gotta get the words out

I've put off writing---out of pure exhaustion.

Every night I lay in bed and hear the words in my head- creating sentences and conversations of things I need to say and release in order to stay of sound mind....Yet I'm often too exhausted to even type it- to roll over & grab my laptop and get it out......

Life is going well...good...really good. I have a week left of my master's program & will be obtaining my Masters in Professional Counseling-Clinical Mental Health focus. I just accepted a job- which I am afraid I took out of haste- and fear it is not the one for me...not because of the clients. Never because of the clients. It's the administration- the management. The Negativity amongst the other counselors- the heavy caseload & limited time to stay atop everything....I had an interview at another place- where I feel I WOULD feel comfortable...a place that puts the clients first- that takes better care of it's counselors- that truly promotes recovery and helps those suffering....I pray this job comes through---soon...

My husband has an amazing job where he is executive chef for a golf course- 2 golf courses technically, as the owner's just bought their second course. People brag on him and all the amazing work he has done and continues to do...on how amazing he is--- this I know, all so well...

And it's good- it's wonderful. Here we are living a dream we never imagined possible....we are both blessed---we are both survivors...we have been given way more than we ever deserved and because of that- we appreciate it in a way others might not...

At the moment, I have him sleeping beside me, with our two doggies snoring on their bed beside us, in our wonderful house, in the great neighborhood....and it feels my heart with such joy....such pride....such amazement..

6 years ago I was battling death...for several years there, I battled death and beckoned it to come to me....i prayed for it to take me. And I was given another chance....and another chance.....and another..

All the while- my husband was playing his own games in his world...welcoming death upon himself as well..and he was given another chance....another try....

Despite all the wonderful going on in our lives, I can recognize that I still get the occasional blues. I am successfully off all psychotropic medication- and just as when on the medication- the winter brings much emotion. Blame it on lack of vitamin D, blame it on genetics, blame it on whatever you may---it's there. I can acknowledge that, express that, and recognize that this time of year I am more emotional and have a lot more generating through my head..

I guess- I almost welcome it-- it keeps me real. It reminds me of just how far I've come. Of all the work I've put into where I am today.

And that recovery is ongoing. When I have feelings of sadness, when I don't think highly of my body, when I want to cry, when I consider the past and all I've been through....It's all just part of my road of recovery & self-discovery....and I'm grateful for all those times- the highs and lows and all in between.

My vow for the end of this year and the upcoming year---to get back in my writing...to start expressing myself in written form again...I deserve it and owe it to myself....

here's to yet another year of beating the odds....and hopes to another day of joy and recovery..

SSRI Discontinuation Syndrome

July 2004 ....my first try at an SSRI (Selective-Serotonin reuptake inhibitor)...

July 2011....Made the decision to fnally coming off SSRIs....

October 16, 2011...today I lay here- the 5th consecutive day with no SSRI in my system....It has taken since July to slowly lower my dosage, as not to send my body into complete shock from the lack of the SSRI and throw me into extreme SSRI Discontinuation Syndrome....

Way back in 2004 when the doctor first tried me on Zoloft, I was not warned of any Discontinuation Syndrome... I vaguely remember taking the medication for 2- maybe 3 months then stopping cold turkey and coming down with what I thought was the flu. I felt horrible.....however, I was already so mentally unstable, already incredibly depressed and anxious that I cannot recall feeling the overwhelming sense of emotions, as I am now...

It was November 2005 before doctors would put me back on a SSRI....oh, that November...I'll never forget....how could I?...The ambulance ride. The long night and day in ICU. The ride in the back of the police car. The admission to a mental institute.. Being declared mentally unstable- a threat to myself... The state of Georgia calls it a 1013- a psychological code stating the person is unable is either a physical threat to themselves or to others..

I never said I was suicidal. I never said I wanted to hurt someone else. On the contrary- I felt I was doing well- just some back pain....

Yet there I was, in a Mental Institute- held against my will- for a 72 hour observation.... And I agreed to the SSRI- that was all I agreed to...

After those few days there, I agreed to stay on an SSRI- only because I knew it would keep people off my case. Maybe if I took this pill- it would cure me, make me better....or so they thought at least...

Months later- in the second mental hospital- this one by my choice- doctors tried to put me on more medication- antipsychotics- to "deal" with the anxiety... Dealing with the anxiety by means of the medicine meant that I would sleep- i would become a walking zombie- IF they could get me to walk. I knew that was not the route I wanted to take.... I wanted as little medication as possible- I wanted to be able to feel the emotions- so that I could work through things.....

It took a few months, and trying Zoloft, Paxil, and Prozac in various dosages before I told the doctor I was tired of trying medicines that did not seem to work....I gave him one last chance- as I was tired of trying and truly wanted to "quit" recovery- and thus began my relationship with Effexor XR..

