I was driving home from Lehi yesterday, which is roughly an hour long drive, depending on traffic and whether or not I stick to the speed limit. ;) Just as I was headed home, my iTunes, which is always on shuffle, started playing the recording of my dad's funeral. I usually 'skip' it, but yesterday I decided to leave it on. It's been 13 months now since the funeral and it was so good to hear the voices of some people I love, as well as the stories that were told of my dad. It brought a smile to my face, as well as a few tears. I even laughed.
Though I try not to dwell on all things negative, {notice I said *try*}, many things that were said to me throughout the last year have been looming in the back of my mind. I've done a great deal of pondering, as well as a great deal of therapy with the most amazing therapist.
As some know, I was just released earlier this week from being inpatient at Salt Lake Behavioral Health. A lot had been building and I wasn't dealing with that in a healthy manner. I let things become bigger than what I could handle and I ended up pulling the ultimate "dumb-ass" move that was guaranteed to land me in the psych unit. Only, it didn't. It landed me in the detox unit. Same, yet different. It's crazy when I think back to the very first time I was hospitalized for psych reasons. It was 2006. I was in total shock when my therapist at the time decided to have me committed. Also at the time, only very few people knew that I was in therapy. I could count on one hand the people who knew that I was hospitalized. My parents weren't even included; I didn't tell them for another 6 months. I was completely ashamed and embarrassed. At some point between then and now, I've realized there is no reason for that; I no longer feel that way and I don't care who knows.
This is me.
This is my reality.
Those who love me, already know this about me. As for those who don't know me, why should I worry? My hope is that someday, someone might stumble across my blog and be encouraged by it. My hope is if someone like the 'me 10 years ago' reads this and finds the courage to stand up and not be afraid, then I will have accomplished something. It is okay to be honest. It's actually much healthier and invigorating to not have this deep, ugly, secret. (BTW, it's not "ugly").
So. Am I an alcoholic? Probably. At least that's what it says in my chart. I attended some A.A. meetings while inpatient, and that's how I introduced myself. Am I an addict? I don't think so. I don't feel like my life is ending when I don't have access to alcohol. But whatever people want to label it, I DO have a problem. I cope with life's difficulties in all the wrong ways. Whether that be non-suicidal self injury, alcohol, or even sleeping too much. I'm not suicidal right now, but I do struggle with suicide ideation. I have for years! It is ALWAYS in the back of my mind. Why worry about the future if I don't live long enough to get there? There is a big part of me that believes I won't make it to old age. (Which is also a big reason why I'm in therapy ;) When things get really bad, such as on the 14th when 911 was called by my therapist, not long into our session, I mix alcohol and benzodiazepines. I figure, if I wake up later, then fine. But if it was too much and I don't wake up, then I no longer have to deal with anything. It is just a quick way to blacking out, but before getting there, it's a state of just not caring what's going on. I vaguely remember an EMT failing at his attempt to put in an IV. I got the bruises, but I didn't even feel it. I didn't care about being so dehydrated that it would take multiple attempts of sticking needles into my arm. There is no better feeling than... not feeling. I don't even know what was done in the ER. What took roughly 12 hours of being there, and being transported by ambulance twice- to me felt like maybe 2 hours, including transportation. I even had conversations with people that I don't recollect.
I do remember saying that I was waiting for my dad to come get me, and I really thought he would.
When strung out like I was, it's hard for me to adequately explain what I'm thinking. (Heck...it's sometimes hard even when completely lucid!) When I say that my dad was the one who never judged me, that is not saying that everyone else does. One of my all time favorite lines from one of my favorite movies, A River Runs Through It...
"WE CAN LOVE COMPLETELY, WITHOUT COMPLETE UNDERSTANDING"
That was my dad...he just had that ability. He was the first one to tell me he didn't understand what I was going through. He did, however, understand that it was something that I was struggling with. Major depression/anxiety/mood disorders, etc. are real. He knew that, even if he didn't struggle with it himself. He never once told me to 'get over' it. He never once told me to 'grow up'. He never once chastised me for feeling things too strongly, or not strong enough. He just loved me, and I knew he loved me; I never questioned his love, and his love was pure. I know a lot of others who feel the same way, but my dad was....my dad. No one can fill that hole in my heart since he died.
