This year Ryan and I decided we were kinda done with the "9-5" schedule thing. Granted, Ryan and I haven't had 9-5 jobs in years... but we've stuck to the kids school schedule, and as more and more traveling opportunities popped up, we realized we needed to do a major life change.
Home schooling.
You guys have every right to say were out of our minds.
I will totally admit- for ME- home schooling is hard. It's crazy. It takes energy. It takes organization. Patience- omggggg it takes patience. And you have to show up. All day, every day.
But its given us SO MUCH MORE than what its "taken." (energy, sleep, etc.)
When I was sick, in and out of the hospital, I felt such a disconnect with my kids. They started depending on Ryan; which yeah, why wouldn't they? I was in the hospital all the time. Or knocked out in bed. It was awful. And while we still don't know what caused the craziness (we suspect an autoimmune disease), as my "good days" started stacking up, I began thinking about everything we could see and do with our time! (( NEVER TAKE YOUR HEALTH FOR GRANTED. EVER EVER EVER. ))
Traveling, following our fave band around (I swear we're not stalkers- just big fans:), ticking things off our bucket list... with my health in check, that door was wide open. And we jumped through it without much investigating :)
It was (IS) a scary jump, but its one I'd take over, and over again.
Learning with my kids is something I never thought I'd really enjoy... I mean they would bring home packets of worksheets from their old school and I LOATHED it. But this is different.
There aren't loads of worksheets. (& they aren't whining 24/7 while doing it, like they would after school last year. :)
They do book work every day (Mon-Fri), but we incorporate their book work with fun and relevant activities; reading, researching, visiting, seeing, hearing, tasting- ALL the things they're learning about. We also play. A lot. Whether its the ice cream scoop game, or throwing a ball around, or side walk chalking, it's the absolute BEST to feel so connected as a family. I can't imagine ever doing "normal" school/life again.
Something else we have the kids doing is collecting things from everywhere we go. Each and every museum, zoo, attraction, or experience of any kind is documented. It's super fun to see what "sparks joy" in each kiddo ;) On our recent trip up north, Stella had grabbed a bunch of info cards about Thomas Jefferson's Monticello. I knew she liked it, but it wasn't until getting home and finding her stash of maps and guides, that I realized she really got something out of it. She also started a $2.00 bill collection. :) haha
SOOOO.... back to SARASOTA. What about it?
It's been one of our favorite "easy to get to" destinations as a family. And I want to share why you should take a visit to this cool circus city!
Aside from it being just plain GORGEOUS, and accessible (to us Floridaians) there is SO much fun history! And really good food. GOOD, good food.
So, with the kids help, we came up with a "Sarasota MUST DO" list :)
1. The Ringling
This was- hands down- the kids' very favorite thing we did. THEY LOVED IT. WE LOVED IT. Right on the gulf, sits the Ringling Brothers estate. It's incredible! The actual museum has a ton of hands on, circus-y stuff for kids. But their favorite part was the ginormous model circus. They have been begging to create a mini model zoo, since seeing the TWO STORY Ringling circus model. We also loved the giant Banyan trees, and sitting on the deck/ back porch of the Ca' d'Zan. It's probably a 3-4 hour experience... and we just adored it :)
2. VENICE BEACH
We live over on the Atlantic and are privy to having the beach at our fingertips. With that being said, my kids don't go crazy over new beaches. To them, they're all the same: sand and water. But Venice beach is a little different. It's about 30-45 minutes south of Sarasota, but we hit it up because.... there are shark teeth everywhere. I'm talking handfuls of shark teeth (if you go at the right time, in the right place :) I consider myself to be a professional shark tooth hunter, but my kids are not. They hate it. They don't have the patience for it at a normal beach. Venice however gives them the excitement, and satisfaction of finding loads of sharks teeth without much actual "searching." ;) We had a contest last time we went; whoever found the most teeth could pick dessert. EVERY kiddo (even Rosie) found several teeth, and we had a blast counting them at the end. Turns out we are a very competitive family... and just for the record, I won. (And, yes, I absolutely was the one who chose dessert).
3. St. Armands Circle
This little bit of town, is identical to St. George street (here in St. Augustine), but in a circle... and circus themed. Because everything in Sarasota is circus themed! We spent HOURS here, window shopping, eating, and listening to music while the kids ran around the huge grassy center (St. Armands Circle). Make sure to walk alllllll around the circle and read even MORE about the history of the Ringling brothers circus. There are plaques dedicated to the best of the best tightrope walkers, contortionists, clowns, and all sorts of other cool circus acts. It's def a MUST SEE!
4. Big Olaf Creamery
Remember the shark tooth/dessert thing? This is what I chose as our prize; Big Olaf Creamery. OH MY YUM.
-quick side note- My dad has blessed me with many things, his nose, and his love for ice cream and donuts. Wherever we go, ice cream and donuts are ALWAYS on the radar, We're like professional taste testers.
So trust me when I say, grab a scoop or two at the creamery! They have tons of different flavors you won't find anywhere else, and of course, those glorious chocolate dipped waffle cones. YUMMMM.
5. Marie Selby Gardens
We were very hesitant to take the kids to a garden. I mean, they're well behaved, (I think) but they ARE kids... meaning, they're loud and curious. :) I was picturing Rosie picking extinct flowers that had taken hundreds of years to grow, or Stella trampling through a patch of protected plants... however, it is SO kid friendly. There are a ton of rare flowers and beautiful plants- definitely take your time to look through them. Make sure to ask for the flower scavenger hunt they have for kids- it made the experience 100000x better :) Each kid had a list of flowers or plants to find. And it was catered to their own preference; "Find your favorite flower".... "Find a plant that starts with the first letter of your name," etc. They had a blast! We hit the kid section pretty quickly, and all flower/plant hunting went out the door. I think they spent a good hour swinging on all the different ropes, and swings, crawling through caves, and climbing over trees. Kid you not- not one of them wanted to go the gardens- they all complained on the way there... and we ended up having to drag them out of the flowers, promising we'd be back sometime soon. HAHA :)
6. Der Dutchman
I'm not really sure how to even tell yall about this place... hmm... I got a coffee mug from there, and it says, "Thanksgiving ALL year Long!" And I guess that's a good way to describe it. First of all, its giant. HUGE. It's two stories of pure goodness. And you'll want everything. The downstairs is hands down the nicest, yummiest buffet I've ever been to (and we've been to every Disney buffet there is...sooo that's saying a lot). And its CHEAP. Like 6.99 per person. We ate breakfast here, and I think its what breakfast in heaven will be like. HUGE handmade Amish donuts, french toast, pancakes, eggs, a million different kinds of potatoes, and the BEST. COFFEE. EVER. The upstairs of the restaurant is a store- like cracker barrel- but way better because everything is handmade (like that day). We ended up going home with a few tubs of raspberry jelly, peanut butter sauce, and apple butter.
7. The "Circus" Park
Umm... I think the official name of this park is "Hyde Park" but we just call it the circus park. And that's because the entire park is circus themed. They have fake (duh) elephants that Rosie loved doing "tricks" on. There are tigers guarding the slides, and monkeys on the monkey bars. There's a Ferris wheel climbing thing... and a line of hoops for kids to run through- with seals that splash you at the end of your run:) It's the CUTEST park, and a great place to get some energy out!
8. "Unconditional Surrender" statue
So this isn't really a "thing to do"- but it's certainly a thing to see! Right on the bay, is the iconic soldier kissing/coming home statue. There's enough room to grab a pic, but not too much room to run around (it's pretty busy with traffic). Regardless, its super cool to see, and the kids thought it was funny because they could see up the lady's skirt...
9. Lido Key
Guys- promise me- PROMISE ME- if you go to Lido Key and watch the sunset, take pictures and TAG ME! HAHA! I am obsessed with this spot! Pictures, words- nothing will do it justice. It's an experience you just have to experience. There's also a really cute NIGHT TIME donut place called "Meany's Mini Donuts"- we stopped here before watching the sunset because... donuts. Duh.
