Tag: Mental Illness

WHEN LIFE KEEPS SLAPPING YOU

Published on by Aimee EddyLeave a comment

Sometimes it seems like life is out to get you. It keeps slapping you with one problem, heartache, or struggle after another. It’s very easy to slip into depression, especially if you’re in recovery or working towards recovery from mental illness. It can seem overwhelming and hopeless. You wonder when will things get better.

Lately it seems like life keeps handing me with one problem and heartache after another. First Esther, our dog, had a lump removed from her leg, and I had to nurse her to recovery. Next the lump’s biopsy came back as cancer, and she got a bad infection that ate through her flesh to the bone. Then finally we had to send her over the rainbow bridge. It’s a heartache my husband and I are still dealing with. But it doesn’t end there.

We took a much-needed vacation to Johnstown where my husband grew up. Before we left the “check engine” sign came on in our SUV. We had it checked and it was the catalytic converter. My dad told me to get stuff to put in the gas to clean it out. It worked. We thought we were in the clear. We drove to many places on our trip and had a wonderful time. Then on the last day we found out my dad’s bone cancer came back and when we got home the check engine light came back on.

My dad does a lot for us. He fixed our furnace, put windows in our home, repaired my cars, put faucets in our sinks, with a friend he replaced the roof on our garage, and much more. He has always come to our rescue, especially now that my husband is sick. He is always supportive and encouraging. I can’t imagine life without him.

The cancer centers in Erie and Cleveland are moving fast to treat my dad. They are worried that the cancer spread, so he got a pet scan. July 7 they are drilling a hole in his spine to do a biopsy. July 8 he’s going to Cleveland Clinic for ten days to get a series of new shots that will make his immune system fight the cancer. We don’t know what side effects he’ll have from the shots.

Fourteen months ago, my dad had a procedure done that was supposed to put him into remission for five years. The procedure involved a very high dose of chemo which has caused him lasting side effects. I can’t imagine him going through even more.

On top of that my dad won’t be able to fix our car, and the repairs and even the cost of the catalytic converter are very expensive. They are beyond what we can afford. We are living paycheck to paycheck. We can’t finance a newer car either, but we can’t keep putting money into the one we have. So, we are searching the internet and car dealerships for an older car with low mileage. My dad told me what mileage to look for.

My husband and I continue to grieve the loss of Esther and adjust to life without her while worrying about my dad. On top of that I am stressed about finding a car we can afford. I already have taken on a lot of responsibilities while my husband is sick, and now I have more. How do I cope with all this? It’s a lot to deal with. The thing that keeps crossing my mind is I can’t lose my dad. I already lost my baby girl, Esther; I can’t lose anyone else.

My therapist tells me to allow myself to cry and to take care of myself; self-care is very important. She says to do things for me. Since my husband got sick, my life has mostly been revolved around taking care of him. Now my dad is sick, I’m focused on how I can help my parents out.

I have been sneaking off to our bedroom to watch TV alone while my husband watches TV downstairs just so I can relax and be free for a little while. After Esther passed, I had lunch with a friend. It was nice to talk and laugh with a friend instead of crying over our loss. Going on a trip was a way to have fun and get us out of the house that seems empty now. I’m writing this blog post and it helps me express myself. My husband and I are going to game night on Tuesday at a friend’s house. This will help keep my mind off everything going on.

I’m doing different things to take care of myself. I’m making sure I take my medication and keep my therapy and psychiatrist appointments. I’m journaling and leaning on my support system. I allow myself to cry. I try to find the positive in my life. I rest when I need to. I practice relaxation techniques like deep breathing and grounding techniques.

I’m taking each day one at a time and leaning on God to get me through this rough time in my life. I feel like life will not stop slapping me with problems, but I remind myself that things will get better.

By practicing self-care I am holding on tight to the light of recovery.

