next week I will be well enough to post a new one. Enjoy!!

When the pain within me became unbearable I looked for ways to find relief. Emotions ripped at my insides, they weakened me and I needed a way to ease them for even just a few moments. I felt this way in college and years later as an adult. I turned to cutting myself in order to find  relief. It was temporary, but it gave me an escape from my inner hell.

When self-hate, anger, frustration and anguish burned within me I tore at my flesh. Just one cut and I was free. I couldn’t feel anything, not even the sting of my wound. I floated above my body, staring down at the sad mess. Then I plummeted back into my body. Tears streamed down my face, the pain returned. I felt the sting of my wound and I began to regret it.

Thoughts flooded my mind. What have I done? How can I hide the cut? How would I explain my wound if someone saw it? I sat alone in my room, where I always injured, once again overwhelmed by emotions.

Injuring became an addiction just like drugs.

I needed to hurt myself to ease my pain. I tried different methods such as burning myself and punching a wall till my fist turned black and blue. Cutting gave me the most relief.

It became a craving. When the negative thoughts rushed into my mind and my feelings burned within me I suddenly needed physical pain and I had to cut. I fixated on it and planned to cut when I was alone. I never hurt myself in public places. I couldn’t let anyone find out what I was doing. No one would understand. It had to be my secret.

I started therapy and began to discuss my addiction. A friend told me about the book The Scarred Soul by Tracy Alderman, Ph.D. I stared doing the exercises in the book. The book and therapy gave me alternatives to self-injuring such as journaling, developing a support system, not spending a lot of time in the place I hurt myself and reminding myself of the negative effects injuring had on my life.

A friend gave me a goal of going a year without cutting. Having a goal gave me the willpower to fight my urges.

Now I have gone 12 years without injuring. At times It crosses my mind, but I remind myself I am much stronger than the urges and have other alternatives.