Ten Moments That Changed My Life...

So far...and yes, I totally stole the title.

1. My child was born.

Every parent's going to say that, right? 

Because it's true. There's a clear before and after line in my life - the moment Chelsea was born, and I looked at the beautiful screaming baby in my arms, and said, "Hi." (Profound, wasn't I?)

2. I received the gift of life.

I had been checked into the hospital for emergency surgery, but they couldn't do the surgery until I received blood. 

I was so sick. I remember looking at that blood coming into me and feeling so grateful to whomever had taken time out of their busy life to donate. 

I've donated blood before; but it's a completely different thing to receive it. It's  life, and it's a gift. 

3. I entered the psychiatric hospital (aka The Place).

It was a humbling thing, admitting I needed help. After that, the hits kept coming. A physical, endless interviews, and I had to give up my distractions - no cellphone, e-reader or laptop while I was in there. 

My first days were spent staring at walls, and I wasn't alone. Other 'psych' patients were with me, along with alcoholics and drug addicts. We all stared at the walls, and slept a lot. 

This was my first step in facing my depression instead of hiding from it; in realizing that help was available; in realizing that I wasn't alone. 

4. I got laid off from Ford.

The Ford Experience Of 1998 changed the course of my life. I think. When I got hired there, I was prepared to work the most mind-numbingly boring assembly line job for the rest of my life. 

I was laid off within five weeks; devastated, but secretly relieved. I got hired back at my old company, but in a much better job. I also went back to school and finished my degree two years later, and got my current job a year after that. 

You just never know what's a blessing in disguise. 

5. 9/11/01

Not all changes are good. 

The events on 9/11 didn't affect me directly. But the way I think and act every day are affected by it. I don't ever see myself on a plane again. I can't ever go to work in the morning without thinking about what other workers in other high rise buildings were doing that Tuesday. 

Clear blue skies are the worst. 

6. Dwayne finally asked me out.

Enough said. (Okay, well, read further entries down for reference.)

7. Cancer found its way into the family.

My grandmother was the center of our family, and she molded me into who I am today. The day I found out she had ovarian cancer was the worst day of my life. 

That was 2009. She died in 2011, then my grandpa got brain cancer, and my brother got leukemia. My grandpa died July before last; my brother has just achieved remission. But I still feel like I'm in 2009 - cancer? What?

8. I got a kittycat.

The most rewarding thing I ever did was adopt a kitten. I didn't know at the time that she was a Maine Coon mix and that she would grow to gargantuan proportions! I just knew she was small and fluffy and adorable. 

Now she's nine years old, 18.5 lbs, still fluffy and I love her so much! 

There's nothing like having a pet to remind you to love all animals, and to support shelters, sanctuaries and the ASPCA. 

9. I lost my job.

I'm still in the midst of this one. I'd worked for the same company for nineteen years, and then it was all gone.

I have a new job now, but I'll never get over the loss, and the feeling that I let somebody down.

10. I had to go back to the The Place.

The second time around, I thought I knew what to expect. More of the same, digging into my brain, experiencing lots of shame... 

On my first day back, though, I found I wasn't the only repeater. There were other people there, who had been there with me the first time three years before.

I realized then that there's no shame in admitting I needed help, AGAIN. It changed the way I viewed my disease. There should be no shame in it, because that prevents you reaching out and grabbing a lifeline.

I learned that I can fight and struggle and maybe fall down but I can and will always get back up.

:)

Hope that you spend your days and they all add up...

On August 17, 2015, I missed a day of work. It was due to illness.

The next day, I went in to work and said to Mark, "I think this is gonna be my last day."

Later that morning, my supervisor came and asked me to come with him, and we took a trip down to the second floor conference room. 45 minutes later, I was in my car and crying my eyes out. I had managed to lose my job of 19 years.

It's still taking some time for me to get over it. I got a new job in October and I'm so, so lucky to have gotten someone to give me a chance and hire me, but it was a real blow to my confidence. I learned, really learned, that I'm replaceable.

So.

It's been a year. My dear Aunt Linda died, and my beautiful cousin drank herself to brain damage. I didn't get out of bed for a month after losing my job. I truly thought I wouldn't get through the pain, and I was terrified that I would lose myself to depression again.

