Tag: Determination

SOMETIMES DOING WELL SIMPLY MEANS NOT GIVING UP

Published on by Aimee EddyLeave a comment

How are you doing? At one time I thought “doing well” meant I was successful, in control of my life, and living a productive life. Living with mental illness changed my definition. Now it means making it through the bad days, finding happiness in small things, celebrating all accomplishments (big and small), and never giving up no matter what happens. Doing well doesn’t always mean that I will no longer struggle. Sometimes it means recognizing I’m struggling and knowing how to cope and when to ask for help. It’s also means knowing I have the strength to keep moving forward no matter how hard things become and to not give up.

Throughout my life the meaning of doing well took on different definitions. In grade school it meant making it through a day without being called a retard. In high school it meant working hard to get good grades and achieving my goal of proving everyone wrong about me. I dreamed of becoming a successful author and returning to my high school to give a speech about bullying. I thought by doing that I would be a success. I had many big dreams for my future and I thought achieving them was the meaning of doing well. I worked very hard to get As and Bs, make the honor roll, and national honor society. To me this meant I would be doing well. But while struggling with mental illness, my definition of doing well changed.

Now doing well has a whole new meaning. It means that no matter how hard days get, how tough life’s struggles are, and what comes my way, I have the determination to push forward. I’m too strong to let my illness take control of me. I will keep fighting to keep my illness under control. I know that recovery doesn’t mean I will always be doing well, but that won’t stop me from working hard to stay in recovery. Doing well means that no matter what happens I will not give up.

My determination helped me to successfully get through high school with a learning disability and it has also helped me reach recovery from mental illness. Even when I sat in the deepest, darkest part of my hole, something inside me wouldn’t let me give up. In college I was very sick and suicidal. I was injuring every day, but something in me kept me going. I forced myself to get up each morning and go to my classes. I was fatigued and sick every morning, but I pushed forward. It would have been easy to lie in bed and dwell in my anguish, but I couldn’t do that.  I went to class barely able to keep my eyes open and I studied hard each night while planning my death. My willpower wouldn’t let me give up.

Years later when my ex-boyfriend kicked me out and I ended up in the mental health hospital, I was determined to do what I needed to get better. I took my medication, I met with the psychiatrist, I worked on learning coping skills, and I journaled out my feelings. I was determined to get out of the hospital and to work towards recovery. I could have lain in the hospital bed and allow my illness to take over. It would have been easy to just give in, but I refused to give up.

When I was in the hospital, I decided that I didn’t want to let my illness take control of me anymore. I wanted something better for myself. I didn’t want to lie at the bottom of my dark hole anymore. I decided to climb its walls towards the light. Lots of things threatened to push me back down, but I refused to let them.  I wanted to find hope and happiness and I wanted to live a productive life. I wanted it so bad that I refused to let anything get in my way. The only way I could achieve this was to work on fighting my illness by going to therapy, fighting my negative thoughts, finding the right psychiatrist to get medication that would help me, and using all my strength to battle my illness. I knew to be doing well and to reach recovery meant that no matter how hard things got I would not give up.

It could have been easy to give up. Once I got out of the hospital I lost some of my friends and had to end unhealthy friendships. I went to work each day and then home. I had no social life and I felt lonely. I went to therapy each week and cried. My therapist worked with me to help me find ways to cope with my illness, to build my self-esteem, and to fight my negative thoughts. I would take two steps forward and then fall. She gave me homework to do, and I journaled out my feelings to discuss in therapy. No matter how hard I tried it seemed like I kept tumbling backwards. I’d be doing well and then I would go into a deep depression. I was climbing up into the light and then tumbling back down again. It would have been easy to give up, but I couldn’t. I wanted to live a better life. I didn’t want to stay in the darkness.

It took time and lots of hard work to reach recovery, but I did it. Recovery is still a bumpy road. I still have bad days, but there are fewer of them. I still fall, but I know it doesn’t mean I have failed. It is just part of the process. Each day I use coping techniques to keep me going, I take my medicine to manage my illness, and I practice self-care. Health problems, financial struggles, my loved one’s health problems, and many other challenges leave me struggling to stay above the hole, but I keep fighting. What keeps me doing well is my determination to never give up.

What is your definition of recovery? Are you going to let your illness hold you down, or are you going to keep fighting? Working towards recovery is a hard battle, but you can do it.  Staying in recovery is a rough road, but it’s worth traveling. You will fall, but you’ll be strong enough to pull yourself up. Know that setbacks don’t make you a failure. It’s just part of the journey. Take each day one at a time.  Redefine you’re “doing well” to “not giving up.”

