I'm staring down the bottle of pills sitting next to me. It's seemingly innocuous. Transparent orange bottle, light blue lid. A label on it that has my name, the pharmacy information, and the dosage instruction. Its the word in between that terrifies me: Escitalopram.
After 27 years of fighting my battles on my own, I am being told the burden is too much, and it's time to accept some (chemical) help.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Friday, February 28, 2014
Thursday, March 28, 2013
A tribute: A girl and her dog
I'm going to write what will likely be the most indulgent post I ever create. And hopefully therapeutic. Feel free to skip if you aren't interested in sappy odes to childhood pets.
A year ago, on March 28, 2013, I said goodbye to my best friend, my dog, Lady.
A year ago, on March 28, 2013, I said goodbye to my best friend, my dog, Lady.
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| Thanksgiving 2011 |
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Scars
I held a newborn baby at work.
Innocent, fragile, untouched by the world. There is something so magical about the skin of a newborn; soft, pink, smooth, not yet marred by the hazards of the world.
I have many scars, and they all tell a story. One on my right middle finger from the times I sliced out my finger tip using an ice shaver. Or the one on my left forearm from bubbling solder during a stained glass accident. Most scars fade over time, some so small you can barely notice them, but others remain pronounced forever.
One of the things that marvels me about the world is the transformation of innocent newborn to the person they will become. Particularly when I look at those... whom society might not deem as appropriate or desirable. It never ceases to amaze me that often my co-workers and I are willing to forgive the four year old who is cursing and pitching a fit, recognizing that he is the product of his environment and often a victim of poor (or no) parenting. Yet, when we are faced with the 12 year old who is sullen and rebellious, judgment quickly ensues.
We all bear scars, emotional, physical, psychological; while I believe we are all ultimately responsible for our actions, it's hard not to be feel sympathetic. What about those people who have never known security, empowerment, or unconditional love? Those who have not ever experienced feeling like they are worth someone, or taught right and wrong? When do we start accepting responsibility for helping them see a better path.
I've been thinking about my own scars a lot lately. There are many unpleasant things in my past, events and circumstances I might think I want to forget. It's hard to feel ties to your past, particularly when it comes to relationships. There are things people have done, things that I have done, things that have happened, that still sting. That scar is still there, and always will be I suspect, but acknowledging can be difficult when trying to differentiate between scars and emotional entanglements. When I think about Situation X, does it still make me angry? Yes. But do I consider myself as having moved on and past it? Yes.
For example, there was a significant controversy at my parent's last church.The details are unimportant, what matters it that I was hurt, and my friends were hurt, and most importantly, my family was hurt. Not only were we hurt, but our lives were forever altered and changed. I believe God can bring good in a horrible situation, and I know that no one was truly faultless, but to see my parents and siblings have their entire lives uprooted and changed because of someone else's (misplaced) vendetta. It's crazy how quickly miscommunication and misunderstanding can spiral out of control. What starts as petty rumors are fueled by those who are angry and end up changing the course of a church or an individual's life.
That experience altered my relationship with God. I walked away from the church for several years, uninterested in an organized religion that could be so tainted by bitter and vindictive people. My faith was so entrenched in the 'religious' experience of my childhood that it took me almost six years to rebuild my spirituality separate, though informed by, a structured belief system. Am I still actively angry and bitter at those people? No, by the grace of God. But I bear the scars.
So when things pop up that touch those scars, I react. My hot buttons? Being lied to and then told I'm an idiot/being treated like I'm stupid. People hurting my family. Betrayal from friends. Friendship should mean more than going with the status quo. Friendship should mean trust and loyalty. Not blind trust, but a general faith in the good of the other person.
I bear a lot of scars, in many different aspects of my person. Some are of my own making. Yet, I've learned I wouldn't want to change or remove any of them. They are reminders to me of where I've been and how far I've come. In many cultures, scars, particularly battle wounds, are a badge of honor, signaling the bravery and courage of the person. I view my emotional scars of proof of my endurance and fortitude. Proof that I've taken risks, and I haven't just sat on the sidelines watching others live.
