Author: Aimee Eddy

  What is the meaning of your life? This is a very difficult question for people suffering with depression. They see their life as an endless dark pit they can’t climb out of. They often think they are on earth to be tortured by darkness and emotional anguish. It’s hard to look beyond that. It’s difficult to think of anything but the overwhelming sadness within, but life has a much brighter meaning and outlook. It’s up to you to find the meaning to your life.

   When I was suffering from depression I often wondered why God put me on earth. Was I on earth to be tormented by my sickness? Was I a mistake? Did my existence even matter? What was the meaning to my life? My life didn’t seem to have any meaning or purpose. I thought I was a mistake. It seemed like I was stuck in an endless hole of despair and sadness.

   It took time for me to look at my life differently. I had to dig deep down into my soul to find the true meaning of my life. I was determined it had to be more than the emotional pain, darkness, and sadness that engulfed me. I had to have a purpose for my existence. What could it be? What was my life all about? Was there more to my life then my illness?

   To answer these questions I had to look at the people around me, the good things in my life and at myself as an individual, not a person with a sickness. I might have had an illness, but there was much more to me than that. I had loving parents, nieces and nephews, a job and much more. I loved, I gave, I cherished, and I listened. I realized God put me on earth to give, to listen, and inspire others. I suddenly saw there was more to me than darkness. A lot more.

   The meaning to my life is being around to watch my nieces and nephews grow up, to find true love, to make friends, to create memories, and so much more. I’m meant to give with all my heart, to inspire others with my writing, to live life to the fullest, to love like I have never loved before, to learn from my mistakes, and create memories. My life is not a mistake; it’s a blessing from God, and even suffering with mental illness has a purpose. I use what I went through and what I have learned to reach, inspire and help others. God can use everything.

   It took me time to learn that God was never punishing me. He was standing beside me through my struggles and he opened doors for me to find recovery and rise above it. When I was willing he also showed me life has meaning and my life is meaningful. He kept me alive for a reason, to find the meaning of my life and to live my life to the fullest.

   Look into your soul. Look beyond your sadness, your emotional anguish, and your dark hole. Look past your negativity and your illness. Look at the true person you are within. List the qualities that make you who you are; list what is important and positive in your life. Within these lists you’ll find who you are. You’ll be able to find that there is meaning to your life. Once you find what the meaning to your life is, don’t take it for grant. Live it to the fullest. Grab onto its wings and fly with it. In the search of finding meaning in your life you’ll find yourself.

   Maybe in your discovery of your purpose, you’ll find God and you will grow closer to him. You’ll see he’s not punishing you and you’re not a mistake. You might even find a reason for your suffering. So take this time and search hard and deep for your meaning to life.

   Now that I know God’s reason for my life and the meaning he gave my life, I bask in the light of recovery.

  Anxiety is something we all have faced within our lives. We feel anxiety when we face uncomfortable situations or when we feel fear. It’s a natural response that warns us of danger. We can either face the anxiety and fight it or run away from it. I found this information in Anxiety Management, by Mike Mitchell. The question is when does anxiety become a serious problem?

   When your fears begin to grow to the point that they control your body’s reactions with panic attacks, heart palpitations, hand sweats, nausea, sickness, and so on, then you have a problem. Thoughts, worries, and feelings become overpowering. You feel as if you have no control over your body’s response and it begins to affect your day to day activities. Work, school, house work, and other daily rituals become overwhelming. You feel useless and hopeless. When you get to this point, you need to seek help.

   During my recovery I started having anxiety attacks, I thought they can’t be real, something else must be wrong, because my life is good. The more I learned about anxiety, I realized what was causing mine. I worried excessively about paying our bills, not having enough money, doing my job righ,t and making mistakes that could get me fired. My worries turned into fears that grew within me like a monster. What if I lost my job, how will we survive? Would we go bankrupt? If we didn’t have enough money to pay our bills, would we end up on the streets?

  Each week, before pay day, my stomach would twist, my muscles would tense, and my mind would race with worries. I’d even struggle to sleep. I began dry heaving and throwing up on a regular basis. I felt helpless. I couldn’t control my feelings, my fears, my worries or my body’s reactions.