I will keep working hard to stay in recovery, and I’ll always be doing well because I won’t give up. This is what helps me thrive in the light of recovery.

MY FRIEND BARB

Published on by Aimee Eddy4 Comments

Friends come and go in our lives. Each friend makes a different impact on your life and heart. Even bad friendships teach you lessons. Some friends are only meant to come in your life for a short time, and some span over many years. Those that last for many years are very special and only get stronger through the years. Barb was one of those special friends that lasted for many years.

 I met Barb almost twenty-nine years ago as a regular customer of mine at the grocery store where I work . She had some problems walking and talking, but it didn’t stop her from coming in the store regularly to shop and visit me. First, she came to me when I was a bagger. I packed her groceries and chatted with her. Then when I became a cashier, she started coming to my line even if she had to wait a while. Our store had a play area for parents to leave their children while they shopped.

Barb would smile at me. “I think I would love to work with the kids. Do you think they will hire me?”

I sent her groceries down the belt. “I’m sure they would. Stop at the service desk and get an application.”

“I will and I’ll put you down as a reference,” she said.

I don’t think she ever filled out an application, because each time she came in, she talked about working at the area where the kids played. I kept encouraging her to apply.

Then I had to take some time off for sick leave after my relationship with my abusive ex landed me in the mental health hospital. When I returned to work, I was moved to the bakery. Barb found me in the bakery and would stop by to say hi and chat with me while I worked. Even though she had some problems walking, it didn’t stop her from walking around our big store. She didn’t let anything stand in her way.

Then I met my friend Kelly at Saint Davids Christian Writers Conference and learned she lived in the same city where I worked. Kelly invited me to attend her Bible study group held at her church. I agreed and showed up.

Barb came strolling in late and pointed at me. “Hey, I know you.”

It wasn’t until that Bible study group that I learned Barb’s name and we started a friendship. After that Barb invited me to her home for picnics, parties, and to visit. I learned that Barb loved to host parties. The more I got to know her, the closer we became. Barb reminded me of myself in many ways. She was determined and she wouldn’t let anything stand in her way. Just like I wouldn’t let bullying and mental illness to stand in my way.

When I met my husband, I introduced her to him and he started calling her, “Barbra Streisand,” and it put a big smile on her lips. In time her walking and talking became harder for Barb. She was diagnosed with cerebral palsy. I encouraged her to use a motorized cart to shop at the store.

“As long as I have a cart to lean on, I can walk on my own,” she told me.

She wasn’t about to let the disease win. She pushed forward and when I asked her if she needed help to her car, he told me she wasn’t an elderly person, she could do it. The longer I knew her, the worse it became for her to walk and talk. I had to learn to interpret some of what she said, and even though she moved slower, she still walked around the store. She was too determined and stubborn to give in.

She lived in a home that had many stairs to get to the first floor. At first, she did them well while holding on to the rail, but then she became slower and eventually had to slide down each step, but like the grocery store, she wasn’t going to let the stairs defeat her. Barb was inspiring.

When she started using a walker and eventually a wheelchair, I knew the cerebral palsy was becoming worse, but even though she needed help, she wasn’t a quitter. At home she used railings that were installed to help her walk around. She struggled but pushed on. Her speech became even worse and understanding what she was saying became even harder, but it didn’t stop her from trying to get her words out. I could hear the frustration in her voice as she tried to talk to me. It finally came to the point Barb could no longer visit me at work. I tried to call her and check on her, but felt bad when I couldn’t understand what she was saying to me.

Eventually her daughter had to move her to assisted living. I planned to visit her during my vacation the week after Father’s Day, but I got sick and then my husband got sick. Before I knew it, her daughter posted on Facebook she was in respiratory distress and she wasn’t sure if Barb would make it through the night, but Barb wasn’t willing to give up without a fight. Barb was transferred to her home and her daughter stayed at her side while hospice took care of her. I planned to go see her Friday after work to say my goodbyes, but I ended up taking my husband to the emergency room. Barb passed away after midnight on Saturday morning.

Barb fought all the way to the end. She never allowed anything to stand in her way; she pushed through her decline due to her disease with strength, determination, and stubbornness. She had a beautiful smile that lit up the room and loved to give from the heart. I don’t believe cerebral palsy won. She may have passed away, but she gained her angel wings and a new body. She has left an everlasting impact on my life and the memory of her will remind me how important it is to never let anything hold you down.

Barb has made my life brighter and inspired me to be stronger. Barb has entered the light of heaven and I will allow her memory to inspire me to never let anything to keep me from the light of my recovery from mental illness.