10. THE MOTE!
Hands up if you're really into aquariums!!! My hand is raised high- I flipping LOVE me a good aquarium. We've been to some pretty epic ones... so I was hesitant to go to Sarasota's "little Mote aquarium." I was picturing some gators (they're a staple anywhere in FL), and some salt water fish tanks. OH how we were pleasantly surprised!!! The Mote is HUGE- its actually two buildings and has evvvvverything from tiny sea cucumbers to a HUGE squid. They have several "touch tanks" (my kids fave)- we got to touch sharks-EEE! I can't lie and say I wasn't a little nervous one of those buggers would get annoyed and bite a finger off... but we survived :) And it was so, so cool!
So there ya go!
THOSE are our fam's top ten things to do in Sarasota!
We have tons of Florida travel goals... there's just SO. MUCH. TO.SEE!
But Sarasota will always be one of our fave little places to get away. :)
What Florida town is on your bucket list?
P.S. I have every intention on blogging about all these little trips, and I still do- unfortunately I'm like 10 trips behind...
Sarasota (& some other stuff)
Wednesday, November 13, 2019
It's common knowledge, even if you just KINDA know me- I struggle with anxiety. And when I say struggle? I'm talking about on the ground, "call 911" anxiety. It's not pretty.
I was first diagnosed with it after having Maeve. That's also when I started up on all my medications. I've used everything from xanax, to ativan, to valium to try and control these things. But still.... they were coming on a regular basis for awhile.
I'm not sure if I've ever shared this specific story or not, because its embarrassing. Except I'm not embarrassed by things I cannot control anymore. I want to shed light on the dark, ugly stories- and let WHOEVER is reading this know you can, and WILL make it into the light.
Maeve was a couple of months old, and I was basically a ball of wired up, nervous energy. I never slept. Rarely ate. I couldn't think straight, and I needed either my mom or dad to be home with me and the baby while Ryan was at work. (yep it was that bad).
This particular day, my dad was on "Ashley duty" (something I called it, which made me feel even more guilty, and worthless). Maeve was sleeping- or at least being calm/content. My dad asked if he could run up to his office and grab some files. He'd be back in 30 minutes.
I was 23 years old. "Yes dad, I can stay in my own home, with my own baby for 30 minutes alone." (I didn't say that- but that was the constant thought running through my head back then).
He left, and as soon as he did, the panic came.
I started pacing, with my phone. I remember having my dad's number ready to dial, but I wanted SO BADLY to show him- to show Ryan, my family, MYSELF- that I can do this.
I think it took a few minutes of my heart rate in the 140's to hit the "CALL" button.
When my dad's truck pulled back into the driveway, I couldn't do anything but sit on the floor and cry. Yes I actually did.
I sat down on the floor- right where I was, and cried.
My dad came in and we talked about what was going on. He asked if it was an "ER worthy panic attack." Of course I said yes.... because in my head, this wasn't panic, it was imminent death.
Dad loaded baby Maeve in the car and drove us to the hospital. Right before I was going to go in, my dad said, "Ash do you really need to do this? Is there anything that can help that doesn't involve the emergency room?" I had been in and out of the hospital SO many times by then, and bills were running high.
I thought for a minute, and said, "Yeah... maybe."
I'm positive it wasn't what my dad was expecting to hear, but I said "find a liquor store. He went in, purchased a bottle of tequila, and brought it back to me.
I'm positive it wasn't what my dad was expecting to hear, but I said "find a liquor store. He went in, purchased a bottle of tequila, and brought it back to me.
I remember crying and apologizing to my dad for having to see this. I had NEVER drank in front of my parents (they're strictly no alcohol), let alone SHOTS straight out of the bottle. I drank enough, that by the time we got home, the panic was gone and I could slump to bed as my dad waited for Ryan to get home.
That was life for a few months. Panicking, ER trips, guilt, SHAME (oh the shame).
And then I got into an anxiety clinic... they got me on meds and within about 6 months, I no longer dealt with crippling panic. The second my heart would begin to race, I'd take some ativan. It worked like magic. The feelings would be gone, and I'd be either asleep or too relaxed to care.
For 10ish years I was on and off SO much flipping medication. Some was genuinely needed. Much was not.
When I decided to wean off of allllll that junk a couple of years ago, replacing it with natural and alternative medication I knew it was going to be tough. I knew it was going to take a LOT to undo everything I had done to my body. But enough was enough. And I marched into the fire.
I had a "run" of about 8 months or something without a single thing happening. No kidney infections. No stones. Nothing weird. Just feeling WHOLE & healthy as I continued (and still continue) to heal.
ALL of that to say, it's been a LONG, LONNNNNG time since I've dealt with a full on panic attack.
(sooo ABOUT yesterday...)
Yesterday I woke up feeling under the weather from this lovely kidney infection I have. Other than a low grade temp & some back pain though, I was good. My heart was A-okay, I was breathing normally, etc. To aid with my kidney health, I drank some CBD coffee, took an extra multigreen, drank an extra ningxia, and chugged water.
We started homeschooling. The kids were progressing through their weekly work just fine.
In between helping them, and doing some biz stuff, I was also able to whip up some sugar cookies. (Um... an extra multigreen+ ningxia + Super B tabs= energizer bunny Ash).
It was a completely normal day. And I felt accomplished- useful. Needed.
It was around 11:30 in the morning I guess, when my body decided to flip the panic switch. The panic switch that had been "off" for SO. DANG. LONG.
I was sitting by Rosie, doing a dice game, and my heart rate went from "normal" (prob 60's/70s) to racing (130's-140's) in a mere seconds.
This is why they call these things "panic attacks."
They just HAPPEN. There's never a warning, or even a hint of "yo- in a few minutes you're gonna feel like you're dying."
I sat for a minute, woozy, dizzy, light headed, numb, and heart POUNDING.
When I felt like I could walk without passing out, I found Ryan and told him, "I'm either having a severe panic attack, or a heart attack."
The last time I had a panic attack (or what I thought was a panic attack) ended up being a blood clot. SO- I can tell you, post blood clot, nothing is ever off the freaking table.
I'm still in the process of weaning off klonopin, so I had that; however, I'm on such a low dose of klonopin, that it didn't touch the panic. And I don't have the luxury of taking "extras" because I simply don't have them. If I were to take more than prescribed, I'd run out of my script early- and that would be a nightmare.
SO... yesterday I felt everything. All of the feelings I had worked so hard to numb- they were there, having a party, And I was the guest of honor.
Guys. This panic attack took me DOWN.
I laid in bed yesterday until dinner, checking my pulse, and taking deep breaths. I diffused oil (trauma life) RIGHT over my head, and I let myself be sad.
Because that's what I felt. Under it all... I felt sadness, and defeat.
Medication had always numbed that for me during panic attacks.
PLEASE LISTEN- a pill (or two, or three- whatever) is NOT going to "fix" you. Yes, with benzodiazipines your heart rate slows, and you get sleepy. But the emotional stuff- its all still there. Steaming with vengeance and ready to wage war. And unless you want to be in a catatonic state, you gotta feel it all.
Ryan (who's always winning the best husband award) let me dump everything- EVERY SINGLE THING- onto his plate (which is full on its own- no doubt).
I was lying in bed, trying to not go out of my mind, so I started to dissect those feelings.
Right off the bat, I realized I was incredibly sad BECAUSE of simply having the panic attack I never asked for.
I was also frustrated, and scared. I've had 2 kidney infections within a month, and while that may not seem like a big deal, it was kidney infections that used to land me in the hospital. Having two, so close together scared (is scaring) the crap out of me. Yep. I'm terrified! I think I told Ryan 800 times yesterday, "I can't do it again. My body can't go through this again."