   My husband said to me, “Everything always works out. Why don’t you believe me? I tell you this every week and we’re always fine.” It’s not that I didn’t believe him or that I didn’t want to believe him, but my worries and fears became so big they overwhelmed me. I couldn’t see past them or even around them. No matter how I tried I couldn’t gain control. They were bigger than I was. I couldn’t even focus on anything else. I couldn’t stop the anxiety attacks. They were more powerful than me. I couldn’t just shut them off.

   In therapy I learned relaxation techniques like breathing through my nose and slowly releasing it through my mouth. At night I would listen to a tape that led me through techniques to release tension and visualize a tranquil place. I started working on my worries. I analyzed them and asked myself, “Is this worry that important? Can I look at it in a different way?” I had to find ways to distract myself with reading, journaling, and other activities. I also started taking medication. The medication controlled the dry heaves and getting sick.

   When your anxiety becomes out of control, it is time to seek professional help. You may never be cured of your anxiety, but you can learn to take control of it. It is possible to rise above your feelings of fear and worry. You can learn ways to catch your fears and worries before they become too out of control, but it takes a lot of work and determination.

   I can’t say I have my anxiety completely under control, but I am learning to handle it better. My worries and fears are not as prevalent. I am willing to keep fighting them and work hard to stay within the light.

  While the mind is plagued with darkness thoughts become distorted. In college, when I got a lower than normal grade on a test my heart plummeted. I automatically thought I was a failure. Getting a good grade made me feel like a winner. There was no in between.

   Receiving a low grade made tears threaten to spill and my chest tightened. “I’m a looser”, sang through my mind. “They were right about me in high school; I’m a retard. I don’t belong in college.” The more my negative thoughts filled my mind the further down the whole I fell. When I got a good grade I was flying high. There was no excuse in my mind for a less than a high grade. I had to get a A or B to be worthy, any lower I felt like my world was going to end.

   When I was unable to get the degree I wanted in college (due to my learning disability)I felt like a looser. I thought going to a four year college and getting a good paying job would make me a winner. Instead I became a cashier and once again I thought I was a failure. Even though I worked hard to prove myself in high school and then in college, I couldn’t even get a communication degree. Instead of going on to a four year college, all I could do was work in a grocery store. I was sure I failed. I believed I proved everyone right; I was a retard who couldn’t do anything right.

   I learned in therapy that this type of thinking was “all-or-nothing thinking.” The book Feeling Good The New Mood Therapy by David D. Burns, M.D. describes it as seeing everything as black or white–shades of gray do not exist. In other words, I saw myself either as a winner or a failure. I couldn’t see the other good things in my life; like I graduated from college, I had stories published, and I was working a job despite my illness.

   My therapist taught me I didn’t need a high paying job, or a degree in communications to be successful. I learned not everything goes the way I plan and that does not make me a failure, but human. I realized I didn’t need to be perfect to still be a winner.

   In life there are gray periods where we don’t always come out on top. We are not always perfect. It took me a while to believe this. I no longer have to prove myself, because I already have. No one in high school believed I’d even make it to college, let alone get a degree and I have a associate degree in Humanities. Someone once told me because I have a mental illness, I couldn’t work and yet I have been working the same job for 19 years.

   Sometimes I still fall into the all-or-nothing thinking, but I have a wonderful husband who reminds me I don’t have to be perfect to be a winner. I now know there is a gray spot in our lives, but it is only a part of life.

   While our minds are conflicted with darkness, we begin to question who we are. We confuse our illness with our identity. Sometimes we think we are our illness. We believe the sadness, irrational thoughts, uncontrollable emotions, and other symptoms we have are who we are. We become blinded. We can’t see the person we are beyond our sickness. We allow our mental illness to define us.

   When the darkness filled my soul, I started to question who I was. Was I a sad, hopeless wreck? What kind of person was I? Someone who cried often, someone who hurt herself without understanding why, or someone who burst out into emotional episodes. I wondered how anyone would want to be with or hang out with a person like me.

   If this sad, emotional person was who I was, then what reason did I have for living? Why would God let such a person exist on earth? I lay awake at night wondering why God even made me. Was my purpose to hurt my family and friends? Was it to live at the bottom of the hole? I started to think I was my illness and it defined me as the person I was. I couldn’t see beyond it. My depression and borderline personality disorder no longer seemed like a sickness, but character traits.

