100th Post: Winning

For my 100th post on this blog, I wanted to share something a bit personal and what most people would deem embarrassing or shameful. The reason I share so much about what I’ve been through and where I’m heading is that there shouldn’t be a social stigma for someone suffering from a mental illness, or any illness for that matter. As I continue to work on becoming a Clinical Psychologist, one of the most powerful things I am armed with is my experiences, my story. Here’s another chapter . . .

For the past 5 years, I was a hoarder. A hoarder is someone that, for some reason or another, can not throw anything away. They collect everything – and I do mean everything. Right now, the Mental Health Community isn’t even quite sure exactly how to treat or classify hoarding. It could end up being a separate diagnosis all on it’s own, or a subset of OCD.

One of the mysteries to hoarding, which in turn makes it hard to treat, is why people do it. There’s not one specific answer or cause. My reason started off simply enough . . . I liked to shop. I liked to buy things. I wasn’t happy and I’d get up, go shopping, buy something . . . and feel better. As time drug on, I ended up buying more and more of the same stuff.

Then, some where down the line, I stopped throwing stuff away. I got paranoid that someone might come into my home – they might actually want to come in my house! That kind of freaked me out. My home was my safety – my place to hide from the world. So if my home was not “clean”, therefore no one could come over. It wouldn’t be proper to entertain when your home is not “clean.” It became a very effective way to keep a barrier between me and the rest of the world.

I liked the isolation, and being burrowed in my little hole . . . for awhile. Then something unexpected happened. I met my best friend. Someone that loved me for all of who I am, and she didn’t care about my issues, she just wanted to help me b/c she loved me for who I am. That was kind of cool – and different. I let her in. Not my home mind you . . . but my heart. She didn’t press coming over, she understood. She just let me know that at some point, she wanted to come over. She offered so many times to help me clean, to help me get through it. But I said no . . . inside I felt it had to be something I did myself.

Another thing happened, quite recently. I met someone else. Something completely unexpected happened . . . we went out . . . and the unexpected part was that we had fun – I ENJOYED IT! One night with him showed me the last missing piece – and gave me the rest of the motivation I needed. I realized that I really, REALLY did want to have someone in my life, and in order to do that – I had to stop hoarding. I had to let go of my fear of getting hurt, because in life – you get hurt. I had to tear down the last walls of isolation I had built.

In 5 years I had filled up my 870 sq. foot home with crap. In 4 days, it was clean. (Yes, that picture is a partial picture of everything I threw away . . . there was more than I could get in one shot) It was over . . . all of it was finally over. In the end, I did it. I beat it. I got thru the PTSD, I got over the depression, I reconnected with so many that I’d lost touch with, I am beating my weight issue, and I no longer hoard. I can’t thank God enough for all the blessings he's given me and continues to provide.

With tears of joy in my eyes I say thank you. Thank you for reading this, thank you for learning about me, thank you for understanding. 2009 was one helluva year . . . and 2010 is going to be better. Here’s to another 100 blog entries . . .

Take 2 of the red . . . no wait 3 of the blue . . . ah hell, do whatevah!

This might be a TMI blog, but oh well . . . I guess I just don't fear it anymore. Or am ashamed by it . . .

So, why all the filler recently . . . what happened to the humor and insight (my, don't I think highly of myself!)? Well, I've been preoccupied with my mind. I know that probably sounds bizarre to some, but to me I think of it often. I have to question what's going on, how I feel, what's really behind the feeling - it's a vigilant stance I have to take every single day. Why is that? Well, it's simple . . . the chemistry in my brain is hosed up -- big time! Things don't necessarily click up there like they are supposed to on a regular basis, and I have to know when things need a bit of help.

See, after my last hospital stay (yes, it was a mental hospital - and no I didn't try to commit suicide) I promised myself to learn more about my diagnosis, and myself really. I am diagnosed with three issues - and yes they might seem trendy diagnosises (what is the plural for diagnosis??), but for me they really are there. Until I had these and got help, my life was spiraling down hill. I am bipolar (rapid cycling) - which means I hit really big highs and then crash pretty dang hard fairly quickly. Most people's highs last for at least a month, and lows the same. Mine tend to go week to week and even day by day when it gets really bad. I have PTSD (abuse related) - certain smells, sounds, or images trigger really strong responses in my mind to the point of experiencing the emotions, feelings, or angst associated with it. And finally, I have ADHD. I know, who doesn't. But for me, it hits pretty hard. I can be having a conversation and in the middle, change gears and not be able to recall what was going on before. I'm hell in a meeting because I struggle to follow. It's pretty frustrating sometimes.

Anyway, after my last stay, a couple things happened that shot my confidence in the psychiatry community. First - my doctor had a stroke. It was back to finding a new doctor and starting all over again. While in the hospital the doctor's joked that all of my particular doctor's patients ALL took the same stuff at the same dosages. That shot my confidence in what I was doing. Then, after my discharge, I got hooked up with a new doctor that changed ALL my meds and kept doing it. The final straw was when I got a bill from him. I asked repeatedly if he accepted my insurance, and he said yes over and over. Well, he didn't. So, I hit the point where I said fuck it all. I stopped taking everything . . . all of it. That was well over a year ago. I went back this weekend and listed all the medication I have in my medicine cabinet that I took over the past year, and it's quite a list. I had Concerta (in 3 dosage sizes - for ADHD), Lamictal (in 2 dosages - mood stabilizer), Wellbutrin XL (2 dosages - antidepressant), Remeron (antidepressant), Cymbalta (antidepressant), Abilify (3 dosages - antipsychotic - for PTSD), Ambien (for when I couldn't sleep ~ can't imagine why), and Atavan (for when I couldn't calm down - for PTSD). Yes, in a span from August 2006 to January 2007 I was taking a combination of the above pills. In January, I just stopped. I was tired of feeling numb, and the side effects sucked major ass!

For most of the year, I haven't really had any issues, and I dealt with some big stuff. Now, however, I'm falling again. I'm falling into that abyss that I don't want to go to. I hate it, and I don't want to take umpteen million pills, but I have to take care of myself. I need to find someone that will listen, and care. Find someone that won't have a prescription filled out before I even sit down. I don't want to do this, but I know I must. I have to take care of my mental health. I can't sleep regularly, I'm irritable all the time, I have begun to isolate, things that used to interest me don't anymore, and I had some thoughts that I haven't had in over a year creep into my head. I'm scared to death to walk down this road again, but I'm even more afraid of what will happen if I don't.

So, I'm going to try and make an appointment sometime for this week or next. I'll keep ya posted. So, this is what's going on in JJ's world right now. It sux, but we all have our struggles. It's what makes us who we are.

Take care . . . Hugz!