ESTHER

Published on by Aimee Eddy6 Comments

In 2016 my husband and I went to the ANNA Shelter, a shelter for dogs and cats, to look at the dogs. Lou stopped to go to the bathroom and told me to go in and look around. I looked at the cages with dogs of all sizes inside. I stopped at a cage with a black dog with white on her paws, a strip of white stretching up from her nose, and white on her neck. I read the paper outside her cage saying her name was Esther and she was two years old. All the dogs in the shelter began barking except for Esther. It was like God whispered to me saying, “This is the dog for you.” I knew she had to be mine.

Lou came out of the bathroom. “Are you ready to look at the dogs?”

I pointed at Esther. “I want this dog.”

“But we haven’t gotten a chance to look at the other dogs,” he said.

“I don’t need to look. I must have this dog. Let’s see if we can take her in a room and hold her,” I said.

Lou reluctantly agreed. We took her in a room and I held her. I fell in love with her right away. When we brought her home that day, she clung to me. She didn’t want anything to do with Lou. Over several weeks Esther slowly started coming to him. In time she came to him easily, snuggling up on his chest. When Lou went down to watch TV in his mancave, Esther snuggled up on my lap as I stroked her ears and back. After a while she would go down and spend time with Lou.

Not too long after we got Esther, I had surgery on a torn tendon in my ankle. I was confined to the couch and used a walker to get around. Esther lay beside me and refused to leave my side. Lou had to pick her up and carry her outside to go potty, and he had to feed her on the couch. Through the years we had her I went through a bilateral mastectomy, hysterectomy, and back surgery. For each surgery she stayed at my side giving me comfort as I recovered.

Esther became more than just a dog; she became a comfort for surgeries and mental illness, and she became our baby, our child. Every time I got depressed and cried, Esther laid her head on my chest and looked up into my eyes. I’d bury my head in her fur and pet her. Her soft fur and head against my chest warmed my soul and brought light into my darkness. She knew what I needed and she gave it to me unconditionally.

She had her own anxiety. She didn’t like to be left alone while Lou and I worked. She made a mess out of the house. We had to put her in a crate while we were gone. The crate became her place of comfort. When Lou yelled at the Steelers game on the television, she retreated to her crate and she also went there when she got in trouble. She would even take her food there to eat it.

Esther barely ever barked. When she did, we were shocked. She was a very quiet dog. We knew where she was by the sound of her nails clicking on the floor and the jingle of her tags on her collar. She loved company. When people came to visit, she went up to them for attention. If we had more than one person visiting, she would go from lap to lap. She loved everyone except the mailman. When I took her for walks, she let the neighborhood kids pet her.

As she got older, she stopped sitting on my lap as much. She had arthritis in her left front leg. She started lying on the pillow I lay on when I’m resting on the couch. She would take up my whole pillow. So, I would gently rest my head on her and she was content. When my sister gave us a couch with back cushions you can move around, Esther crawled in between the cushions and the only thing you could see was her head. I would reach back and pet her.

Several months ago, I noticed a lump on her leg that was getting bigger. We took her to the vet and had it removed, but they couldn’t get it all because some of it was in her joint. I took care of her through her recovery. The vet said the lump was an aggressive cancer. Not too long after her surgery, another lump formed above the one that was partially removed. By Memorial Day her lump was open and seeping. It smelled bad. I took off from work that Tuesday to take her to the vet. Her leg was infected, leaving a hole that went to the bone. We could have had her leg removed, but the chances of her surviving and recovering were slim, or we could send her over the rainbow bridge. We couldn’t let her suffer.

The vet tech bandaged her leg up and sent her home with us for a few days. We fed her fries, ice cream, spaghetti, and eggs. We hugged her, petted her, and gave her all the love we could before taking her back to the vet on Friday. I held her tightly to my chest as the vet administered the medicine and she drifted away. I laid my head on her head and wept. Tears caressed Lou’s eyes too as he also said his goodbyes.

Now Lou and I both grieve Esther. She gave us endless love for nine and a half years. She gave us comfort. Lou found comfort in her with his illness and while he was home alone while I worked. Now our lives seem empty and sad. Esther will always have a place in our hearts. She was our therapy dog, our companion, our best friend, and our baby.

We are taking each day at time as we grieve Esther’s loss. In time we’ll get another dog, but right now our hearts have to heal. Memories of my baby girl keep me hanging on to the light of recovery.