He kept reassuring me, two kidney infections doesn't mean I'm back in "that place." He reminded me of how differently we handle our health now. How strong I've built my body, and mind... "Ash it would take a LOT more than 2 kidney infections for you to ever be that sick again." I needed to hear that. And not just once- I made him say it again, and again.
I honestly thought yesterday was going to either end with me in a body bag (you guys I was like 100000% positive I was having a heart attack) or in the ER, hooked up to an Ativan drip.
Neither of those situations happened (thankfully:))
Yesterday I wanted to blog about our LOVE for Sarasota & why you GOTTA get over there :)
Instead, I cried in bed.
When I started to come out of that panic haze (if you get panic attacks you know what I'm talking about... its almost like a hangover), I went into the kitchen- horrible headache, eyes burning from crying for hours- I'm pretty sure I looked like a complete maniac.
Later, Ryan and I talked about what had happened. I told him about the sadness and frustration I'm feeling with my body (kidneys- and now the dang panic attack). I told him how angry and defeated I felt. It was like the beast of anxiety had unleashed years of lost fury on me. And I was scared it was going to happen again. But the biggest thing- the mountain of all mountains- was comprehending I have no control over any of it. I can only control how I respond.
Listen guys, people with anxiety don't choose it. (HAAA trust me on that)! We don't go looking for something to panic about. Brain chemicals that I know nothing about, and have no control over, create the anxiety and panic. Then, I deal with it.
If my heart decides to go on a crazy, fast marathon, its gonna do it.
Yes, there ARE medications for emergencies, and situations like this. And no, I'm not completely opposed to taking something that I genuinely need. It's still my goal to wean off klonopin (I'M SO STINKIN CLOSE)... however, Ryan reminded me that it is OKAY to ask for help. It is OKAY to say you're not okay. He told me "Ash you could take 4mg of klonopin and that doesn't mean you are lesser than. Do you think you're worth more if you're only taking 1 milligram?"
I thought about that... and sadly. the answer was yes. The truthful answer in my heart, was "YES." I feel like a worse mom, wife, sister, daughter, etc. for not being able to fix this on my own.
I started with the rant he loves (NOT) about how he can do ANYTHING and not have to take a single pill. But if I'm going to fly on an airplane, I need medication. If I'm going to be in a crowd, give me my 1mg of klonopin. And he asked again, "So if you take 1mg of klonopin to get through a flight, you're not enough?"
It sounded so dumb as soon as he said it. But I had to admit, that, "YEP."
There is a lot of pride I like to couple up with my anxiety. When I have to take my klonopin I subconsciously knock myself down a few notches. And I'm not writing this so you guys can say "OH you're strong and great, etc.!"
There is a lot of pride I like to couple up with my anxiety. When I have to take my klonopin I subconsciously knock myself down a few notches. And I'm not writing this so you guys can say "OH you're strong and great, etc.!"
NO NO NO.
I'm writing this because for almost 2 years, I've let my anxiety medication dictate my worth. And that's not fair. It's wrong. And if you're struggling with something like this right now, please know you are not a weak person for doing what you need to do, to live a full life.
It's such a slippery slope. I know all too well how 1mg of klonopin can turn into 2, and then 3, etc. And I'm SUCH an "anti-meds" freak because I've witnessed first hand the havoc they wreck on your body. However, I've always held onto the fact that medicine has its place, and acts as a tool to help WHEN NEEDED.
Next week I'm going to have to tell my psychiatrist that I'm having a hard time with my klonopin dose. I have to say, "I'm not doing well on this dose. I'm not okay." It's gonna suck- because in essence I'm saying, "I need more." And that feels like a whopping pile of defeat because I've worked so hard on weaning.
But on the other side of the coin, it feels like victory. Because I will not stay silent and let this disease control my life. I will advocate for the best health care for ME, and I won't ever stop.
And when things start to even out (KIDNEY'S PLEASE GET HEALTHY) I'll be right back on that weaning train. Because it really is a goal I've worked SO.FREAKING.HARD on, and its a goal I still want to achieve. Will I get there? God only knows. Really- God is the only One Who actually knows.
It almost pains me to type this; but I think I needed a full blown panic attack to remind me of that.
I've been carrying pride around. Ew.
Pride, that makes absolutely no sense.
I am no better or worse, or less- for needing, or NOT needing a medication.
And neither are you.
Sorry this post got so lengthy... and thanks for still reading ;) I just wanted to really make it clear that it is healthy and 100% OKAY to acknowledge when YOU are not healthy, or okay. And in return, making the necessary life changes- whether it be in your spiritual life, or diet, and yes, even medication, actually makes you pretty strong, and brave. It's easy to drink the alcohol to numb the feelings. It's easy to take more than prescribed to get some relief. Those are EASY things.
Ya know what's hard? Humbling yourself, and telling someone "I need help." Sadly, that seems to be harder than pretending you've got it all together, while sneaking alcohol. Or popping unnecessary pills.
Friends, please- PLEASE reach out- to someone- ME- anyone- if you're struggling.
It's okay that you're not okay. And its going to be okay, because you're addressing it.
Be bold with your mental health. SPEAK OUT. Do NOT stay silent.
Be humble with your victories. They can be snatched in a second.
And above everything else- just surrender.
Surrender it all in His name.
I have a tattoo on my wrist that says, "Be still." The Biblical meaning of that phrase is to go slack. To fully surrender. I probably look at those words fifty times a day to remind myself that I can't and won't ever do this alone.
I surrender all, Jesus. Even on the days when "pride" says otherwise. I will always surrender.
Saturday, September 28, 2019
70.
It's a harmless number on its own. But it's a number that I'll never forget.
Part of having this blog is to include you on this journey. Not because I want a huge load of spectators watching my every move, and whispering behind my back. (that's actually a huge fear of mine) Rather, if somewhere, within that crowd there's just ONE person gaining some strength to fight, I'm gonna type on.
Because this is so freaking hard. And it's lonely.
One in every four Americans have either anxiety or depression, or some other kind of mood/behavior condition. This journey shouldn't be lonely.
But it is, because it remains in the shadows. Depression, anxiety, drugs, addiction, recovery, etc; these are taboo topics we don't bring up. That's gotta change. And I'm trying to help with that change.
With that said, let me be candid; I switched psychiatrists (again). Not a huge deal- but it is, because if you have anxiety, any kind of change is awful and scary.
At one point in 2017, I was allotted up to SIX milligrams of klopnopin as needed, per day. That's a lot. Like... a LOT.
When I decided to get off of all meds, I knew klonopin was going to be the tough one. I knew it from the first time I stepped down in my dosage. Getting off of klonopin was going to suck. But I stuck to my guns, and I told my psychiatrist (in 2017), "I want to wean off my klonopin," She came up with a plan.
I love plans.
Plans mean preparation.
Plans mean you are on the right track.
Plans hold you accountable.
Plans take root, and become routine. Routine is safety. (says my brain)
So in the summer of 2018 when my psych sent me a letter (in the mail) stating she was "dropping me as a patient," I felt sucker punched.
OUR PLANS!
I can't remember exactly what the letter said, but it had a list of a few other psychiatrist who might be willing to "take me on" as a patient, and it also included one last script. After that script, I'd have no access to klonopin through my old psych.
I was terrified.
Ryan kept saying, "Look, we'll make an appointment with someone else, and it will all be fine."
But I had plans. My psych and I had PLANS.
Here's the SICK thing about long term use of klonopin- you can't just stop. You can't even just "cut back."
I learned this when I decided to quit cold turkey. Yes, yes, I went from 6mg of klonopin to zero.
I lasted two weeks without klonopin, and literally could not take one more second. Ryan drove me into our GP and I spilled it all out to him. My vitals were out of whack and I hadn't eaten in days. My OCD was out of control; I couldn't stop pacing and washing my hands. (weird stuff, I know).
My doc wrote me a script for 4 mg. and I filled it immediately.
After a few days being on a "regular" dose, I felt okay again. Scared, but okay.