I was discharged from the hospital on Tuesday, the 20th...but I was discharged into an Intensive Outpatient Program (IOP). I wasn't released as 'stable', but rather, 'improved'. I go back to the hospital every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for 3 hours each day. Drug testing is mandatory. We meet for different types of group therapies. I've now been twice and it has been extremely beneficial. I've been able to hear others' stories, as well as express my own, and get feedback in a way that makes sense. This will go on for as little as eight weeks, or could go as long as a year or more. My first day included a session where family members were invited to attend. (I didn't know this at the time). We talked about trauma. I was diagnosed with PTSD last year and this particular session included how it affects families. It addressed how we affect others, as well as how what happened in our childhood affects us later in life. It explained clearly why I can't just 'get over it'. (An example was made....say there is a car accident that involved two people. One of those people could get up the next day and move on. The other person, however, stays inside and can't bring themselves to ever get into the car again). We are all different. We all react to things differently. One thing I know, it's hard to shut out the negative, demeaning voices of the past when those voices stay negative and demeaning well into adulthood. Some people just bring out the worst in us; and sometimes we are the ones that bring out the worst in others. Those ties are the ones that need to be broken until it changes; and sometimes they never change.
The following image is of the handout from Wednesday's family session. I am not posting this to blame anyone or to point fingers. If you know me or my family...please don't jump to conclusions. I do believe most of us do the best we can do. It's easy to forgive someone if you take the time to understand where they are coming from. Understanding requires an open mind. Most of us change over time. "When we know better, we do better." Some stay in denial. They don't want to admit to being wrong, and therefore continue in the same behaviors. Some of us may even fit into both categories, in different aspects of life and with different people in our lives. I know I do.
Understanding both of my parents, as well as their very different backgrounds and personalities, I know they both did the very best that they could. It may not have always been what I thought or needed at times, but it was what they could give. They both loved me in their different ways, just as I loved them in my ways. We didn't always get along (what type of relationship doesn't have conflict??) I've complained about them, and I know they had some frustrations with me...but that doesn't change the fact that we all loved each other. As far as the 'sibling relationship' section, there WILL be conflict and arguments. Sometimes that changes as we grow, and sometimes it doesn't...and that's all I'm going to say about that.
I don't want to be the same person I was while growing up. Keeping everything bottled up inside and never letting anyone know what's really going on with you is a brutal way to live. It's also hard to allow someone else to change out of the role you have always known them to play. It can shake your foundation, even. Let's face it. Change is hard on everybody, whether it be you changing, or you are watching someone else change. But we don't grow if we don't change. For me, it has taken many many years, and it could be many more until I become a person I can be content with. My hope is to someday be the person who want's to see old age; someone who can look into the future without fear and dread. Right now, it's like they say in A.A. "One day at a time." This is where I am...one day at a time.
I believe in forgiveness. Some of us, like me, need forgiving over and over again. If we are sincere in our apologies, and honestly try to move on, then forgiveness is easy. We all make mistakes. We all do things on a whim that we wish we didn't. Forgiveness is not always easy otherwise, though still necessary to progress.
I know better than anyone I have faults. I know every.single.one of them.
I'm grateful for the many people who love me. When I make a mistake, rather than telling me about it, they understand I already know, and they still love me. They then help me move forward. That is a rare, beautiful thing. I've been taught that God understands everything, and loves us anyway. For us mortals, we don't understand everything...but we can still love unconditionally.
What has brought me more comfort that anything over the past year, is that no one but my dad and I knew what really went on at home. While my mom was dying, and then while my dad was dying. No one can change or alter the conversations that took place. No one can change the feeling that was there...the sacredness of caring for someone you love through their last days. I don't think anything will be as precious to me as the bond that was strengthened between my dad and I as we cared for my mom. She went through a very slow and miserable death. IT.WAS.HARD, but worth every minute of being by her side, even the days of doing nothing but watching game show network while my mom was in and out of sleep. She would wake up, smile, and go back to sleep. I was there to see her smiles. Even then, I didn't realize how much I would treasure that until after her death. No mortal will ever understand the feelings I had, being with my dad through every one of his appointments and tests. I was in the room with him when he found out he had cancer. I was sitting beside him when we were told it had progressed too far to treat, and his time was quickly coming to an end. I was there with him through the aftermath, through the processing, the denial, the anger, the fear,.... the acceptance. We were together- two people on different sides of the same coin, with fears that were very different, yet so much the same. We had only each other through the darkness of the night. The joy he found in knowing he would be with my mom again....we held on to that, and we helped each other. Nothing else mattered.
I don't know how I ended up being the one chosen to go through that bitter, yet precious time with both of my parents...to be there, every day through the worst, but I am eternally grateful that I was. That is something so dear to me, that no one could possibly understand. My mom was there. My dad was there. I was there, and no one can take that away from me, no matter how hard they try. The stories and accusations against me no longer matter, because the truth is with me. Those who have chosen to really know me, know my heart....and that, my friends, is enough.