ALL FEELINGS ARE VALID

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We all experience life with different perceptions. We go through life’s struggles and each person’s journey is different. What may seem like a minor bad point in a person’s life may seem like a major one in another person’s life. Someone may feel sad about a situation, while another person may feel happy. No person on earth experiences life the same or feels the same emotions as another. Everyone’s feelings are valid even if we don’t feel the same or understand them.

Feelings are a tricky thing especially when it comes to mental illness. It is so hard to understand why a person with a good life could fall deep into sadness. It’s even more difficult to understand how a person could feel so hopeless and depressed that he or she would want to commit suicide.

A friend’s aunt came in my line at work. I told her that her nephew was really struggling with depression.

She looked at me and said, “What does he have to be depressed about?”

I was taken back by her response. It was like she couldn’t understand her nephew’s feelings of sadness. This happens a lot to people with mental illness. Many don’t understand those struggling and they shrug them off like their feelings are not important, when they are very important.

After my mastectomy I struggled with grief for the loss of my breasts. Many of my friends told me that I didn’t need them anyway and I should be happy they were gone. Some said they were envious of me and would love to get rid of theirs. I felt like they didn’t validate my feelings of grief and depression.  This made me feel even worse. It’s like my loss was a joke to them, and it wasn’t. I lost a part of my body, a part that made me a woman, and yes at times I wished I didn’t have them, but when it came to having them removed, it was like a piece of me was stolen from me. The hardest battle for me with breast cancer was dealing with my loss, and having friends who didn’t take my grief seriously made me feel even worse.

This has happened with my mental illness too. I had lived two years in recovery from mental illness. I had friends, I was living in an apartment with a friend, and I had a boyfriend. Then suddenly I fell down that hole of depression. I felt hopeless, depressed, useless, and worthless. Some people didn’t take my feelings seriously. It didn’t make sense to them that I would feel those emotions when it seemed like I had a good life. To them I had no reason to feel bad. This made me feel even more alone. The more my feelings were not taken seriously, the worse my depression got.

     Years after I recovered from mental illness, I went to a friend’s house for a dinner. There was a group of us. They talked about a girl we all knew. The girl got upset and locked herself in the bathroom during a party. The girl told them her life was hopeless and she felt like she had nothing to live for. The group of girls who told me about it said that she was doing it for attention. They didn’t take her feelings seriously. They thought she was a joke when she was crying for help. To the girl her feelings were real and very overpowering. By locking herself in the bathroom and telling the group her feelings she was begging for help, and they didn’t listen. By not validating her feelings and noticing her call for help they made her feel more depressed, and she injured herself.

When I was in school there was a girl who kept talking about taking her life. I knew nothing about mental illness or that I was suffering with it. I thought she was telling us that for attention. She told me she was sad, and I thought she was a spoiled child craving attention. The teachers at my school never took her cries for help and feelings seriously either. She never got the help she needed because no one would listen to her or validate her feelings. I found out many years later she struggled with mental illness and was never able to get the proper help she needed. She has been living in an inner hell since she was a kid and it led to a very rough life.

     Everyone’s feelings are real and valid even if we don’t understand them or find a good reason for them. With mental illness the darkness, the feeling of hopelessness, the worthlessness, and inner anguish is very real. Not recognizing the person’s feelings and letting him or her know you acknowledge how they feel can be detrimental. It can lead a person deeper into his or her mental illness and can lead to suicide attempts or suicide.

When a person turns to you and tells you he or she is feeling depressed, that person is confiding in you and asking for help. Say you’re there for him or her, suggest he or she gets help, and listen to him or her. Don’t brush the person off or ask them, “What do you have to be depressed about?” Never assume the person is just trying to get attention. Don’t turn that person in to a joke you can talk about with your friends. Those feelings the person has been struggling with are very real, and if he or she is telling you about them then it is to ask you for help. Don’t ignore him or her. Validate his or her feelings. Many years ago, when I confided in my mom my feelings, she went out of her way to get me help. Because people who care about me, friends, and family, validated my feelings, I got help and I dance in the light of recovery.