Isn't it terrifying that a tiny blue pill could hold so much power?? There was a time I had no idea how I could EVER get it out of my life. There were no plans. It was just "taking klonopin until I found a new psychiatrist." And I could've stayed in that 4mg zone forever. It was easy. Comfortable.
I had detoxed off of pain meds already, which was brutal, and I was just learning how to live without pain medication dictating every step I made.
4mg of klonopin was like this giant cushion of relief I had at the end of the day. (or whenever I needed it). And for a few months I stayed complacent in my "fight to be med free."
I thought, "I'm on zero narcotics, opioids, etc. CERTAINLY, I should be allowed enough klonopin to keep me sane." I have anxiety. I have to be on medication, I've been told that for almost 13 years. It's ingrained in my head. I NEED KLONOPIN.
My GP is awesome, and caught onto this unhealthy thinking pretty quickly. He straight up told me, "I can't treat you anymore with this, but I will find someone who will." And he did. He found a psychiatrist who was willing to "take me on" as a patient.
Fast forward to today... I'm down to 2 milligrams. Somehow. I mean, I know how. But I look back to those days when I thought life was IMPOSSIBLE without 6 milligrams of klonopin. And then, when I thought life was impossible without 4 milligrams of klonopin....
Life was hard- life IS hard (goodness gracious), surely. But not impossible. Never, NEVER impossible.
At my very first appointment, Dr. S & I went over all my background info.
He pulled out a chunk of papers. On the front was a big, bold, 700.
I had no clue what that meant, but listened as he explained.
Florida has three categories of drugs:
Opioids/narcotics, Benzodiazipine (downers), amphetamines (uppers).
Everyone who lives in the state of Florida has this paper; even if you're on zero medication.
Somehow, someone, somewhere, was able to put a number system to this thing. And it was that number that made me think twice about my complacency with klonopin.
(Keep in mind, this was shortly after I got off of pain meds)- but at that moment, in the state of Florida, my opioid "score" was over 450 and my benzo score was around 250. I was never on any uppers, so that was a zero... but there was that big, fat, foreboding "700" number.
Sometimes I wish I hadn't asked. But then again, I'm thankful I did...
Florida has an "accidental overdose" chart. It ranges from 0 to 999. Basically, you have a zero percent chance of overdosing if you're on zero meds. The number changes as meds are added, taken away, etc. My number was 700.
I asked what that meant exactly. The doctor said, "this means that when you were on 6mg of klonopin and the opioids, you basically had a 70% chance of an accidental overdose.
70%.
I was shocked... and the tears spilled. I asked, "So I had a 70% chance of dying??" And he clearly stated, "When you were on this amount of narcotics, and that amount of benzodiazpines, yes, you had a 70% chance of overdosing."
And then he said, "You beat the odds. Not many people get out of that 70%."
I think I started to hyperventilate or something, because he flipped the paper over and did the *new* math (zero narcotics and 3-4 mg of klonopin). "Look- this number doesn't exist anymore because you're not taking any narcotics. And this number (the klonopin number) is already greatly reduced... and that's why you're here. To knock that number out."
I left that appointment with a few new things:
-a much needed, renewed steely resolve to get off of klonopin.
-some anger (not gonna lie... how did I ever get to THAT point) How am I even talking about this? How is this an issue in my life? Why can't I just focus on my kids, and my family, my business, etc. Why do I have to even think about the number 70???
-HOPE. I left with hope. We had a plan.
There's no point in denying it; getting off of klonopin is hard. Some days are better than others, but this isn't an overnight fix.
Anxiety medication has been part of my life for too long. My brain is used to a certain dose, and doesn't know how to cope without it.
Every single time I take a "step down" I go through hell. It feels like every thought and ALL the feelings are just hammering at me. A lot of times I have to step away from "stuff" and just "STOP." If that makes sense? I go into survival mode... it's really, very ugly. And it just freaking happens. I can't ever predict the exact day my body is going to revolt, but at some point, between the dosage dropping, I always end up in bed, thinking "I can't do this."
Why am I just now writing this?
Because last night I went through the pits. And it reminded me this journey isn't even kind of over. Actually it reminded me it's a journey I put myself on, that will never really BE over... it will just be in the past. But it's naive of me to say, "one day I'll be 100% good!"
I'm still in it. Even after an awesome week long jaunt through Florida with my family, anxiety finds me. And I'm stuck in the black hole of anxiety.
Sometimes I get comfy. After so many triumphs under my belt, and "wins" (flying without anxiety meds, or driving somewhere... etc) I start to feel gutsy. Like "I got this."
And just like that, the darkness swoops in.
Last night I started to pace in the kitchen. ((HEY ANXIETY))!
No joke- my very first thought was, "What time is it? Can I take my klonopin yet?" I skipped all the sensible steps in between, and wanted the quick fix pill.
((Sensible steps include: oils & CBD, putting my cellphone away... resting... HYDRATING... reading... slowing down)
I told Ryan, "I need my brain to shut off for like five minutes. If I could just STOP overthinking everything I could get myself together."
Being anxious is SO. FREAKING. UNCOMFORTABLE. The only way I can describe it is having severe brain fog, with shortness of breath and dizziness. I can't focus, I start thinking catastrophically ( it's completely ridiculous)... did you know, for an entire year I didn't go to the alligator farm because I was convinced if I took my kids, one of them would fall into the water?- I get paranoid about silly things (last night I was sobbing because I felt guilty for not cooking dinner). Typing all of this out makes it sound even MORE crazy... yikes. BUT... it also puts it in its place. The catastrophic thinking, and the "not good enough" because you didn't make dinner stuff can be shoved in a corner called, "stupid, fearful, fictional stuff that my healing brain makes up."
Healing brain.
I was told I couldn't "do life" for such a long time, that I believed it. And sometimes, on the bad days (like last night) that sneaky doubt creeps in and I start to believe it again.
But that doubt will never stick. I won't allow it.
Because I want the number zero.
I want a zero percent chance of an accidental overdose. Not a 20% (that's what I'm at right now)... but a zero.
A big, fat ZERO with a cherry on top. THAT'S what I want. THAT'S what I'm working my butt off for. I can't tell you when I'll get there. I wish I could- trust me. I wish I had a date that I could look at and say, "By this time... I will not be struggling with klonopin anymore!" That's not how it works.
It's one day at a time. Sometimes one minute at a time.
But nothing worth having, comes easy. And that zero is worth a lot to me. It's worth a lot to my family, and friends as well.
It's Saturday. I "survived" my anxious night.
I'm tired. My patience with this process is wearing, for sure. But it's all still here... patience, hope, trust, life, breath- my breath. It's here. And that means I continue to fight. All of the things that sum up my zero are still RIGHT here, and I will never stop fighting for that number.
Never ever.
That saying, "less is more?" Yeah. That.
I WANT ZERO.
Thanks for reading and hearing my heart friends <3
It's a harmless number on its own. But it's a number that I'll never forget.
Part of having this blog is to include you on this journey. Not because I want a huge load of spectators watching my every move, and whispering behind my back. (that's actually a huge fear of mine) Rather, if somewhere, within that crowd there's just ONE person gaining some strength to fight, I'm gonna type on.
Because this is so freaking hard. And it's lonely.
One in every four Americans have either anxiety or depression, or some other kind of mood/behavior condition. This journey shouldn't be lonely.
But it is, because it remains in the shadows. Depression, anxiety, drugs, addiction, recovery, etc; these are taboo topics we don't bring up. That's gotta change. And I'm trying to help with that change.
With that said, let me be candid; I switched psychiatrists (again). Not a huge deal- but it is, because if you have anxiety, any kind of change is awful and scary.
At one point in 2017, I was allotted up to SIX milligrams of klopnopin as needed, per day. That's a lot. Like... a LOT.