But I didn't. I don't know how it happened. I managed to stick around and tough it out and I'm still here and mostly whole.

I stuck around long enough to find out my brother is in remission! I didn't realize how the worry was hanging over my head until I got the wonderful news. There are still blessings in the world.

Also, next week, I'm moving. AGAIN. This time, hopefully, I'm moving to my forever home.

And yesterday, we were finally, FINALLY told that Dwayne can get new knees. The doctors lagged on and on for years because he was too young. Sooo, there's at least one good thing about getting older! He's now 48 years old and soon may be able to walk again. 

Hope is a wonderful thing.

So, on this last day of the year, I'm grateful. I'm so grateful to have my job and my family and a roof over my head. Even though I lost family again this year, I'm ever so grateful to have had them in my life. 

I'm counting my blessings, and I'm thankful for possibilities.

Have a wonderful new year.

Tonight's the night the world begins again...

There's so many scary things happening right now, and all I want to do is hide.

If I could just stay in bed and cuddle my kitty forever, I'd be content.

I guess I can't do that.

Treasure your family and make time to be with them. Appreciate your good health. If you can walk and run, do it! Drink in the beauty around you and listen to music...and if you are artistically talented, use your talents! Paint, draw, dance, sing and play the piano...the world needs it.

And I meant what I said about family! You blink and they're gone, or different, and all you have left is your memories. Cherish what you have, and make the most of it.

Family = everything.

I can't escape myself...

What I'm experiencing right now is anxiety and stress, a lot of it. I know it well.

What I'm doing right now is hiding under the covers, nursing my headache.

What I'm afraid of is that I'm going to be triggered right back into the dark place - the place I've tried so hard to get out of for the past two years.

Funny how that fear is just piling on to the anxiety and stress I already have.

What I'm supposed to be doing is utilizing the tools I've learned to handle moments just like this.

But I can't remember a thing. Let's blame it on the headache.

The headache is probably caused by the stress and anxiety.

See?

I can't escape myself...

I promise you there's hope...

Sometimes it seems like I'm wasting space. Well, a lot of the time it feels like that.

I promise I'm better, comparatively! It's just a habit, I think, along with feeling a little at odds in my environment. Now that I'm feeling a little healthier, I don't even know where to start.

:)

I asked Chelsea for ideas on how to celebrate my 10th anniversary of blogging and she was way too important and busy.

She used to be a proper minion who did all my work for me but now she has a job and thinks she's allowed to like, live her own life and stuff.

What's up with that? Children just think they can grow up and move on and OMG! - NOW I understand why my mom is always so mad if I don't talk to her on the weekends!

*Epiphany*

:)

Sooo...

Here is a look back ten years ago at one of Chelsea's and Mom's favorite posts:

Good Memories, Part 1

Wednesday, March 3, 2004

We spent Memorial Day at my grandparent's farm last summer.  My grandparent's farm - this is the place where I love to go for the peacefulness and the woods and the brilliant night sky.  I guess it's nice during the day, too, if it wasn't for the bugs and the heat and the sun and that since it's a family picnic you're not supposed to stay inside and read your book.

My daughter was doing softball at the time at the Y and I suggested we play baseball so she could get some practice.  My bossy brother heard me and insisted we play kickball instead.  I'm 31 and my brother is 36 and we still regress back to our childhood roles of him being bossy and me being sneaky.

He decided we were going to choose teams, that archaic schoolyard practice that still haunts me - I was always chosen last in elementary school.  But this time, my daughter was picking - she picked me first!  She also picked my 73-year old grandfather.  

This is the part that makes it my favorite memory.  I never knew anything until I saw my grandfather, who I love and admire and who I placed on a pedestal when I was five years old, playing this kickball game.  Determination.  Coaching - "Michelle, you need to run fast!".  Verve.  

And the best moment of all, Popa sprinting around third base and heading for home, with my bossy brother aiming for him, and so my 73-year old grandfather slides into home plate.  SAFE!  And the crowd roared.

 It was a perfect moment. 

You get what anyone gets...you get a lifetime.

I guess I'm not as healed as I thought.

My brother had to use nephew guilt to get me out of the house tonight.