PROGRESS ON MY NEXT MEMOIR

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When my LO was diagnosed with dementia, my whole world changed and my emotions went up and down. I was too emotional to work on my next memoir. I put it aside and started going to therapy to help me deal with this horrible illness my LO suffered with and my feelings. In the meantime, I stopped writing my next memoir. I found it hard to relive the past while struggling with the present. Now that I am dealing better with my emotions, I am writing again.

This past New Year’s Day, I decided to set myself a goal to get back to writing my book. I put in my phone’s calendar that I would write every Tuesday and Friday. I asked my fellow memoir writer and friend, Amy, to encourage me and remind me to write. Amy has been great; every Tuesday and Friday I get a text from her  encouraging me and reminding me to write.

I have been sticking to my goal. Each Tuesday I retreat to a quiet place, and I work on my memoir, The Years After The Garage. I struggle with a few interruptions from my husband and dog. The dog follows me upstairs and always must go out. I write in our bedroom while my husband is downstairs watching TV. However, our bathroom is across from our bedroom, and after he uses the bathroom, he pops his head in and wants to talk. I try to remind him nicely I’m busy writing. I miss the days when he worked early in the morning and he went to bed at seven PM. It was the perfect time to write.

Despite the interruptions, I have been writing. Most writers keep track of how many words they write, but I’m different. I keep track of how many pages I write. I post on Facebook and send a text to Amy each writing night, telling her how many pages I wrote. I usually write two pages each on Tuesday and Friday. I know it doesn’t sound like a lot, but I finished two chapters and started another one.

I enjoyed reliving the Summer Enrichment Workshop for writing I attended in 1991. The program was held at Chatauqua High School. I made a friend on the bus and learned a lot about writing. In the afternoon the teacher took us to Chautauqua Institute, a nonprofit education center and summer resort. The Institute was magical for me and inspiring. I loved it there. I found many wonderful spots to write.

In this new book I still spend time at my grandparents. Instead of my grandparents living at the family garage, they now live forty-five minutes away in a home on endless acres of land. My cousins, Denny and Russell, are no longer around to go on adventures with. My siblings and I must entertain ourselves in other ways. The strong bond with my grandparents is unwavering. Instead of seeing my grandparents during coffee break, we see them on Sundays. We either have dinner with them or come after we have eaten at home.

I’m still bullied in this book, but the bullying changes and I slip further into mental illness. If the garage is gone, how do I escape from the bullying? What keeps me from falling to the bottom of the hole of my illness? How do I succeed when I feel hopeless and worthless?

Right now, I’m working on chapter twelve. I’m starting tenth grade. I have written three and a half pages in this chapter. This book will go to twelfth grade when I graduate from high school. Now I have to start going back to Pennwriters so I can get critiques on the chapters I have written. Pennwriters helps me grow as a writer and improve my writing.

Writing my book helps me help others and heal from the pains of the past. It also helps me strive to stay in the light of recovery.

WHAT RECOVERY MEANS

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Many times when we think about recovery from an illness, we think of being healed or back to normal health and strength. Those who are recovered from the flu are healthy again. When it comes to mental illness, recovery has a different yet similar meaning. Most mental illnesses have no cure.

When we’re in recovery we are in a new normal. Our minds are clearer, we’re able to live a functional life, and we are stronger. Despite being in recovery, we still have mental illness, and we must take steps each day to manage it. We still have bad days, but we have coping skills to get through them.