When I decided to get off of all meds, I knew klonopin was going to be the tough one. I knew it from the first time I stepped down in my dosage. Getting off of klonopin was going to suck. But I stuck to my guns, and I told my psychiatrist (in 2017), "I want to wean off my klonopin," She came up with a plan.
I love plans.
Plans mean preparation.
Plans mean you are on the right track.
Plans hold you accountable.
Plans take root, and become routine. Routine is safety. (says my brain)
So in the summer of 2018 when my psych sent me a letter (in the mail) stating she was "dropping me as a patient," I felt sucker punched.
OUR PLANS!
I can't remember exactly what the letter said, but it had a list of a few other psychiatrist who might be willing to "take me on" as a patient, and it also included one last script. After that script, I'd have no access to klonopin through my old psych.
I was terrified.
Ryan kept saying, "Look, we'll make an appointment with someone else, and it will all be fine."
But I had plans. My psych and I had PLANS.
Here's the SICK thing about long term use of klonopin- you can't just stop. You can't even just "cut back."
I learned this when I decided to quit cold turkey. Yes, yes, I went from 6mg of klonopin to zero.
I lasted two weeks without klonopin, and literally could not take one more second. Ryan drove me into our GP and I spilled it all out to him. My vitals were out of whack and I hadn't eaten in days. My OCD was out of control; I couldn't stop pacing and washing my hands. (weird stuff, I know).
My doc wrote me a script for 4 mg. and I filled it immediately.
After a few days being on a "regular" dose, I felt okay again. Scared, but okay.
Isn't it terrifying that a tiny blue pill could hold so much power?? There was a time I had no idea how I could EVER get it out of my life. There were no plans. It was just "taking klonopin until I found a new psychiatrist." And I could've stayed in that 4mg zone forever. It was easy. Comfortable.
I had detoxed off of pain meds already, which was brutal, and I was just learning how to live without pain medication dictating every step I made.
4mg of klonopin was like this giant cushion of relief I had at the end of the day. (or whenever I needed it). And for a few months I stayed complacent in my "fight to be med free."
I thought, "I'm on zero narcotics, opioids, etc. CERTAINLY, I should be allowed enough klonopin to keep me sane." I have anxiety. I have to be on medication, I've been told that for almost 13 years. It's ingrained in my head. I NEED KLONOPIN.
My GP is awesome, and caught onto this unhealthy thinking pretty quickly. He straight up told me, "I can't treat you anymore with this, but I will find someone who will." And he did. He found a psychiatrist who was willing to "take me on" as a patient.
Fast forward to today... I'm down to 2 milligrams. Somehow. I mean, I know how. But I look back to those days when I thought life was IMPOSSIBLE without 6 milligrams of klonopin. And then, when I thought life was impossible without 4 milligrams of klonopin....
Life was hard- life IS hard (goodness gracious), surely. But not impossible. Never, NEVER impossible.
At my very first appointment, Dr. S & I went over all my background info.
He pulled out a chunk of papers. On the front was a big, bold, 700.
I had no clue what that meant, but listened as he explained.
Florida has three categories of drugs:
Opioids/narcotics, Benzodiazipine (downers), amphetamines (uppers).
Everyone who lives in the state of Florida has this paper; even if you're on zero medication.
Somehow, someone, somewhere, was able to put a number system to this thing. And it was that number that made me think twice about my complacency with klonopin.
(Keep in mind, this was shortly after I got off of pain meds)- but at that moment, in the state of Florida, my opioid "score" was over 450 and my benzo score was around 250. I was never on any uppers, so that was a zero... but there was that big, fat, foreboding "700" number.
Sometimes I wish I hadn't asked. But then again, I'm thankful I did...
Florida has an "accidental overdose" chart. It ranges from 0 to 999. Basically, you have a zero percent chance of overdosing if you're on zero meds. The number changes as meds are added, taken away, etc. My number was 700.
I asked what that meant exactly. The doctor said, "this means that when you were on 6mg of klonopin and the opioids, you basically had a 70% chance of an accidental overdose.
70%.
I was shocked... and the tears spilled. I asked, "So I had a 70% chance of dying??" And he clearly stated, "When you were on this amount of narcotics, and that amount of benzodiazpines, yes, you had a 70% chance of overdosing."
And then he said, "You beat the odds. Not many people get out of that 70%."
I think I started to hyperventilate or something, because he flipped the paper over and did the *new* math (zero narcotics and 3-4 mg of klonopin). "Look- this number doesn't exist anymore because you're not taking any narcotics. And this number (the klonopin number) is already greatly reduced... and that's why you're here. To knock that number out."
I left that appointment with a few new things:
-a much needed, renewed steely resolve to get off of klonopin.
-some anger (not gonna lie... how did I ever get to THAT point) How am I even talking about this? How is this an issue in my life? Why can't I just focus on my kids, and my family, my business, etc. Why do I have to even think about the number 70???
-HOPE. I left with hope. We had a plan.
There's no point in denying it; getting off of klonopin is hard. Some days are better than others, but this isn't an overnight fix.
Anxiety medication has been part of my life for too long. My brain is used to a certain dose, and doesn't know how to cope without it.
Every single time I take a "step down" I go through hell. It feels like every thought and ALL the feelings are just hammering at me. A lot of times I have to step away from "stuff" and just "STOP." If that makes sense? I go into survival mode... it's really, very ugly. And it just freaking happens. I can't ever predict the exact day my body is going to revolt, but at some point, between the dosage dropping, I always end up in bed, thinking "I can't do this."
Why am I just now writing this?
Because last night I went through the pits. And it reminded me this journey isn't even kind of over. Actually it reminded me it's a journey I put myself on, that will never really BE over... it will just be in the past. But it's naive of me to say, "one day I'll be 100% good!"
I'm still in it. Even after an awesome week long jaunt through Florida with my family, anxiety finds me. And I'm stuck in the black hole of anxiety.
Sometimes I get comfy. After so many triumphs under my belt, and "wins" (flying without anxiety meds, or driving somewhere... etc) I start to feel gutsy. Like "I got this."
And just like that, the darkness swoops in.
Last night I started to pace in the kitchen. ((HEY ANXIETY))!
No joke- my very first thought was, "What time is it? Can I take my klonopin yet?" I skipped all the sensible steps in between, and wanted the quick fix pill.
((Sensible steps include: oils & CBD, putting my cellphone away... resting... HYDRATING... reading... slowing down)
I told Ryan, "I need my brain to shut off for like five minutes. If I could just STOP overthinking everything I could get myself together."
Being anxious is SO. FREAKING. UNCOMFORTABLE. The only way I can describe it is having severe brain fog, with shortness of breath and dizziness. I can't focus, I start thinking catastrophically ( it's completely ridiculous)... did you know, for an entire year I didn't go to the alligator farm because I was convinced if I took my kids, one of them would fall into the water?- I get paranoid about silly things (last night I was sobbing because I felt guilty for not cooking dinner). Typing all of this out makes it sound even MORE crazy... yikes. BUT... it also puts it in its place. The catastrophic thinking, and the "not good enough" because you didn't make dinner stuff can be shoved in a corner called, "stupid, fearful, fictional stuff that my healing brain makes up."
Healing brain.
I was told I couldn't "do life" for such a long time, that I believed it. And sometimes, on the bad days (like last night) that sneaky doubt creeps in and I start to believe it again.
But that doubt will never stick. I won't allow it.
Because I want the number zero.
I want a zero percent chance of an accidental overdose. Not a 20% (that's what I'm at right now)... but a zero.
A big, fat ZERO with a cherry on top. THAT'S what I want. THAT'S what I'm working my butt off for. I can't tell you when I'll get there. I wish I could- trust me. I wish I had a date that I could look at and say, "By this time... I will not be struggling with klonopin anymore!" That's not how it works.
It's one day at a time. Sometimes one minute at a time.
But nothing worth having, comes easy. And that zero is worth a lot to me. It's worth a lot to my family, and friends as well.