   I felt like I had no control over my life or my emotions. I found myself falling into one bad relationship after another and I felt like that was all I deserved. At times, my lips spit out angry words to the people I loved the most. I threw things and broke stuff. I couldn’t see beyond my inner pain. Awful things clouded my thoughts and I couldn’t think of anything else. I saw myself as a hopeless mental case.

   My friend Cheryl called my illness, “The Bad Bug Guy.” This helped me to look at my illness in a different light. I suddenly began to realize my illness is something separate from who I am. I was not a mentally ill person, but I was and am a person who has mental illness. In a mental health group I joined, they told us, “You are not your illness, but you have an illness.”

   My friends and family told me I am a kind, caring, and loving person. Those are my characteristics, not the sadness, emotional episodes, and other symptoms of my sickness. It took me time to convince myself that I am a wonderful person who happens to have a sickness.

   With the help of my therapist, I started listing the positive qualities about myself. In time I was able to find myself. I learned what kind of person I really am and that God has a purpose for me on this earth. He allowed me to struggle so I can share my experience with others. I am much more than a mental illness and so are you. Knowing who I am helps me stand in the light.

(For the next few weeks I will be posting  blog posts from my previous site while I research new topics. If you have any ideas for topics leave them in the comments. If you followed my previous site enjoy my post again. If not well I hope you will like them and find them helpful)

  Grief can come from many different losses. The loss of a friend, the loss of a job, the loss of a home, the loss of a pet, the loss of a loved one and so on. Grief can send anyone into depression, but can be doubled when you’re already suffering with a mental illness. It can send someone with mental illness to the point of crisis or to the hospital. Those overwhelming feelings flood a sick person with more emotions than he or she can handle. If you’re in recovery, it can trigger your illness and send you into the dark hole once again.

   When I was in eighth grade and my Uncle Tim was killed by a drunk driver, I was numb, but later when my cousin died in a car accident, I fell to the deepest part of the dark hole. I had, for many years, been struggling with a deep sadness and when my cousin died, the sadness became unbearable. I became suicidal, I started injuring, and I became victim to an abusive relationship, I couldn’t keep food down and I couldn’t stop crying. I felt as if the person I once was died and all that was left was a walking carcass. I couldn’t handle living.

   Many years later, when I fell back into my depression, a friend told me she could not handle my illness and ended our friendship, I fell apart. I cried endlessly and began injuring more often. I blamed myself for the end of our friendship and I punished myself not only physically but mentally. The feelings rushed through my body becoming devastating and I found it almost impossible to let go. I wrote her notes some pleading for her friendship back and some filled with anger and distorted thoughts.

   I even grieved the loss of my abusive ex-boyfriend. I thought I was going to live the rest of my life with him. When he packed up my stuff and told me I had to leave, I lost it and stuck my hand through a window. I couldn’t handle the loss and ended up in the hospital. I wasn’t sure if I was grieving for him or the realization I was a victim of another abusive relationship. I hated God and myself. I couldn’t handle life and the thought of even existing another day. My parents and I thought the hospital was the best place for me to be.

   In therapy I had to learn how to handle grief without going into a crisis. I had to realize I could survive loss and continue to go on. It did not mean that my life had ended. I also learned to turn to others for support instead of hiding my pain. My therapist taught me to feel the pain, but not let the pain take control of me. She taught me many other steps that helped me work through grief without hitting rock bottom and steps to recover from a loss. She told me I could continue to live my life after a loss. I didn’t need to shut down and give up.

   Grief is a powerful trigger to mental illness, but it doesn’t mean it is the end of your life. It is a major change in your life, but you can go on. Learn healthy ways to deal with grief and ways to find the road to recovery without hitting rock bottom.

   Since I learned ways to deal with grief I am much stronger. I struggle with loss like everyone else, but I no longer let it push me down the hole. I now stand in the light with confidence.

  Anxiety comes in different forms for people. Some can’t breathe; some feel like they are having a heart attack. Some have tightening of muscles, some become dizzy and some get cold or sweaty hands and/or feet. For me, it comes like a rare flu I can’t get rid of. I become nauseated, I dry heave and sometimes I’m over the toilet.