What recovery means to me:

  • I fought a long hard battle and climbed out of the dark hole of depression and anxiety. I struggled with my illness for many years. I used everything in me to fight it and gain control.
  • I have learned coping skills to deal with hard times. I use different coping techniques like journaling, doing hobbies, relaxation, and self-care to deal with hard days.
  • I found happiness. I have taken control of my illness, and I am able to enjoy life and the people around me. I no longer live in sadness. I have fun, I laugh and I enjoy life.
  • I’m stable. I can make important decisions, I no longer cry easily, I can function, and I don’t fall apart like I once did. I can handle things I couldn’t when I was very sick.
  • When I have bad days, I can pull myself up again. Bad days don’t leave me stuck at the bottom of my hole. I work my way through the hard days and climb back up to the top of the hole. I no longer dwell in the darkness, and I don’t let it hold me down.
  • I must manage my illness every day. I take my medication and set up boundaries. I have a support system to turn to, and I know my limitations. I take care of my physical and mental health to stay in recovery. I know that even though I’m doing well I still could easily slip backwards if I don’t manage my illness.
  • I found a new meaning to my life. Life no longer seems hopeless. My life has meaning now. I am important and I make a difference in others’ lives. Life is beautiful and mysterious. It’s a journey that I’m excited to be on.
  • I’m not cured, but my illness no longer controls me. I know my illness will always be there and at times will try to push me down, but it no longer has control over me. I know the signs of when I’m really struggling and when to ask for help. I know how to deal with my illness when it tries to take over.
  • I’m a stronger person. I am a stronger person because I fought this horrible illness. If I can fight mental illness and rise above it, I have the strength to fight any challenge life puts in my path.

What does recovery from mental illness mean to you? Fight your illness and find out what it means to be in recovery. Mental illness is treatable, and most people can find relief from their illness if they are willing to do the work and willing to fight. You don’t have to live your life at the bottom of the dark hole. You can find happiness, function in society, and live in the light. Find your determination and fight the battle to recovery.

It took me a long time to find recovery, but I’m glad I found it. I live a beautiful life in the light of recovery.

AN APOLOGY LETTER

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Part of life is getting hurt by people. Sometimes they hurt us by accident, some don’t even realize they hurt us, and some hurt us because they are not nice. Getting an apology helps ease the pain, but not everyone apologizes. How do we mend our broken hearts if a person who hurt us never apologizes?

Since my book has been published, people have asked me, “Has any of your bullies read your book and apologized?”

Unfortunately, none of them has apologized and I don’t expect them to. I’m not even sure they would admit it was them in my book if they read it. My friend, Roberta, suggested I try writing an apology letter from one of my bullies to me. I thought about it and decided that would be a great idea. Below is an apology letter I have written from one of the bullies in my book, Donna. If you haven’t read my book, Escape to the Garage: Family Love Overcomes Bullying, reading my book would give you a better idea about what Donna did to me.

Dear Aimee,

  I’m so sorry I called you a retard and other names in school. I didn’t understand what a learning disability was. I was a fool to think you were stupid. Look at you. You went to college. You wrote a book. You were never stupid or retarded. My words were cruel and wrong. I wish I could take them back. Now I’ve read your book I can see how much they hurt you. I’m sorry I caused you so much pain.

  In school I thought you weren’t smart enough to ever work a job and I told you that you would be on welfare. Boy was I wrong. My life turned out to be a mess, but you went on to college, you got a degree, and you have worked the same job for twenty-seven years. I’m sorry I said that about you. I was so wrong. I’m the one who failed to succeed, but you are a success.

  I’m sorry I took your friends away and turned them against you. I’m sorry I stopped other kids from making a friendship with you. I didn’t feel good about myself and I turned that on you. I made your life miserable. It wasn’t nice of me to tell others lies about you so they wouldn’t be your friend. In a way I was jealous of you. My family and home life weren’t as good as yours, so in turn I made your school days miserable. I’m sorry for that.

  Maybe if I took the time to really get to know you, we could have been good friends. Maybe you could have been someone I could have confided in instead of someone I tore apart. I’m glad to see you were able to rise above the abuse I put you through and are now able to help others.

  You are a smart wonderful person and I’m sorry I never took the chance to get to know you for who you are. I can never take back all the pain I put you through or heal the wounds I caused, but at least I can do is tell you how wrong I was and how sorry I am.

   I am truly sorry for being so awful to you in school. I hope you will forgive me.

Sincerely,

Donna

I’d be surprised if I ever got an apology from Donna, but writing this letter helped ease the pain in my soul. It helped me see Donna as a person who acted out of ignorance and as an imperfect person instead of a monster. I’ll never be able to tell her I forgive her, but I forgive her for my own benefit. I don’t want to talk to her or have her in my life, but she is no longer that evil monster that tore me apart in school. Now I see her as a broken person who used her own insecurities to hurt me.