It's Saturday. I "survived" my anxious night.
I'm tired. My patience with this process is wearing, for sure. But it's all still here... patience, hope, trust, life, breath- my breath. It's here. And that means I continue to fight. All of the things that sum up my zero are still RIGHT here, and I will never stop fighting for that number.
Never ever.
That saying, "less is more?" Yeah. That.
I WANT ZERO.
Thanks for reading and hearing my heart friends <3
Monday, September 2, 2019
What about yesterday?
It sucked. It caught me out of the blue, off guard and I'm still wiping my eyes. It feels like I have gallons of tears behind my face, and as they fall, a little more anxiety, fear, guilt, and embarrassment goes with them.
That's something I've learned on this rollercoaster- it's okay to cry. It's actually necessary to cry and say "I AM NOT OKAY... I need help with this." I think I've learned that lesson... maybe I'm still working on it? I don't know.
Yesterday a lot of old demons flared up. And it was terrifying.
I've been having a lot of sinus pressure behind my face and head. My left eye started to do the crazy big pupil thing. I had about three days of the pressure and vision problems. But I was okay! Everything was FINE. I was medicating with CBD, rest, water, and it was ALL okay... Until it wasn't.
It took just a second- a split second. I felt fine (I mean other than the headache & eye pain I'd had for 3 days) but one second I was rescheduling our Midwest trip (thanks Dorian) and the next second I was showing Ryan blood clots.
A few weeks ago I passed two kidney stones and I immediately thought that was the cause. I was hoping that was the cause. But then I remembered I was on blood thinners. And one of the HUGE
warnings on the packaging that comes with my coumadin is "go to ER immediately if there's any unexplained bleeding."
AWESOME. AWESOME AWESOME AWESOME. That's all I could think on my way there. I was so freaking ticked. I kept saying, "Well isn't this just great? This is how I wanted to spend my Sunday..."
I was SO angry. I don't think I even said bye to my kids- I just walked out the door and told Ryan I'd be back later.
Flagler hospital.
It's a place in itself that holds too many emotions. It's where I watched my grandma pass away. And its also where Ryan and I welcomed Estella June and Rosie. Such highs. And SUCH lows.
It was my fault for going there, and not driving an extra thirty minutes to Baptist. But I wanted this to be taken care of quick. I had things to do.
I don't know the word for it- ironically? Horrifying? But when the nurse took me into the back, she led me into the same room where I had held my grandmas hand as she stepped into heaven.
I stopped at the door and asked why I wasn't being "fast tracked."
Our ER basically has two "lanes."
The "fast track" where you're pretty much in & out (meaning nothing was seriously, seriously wrong) and there was THIS lane- the one in the back, with monitors, and beeping, and noises. Nurses hustling around, doctors being paged, etc. This is where you get admitted. This is where you get scans and tests. This is where fear lives. This is my where my anxiety plays and freaking PREYS on me. It zips this way, and that dragging me down into rabbit holes.
I asked to go to the fast lane. Actually, I asked to go home- any anger I had felt about being there dissipated into an eerie lull. I just wanted out of there. It was too dark. Too loud.
She said because my heart rate and BP were up they wanted me on a monitor, and I'd probably need some kind of scan.
She handed me a gown and I started bawling.
It was the first time in a VERY long time I had put one of those stupid things on.
It was as awful as I remember it. Cold, and unforgiving- flapping open in all the wrong places, at all the wrong times... ugh.
I shivered and cried under the blanket, waiting for the doctor. And then "stuff" started to really hit. I started to remember all the terrifying times I'd been here. I thought of the nights spent there alone. I remembered the fear of not knowing anything, but needing to know it. I remembered all the pain, and weakness that place poured into me. The doubts, and the rock bottoms, that weren't really rock bottoms- I remembered everything far too well.
Guys- I wanted out so bad. SO bad. Not just out of that room, or out of that hospital. But I wanted OUT of my skin. I wanted out of my head.
The hospital was prepping for a hurricane. You could feel the nervousness. There were lots of people running all over, confirming this and that. Nurses and doctors were trying to tie things up to get home. Others were getting ready for a long stay; the hospital is going on official lockdown whenever the winds hit 45mph. In short, the ER was chaos. And it's the closest thing I can think of to describe what was happening with my mind- chaos.
Everything had gotten out.
Things I had tucked away in boxes- never to be seen again, were out in full view. Memories I've worked so hard on forgiving myself for, pounded at my brain.
By the time the doctor came in all of my vitals were up- so of course he wanted to rule stuff out.
-((((Hold up one second- I've had a LOT of doctors. A LOT. And I've had a lot of ER doctors. The one I had yesterday was top notch. He was awesome. He listened. He didn't jump any guns. He was calming. Reassuring. I didn't catch his name (oops) but when I was discharged I told my nurse to make sure he knew what a great job he had done.)))))-
Anyways, he said because I was on blood thinners, and I'd had a headache for 3+ days I should get a scan to rule out any bleeding. It was the safe thing to do. And as much as I hated signing for the CT scan, I did. He also checked my INR (clotting number) and a bunch of other labs right away- so we knew exactly what was on our plate. My INR came back low, but my hemoglobin came back fine.
He was vigilant in checking my pupils (which were being so weird) , and he was very concerned with making me comfortable.
I knew what that meant.
Which meant I had to explain "it" to him. I told him I don't do well with pain medication, and I needed to go home- get out of here ASAP. I was embarrassed as heck for having to say that but he treated me with so much respect- and dignity. He took my concerns and fears, and eased them, letting me know I didn't need to do ANYTHING, and I was free to make my own choices.
I chose to have fluids and anxiety meds.
Yep. Anxiety meds. Ativan to be exact.
To be honest, I still feel guilty I succumbed to Ativan- but that's a discussion for my therapist & I on another day.
I got my scans, 2 rounds of fluids, a bunch of blood work up.
The doctor came in and explained that he would like to admit me- especially because of the hurricane.
I texted Ryan (he had been at home with the kids), "Get here ASAP- I need you."
And then I fell asleep.
When I woke up Ryan was there, and I LOST it. LOST IT. (I'm actually really surprised they didn't admit me for crying like a crazy person) It was like everything in me just caved, seeing Ryan. I sobbed and sobbed, and begged to go home.
We talked with the doctor for a lonnnnng time. I told him I couldn't stay in the hospital- I just couldn't unless it was 100% necessary. I couldn't take any of the "ruling this or that out." With Ryan there, we were able to schedule some follow up appointments and blood work (again- major shout out to Dr. K for being so awesome) And I was able to come home last night. I wasn't admitted. I'm HOME- with no prescriptions.
PRAISE GOD! PRAISE GOD! PRAISE GOD!
The upcoming appointments and scans are ahead of me, and yes, there's a lot of anxiety there. But I'm doing this one day at a time. One minute at a time. One foot in front of the other. A constant climb.
I think its something that didn't totally sink in before yesterday; Yeah I got out of that patch of scary health and hospital darkness, but it doesn't mean smooth sailing forever. And I knew that- subconsciously I knew that- I KNEW I couldn't get away without ever being in a hospital again.
I've said this a thousand times to y'all- AND myself- nothing is assured (especially our health). NOTHING. Not even your next breath. As morbid as that sounds, its 100% true.
I was SO angry with God yesterday. SO angry, and disappointed. I felt let down. I felt lost. I felt like I'd been dropped. I thought, "REALLY? AGAIN WITH THIS???"
And I went to bed angry, just assuming I'd wake up to another day.
I did. I fell asleep and thankfully woke up this morning, like every other day.
God gave me another day here.
Another day to try. Another day to figure stuff out.
Another day to watch my kids zip around the house.
Another day to feel love.
Another day to poke around on facebook, another day to talk to friends. Another day to bake hurricane cookies.
Another day to be held by Ryan.
Another day to celebrate life here.
