Surviving

My daughter was off of school today and this morning she walks into my room and flops on the bed.  I smile because this is my favorite activity of hers and it makes me feel loved.  I strike up a conversation with her explaining that I was not happy with my last post for the blog.  I read it to her and she says, “Mom, you are not talking about the meaning of life.  You are talking too much about Sam.”  Her constructive criticism is greatly appreciated and it got me thinking, “What is a blog?”  I am new to this venue and for me it is about educating others in a meaningful way without boring them to tears.  I have high hopes of readers making it to the end and walking away with some knowledge of the struggles that I face.  Maybe I can make a difference.

Today was a tough day for me.  Actually I have been struggling for the past 2 weeks. 

When symptoms of being lethargic and insomnia hit, I panic.  I get angry because I don’t want this illness that often time sets roadblocks to my happiness.  At these times I find it difficult to be positive and creative. 

I start my day with a good conversation with my daughter but it is not enough to overpower the negative.  I make it to the gym and skip weightlifting because I don’t have the energy to lift them.  Instead I swim.  I try to stop my thoughts but the tapes filled with words crash in my head.  I paddle back and forth in the pool while thinking that these are the times that I lose my friends.  Invading thoughts of sitting in a Court of Law fighting for custody of my child give me no relief. Why do these memories haunt me when I am not feeling well?  I just don’t know.

Mental Health statitistics state that that 70% to 80% of Parents with Psychiatric Disabilities lose custody of their children.  There is the Safe Families Act that really does not protect families at all.  Children are taken away because they are not the “good enough parent”. These are things that I am trying to find the courage to talk about without completely falling apart.  I am just not ready.

After my swim I go in the shower, pull the curtain and quietly sob. I close my eyes tight while my shoulders heave.  I regain my strength, get dressed and hurry home to make my lunch.  I am in a rush to go to The Breast Cancer Coalition of Rochester to join my fellow Brown Baggers.  My need to sit and just stare at the wall is overpowered by the need to thank a friend for her support.

I make my lunch, hop in my car and stop at the corner gas station to feed my daily addiction of caffeine.  I have been stopping at this particular station for three years now and I enjoy the familiar banter.

“Hi, how are you today?” followed by “Fine, and You?” are the customary greetings.  Today was different because I forgot my fork for lunch. 

I get my beverage and put it on the counter, “I am going to a luncheon and I forgot my fork and now I have to go home and get it and I am late.”

“Well, we have one.  Would you like one?”

“Sure, that would be great!” I reply as I chuckle doing my best to fake that today I am carefree with no worries.

“Are you going to a school luncheon?”

“No, I am going to the Breast Cancer Coalition of Rochester where every Friday we meet for lunch.  The facilitator asks a question and we all sit and answer the question while we eat.”  I am very proud to be a three year cancer survivor so I add that in for extra benefit.

The mechanics eyes light up, “My wife is a six year cancer survivor.  I don’t think she knows about that.  I will have to tell her.”

“Please do”, I reply. “She would be a welcome addition.”

I hop in my car with a good feeling that maybe today I did make a difference in somebody's life.  Maybe this is the start of an upswing. 

My fellow Brown Baggers are the best bunch of gals around.  We laugh and we cry.  These woman know that I have a Mental Health diagnsois and that I am raising a son with Autism. This is a place where I am free to talk about whatever I want.

This was today’s Brown Bag Question:

This month espeicaly, there is a lot of language around those with a diagnosis of breast cancer.  Survivor, Warrior, Thriver.  How do you feel about these words?  Do you identify with any word in particular?  If not, how would you like people to refer to you and why? 

My reply, “Today I am a survivor of my thoughts.”

Definition of Mental

1.a: of, relating to, or being intellectual as contrasted with overt physical activity.

2.a: of, relating to, or affected by a psychiatric disorder <mental patient>.

b: mentally disordered, mad, crazy.

I choose being an intellectual as my definition of being mental.

*The photo that I use for my background was taken by Sam.