I admit- after about a month- the therapist began to notice that I was doing "better"....and looking back- it gave me the jumpstart that I needed in order to be able to talk in therapy. It helped ease the anxiety just enough that I could speak in therapy- but not so much that I didn't feel anything. Oh I felt all right! Those first few months of therapy consisted of me sitting on that couch- crying- or hiding in a tight ball whispering for her to please not look at me....

Oh---...I was so sick....I was hurting so......

and yet, here I am today.....coming off this medicine....I'm not that same little girl anymore. I'm not depressed or anxious....do I sometimes feel depressed or anxious? yes- it just doesn't consume me......

and all these floods of emotions are hitting me...I'm telling myself- rightfully so! Here I am, coming off a medication that I've been on for almost 6 years. Forget the fact that there is a such thing as Discontinuation Syndrome & that most all people who come off this medication go through very similar reactions- I'm taking a huge step in acknowledging that I am in recovery....that I don't need the medicine. I've more coping skills and ways to handle things today than ever before....

and here I am, coming off this medication, right as I finish graduate school, right as I take my NCE for licensure- right as I accept a job in the counseling field....right as I have huge things happening my life...of course I'm going to be emotional- I'd be emotional if I were still taking the medication as usual.......

I'm just uber emotional- and have been the past 5 days, because of the medication....not to mention exhausted, drained, icky feeling....I've wanted nothing more than to lay in bed and "sleep it off".... Even as I type- I feel dizzy- like the computer is moving back and forth---a pressure in the back of my head I cannot explain.

the littlest things---oh my. I missed my exit the other day, which put me a few minutes late meeting my husband and I burst into tears. We went out to eat and had to wait- during which time more people came in and bribed the hostess (we saw the money exchange) and I got so mad I was ready to throw a fit! I bought a drink today (because I wanted the crushed ice) and got in my jeep only to realize the cup had a hole in it and started to cry- then 15 minutes later had severe road rage at a lady who sped around me as I was trying to park....

Just a little emotional....and it has to subside. I read up on it before my doctor & I started to decrease my medication- as I wanted to have the least side effects as possible- so I know that usually after 2 weeks, things go back to normal... Most people who try to stop taking SSRI think that the emotions are the Depression/Anxiety coming back- when in fact, it would take a month or more before signs of depression or anxiety truly returned. This is why most people try to stop taking the medications, freak out, then get back on the medication. Me- I want to get off the medication- for good. I know it works- I know if i ever get truly, severely depressed/anxious again, that I can get on medication- however, I also know that I have numerous ways in which to handle that depression and anxiety. Honestly- I don't ever want to be on this medicine again because I never want to feel this again. ....I'd rather feel the emotions and have to deal with them....Crying never hurt me....and a little anger and frustration can actually help me learn to express myself......

i can truly say----i never thought i'd see this day...thought I'd be on medication for my "mental illness" my entire life...I mean- that IS what those doctors said- that I had a small chance of "getting better"- that I would need medication probably for the rest of my life...that my prognosis was poor....

October 16, 2011....5 days without any SSRI....

and I continue to prove them wrong.....

Wedding thank you!

Finally ordered my thank you cards....can we say that I'm behind? been a VERY busy few months....cannot WAIT to get these addressed & mailed!

Everlasting Rings Collage Thank You Card

Send thanks with Shutterfly custom Thank You Cards.

View the entire collection of cards.

it all come back----

in floods and waves- it comes back to me- vibrant and vague---

the words he said to break me- to bend me, twist me, reconfigure and mold me into what he wanted me to be...

comments- "you need a view of your body from someone else"..."You are helping me as well"...

the nights I fell asleep with stained teared pillows- when I clung to my blankets and stuffed animals to fight off the demons...

all the meals I forced myself to eat and the white of my knuckles fighting back urges of compensatory behaviors...

days of being bundled into the corner of her couch as she tried to soothe me into talking and nights of squeezing into a tight ball in the red chair while they tried to convince me it wasn't my fault...

it all comes back---

those first few nights- at a different house- when every method of accidental and purposeful death played through my mind...

people calling wanting information, wanting explanation, wanting to know i was safe

of hiding behind locked doors, walking as fast as I could, checking over my shoulder, scared to look at my phone- terrified i'd see him- somewhere....that he'd find me...

it all comes back---

the feelings of guilt and shame. hopelessness and fear...darkness and death....

uncertain if i'd have the strength to make it through the day....

scared of living and scared of dying....

certain that i'd forever be in such pain & turmoil- that life couldn't possibly get better....that I had done far too much for God to repair.....

and it hits me...