It's a kid verse- and one everyone knows, but seriously- "THIS IS THE DAY THE LORD HAS MADE- I WILL REJOICE AND BE GLAD IN IT!" Every day- even the ones that are hard as heck, are DAYS. And I think if we can take those "hard as heck" days, squeezing out the lessons to be learned, and COMPLETELY surrender to the fact that we don't have control over much, we'll be able to stack up more & more of the good days.
With more good days, the inevitable crash is a lot softer and easier to handle. Ryan was just saying, "You're so much healthier now, that when something does knock you down, you're stronger- both mentally and physically." It's true. And I'm thankful for my glass half full guy,
It takes a TON (for me anyways) to surrender. I like to think I've learned this or that lesson a million times. But then a day like yesterday pops up and I'm served a HUGE slice of humble pie.
This morning I woke up, cried for a bit with Ryan about yesterday. And then said, "I'm writing about this." -not like there's some golden information in here or anything. But I wanted to write for me, and anyone else who is struggling with health crap... I want to push the words out of my fingers, about how HARD that was, and how hard this continues to be. There isn't a dang shortcut and I SO wish there was.
Along with baking hurricane cookies, blogging, and watching my kids recreate a hurricane inside (YIKES), I'm also taking a heavier lean on His truth, and promises. Because there is nothing HERE that will take any of this away.
And today? That's okay. I'm okay.
Whatever His plans are, five minutes from now, or a year from now, I am 100% confident there is purpose in those plans. I won't lie and say that's an anxiety provoking thought for me... and my first instinct is to withdrawl; Tuck myself in and hibernate with the bad thoughts until that feeling goes away.
But I know better. I know more today, because of yesterday.
Yesterday was awful. But its over. I didn't do anything to cause my blood to clot, or my INR to plunge- it just HAPPENED.
It's life.
And I'm thankful I get the opportunity today to reflect on that. :)
As always, thank you for reading, and hearing my heart friends. You have no idea how impactful your messages, and thoughts have been.
THANK YOU.
xoxo
It sucked. It caught me out of the blue, off guard and I'm still wiping my eyes. It feels like I have gallons of tears behind my face, and as they fall, a little more anxiety, fear, guilt, and embarrassment goes with them.
That's something I've learned on this rollercoaster- it's okay to cry. It's actually necessary to cry and say "I AM NOT OKAY... I need help with this." I think I've learned that lesson... maybe I'm still working on it? I don't know.
Yesterday a lot of old demons flared up. And it was terrifying.
I've been having a lot of sinus pressure behind my face and head. My left eye started to do the crazy big pupil thing. I had about three days of the pressure and vision problems. But I was okay! Everything was FINE. I was medicating with CBD, rest, water, and it was ALL okay... Until it wasn't.
It took just a second- a split second. I felt fine (I mean other than the headache & eye pain I'd had for 3 days) but one second I was rescheduling our Midwest trip (thanks Dorian) and the next second I was showing Ryan blood clots.
A few weeks ago I passed two kidney stones and I immediately thought that was the cause. I was hoping that was the cause. But then I remembered I was on blood thinners. And one of the HUGE
warnings on the packaging that comes with my coumadin is "go to ER immediately if there's any unexplained bleeding."
AWESOME. AWESOME AWESOME AWESOME. That's all I could think on my way there. I was so freaking ticked. I kept saying, "Well isn't this just great? This is how I wanted to spend my Sunday..."
I was SO angry. I don't think I even said bye to my kids- I just walked out the door and told Ryan I'd be back later.
Flagler hospital.
It's a place in itself that holds too many emotions. It's where I watched my grandma pass away. And its also where Ryan and I welcomed Estella June and Rosie. Such highs. And SUCH lows.
It was my fault for going there, and not driving an extra thirty minutes to Baptist. But I wanted this to be taken care of quick. I had things to do.
I don't know the word for it- ironically? Horrifying? But when the nurse took me into the back, she led me into the same room where I had held my grandmas hand as she stepped into heaven.
I stopped at the door and asked why I wasn't being "fast tracked."
Our ER basically has two "lanes."
The "fast track" where you're pretty much in & out (meaning nothing was seriously, seriously wrong) and there was THIS lane- the one in the back, with monitors, and beeping, and noises. Nurses hustling around, doctors being paged, etc. This is where you get admitted. This is where you get scans and tests. This is where fear lives. This is my where my anxiety plays and freaking PREYS on me. It zips this way, and that dragging me down into rabbit holes.
I asked to go to the fast lane. Actually, I asked to go home- any anger I had felt about being there dissipated into an eerie lull. I just wanted out of there. It was too dark. Too loud.
She said because my heart rate and BP were up they wanted me on a monitor, and I'd probably need some kind of scan.
She handed me a gown and I started bawling.
It was the first time in a VERY long time I had put one of those stupid things on.
It was as awful as I remember it. Cold, and unforgiving- flapping open in all the wrong places, at all the wrong times... ugh.
I shivered and cried under the blanket, waiting for the doctor. And then "stuff" started to really hit. I started to remember all the terrifying times I'd been here. I thought of the nights spent there alone. I remembered the fear of not knowing anything, but needing to know it. I remembered all the pain, and weakness that place poured into me. The doubts, and the rock bottoms, that weren't really rock bottoms- I remembered everything far too well.
Guys- I wanted out so bad. SO bad. Not just out of that room, or out of that hospital. But I wanted OUT of my skin. I wanted out of my head.
The hospital was prepping for a hurricane. You could feel the nervousness. There were lots of people running all over, confirming this and that. Nurses and doctors were trying to tie things up to get home. Others were getting ready for a long stay; the hospital is going on official lockdown whenever the winds hit 45mph. In short, the ER was chaos. And it's the closest thing I can think of to describe what was happening with my mind- chaos.
Everything had gotten out.
Things I had tucked away in boxes- never to be seen again, were out in full view. Memories I've worked so hard on forgiving myself for, pounded at my brain.
By the time the doctor came in all of my vitals were up- so of course he wanted to rule stuff out.
-((((Hold up one second- I've had a LOT of doctors. A LOT. And I've had a lot of ER doctors. The one I had yesterday was top notch. He was awesome. He listened. He didn't jump any guns. He was calming. Reassuring. I didn't catch his name (oops) but when I was discharged I told my nurse to make sure he knew what a great job he had done.)))))-
Anyways, he said because I was on blood thinners, and I'd had a headache for 3+ days I should get a scan to rule out any bleeding. It was the safe thing to do. And as much as I hated signing for the CT scan, I did. He also checked my INR (clotting number) and a bunch of other labs right away- so we knew exactly what was on our plate. My INR came back low, but my hemoglobin came back fine.
He was vigilant in checking my pupils (which were being so weird) , and he was very concerned with making me comfortable.
I knew what that meant.
Which meant I had to explain "it" to him. I told him I don't do well with pain medication, and I needed to go home- get out of here ASAP. I was embarrassed as heck for having to say that but he treated me with so much respect- and dignity. He took my concerns and fears, and eased them, letting me know I didn't need to do ANYTHING, and I was free to make my own choices.
I chose to have fluids and anxiety meds.
Yep. Anxiety meds. Ativan to be exact.
To be honest, I still feel guilty I succumbed to Ativan- but that's a discussion for my therapist & I on another day.
I got my scans, 2 rounds of fluids, a bunch of blood work up.
The doctor came in and explained that he would like to admit me- especially because of the hurricane.
I texted Ryan (he had been at home with the kids), "Get here ASAP- I need you."
And then I fell asleep.
When I woke up Ryan was there, and I LOST it. LOST IT. (I'm actually really surprised they didn't admit me for crying like a crazy person) It was like everything in me just caved, seeing Ryan. I sobbed and sobbed, and begged to go home.