I'm okay now that I'm here, though. The whole 2 minutes it took me to get here.

:)

My grandpa is home from the hospital, with orders for a nurse and a physical therapist to visit every day. The physical therapist is a real blessing and just what he needs to get him up and moving.

:)

We're scattered all over town tonight. New Year's Eve used to be mandatory event, but now it's always a last-minute thing...because New Year's Day IS a mandatory event. We have Christmas Eve, my brother's birthday, and New Year's Day all in a week, that's a lot of family time even for us! Because, you know, some of us are a little obnoxious and hard to get along with.

I'm not naming names or anything...

So all we've got here tonight is me, my mom, Chelsea, and my brother's family. Dwayne's at home hurting (I miss him!).

:(

I had a lot of hopes for 2013 and I can't be disappointed...I'm not at all where I wanted to be, but I'm not where I was either. If I've learned anything, it's that any progress at all is good progress. My mind and body have healed some...not as much, not completely, but COMPARATIVELY.

I'm smiling more, and I can laugh.

I can even look forward to 2014.

Love you all...

I hate boxes, part five, or, We'll have the days we break...

At The Place, I learned there was a reason for my odd, anti-social behavior. I didn't have to be this way.

I even have a label: Adult Child of an Alcoholic.

The label comes with a list of symptoms, all of which I had.

I fought against it at first. Why me, and not my brother?

Because in families of alcoholics, we fill roles. My brother was the 'hero'. I was the 'lost child'.

Some people have said to me, "I don't believe in that stuff, Michelle."

That's fine, you don't have to! I can only tell you what I know:

1. I know that I am an extremely repressed person. I've never been able to let go and have fun, ever, ever, in my whole life.
    
2. I know that I keep my friends at a distance. I love them, I appreciate them, but I won't answer the phone and I won't return their phone calls. If I do talk to them, they invite me to lunch, I'm always vague...and then I can never make it.
   
   
3. I know that I define the term socially awkward. If it shouldn't be said, I will somehow say it.
   
   
4. I know that I'm a disappointment as a girlfriend. Dwayne's boss had a giant party on his yacht every year, and as a foreman, Dwayne was expected to be there, with...me. Only every year, I wasn't there. I was D's Snuffleupagus.
   
   
5. I know I've suffered from depression and anxiety since I was old enough to know what it was called.

These are all things I can work on, things that I can take medicine for. The big thing was identifying the problem and knowing the issues.

I haven't been as successful as I hoped to be since I got out. I had visions of being even better than my old self; not only being busy, but having real friends and not disappointing people for once.

That hasn't happened.

My depression has slowly eased back, I think. I also think the massive doses of TWO different anti-anxiety meds are doing the trick in regards to public places, because the concert was almost not that bad at all.

But I still don't leave my bedroom much except to go to work.

I just need to push myself out the door.

Just...go.

I hate boxes, part four

The two months I spent at The Place were hard. The people there - not only the staff, but my peers, the others like me - held me accountable. They required me to make an effort, every single day, to get better. I had work to do. 

These day-long sessions would be split up in 1- to 2- hour increments, because they could get very intense. We would take a break, maybe go do some art time or meditation time, and then come back for more peel-back-the-layers of yourself time.

Sometimes all I was required to do was listen and offer encouragement. I usually felt relief...the microscope was off of me and I could relax. But as the days went by, I actually found myself offering up pieces of my past that I had never told anyone before, when I thought it might help. 

The people who came and went while I was there were from all walks of life. People were there for anger issues...two very different people there had matching arm casts for hitting a wall with their fists. Suicidal ideation, auditory hallucinations, depression, referrals from the court. Two of the guys were convicts - one had served time for forging checks, the other for manslaughter. 

Meeting anyone and everyone at The Place challenged me and reminded me not to make assumptions. Deep down inside, every single one of us that came through the doors of The Place had the same issues - we were afraid. 

There was something inside all of us - a scared ten-year old girl alone in a foreign country, an eighteen-year old boy who killed someone in self-defense, or a twenty-year old girl who developed a chemical imbalance - that had set up barriers on top of barriers in order to insulate ourselves from feeling. 