Try writing a letter of apology from the person who hurt you deeply. It will help you in the healing process and help you to forgive that person. It will also help you let go of the grip that person has on you. Once you have written the letter whisper or yell it out loud, “I forgive you.” Then let the wounds in your heart heal.

Writing the letter to Donna helped me heal. Because I wrote the letter I bathe in the light of recovery.

WHAT IF’S

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Do you ever worry about what might happen in the future? You start thinking about what could happen, and then it snowballs into a lot of “what if’s.” You think about so many “what if’s” that you feel tense in the shoulders and neck, you feel sick to the stomach, you have panic attacks, and you can’t sleep. You literally make yourself sick with anticipatory anxiety. Sometimes you get so upset that you cancel plans, stay in bed and block out the people you love.

I am guilty of struggling with anticipatory anxiety and even more now that I am doing somethings on my own since my loved one (lo)is  struggling with dementia. I’m learning to be more independent and to be a caregiver. I once depended on my lo for many things. We were a team, but now I have to take care of some of those things by myself. This is scary to me.

When our nephew passed, we had to travel three hours to his memorial service. My lo and I always shared the driving, and we always drove there in the summer. In the week before the service, I started spiraling with anticipatory anxiety. The “what if’s” swirled around in my mind like a tornado.

What if we can’t get out of Erie? What if we run into bad weather on the way there? What if we get in an accident and end up dead? What if we make it there and the weather is too bad to go home?  What if I can’t drive that far? What if we get stranded on the highway?

The “what ifs” made my shoulders tense, made me sick to my stomach, made my chest ache, and made emotions well up inside me like a ball caught in my throat. I told my “what if’s” to my friend Cheryl and she told me to stop worrying and I’ll be fine. She assured me that she believed I could make the trip without problems, but I couldn’t shut off my mind.

I wrote down my “what if’s” in a notebook and let my therapist read them.

My therapist said, “When you come up with a “what if,” find a solution. For each of your “what if’s,” there are solutions. I have faith you’re very capable of making this trip, but if your anxiety gets too bad, it’s okay to decide to cancel your plans. Have faith in yourself.”

So, here are my solutions for my “what ifs.”

  • What if we can’t make it out of Erie? Solution: If the weather is too bad, we’ll stay home.
  • What if we run into bad weather on the way? Solution: If the weather gets bad, we’ll pull off at an exit and find a hotel for the night.
  • What if we get in a bad accident and end up dead? Solution: Focus on the positive that we will make it safely.
  • What if we make it there and it’s too bad to leave to go home? Solution: I can call off work and stay at the hotel until the weather gets better.
  • What if I can’t drive that far? Solution: I’ll take breaks and take my time getting there.
  • What if we get stranded on the highway? Solution: We’ll pack a shovel, sleeping bags, water, and food.

With solutions to my “what if’s” I had a set plan and our trip no longer seemed so scary. My anxiety began to lift. We packed our car the night before and left early the next morning. Starting out it was snowy and a bit difficult to see, but I kept going. Farther down the highway the snow faded away and the sun shone. It was sunny for the rest of our trip. I stopped a couple times to stretch my legs, but we made it to our hotel without any problems.

The memorial service was on a Saturday, and we were going to stay until Monday, but because of a storm coming across Pennsylvania and much of the US, we left for home after we got some food at the meal after the service. The trip home was great. Sunny skies all the way home. The snowstorm hit the next day, and we were safe in our home. My anxiety was for nothing. I was so proud of myself for making the trip there and back without any problems.

If you’re struggling with anticipatory anxiety, come up with solutions for each of your “what if’s.” Once you do that, you’ll see that you have a plan for things that could go wrong. Having a plan makes the anxiety less powerful and helps ease your physical reactions.

From now on when I’m struggling with anticipatory anxiety, I’m going to come up with solutions, and this will help me stay in the light of recovery.