   I first experienced this anxiety attack in college while I was being abused by a friend. I woke up each morning feeling sick, I could hardly keep food down and during the day I would dry heave. Sometimes I’d dry heave until I got sick. I’d be fine one minute and sick the next. A doctor gave me anti-nausea medication and it did little to ease my stomach.

   When the abuse ended the anxiety attacks went away for several years. They came back suddenly, without warning. My life was going well. I had married a wonderful man, I worked at a good job, and I had been in recovery from my mental illness for several years. So why was I having problems? It didn’t make since. I was certain something else was wrong with me. Maybe I had a physical illness. I turned to my doctor and she sent me to a stomach specialist.

   The stomach specialist ran several tests and they ruled out health problems. The doctor found that I was healthy and told me he believed I was having anxiety attacks. He put me on xanax. I couldn’t have anxiety problems at such a good time in my life. I was in denial. I thought the doctor was just blaming my mental illness for a hidden sickness. Maybe I needed to see another doctor. I took the medication anyways and the nausea went away. If I missed a pill I would feel sick again. I realized the doctor was right.

   In therapy I was able to point out different things in my life that caused stress: things like worrying about finances, work, taking care of my home and health problems. My therapist and I started working on ways to take control of my worries and to relax. My husband’s Uncle Richard Gross, a clinical psychologist, gave me a relaxation tape which helped calm my nerves.

   My psychiatrist told me many people with depression have anxiety. He said the illnesses are different and they were not the result of having one or the other. It’s just one of those things that seem to go together.

   With the help of medication, relaxation techniques, and therapy, I keep my anxiety attacks under control. There are times they get the best of me, but I know I can stand up to them. I have a wonderful husband who reminds me when I’m worrying too much. It helps to have a friend or family member to share my problems with. Having someone to remind me to relax or to help me calm down is important.

   Each day I face my anxiety with strength and determination. Since I stand up to my attacks I bathe within the light.

  Don’t be afraid to admit you need help with not just your mental health, but also with everyday tasks. It’s a hard job to fight an illness of the mind. It takes a lot out of you mentally and physically. It becomes hard to take care of your physical needs as well as your daily tasks, such as cleaning your home, filling prescriptions, making meals, going to work on time and so on. It’s hard to admit you need extra help. We all want to be independent and we hate to admit we can’t do it all on our own, but there is no shame in needing help.

   Before I met my husband, I tried to move out of home a few times. First time I moved in with a friend and her husband. I was responsible for myself. It started out we were going to share the grocery bill and food, but my friend started labeling her food and telling me I had to buy my own groceries. My friend started complaining I wasn’t doing enough to help out around the apartment. The truth is I found it hard to keep up with cleaning and managing daily tasks. I had a hard time remembering to take medications and even what side to park my car on. I also made bad choices.

   To my friend and her husband, I was lazy and useless. I even overheard her telling someone I couldn’t cook or do anything right. It wasn’t that I couldn’t do those things, but I found it a struggle to take care of things while dealing with my mental wellbeing. It was during my first recovery. Even though I was emotionally stronger, I still had to take care of my illness. Recovery did not mean I was healed. My friend started putting mean notes up, accusing me of not doing things right and treating me bad. I fell apart and had to move home.

   The second time I left home I moved in with a girl whose parent lived below us. She did her own thing and I did my own thing. I’d forget to eat meals, I’d forget to take medication, I would miss appointments, I would mess up my work schedule and so on. I also did not take good care of myself physically. When I started slipping into my sickness, I began to struggle even more with daily tasks. I met a guy and, in time, I moved out and in with him. Things got worse.

   The guy turned out to be abusive and I slipped deeper into my illness. I called off from work a lot and I couldn’t take care of his home and myself. Once again I moved back home. I told my parents I was only going to stay with them until I could get my own place, but my parents thought it would be best if I didn’t move out. We discussed that I needed extra help.

   I stayed home with my parents while I worked on my illness. My parents helped me with the daily tasks I struggled with. They made sure I took care of my physical needs, also. They provided emotional support. They kept me from spending too much time alone dwelling on my sadness. They helped me with daily chores.