We had all come to a point where we were completely incapable of dealing with anything at all, because we were so busy protecting that something inside of us.

I was at The Place longer than most people. I saw a lot of my friends come after me and go before me...some before they were ready. 

I wasn't exactly better when I was finally released to 'real life' again, but I had a much better handle on things. 

I knew why I'd struggled with depression most of my life. I knew why my grandmother's death had been such a trigger for me. I knew how to recognize if I was falling again and what I should do if it happened. 

I'm still working on the rest. 

Pretty sure this will be my last of The Place posts...I think, anyway.

Thanks for listening y'all. 

I thought that I heard you laughing...

Well.

I always knew getting better is a step forward, step backward kind of thing.

It's just times like these when I see no future and I don't want to remember the past...

Anyway.

Falling down, getting up.

I know someone's out there living a life full of joy.

That makes me smile, though I'm not presently able to have that kind of life myself.

But I promise I'll keep getting back up.

What day is it? Oh, it's Migraine Monday, as usual, nothing to see here, carry on...

I am overwhelmed.

I am...swimming in a silvery liquid that doesn't let me go very far.

I am crushed.

I can't breathe.

My heart is in my throat.

I want to crumble to the floor and weep.

I want to run, and run, and run, and never come back.

I don't want to be here anymore.

I don't want to be here anymore.

I am overwhelmed.

And now, finally, I am crying.

Put up a fight...

Now that I'm in the process of getting better, I'm realizing I have no idea how to jump back into my former life.

I have no idea about my bills...no checking account...I'm not even clear on what I bring home every week, because Mom handles all my finances. How do I get that back?

I could call Britney Spears up, but I think her father is STILL handling her money.

OMG did I just compare myself to Britney Spears? Surely I'm not that crazy?

And now there's whispering in the back of my head...'no, you're WAY more crazy than she ever was!'

I just want to buy stuff on the internet, and be able to order pizza.

Okay, maybe she should keep handling my money a little while longer.

Driving? No. Music? No.

How can I want to get better and hold myself back at the same time?

Keep your head up...

Lollapalooza is streaming live this weekend...it's almost as good as being there.

Going to concerts, something I used to love to do, is a thing of my past. My life is work, home, sleep.

I feel like I live a false existence. I've always had a lot of things - I spread my interests around. Books. Art. Writing. Music.

But in the past few years, while my world crumbled, all of my things went away.

Who was I?

I'm not saying that we're defined by what we do or what we like...but it's been a struggle to stay awake when I bore myself to sleep.

I used to be able to sit in silence for hours...but that was my choice. When the choice was taken from me because my mind couldn't come up with anything, it was agony.

I've been building myself back up.

I thought books would come back to me first, because they were my first and greatest love. But books have been holding out on me. I can reread my favorites...and short stories are easy. But anything new that requires any deep thinking is still beyond me.

Art is a distant memory. My new self has shaky hands and blurry vision. I can appreciate art, but I can no longer create it.

The writing is coming back to me. It's unexpected...I thought I would be blocked forever. I don't know how long it will last, and I'm taking advantage of it while I can.

I miss my music. I miss it so much. My keyboard and my violin and my guitar all sit in the corner of my room, collecting dust. I haven't touched them in over two years. I CAN'T.

I would sit and play for hours. It seems like it's one of my biggest hurdles. How hard can it be to just grab an instrument and start playing?

I'm working on it.

Now I'm going back to pretending I'm at Lollapalooza... live feeds are wonderful things.

I hate boxes, part two

As I sat there and listened to everyone's stories, I silently judged them. ME, Michelle Goodman, the person who takes ten years getting to know a person and still keeps an open mind about them... I was judge, jury and executioner to the others in The Room.

• To the grandmother who was there straight from the hospital via her suicide attempt, I judged. How could she do that? What about her granddaughter? I conveniently overlooked that I very nearly came to them the same way, by drugging myself to sleep and never waking up.
  
  
• To the schizophrenic teen with Aspberger's who regularly mutilated himself, I had no sympathy. Grow up, I thought to myself, conveniently overlooking that when I was his age, my arms were covered with scars on top of scars, all self-inflicted. Twenty years ago, I don't think 'cutting' was something I had ever heard of, but I was doing it.
  