I'll walk down the aisle in 4 days and a wake up-

my life is so incredible i haven't room to complain...

and she spoke the words, "you were so brave and strong"...for speaking up when I did....

hearing her say she's drawing strength from the strength I portrayed...

sometimes---i just need that reminder.....what i did wasn't easy...i hurt for days, weeks, months on end and still have the occasional nightmare...

i was strong and brave to stand up- to be honest....

i needed that reminder...and I'm glad an angel shared that with me tonight

It seems that the past few months, the only writing I've engaged in have been papers- essays and research- all for my graduate program...

I miss writing...

I miss being able to pour out my heart and soul onto paper- or onto the blog...I miss releasing that which I hold in day after day.

A part of me fears my ability to use written words is slowly dying - or fading away- as I continue in recovery.

It's almost as if before, I was unable to use my physical voice. I couldn't say what I felt or thought- I couldn't use my physical voice to express my soul...and slowly, as I've learned how to speak, I wrote less and less....

I don't want to lose my written words...It is a part of me. Paper and pen held my power and strength- it allowed me to take a stand against the world- to convey that which played in my head over and over again. It allowed me to declare to others "I am NOT okay!"

Today...I'm okay- not perfect, not awful. Actually, I'm pretty good considering where I have been before and the depths I have seen... Despite all the odds, I continue to strive and grow and learn... When I face mountains in the road, I find a way to climb over or go around...

Thanksgiving and Christmas were a bit difficult, yet I still managed to stay a step ahead of the depression and eating disorder....

He was there....for the first time since 2005, I saw him.. Briefly on Thanksgiving, as we made a get-away before I had to actually converse with him. Christmas- not such luck. I saw him as we drove up to be with family- and I felt the sickness all over again in my stomach. My insides twisted and turned- and the voices started all over again. I felt the tears and the fear all over again...even as I write, I feel tears starting to form and the hard knot in my chest. I wanted to run and hide- I wanted to find a safe place and hug myself tight- to close myself out from the world. I felt like a child all over again- scared, afraid- knowing that i was tainted, used- that I was the bad little girl.

And I knew it was expected of me to keep the peace. That I was supposed to walk in and act as if nothing had ever happened...I was supposed to be the "sweet little girl", the perfect one.

I'm sad to say, I played the part- again. I played the role that I had played for so many years. Silly sweet me- the baby of the family...

I cringed as he came to give me a hug...the anxiety filled my every cell and I wanted to escape- to dissociate into a void...perhaps for moments I did...All that kept me grounded was having my Fiance by my side- yet even still, I did not feel safe.

He hugged me and told me I looked good.

..."look good"...my full, womanly body of curves..my wide hips that serve as a mating call...my breasts that attract nursing babies...my rump that gives me much cushion..

I wanted my emaciated body back...I wanted to be unattractive...I wanted my legs to be bones- for my shape to be straight. I wanted to be the size of a child who's not reached puberty...I wanted to run behind my mother's leg and hide myself....I wanted to retreat back into the comfort of my eating disorder...

I made it through the day---and I didn't act out...I suppose that's a success...But I still thought about it and wanted it...I just knew that it was no longer an option. I knew that going back would never solve the problem and that going back would mean losing all I have fought so hard to earn...

I admit my body awareness has been high as of late...the stress of the holidays, school, work, and the upcoming wedding leads me to focus a bit more on my flaws than on what I actually need to be doing to get things done. I admit I find many flaws in my body that I wish were a quick fix--almost that I could restrict to lose the added weight...yet I know I have to continue the road of recovery...if I want to shape up or lose any weight, I have to eat healthy and exercise in moderation and pray that my body has mercy on me....I cannot resort to extremes, as I get addicted to the extremes and forget how to find a way out.. So while many are making extreme resolutions to lose x amount of weight, I have to accept that I can only be the healthiest I can be and be happy with that....a feat that isn't always easy- but I know will be worth it in the long haul.

in other news-

I am about to begin a very hectic-crazy quarter...I will be interning at a mental hospital around 15 hours a week, working 40 hours a week, going to school 10 hours a week, and planning a wedding...don't ask me what I was thinking or when I'm going to sleep or how I'm going to survive...All I know is that I will make it through- it's what I do...

I'm a survivor...I push through the obstacles and overcome what I face.