They can just be frustrating to work around when they rear their ugly heads.
Innocent, fragile, untouched by the world. There is something so magical about the skin of a newborn; soft, pink, smooth, not yet marred by the hazards of the world.
I have many scars, and they all tell a story. One on my right middle finger from the times I sliced out my finger tip using an ice shaver. Or the one on my left forearm from bubbling solder during a stained glass accident. Most scars fade over time, some so small you can barely notice them, but others remain pronounced forever.
One of the things that marvels me about the world is the transformation of innocent newborn to the person they will become. Particularly when I look at those... whom society might not deem as appropriate or desirable. It never ceases to amaze me that often my co-workers and I are willing to forgive the four year old who is cursing and pitching a fit, recognizing that he is the product of his environment and often a victim of poor (or no) parenting. Yet, when we are faced with the 12 year old who is sullen and rebellious, judgment quickly ensues.
We all bear scars, emotional, physical, psychological; while I believe we are all ultimately responsible for our actions, it's hard not to be feel sympathetic. What about those people who have never known security, empowerment, or unconditional love? Those who have not ever experienced feeling like they are worth someone, or taught right and wrong? When do we start accepting responsibility for helping them see a better path.
I've been thinking about my own scars a lot lately. There are many unpleasant things in my past, events and circumstances I might think I want to forget. It's hard to feel ties to your past, particularly when it comes to relationships. There are things people have done, things that I have done, things that have happened, that still sting. That scar is still there, and always will be I suspect, but acknowledging can be difficult when trying to differentiate between scars and emotional entanglements. When I think about Situation X, does it still make me angry? Yes. But do I consider myself as having moved on and past it? Yes.
For example, there was a significant controversy at my parent's last church.The details are unimportant, what matters it that I was hurt, and my friends were hurt, and most importantly, my family was hurt. Not only were we hurt, but our lives were forever altered and changed. I believe God can bring good in a horrible situation, and I know that no one was truly faultless, but to see my parents and siblings have their entire lives uprooted and changed because of someone else's (misplaced) vendetta. It's crazy how quickly miscommunication and misunderstanding can spiral out of control. What starts as petty rumors are fueled by those who are angry and end up changing the course of a church or an individual's life.
That experience altered my relationship with God. I walked away from the church for several years, uninterested in an organized religion that could be so tainted by bitter and vindictive people. My faith was so entrenched in the 'religious' experience of my childhood that it took me almost six years to rebuild my spirituality separate, though informed by, a structured belief system. Am I still actively angry and bitter at those people? No, by the grace of God. But I bear the scars.
So when things pop up that touch those scars, I react. My hot buttons? Being lied to and then told I'm an idiot/being treated like I'm stupid. People hurting my family. Betrayal from friends. Friendship should mean more than going with the status quo. Friendship should mean trust and loyalty. Not blind trust, but a general faith in the good of the other person.
I bear a lot of scars, in many different aspects of my person. Some are of my own making. Yet, I've learned I wouldn't want to change or remove any of them. They are reminders to me of where I've been and how far I've come. In many cultures, scars, particularly battle wounds, are a badge of honor, signaling the bravery and courage of the person. I view my emotional scars of proof of my endurance and fortitude. Proof that I've taken risks, and I haven't just sat on the sidelines watching others live.
They can just be frustrating to work around when they rear their ugly heads.
Monday, October 15, 2012
Post Wisdom Teeth
It's been a really rough weekend. Luckily my wisdom teeth extraction went...relatively well. Relatively well as in the sedation medications didn't work as planned, and my one tooth had three roots instead of two (with the third not wanting to come out at all). But I've been in pain, I've been miserable, and I've gotten a string of seemingly bad news. To combat the self-pity that is slowly creeping into my stream of consciousness, here are the things that make the glass half full:
1)My family. Seriously. They rock. I know that everyone thinks they have awesome parents, but mine are truly spectacular. My dad got up super early to drive over and be there before my surgery. Because of some delays, he ended up sprinting through ten flights of stairs to get there in time. He then continued to stay by my side the next 24 hours, running errands, picking up soup, calling the doctor when I was curled up on the bathroom floor vomiting for four hours. Writing his sermon while sitting in the bed next to me so he could make sure I was alright. A friend of the family told me that she has always been impressed with how much my mom and dad love their three children. Between my dad's presence, and my mom's constant calls and emotional support, and my grandparents letting me stay with them and taking care of me... I am truly blessed.