  
• To the two people who were in there by court order and had monitors strapped to their ankles, I was merciless. Hitting your wife?! Drinking and driving?! I conveniently overlooked all of the terrible things I'd done and decisions I ever made in my life...it was too easy to focus on someone else's.

I was content to sit there in silence, listen to everyone else, and silently judge; and then the tables were turned and it was my turn to speak.

And then I remembered how I got there. And all of the judgment that I'd been using to hide how I really felt drained out of me. And I started talking.

I hate boxes, part one

She said, "So, as the adult child of an alcoholic, you probably don't have any close friends."

Wow. You go through life thinking you're unique, that no one can understand your pain, and then you're pigeonholed in one sentence.

There's lots of other things I learned at The Place:

• A LOT of the people who ended up there grew up with an alcoholic parent.
  
  
• I wasn't the only one who no longer handled my own money.
  
  
• Self-harm was not just for young teens.
  
  
• Auditory hallucinations were not uncommon among the mentally ill.
  
  
• Alcohol and drug abuse, along with other addictions, went hand in hand with mental illness - the addiction temporarily masked the pain.

The most important thing I learned is that I was never alone. Not only were there others out there with similar issues, there were also others out there who wanted to help.

To be continued...

Straight Talk: The Fight Against Depression

I AM getting better. Every day. But there are still some things I'm working towards.

I don't drive anymore. At all. I've lost my confidence.

I don't play any of my instruments anymore. I just can't. I've lost my music.

I don't handle my money anymore. It goes to my mother, who pays my bills for me. I've basically lost my adulthood.

Just putting these things down on paper make it seem a little overwhelming. I really put myself in a deep dark hole to climb out of, right? And these are just the highlights.

But still. I am getting better. I really am. I'm getting up every day. I'm going to work. (mostly.) I'm doing something besides sleeping.

I won't be dragged back down. I am getting better.

I'm always dragging that horse around...

It's hard to keep your spirits up when your head hurts all. the. time.

I fondly remember back when I didn't have a headache. I think it was last year sometime?

Things are bad right now. I know I have it within me to make a positive change, but I can't seem to move because of the paralyzing pain.

I hope I still have a job when I go back to work.  And I hope my family is still talking to me.

I wish I could just be me.

Forward and back

I successfully made it to work I think six weeks in a row, before I slipped and missed a week and a half this time.  When I fail, I fail big.  My first day back was today.  It's interesting living life on the edge.

And I hated myself for not getting there...and taking that step backward...not to mention the disappointment I could feel from my mom and my daughter and Dwayne.  Oh, the waves and waves and crushing waves of disappointment...

The only time I left my room in the last week and a half was to go the doctor.

So I guess it was nice to get out today.  It was really hard.  Once you fall back into the pattern of never leaving the house, it's hard to escape.

Every day is a battle.  If I didn't have a family that loves me I would have succumbed long ago.  But I do and so I keep fighting.

Tango.

I'm enjoying some small things:

1. My new iPhone - I really love it
2. `Imagine Dragons` and `The Lumineers`
3. Netflix

4. My SeanCody membership
5. All the free time I have now since I stopped playing on Facebook.

That I'm enjoying anything at all is a good sign...I'm really hoping my doctors have hit the right pill combo to keep me steady and sane.  I've been to work every day five weeks in a row (yay!).  And I've thought about doing other stuff...that part is taking me baby steps, but at least I'm thinking about it...right?

Just a little...unwell.

I've been chronically depressed since my teens, and taking medicine for it for the last ten or fifteen years or so.

But four years ago, my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer, and not even the medicine could stop my mental breakdown.

I still don't know why I stumbled and fell, and others didn't.

I wrecked my car.
I broke my leg.
I went on a mad online spending spree with money I didn't have.
I landed myself in a psychiatric hospital.
I no longer drive.
I no longer handle my own money.
I had emergency surgery.
I no longer leave my house except to go to work.

I live for the weekends, when I can sleep.  And sleep, and sleep.

And trust me, I'm better than I was.  Two years ago, I wasn't leaving the house AT ALL.

I promise I'm trying.

- And sometimes, when you fall, you fly.

It's time to start being me again.