Sunday, October 28, 2012

"It's all in your head."

They say that depression is anger turned inward.

Does this mean that I would be in optimum health right now, had I simply beat the crap out of the people who have abused and disenfranchised me during this roller coaster that is my life? Would I honestly be better off if I had opened my mouth and fought back? I have struggled not to act upon the desires to retaliate all my life, thinking that wasn't the way to go. You mean to tell me I'm sick because I just didn't "wild out"?

I look at my life, and I wonder why I even bother. Honestly, the only reason I am still alive, is because of my son. I don't want to leave him. His love is what keeps me from giving up, and I hope that as he gets older, I will not be a disappointment to him. He is truly one of the only things that I can put a smile on my face. Him, and dark political humor. I find the antics of teapublicans extremely amusing...except when they're on a mission to my uterus. If my yearly check up makes me uncomfortable, what the %*^&; do you think I want you up there for? GO AWAY!


For the past five years, I have not been feeling well. My head has ached constantly all this time. There has been no break in that pain. My joints ache intermittently. I catch every cold and flu that comes through the community each year. I have been diagnosed with silent seizures, which have been difficult to treat. I have lived through a stroke. Been hospitalized several times. Most days I do not leave the house, and I do not get out of bed, except to clean and cook. I can sleep for eight hours, and still wake up tired. The actual feelings of sadness over my condition do not surface often, but they're there now. Thanks Doc, for calling me a mental case. I appreciate it!

While these symptoms can be attributed to depression, the stroke cannot. Yes, your health declines due to stress. That is a proven fact. And goodness knows, I have seen a lot of stress and grief in my life. I've been forced to hold my true feelings about my experience inside, or write in a journal, because I was vehemently blocked from telling my truth. Most of the people who have hurt me don't even know they have. Either that, or they don't care. The idea that I was "crazy anyway" has caused many people to legitimize their treatment of me. My journals hold my hopes and fears, the feelings that I have longed to shout to the world all these years. And while some people paint me to be this belligerent, angry individual, they have not been responsible for their actions the way I long for them to be. No one has ever confronted them on the accusations leveled at me. Accusations of driving my father to his grave, being sick enough to solicit my stepfather for unspeakable things, doing drugs...just to name a few. I have never broken the law, I have always striven to be seen as a "good girl". I thought that perhaps this would make my detractors love me. Boy, was I wrong.

Still, while "depression hurts", chronic illness can cause depression as well. Depression is a beast I have been waging war against since I was a child. My short-term memory may be crap, but my long-term memory is fine. I know how I have felt both physically and mentally over the years (I kept a written record!), and prior to March of 2007, I did not feel the way I do now. I used to walk 4 miles a day, come home and do an hour of yoga, then slip on my point shoes to dance. I had an active social life, I sang. I lived. Emotions aside, if I had the status of health that I had back then, chasing my son would be no problem. I would not fear losing grip of his hand and not being able to catch him before he ran into the street the way I do. My body broke down five years ago, and I feel like I've been run around by physicians who can't explain to me why the stroke happened. Since they can't come up with an explanation, all of my symptoms are now "psychosomatic". And good lord, do not ever use a medical term with these arrogant people, they think that you are a hypochondriac. Whoops, another "big word", that us folks should avoid, who haven't been through medical school. No, I'm not a malingerer (there I go again). It's just that when all this started, you never explained in lay terms to me what words like "venous thrombosis", or "sub-arachnoid hemorrhage" meant. So I had to look them up. And they scared the shit out of me. And I use these words, because I don't want there to be any mistake with regards to what I'm feeling or what has happened.

And forgive me for this unrelenting pain in my head. I wish it upon them. Let's see how they move around, think, function. I'm sorry that the only thing that calms the pain once it flares every six weeks or more, are pain meds via IV. You don't have to whisper about me as I walk through the ER. You don't have to make jokes that you think I'm too dumb to understand.

Perhaps my current pain really is anger turned inward. I have tried to be polite, thinking that if I was, I would be treated with dignity. But now I see that many people are just selfish and cruel, and perhaps I need to let the other side of me out, and snap at a few people, show them that I'm not dumb, and not to be underestimated. Perhaps they will straighten up and fly right, and treat me like a human being.

But to just say that all of my experience has been due to depression, is unfair. I did not cause my depression. I didn't cook it up to get attention. I have been called "mental" all my life. This is the tool my abusers have used to cover up their deeds. It's called "gaslighting", look it up. It took me up until a few years ago to stop entertaining the thought that I really was a basket case, and all my memories were false. The thought of that possibility was really scary. But I put that behind me now. My memories are consistent and real. And I am not the cause of my depression.

But if my depression is the cause of my health problems, if my life has been stunted by these health problems, then I'm sorry, but that's really crappy. My whole life, and the plans that I made for it have been stunted by this illness. I have a graveyard of dreams in the back of my mind. I don't visit often anymore, but it's there. And yes, depression is an illness. My hopes, my dreams...all undone by my inability to heal from the maltreatment of others.

So at this juncture, it's "all in my head". And I don't know how to really react to that. I know I need to seek out a second opinion, but the medical community has really hurt me at this point. You label me as an addict because occasionally I need pain meds. I had no idea that receiving a pain injection once every six weeks to three months made you an addict. It must also be because I don't flinch when you stick a needle in me. Firstly, I think it's ridiculous for a grown person to be blubbering and fainting over a damn needle. Secondly, do you see tract marks? No. So I'm not an addict.

Oh, and the visits. It's not a life-threatening emergency, so I should just go home and sit in pain.

Had I done this for the past five years, maybe I would be taken seriously now. Instead of being labeled as just a mental patient.

I'm kind of blown right now.


  1. {{{{{Sam}}}}} I'm sorry I've been too busy at church to write or even read the blogs I love. I keep you in my prayers and on our prayer list. God, are you listening to me? Or to Sam? Please!

    1. Hey Shel,

      I do not fault you the live you deserve to live. My family that is far away is so much more attentive than the people who live less than a mile up the road. Your prayers DO bear fruit, because I'm still here, Shel. I'm still here to care for my child. I'm still here to keep learning. Love you.

      It seems that I actually am close to a diagnosis. It seems like it's an autoimmune disease, from what research I could do on the bloodwork. I'll know in two weeks. Had I not started crying in that doctor's office, I probably would not be this close to an answer. There's the relief that comes with knowing, but the new worry of what exactly the prognosis is. I really appreciate your prayers.