2) Insurance. I may not always love my situation in life,but I am thankful for the wonderful benefits I get through work. My surgery, which should have been almost $5000 ended up being only $530 out of pocket. When I was so sick I couldn't even keep the pain medications down, the medications prescribed were available to me for $10, not $120. I am so very aware with my job how often people have to go without their healthcare for financial reasons. I am not rich, I am not even always 'comfortable', but I can afford to take care of my health, and for that I am grateful.
3) Friends. The number of people who have called, texted, visited, brought soup, is mind boggling. I am blessed with not just a high quantity of peers, but great quality as well. I've always said the best snapshot of a person's character is in the people they call friends. If that's true, I must be a phenomenal person; I am surrounded by such individuals of character, kindness and love. That they call me friend in return is such a blessing. Seriously guys, I love you.
4)Decent Recovery. Sure I've had my share of pain and misery. But no swelling. Not a bit. 30 hours after surgery I felt well enough to go hang out with friends at a local sports bar to watch a football game (no drinking obviously!). Aside from one swollen tooth, I have felt well enough to (cautiously) eat real food. I ended up taking the day off from work because physically I was still weary (and unable to talk!!), but given the horror stories with which I was presented before hand, my body ha served me well.
5) Lilly. She drives me crazy most of the time- but the truth is I love that insanely wild bundle of fur and she has been awesome to cuddle up with when I was feeling my worst.
1)My family. Seriously. They rock. I know that everyone thinks they have awesome parents, but mine are truly spectacular. My dad got up super early to drive over and be there before my surgery. Because of some delays, he ended up sprinting through ten flights of stairs to get there in time. He then continued to stay by my side the next 24 hours, running errands, picking up soup, calling the doctor when I was curled up on the bathroom floor vomiting for four hours. Writing his sermon while sitting in the bed next to me so he could make sure I was alright. A friend of the family told me that she has always been impressed with how much my mom and dad love their three children. Between my dad's presence, and my mom's constant calls and emotional support, and my grandparents letting me stay with them and taking care of me... I am truly blessed.
2) Insurance. I may not always love my situation in life,but I am thankful for the wonderful benefits I get through work. My surgery, which should have been almost $5000 ended up being only $530 out of pocket. When I was so sick I couldn't even keep the pain medications down, the medications prescribed were available to me for $10, not $120. I am so very aware with my job how often people have to go without their healthcare for financial reasons. I am not rich, I am not even always 'comfortable', but I can afford to take care of my health, and for that I am grateful.
3) Friends. The number of people who have called, texted, visited, brought soup, is mind boggling. I am blessed with not just a high quantity of peers, but great quality as well. I've always said the best snapshot of a person's character is in the people they call friends. If that's true, I must be a phenomenal person; I am surrounded by such individuals of character, kindness and love. That they call me friend in return is such a blessing. Seriously guys, I love you.
4)Decent Recovery. Sure I've had my share of pain and misery. But no swelling. Not a bit. 30 hours after surgery I felt well enough to go hang out with friends at a local sports bar to watch a football game (no drinking obviously!). Aside from one swollen tooth, I have felt well enough to (cautiously) eat real food. I ended up taking the day off from work because physically I was still weary (and unable to talk!!), but given the horror stories with which I was presented before hand, my body ha served me well.
5) Lilly. She drives me crazy most of the time- but the truth is I love that insanely wild bundle of fur and she has been awesome to cuddle up with when I was feeling my worst.
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