FOCUSING ON THE POSITIVES OF 2025

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When we get close to the end of the year many of us say, “I’m ready for this year to end. It was a bad year.”

We often focus on all the bad things that happened in the year, forgetting there were also good things. It’s easy to think about everything that went wrong in the year so that we can hope that a new year will be better. But it shouldn’t be the negatives of the past year that carry us into a new year. It should be the positives that build bridges for an even better year.

I can easily go through a list of things that went wrong in 2025. It was a rough year with my loved one being diagnosed with dementia and diabetes. I could easily talk about everything that went wrong in the past year, but it serves no purpose. Instead, I will list the positive things that happened in 2025.

Below is my list of positives:

  • I received an award from the president of the United States; I received a proclamation from Buffalo, NY’s mayor, declaring February 21 “Aimee Eddy Day” and I also received other awards for my work for One Life Project.
  • I had cataract surgery on both of my eyes, giving me new vision. I can see without glasses. I just need reading glasses.
  • My husband and I have taken many rides around Erie’s Peninsula. We enjoyed the scenery and time together.
  • My husband retired and I no longer must take the bus to work.
  • I threw a surprise retirement party for my husband and he was shocked. He loved the party.
  • We spent a romantic night in a hotel for our wedding anniversary.
  • I celebrated thirty years at my job with a dinner at Acrisure Stadium and a tour of the stadium.
  • I found a therapist that I really like who is helping me through my loved one’s dementia.
  • I got to see my niece and her family whom I haven’t seen in a few years.
  • I got Thanksgiving week off from work which I haven’t had off in thirty years.

I must admit I had to really think hard about the positives of last year. The bad things that happened weigh me down, but coming up with this list lessened my burdens. It made me realize that last year wasn’t so bad after all. I’m not throwing away a bad year; instead I’m using the positives of 2025 to build a positive bridge into 2026.

I know with mental illness it’s easy to just see the negatives in your life, but there are positives. To you 2025 was a bad year and you don’t see any hope for 2026. Try sitting down with a sheet of paper and reflecting on the past year. Think about the good things that happened like a friend who called to check on you, or after several days in bed you got out of bed. There are positives in your life and if you think hard, you’ll find them. Look at 2026 as a year with hope and new beginnings.

Going into the 2026 with hopes for a good year helps me stay in the light of recovery.

NEW EYES AND A NEW LOOK AT LIFE

Published on by Aimee EddyLeave a comment

I had my second cataract surgery on my right eye on Monday, December 8. The surgery went well without any complications. It was strange; I could hear the doctor and nurses talking and I felt pressure on my eye, but no pain. I wasn’t awake, but I wasn’t completely asleep either. The doctor put a patch on my right eye, and when the nurse took it off the next day the world around me changed.

I got my first pair of glasses in fourth grade. I tried not to wear them as much as possible, but that made seeing difficult. As the years went by, the lenses got thicker. They grew heavier and I had to constantly push them up. I tried to get thin frames, hoping it would make the glasses less heavy, but it didn’t help much. I became accustomed to my bulky glasses. They became a part of me. Every morning, I put them on, all day long I pushed them up, and every night I took them off. It was a routine.

Mental illness is like wearing glasses. We don’t want to admit we have it, so we avoid it as much as possible. Then the racing thoughts, negative thinking, hopelessness, and loss of self esteem grow thicker and thicker. We become accustomed to it and begin to live our lives in darkness. We believe the mental illness has become a part of us. We wake up to it, we drown in it all day long, and we go to bed with it.

With my eyes, cataracts made seeing extremely difficlt. I used a bright light and a magnifying glass to see better. When I went through cataract surgery on my left eye, things started to look brighter. Then I went through cataract surgery on my right eye and when they took the patch off, I could see everything better. I could see a brighter and better world. I was amazed at what I could see without glasses. It was like I got new eyes.

 Some things remain hard to see like words in a book and the guide on the TV. I got a pair of readers but will eventually need prescription glasses to see words on the TV and signs in the distance while driving.