   I lived at home until I met my husband, Lou. He gives me lots of extra attention and he makes sure I take my medications and I get them filled on time. He texts me each morning so that I don’t over sleep and I make it to work. He remembers my work schedule better than I do. He refuses to allow me to go to work sick and makes sure I get to all my appointments. He also goes to all my appointments with me. He keeps my psychiatrist informed on how I’m doing.

   I do things on my own and I also take care of my husband, but he gives me extra help. I’m not useless or helpless. I just need some assistance with a few things. I get forgetful.

   Mental illness is an internal battle and a constant battle. Even in recovery, I have to fight to stay well. It takes focus and concentration to keep well. I have to continue to practice my coping methods. Sometimes my mind wanders into negativity and when that happens I concentrate on how to turn my thoughts around. My mind is always busy. It’s hard to admit I need help with everyday things, but I’m not ashamed of it. My husband loves to give me the extra help I need and I love him for it.

   In a way I’m independent and in some ways I’m dependent on my husband. I may not ever be able to live on my own without someone to help me, but I’m not ashamed. It’s okay to ask for extra help with not only your illness, but with everyday things. Since I’m willing to ask for and accept help, I stand tall within the light.

  When you’re depressed, your life seems to be on an endless road of bad luck. A depressed person thinks, “Anything bad that is going to happen is going to happen to me and it does.” The world is dark and hopeless. Nothing seems to work out and everything seems to go wrong. It seems, to the depressed person, like the bad luck follows him or her around. It’s like on the commercial where a dark cloud follows a person around.

   This year, so far, has challenged my recovery. When I was depressed, the beginning of years like this one would have torn me apart. Before my recovery, my cousin died, my best friend abused me, an ex-boyfriend abused me, and friends betrayed me. I cried myself to sleep every night. I was doomed to live a world full of bad, hopeless luck. There was no way to avoid it. It was my curse and God’s punishment for me.

   Back then I injured, attempted suicide, and cried a lot. Every time something bad happened I fell into despair, and, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t pull myself up. I couldn’t even imagine how to lift myself up. I believed everything bad happening to me was a punishment from God. I didn’t know what I did wrong, but I was sure I was being punished. I turned away from God. I stop going to church and questioned God’s existence.

   I have had every reason to feel the same with all that has happened this year, but I don’t. I’m stronger and I know differently. I started out my year with a major ankle surgery that left me laid up for a while. Using a walker jammed up my neck. making it very painful to move my neck, and then I got a bad cold. I thought that was enough, but my bad luck was just getting started.

   About three months after my surgery I ended up in the Emergency Room with serve side pains. They sent me home saying it was just a muscle strain. Then I woke up at four the next morning in unbearable pain and my husband took me back to the Emergency Room. They found out it was gastrointestinal and I needed a scope.

   The next month I woke up with serve stomach pains, and once again I was back in the ER. This time I was diagnosed with a urinary tract infection. This Wednesday I had a scope of my esophagus and stomach to find I have an infection in the lining of my stomach.

   Bad luck has been following me since the beginning of the year. I had a choice to let it drag me back down into depression or I could pick myself up and rise above it. I asked Lou if God was punishing me. He said, “No, He has no reason to.” I’m not the best Christian. I haven’t been to church in a while and I don’t read the Bible, but that doesn’t mean I don’t worship God. I pray nightly, I go to Bible study, and I believe in God.

   In the ER while in major pain, I called to the Lord for relief. Lou told me, “God understands. He’s not punishing you.” Lou was right; he’s not. Life happens, bad things happen and we often have no control over them. So instead of dwelling on them I started listing the positive things in my life. I have Lou, I got a four week vacation after surgery, I still have four days to go on a trip with my husband, I have good friends and family, everything wrong with me is treatable, and I still have the rest of the year for good things to come my way.

   I did allow myself to have a day or two in between incidents to have a pity party. I had to allow myself to cry and feel bad for me, but then I forced myself to pick up the pieces and push forward. I couldn’t let my string of bad luck push me into the hole. I stood up to my illness and said, “I am in control; you are not.” Then I made jokes about my luck. Laughing about it made it smaller and less overbearing. Because I can do this, I stand bravely within the light.

Due to illness I was unable to write a blog post this week, but look for a new one next week. Remember to reach for the light.