Yes, it's been nearly a month since my last post here, but rest assured that I have several percolating! It's been hard to talk about all of this, but I really do think it's good for me and I hope it can help someone else who may be struggling.
Since I last posted, I've almost completed a lovely run of "The Secret Garden" at Hale Center Theater Orem (we close Saturday!), I have gotten a new job (I start June 11), and I've continued the fight against the Neverending Virus/allergies/sinus infection.
I'm also tired, sometimes grumpy, and overall happy. When my schedule settles a little bit, I will continue this Year From Hell saga.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Sick or Hungry? (part 1)
I don't remember when I stopped eating during 2002, the Year From Hell. I remember my body and brain going into "fight or flight" mode at one point soon after it all started but I can't say exactly when or how long after the trigger event. I may have gradually lost my appetite, or it may have happened suddenly. In any case, there came a time where I didn't eat very much, if anything, at all. I just didn't want to, or didn't remember to, or felt too sick to. I've talked to people about it, and I'm always surprised when some of them say, "Oh, I'd love to have that problem!" No, you wouldn't. The problem with the "problem" is that I eventually could no longer tell if I was sick or hungry, because they felt exactly the same. My stomach would cramp and I'd become nauseated, but because I couldn't tell the difference between illness and hunger, it turned into a vicious cycle: if I ate, I ran the risk of vomiting. If I didn't eat, I ran the risk of painful stomach cramps that sometimes doubled me over. It felt as though someone had reached into my abdomen and was squeezing my stomach or that it was trying to burst through my skin.
I remember one time in the summer of 2003 when I was visiting my friend Tony for a game night; my stomach hurt so badly that I had to leave his basement apartment to see if the fresh air would help me feel less ill. My friends were concerned, and as I sat on the cement wall of Tony's stairs, one of them brought me a piece of bread and stayed with me until I ate it. It was hard to chew and swallow because the nausea was so bad, but I did it and eventually felt better. The thing is, until I DID feel better, I didn't know if I would. I didn't know if that stupid piece of bread would make me throw up or not because my stomach felt exactly the same either way..
Later that summer, I visited my friend Matthew on Pioneer Day. I was assisting with some training for work and we'd gotten done later than expected, so Matthew's Pioneer Day celebration was over by the time I got to his apartment. We talked for a little while, but I was tired and didn't stay very long. As I stood up to leave, I almost passed out and he had to hold me up until I was steady on my feet. I don't pass out. I've never fainted. I blacked out once, when I was 10 and sprained my foot, and that was only for a few seconds. I got very faint last year after giving blood and trying to help someone who fainted in the recovery area. Pioneer Day 2003, though, I came very close to passing out. Matthew was worried, but I reassured him I was fine and was able to drive home without anything else happening.
It was during this time I started getting bad tension headaches. I'd become dizzy and get tunnel vision and nausea and barely be able to drive home. The only thing that helped was sleeping for a couple of hours. Now I know that my occasional headaches can largely be prevented by eating or drinking, but at the time it didn't occur to me.
When I began to recover, I sometimes had to remind myself to eat. I had to remember that sometimes, quantity counted more than quality. If, for instance, nothing but cookies was appetizing, I ate cookies. Sometimes it was my "whitey white" sandwich of turkey, white bread, and mayonnaise that I ate at least once a day for two or three weeks straight. Sometimes it was toast or celery or jelly beans or pancakes. I learned to eat what I was hungry for WHEN I was hungry and not freak out about it, because at least I was eating.
I remember one time in the summer of 2003 when I was visiting my friend Tony for a game night; my stomach hurt so badly that I had to leave his basement apartment to see if the fresh air would help me feel less ill. My friends were concerned, and as I sat on the cement wall of Tony's stairs, one of them brought me a piece of bread and stayed with me until I ate it. It was hard to chew and swallow because the nausea was so bad, but I did it and eventually felt better. The thing is, until I DID feel better, I didn't know if I would. I didn't know if that stupid piece of bread would make me throw up or not because my stomach felt exactly the same either way..
Later that summer, I visited my friend Matthew on Pioneer Day. I was assisting with some training for work and we'd gotten done later than expected, so Matthew's Pioneer Day celebration was over by the time I got to his apartment. We talked for a little while, but I was tired and didn't stay very long. As I stood up to leave, I almost passed out and he had to hold me up until I was steady on my feet. I don't pass out. I've never fainted. I blacked out once, when I was 10 and sprained my foot, and that was only for a few seconds. I got very faint last year after giving blood and trying to help someone who fainted in the recovery area. Pioneer Day 2003, though, I came very close to passing out. Matthew was worried, but I reassured him I was fine and was able to drive home without anything else happening.
It was during this time I started getting bad tension headaches. I'd become dizzy and get tunnel vision and nausea and barely be able to drive home. The only thing that helped was sleeping for a couple of hours. Now I know that my occasional headaches can largely be prevented by eating or drinking, but at the time it didn't occur to me.
When I began to recover, I sometimes had to remind myself to eat. I had to remember that sometimes, quantity counted more than quality. If, for instance, nothing but cookies was appetizing, I ate cookies. Sometimes it was my "whitey white" sandwich of turkey, white bread, and mayonnaise that I ate at least once a day for two or three weeks straight. Sometimes it was toast or celery or jelly beans or pancakes. I learned to eat what I was hungry for WHEN I was hungry and not freak out about it, because at least I was eating.
Friday, May 4, 2012
I don't know if this is brave or stupid.
Ten years ago in June I began a journey through a major depressive episode. This is not something I really talk about very much, partly because it was such a dark period of my life and partly because it's one of those things no one really talks about. However, over the last few years, I've become an advocate for diminishing the stigma of mental illness, and over the last few weeks I've been thinking a lot about what I went through. A part of me is still trying to make sense of it, I think. Most of me is really happy that I'm here.
I'm usually reluctant to talk about that two or three years because it's awkward, uncomfortable, and sad, none of which I like being. There were some really horrific things I dealt with. There were times I don't want to remember. There were also miracles.
I don't think of myself as some kind of hero for getting through all of that. I am stronger for having done it, I know, but I'm not anything that special. Maybe, though, talking about this can help someone else. Maybe it will be good for me to confront some of it from my current perspective. I don't know. I do know, though, that I'm going to write about it...whether you like it or not. Ha.
I'm usually reluctant to talk about that two or three years because it's awkward, uncomfortable, and sad, none of which I like being. There were some really horrific things I dealt with. There were times I don't want to remember. There were also miracles.
I don't think of myself as some kind of hero for getting through all of that. I am stronger for having done it, I know, but I'm not anything that special. Maybe, though, talking about this can help someone else. Maybe it will be good for me to confront some of it from my current perspective. I don't know. I do know, though, that I'm going to write about it...whether you like it or not. Ha.
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