Anxiety, Brain Injury, Depression

Triple Whammy

Dealing with depression, anxiety, and a brain injury is confusing and disheartening.

Were my lows this low, before the stroke? Did I always hate crowds this much? Did I overthink things this much? . . . or everything just a little bit worse? I don’t remember so I can’t make an accurate comparison.

I spend a lot of time scrutinizing things like, what to do with my time, who I’ll spend it with, where I’m comfortable being from moment to moment, and how I’ll get there.

I make mistakes, but they’re not as drastic or detrimental as they used to be.

I have no regrets because in each wrongful act I’ve committed, or mistake I’ve made, I’ve learned more about myself and human nature.

As humans, what we want and what’s right, don’t necessarily coincide.

On top of that sentiment, it’s all relative to who you’re surrounded by, what your beliefs are, what takes priority at the given time, what makes you tick, what resources are at your disposal, etc.

That being said, I’d like to strive to be a better person, while minimizing emotional pain across the board.

A few of my goals for this winter are to remain seizure-free and to combat my impending, debilitating depression. That means staying away from stressful, demoralizing situations.

Part of this quest for salvation is having to battle my inner demons and win. It can be done but it’s not easy and it’s a never-ending struggle.

So, after a week of serious thinking, in early December, I decided to try remain to sober.

My neurologist okayed me to have ONE alcoholic beverage per day. However, I can’t ever predict whether I can stop after one.

For instance, on a Wednesday night about a month ago, I thought, “A glass of cabernet sauvignon would pair nicely with a slice of strawberry rhubarb pie,” and it did but . . . Then, I had two more glasses of wine, only one glass of water, and forgot to take the evening dose of my anti-convulsant.

The morning after the “wine and pie fiasco,” I had a seizure.

I was treating the site where I bit down on my cheek during said seizure. It wasn’t healed after a week. This, among other things, solidified my decision to try self-restraint.

I’m really good at justifying things to myself. I never, really, considered sobriety before because I’ve never believed in abstaining from something. I believed that telling yourself, you can’t have something is just . . . cruel. But, in weighing pros and cons, at this moment, allowing myself to drink is more cruel because of the imminent domino effect.

Overall, I need to take better care of myself.

It’s been a solid month of sobriety. The more time passes, the prouder I am of myself. I’ve been treating myself the way I’ve always wanted to.

I figured, if I could just make it through the holidays, the rest would be cake.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve wanted to drink within the past month to deal with stress, to make myself comfortably numb, to “fit in,” to not remember, etc. But, I realize that those “coping mechanisms” are temporary, counter-productive, and NOT healthy. Again, one drink would be alright, but I never can tell if I’ll stop after that one. It’s better FOR ME to cut it out completely.

It took a few weeks but, now, I feel better than I have, in a long time.

I’m more in-tune with my body. If I feel “off” I think, “Did I take my meds? Do I need food? Do I need sleep?” There’s no ignoring, or guessing, or forgetting.

For about a year or so, I was afraid to leave my apartment; afraid I’d forget my morning meds, worried I’d have a seizure or a panic attack at the gym or on the bus, stuff like that. Irrational fears, really.

I people say, I’m sharper and my speech has improved. I think it’s true. Even if it’s a placebo effect, I’ll take it!

I’ve been having weird, embarrassing dreams where I slip up and do something stupid. When I realize it’s only a dream, I feel relieved and reminded of what could be or has been and I’m like, “No, thank you.”

I’ve had more energy. I still NEED my naps and I still crap out from general fatigue, but it’s less frequent and doesn’t last as long.

 

It helps that everybody in my life has been so supportive.

They say, “Do you!”

And I say, “Hmmm . . . Okay!”

 

I don’t know. Something just feels right about 2016.

Advertisements
Standard
Sorry

An Apology . . .

Parental Advisory: Crude Language

I don’t know, exactly, when I lost my innocence. I think it was a gradual process.

The older I get, the more jaded and guarded I become.

When I had the stroke, I was completely lost. I’m still lost but, now, I’m as grounded as I’ve ever been.

As part of services set in place through the Traumatic Brain Injury Waiver, I received a psychological evaluation. What that accomplishes is pinpointing what deficits I have that may affect school or work and what my needs would be, according to the psychologist’s findings.

As part of the evaluation, he had me fill out a personality assessment questionnaire.

Upon analyzing my answers, he said that they raise a lot of questions, one of which was, ”What’s the deal with you and relationships?”

I wanted to say, “Well, that’s a loaded question, Doctor.”

I’m in transition. I don’t know what I’m doing and I feel like an asshole but I can’t give any more to anyone than I already do and it’s not fair and I’m sorry.

I’m fucked up; more fucked up than I let on. It may seem like I’m an open book but I have a lot of layers. You only see what I allow you to see. I have secrets that I don’t want to talk about yet; secrets that lend to who I am but I’m not ready to share. I’m comfortable with my guard up for now.

What I mean is, I don’t know my new self so I’m doing my best but I don’t want to let anyone new in, at this time, and I’m trying to right past wrongs.

Getting to know me takes effort because I’m never satisfied and always evolving.

I am, by no means, trying to make excuses. I’m just trying to explain so the people I inadvertently hurt, hopefully, will not be as pained.

I don’t want to hurt anybody but I want to be ALL IN with people as passionate as I am. The old me just wanted to be loved. Now, I want to be loved and to love myself.

I didn’t think that was possible. I thought, if I showed other people love, it would replace that empty feeling inside of me. Their happiness would make me feel whole. Now, I’m trying “. . . to find what will make me content in the moment, while continuing moving forward, especially in recovery. I’m trying to find self-worth.” (https://mariahrosesramblings.wordpress.com/2015/06/03/redefinition/, Redefinition, June 3rd, 2015.)

It’s a lot of work. I’m focusing on myself so I get lonely but it’s for the best.

Relationships mean more now, whether they be platonic or otherwise. If I choose you to be a part of my pack, I want it to be for life.

It’s a painful process. I’ve lost a lot of people throughout it; people I thought were friends lose patience or no longer believe I have anything to offer. Sometimes, would-be friends, don’t realize what they’re getting into. I try to explain from the get-go but I think I fall short in articulation. It sucks but oh well.

The way I see it, tattooing is my passion and I haven’t been able to do it so I’ve picked apart what I love about it. I love interacting on an intimate level with clients. I love getting to know people. I love picking apart people’s visions and being able to bring them to fruition. I love being a part of other people’s healing processes.

I’ve spent a lot my recovery trying to mimic those feelings. Sometimes, I come close to those same sensations. Just trying makes me feel like I’m doing something positive and not just rolling over.

Again, that’s all I can do for now and for that, I am truly sorry that I can’t do more.

Thank you to those who have been patient with me. It means the world to me and I’ll make it up to you someday.

Standard