I'll never stop trying to help others....it's a part of my life now....always looking for ways to make the world a better place...always looking to understand the disorders that took so many years of my life---that shaped me into who I am today...

recently my friend, slash that--my SISTER in recovery, Shannon, referenced to me on her flickr account ...I wept as I read the words and was taken back to those moments at Ridgeview...a month in a treatment center---wondering how I'd landed myself...knowing I needed recovery- but uncertain if I was truly ready....unsure if I wanted it badly enough...To those who do not unverstand mental illness, I cannot explain what it provides the "sick" person...I was dying, from the inside out, losing relationships, losing life---yet at the same time, I was alive and comforted in my disorder. It gave me strength to make it through the day....A therapist once said to me, "Sherri- your eating disorder is your life raft and it's slowly sinking.." She went on to describe that I was clinging to this raft that was sinking because I was caught in a vicious river...that I would let go of my raft and swim a bit, but would go back to my raft and each time I grabbed back to my raft, it would sink a little more...It was killing me- but also keeping me alive. I needed my eating disorder, I needed the depression and PTSD in order to live in the world. I had no other way of living but to cling to rafts that would only keep me afloat for a bit....
I needed my sickness....had it not been there- perhaps I would have drown...perhaps the thoughts of suicide would have taken me completely under...I look back at my eating disorder- at all my sickness- with much appreciation....without it, I know, with perfect fact, that I would not be where I am today...

Today, I sit in the public library- researching eating disorders for my research class. I have to write a paper---propose a study. Millions of topics in the psychology world that I could study---and I'm brought back to what brought me here.... I'm a rare statistic...
Recently I looked back at my intake and release forms from Ridgeview...
as I checked in- my GAF score was a 20....as I released- 40 with the words "poor prognosis". The doctors felt I would be back in treatment - that I would need several bouts of inpatient treatment before I would begin recovery...in fact, many of my friends that I met in treatment have been back- several times...some---still not in recovery.... Yet 4.5 years later, I have my bachelor's degree in Psychology and am working on my Masters in Professional Counseling. Turning what I've learned, what I've experienced, what almost killed me, into ways to help others....

My eating disorder, the depression, the abuse----it doesn't define me anymore...and I've since learned that it no longer provides me with the comfort---it no longer serves the purpose of helping me stay afloat in the world...when I attempt to cling to it today- water gushes in my lungs and I'm taken over by the waves and the current..it no longer saves my life---and I can guarantee you, if I truly went back to it- it would take my life...instead I have other ways to coping and dealing with the world....However, it's never far from me. I have reminders throughout the day of what I've been through...my achilles heel---my soft spot...any time I look at my rich, red cheeks and full bright eyes, knowing they were once sunken; any time I see other girls, clearly struggling with that which was once my life; everytime I have aches and pains or medical issues, swallowing that fact that I abused this body for a long time and probably caused damage; everyday I look into the eyes of my loving fiancee who tells me he thinks I'm beautiful....every moment I put a morsel of food in my mouth.....I'll never forget...I don't want to forget....I want to help....I want to carry the message forward and continue living.

so here I sit---working on research for what can assist those to recover with eating disorders....

it's my duty....I lived so that I can carry hope for future generations....and I'll never stop trying

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/For_the_Love_of_Nancy

something about lifetime movies get me....everytime..

I remember watching this movie years ago----thinking to myself, "..I must not have an eating disorder because I'm not her size..." I'd watch movies on Eating disorders and convince myself that I wasn't like that---that I wasn't that sick....
....and then I ended up in ICU, attached to heart monitors, listening to the nurses whisper, hearing the doctor tell me I was going to die......
This movie now makes me cry. How sick I was to be so blind- not realizing how sick I was, letting it get to where it did, hurting so many people, almost killing myself along the way...
Today, it almost seems like a bad dream---light years away. Sometimes I wonder if it all really happened....was I really that sick?....was it real?


and it was....It was real. I drew near death, I clung to death, I wanted death....and I'm living to tell the tale...
I know what it's like to taste death...I know what it's like to hate everything about myself---to feel out of control, overwhelmed, overtaken by life. I know what it's like to barely cling to life, to debate in my head over and over about whether or not life is even worth it....
Even to type it still sends chills down my spine---to see where my life is today----how happy, how joyful, how wonderful I feel and still cling to the truth that life hasn't always been this way...
It makes me sad, knowing the road I've traveled....yet also makes me feel extremely blessed to know that I'm one of the few statistics....I'm one of the few in active, healthy recovery....
the eating disorder will always be a part of who I am...It still creeps in at times and tries to take my joy----I've gotten better at noticing it and standing strong in who I am. the memories will always be there....I cannot go back, nor would I......as hard, as awful, as scary as it all was, that time of my life has shaped me into the woman I am today...........

sometimes i just have to remind myself of the past...to pause and remember, to reflect over what has gotten me to where I am today....

I'm a survivor....and that's not a cliche, nor am I saying it in the weak meaning of the word...I am a true survivor---of abuse, of an eating disorder, of near death.....


i challenge people to watch this movie and to reflect on those in their lives who suffer from mental disorders-- especially eating disorders....and to do all they can to get the awareness out, to fight, to stand for recovery and health.....