Similar to cataracts, mental illness makes life look like a never-ending road of sadness. You use a therapist, medication, coping techniques, and a psychiatrist to help you find your way to the light. You fight a battle with your illness and in time life begins to look brighter. You take medication to balance the chemicals in your brain, and you change the way you think. Then you climb out of the dark hole and see a brighter and better life. But you still need medication and coping techniques to continue in the light of recovery.

Getting surgery for cataracts gave me a new look at the world, like reaching recovery gave me a new look at life. Since my vision was bad, cataract surgery couldn’t repair my vision completely. Recovery from mental illness doesn’t cure a person completely. There is nothing wrong with having extra aid to get through. I can’t see without glasses to read, and I can’t stay in recovery without coping techniques and medication. Cataract surgery wasn’t a complete cure for my vision, and recovery doesn’t mean I’m cured of mental illness.

There may not be a cure for mental illness, and you will need coping techniques to get through bad days, but your world will look brighter. Just like my world looks brighter after my cataract surgeries. You can live a happy life and find joy. So, I encourage you to fight for recovery and learn to see your life differently.

I not only see the world differently because of cataract surgery, but I see life differently because I stand in the light of recovery.

LET’S TALK ABOUT MENTAL ILLNESS

Published on by Aimee EddyLeave a comment

We talk openly about cancer, diabetes, heart disease, eye diseases, and many others. We never judge people with physical illnesses. We know people have no control over these sicknesses, but it’s different with mental illness. Mental illness is not talked about as openly as physical illnesses. Many times when it’s discussed, it is met with judgment and stigma. Because of this many people do not understand mental illness and those who have it hide it fearing they will be judged.

When you have diabetes, you take medicine to maintain it, you change your diet, and each day you take care of yourself to keep this illness under control. Mental illness is not much different. With mental illness you take medicine to control the symptoms, you go to therapy to learn how to manage your illness, and you take care of yourself with coping techniques to keep your illness under control. Like diabetes you have a plan of action and care. Mental illness is like any other illness, yet the sickness is treated differently.

When I was a child and teen, mental illness wasn’t talked about. I didn’t know what it was or that I had it. I just knew something was wrong with me. I didn’t find out about mental illness until I found a pamphlet about depression at college. Even when I learned more about mental illness, I was afraid to tell people that I struggled with it. I’ve heard people talk about people with mental illness as being crazy, and I’ve seen TV shows that made fun of the illness. I didn’t want to be judged, so I put on a smile when I was out in public and fell apart when I was at home.

As an adult, I was hospitalized for my illness. After I was released, I returned to work only to be met by stigma and judgment. A co-worker asked me if I was in the looney bin. When I returned to my job, I worked in the bakery department. Every time I got a simple cut, they asked me if I did it myself. When I got upset at work, I had a box cutter in my hand, and the bakery manager assumed I hurt myself with it. I was forced to sit in an office to talk to crisis, a program that helps people who are really struggling, when I didn’t need to. Later the store manager said that managers could treat me as they needed to because I was a danger to employees and customers. If I’d had problems with any other illness, I would not have endured such judgment.

We judge mental illness because it’s a sickness of the mind. It’s hard to understand when the mind doesn’t function properly, but if we talk about mental illness more frequently and openly, then we can break the stigma. To talk about this sickness, we must also educate society. That’s why I write this blog post and work for One Life Project. I want people to see that mental illness is like any other illness, and we should put an end to the stigma.

If you struggle with mental illness, talk about it with your friends, family, and co-workers. Give them information about your illness or invite them to a therapy session. When I was dating my husband, he went to therapy with me to learn about my illness and how to help me. Let’s push schools and workplaces to talk frequently about mental illness. We need to stop judging mental illness and see it as equal to physical illness.

Many people are struggling in silence with mental illness because they are afraid if they tell someone, they will be judged. If we talk about mental illness without stigma, then more strugglers will ask for the help they need, and we can save many lives. I urge you to stop judging and start speaking out about mental illness.

I work hard to fight the stigma that surrounds mental illness so that some day we can talk about it as openly as we do any other illness. I now openly talk with others about my sickness, and this helps shine a light on my path of recovery.