We talked with the doctor for a lonnnnng time. I told him I couldn't stay in the hospital- I just couldn't unless it was 100% necessary. I couldn't take any of the "ruling this or that out." With Ryan there, we were able to schedule some follow up appointments and blood work (again- major shout out to Dr. K for being so awesome) And I was able to come home last night. I wasn't admitted. I'm HOME- with no prescriptions.
PRAISE GOD! PRAISE GOD! PRAISE GOD!
The upcoming appointments and scans are ahead of me, and yes, there's a lot of anxiety there. But I'm doing this one day at a time. One minute at a time. One foot in front of the other. A constant climb.
I think its something that didn't totally sink in before yesterday; Yeah I got out of that patch of scary health and hospital darkness, but it doesn't mean smooth sailing forever. And I knew that- subconsciously I knew that- I KNEW I couldn't get away without ever being in a hospital again.
I've said this a thousand times to y'all- AND myself- nothing is assured (especially our health). NOTHING. Not even your next breath. As morbid as that sounds, its 100% true.
I was SO angry with God yesterday. SO angry, and disappointed. I felt let down. I felt lost. I felt like I'd been dropped. I thought, "REALLY? AGAIN WITH THIS???"
And I went to bed angry, just assuming I'd wake up to another day.
I did. I fell asleep and thankfully woke up this morning, like every other day.
God gave me another day here.
Another day to try. Another day to figure stuff out.
Another day to watch my kids zip around the house.
Another day to feel love.
Another day to poke around on facebook, another day to talk to friends. Another day to bake hurricane cookies.
Another day to be held by Ryan.
Another day to celebrate life here.
It's a kid verse- and one everyone knows, but seriously- "THIS IS THE DAY THE LORD HAS MADE- I WILL REJOICE AND BE GLAD IN IT!" Every day- even the ones that are hard as heck, are DAYS. And I think if we can take those "hard as heck" days, squeezing out the lessons to be learned, and COMPLETELY surrender to the fact that we don't have control over much, we'll be able to stack up more & more of the good days.
With more good days, the inevitable crash is a lot softer and easier to handle. Ryan was just saying, "You're so much healthier now, that when something does knock you down, you're stronger- both mentally and physically." It's true. And I'm thankful for my glass half full guy,
It takes a TON (for me anyways) to surrender. I like to think I've learned this or that lesson a million times. But then a day like yesterday pops up and I'm served a HUGE slice of humble pie.
This morning I woke up, cried for a bit with Ryan about yesterday. And then said, "I'm writing about this." -not like there's some golden information in here or anything. But I wanted to write for me, and anyone else who is struggling with health crap... I want to push the words out of my fingers, about how HARD that was, and how hard this continues to be. There isn't a dang shortcut and I SO wish there was.
Along with baking hurricane cookies, blogging, and watching my kids recreate a hurricane inside (YIKES), I'm also taking a heavier lean on His truth, and promises. Because there is nothing HERE that will take any of this away.
And today? That's okay. I'm okay.
Whatever His plans are, five minutes from now, or a year from now, I am 100% confident there is purpose in those plans. I won't lie and say that's an anxiety provoking thought for me... and my first instinct is to withdrawl; Tuck myself in and hibernate with the bad thoughts until that feeling goes away.
But I know better. I know more today, because of yesterday.
Yesterday was awful. But its over. I didn't do anything to cause my blood to clot, or my INR to plunge- it just HAPPENED.
It's life.
And I'm thankful I get the opportunity today to reflect on that. :)
As always, thank you for reading, and hearing my heart friends. You have no idea how impactful your messages, and thoughts have been.
THANK YOU.
xoxo
Monday, August 26, 2019
I'm pretty sure we were asked that question, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" about a hundred times when we started talking about homeschooling.
The answer is pretty simple: We're homeschooling because we can.
Both Ryan and I stay home (thank you YOUNG LIVING)! Last year was filled with me getting better, gaining strength (physically & mentally) and learning to live without medications. I was definitely too consumed with getting better to be able to focus on other stuff.
I feel like last October I really turned a corner... We had just gone to Disney, and I had practically ran through the entire park... vs. the previous year when I was being pushed in a wheelchair.
I felt so strong and good- I just wanted (and continue to want) to build on that goodness.
Kind of like stacking blocks.
If you think about it, we're always stacking blocks, right?
At one point I was stacking everything on top of me; causing anxiety, fear, and so much darkness,
And then I started to lift each one off, stacking it in another pile, or tossing it all together. The important thing, is that heaviness was off of me.
I am obviously still sorting & stacking. But I have a really big pile of "good stuff" right now. And by continuing to eat clean, treating things naturally, and staying in His TRUTH, I'm continuously adding to that "good" pile.
Does that make sense?
Anyways, with homeschooling- Ryan and I both knew what a radical life change this would be. Kids with us 24/7. Us, teaching. A lotta sacrifice. Etc. etc. etc.
But every conversation we had it came down to the question, "Why NOT?"
There wasn't a thing stopping us- not one roadblock. Not one "we'll have to work around this or that"- nothing.
I feel 100% up to the job (even if I don't know what I'm doing).
So we jumped in.
We don't really know what each day holds- I mean, were only a week in. But we've had a few REALLY great days where it feels like I can see every color of beauty in the choice we made. And there are other days when I accidently give Rosie, Stella's math homework. Or I give Maeve a history TEST vs. a quiz. (Yeahhhhh…… both of those things have already happened)
Going into week 2, I feel more confident with what my role is. Ryan's feeling pretty good as the "math guy."
Things feel a little more settled.
The kids know what's expected of them because we ran boot camp last week.
They know if they do the work correctly, the first time, they finish WAY sooner.
We all know we're on a ride. We're calling it an "adventure." We know there's gonna be awesome days and horrid days. But WE are going to do this- TOGETHER.
Last night I caught Henry reading to Stella. It made my heart burst. Henry dislikes reading... and he normally dislikes Stella. So it was pretty sweet to find them together, reading Stella's new chapter book. <3
This morning, I was on hold with Abeka (the curriculum we're using) and I couldn't help Rosie with her math.... so Maeve did. I watched my sweet 6th grader work through Rosie's K5 lesson. Ryan and Henry were working together, and I had Stella snuggled up to me, doing her math. Every time she got an answer correctly, I'd give her a little squeeze and a big thumbs up. It was perfect.
The six of us, working through our day together.
We've been blessed with FREEDOM. We have an incredibly unique position; being able to stay home full time, and travel.
I know this is going to be hard. I know its going to be trying. (right now I'm finishing up this blog post as Rosie & Stella "clean up"/smash playdough into the ground).
But... we'll clean it up. Finish language and history. And then eat a big lunch. Maybe take a walk to the park....
Whatever we do, we're ALL in this together.
(high school musical style:)
The answer is pretty simple: We're homeschooling because we can.
Both Ryan and I stay home (thank you YOUNG LIVING)! Last year was filled with me getting better, gaining strength (physically & mentally) and learning to live without medications. I was definitely too consumed with getting better to be able to focus on other stuff.
I feel like last October I really turned a corner... We had just gone to Disney, and I had practically ran through the entire park... vs. the previous year when I was being pushed in a wheelchair.
I felt so strong and good- I just wanted (and continue to want) to build on that goodness.
Kind of like stacking blocks.
If you think about it, we're always stacking blocks, right?
At one point I was stacking everything on top of me; causing anxiety, fear, and so much darkness,
And then I started to lift each one off, stacking it in another pile, or tossing it all together. The important thing, is that heaviness was off of me.
I am obviously still sorting & stacking. But I have a really big pile of "good stuff" right now. And by continuing to eat clean, treating things naturally, and staying in His TRUTH, I'm continuously adding to that "good" pile.
Does that make sense?
Anyways, with homeschooling- Ryan and I both knew what a radical life change this would be. Kids with us 24/7. Us, teaching. A lotta sacrifice. Etc. etc. etc.
But every conversation we had it came down to the question, "Why NOT?"
There wasn't a thing stopping us- not one roadblock. Not one "we'll have to work around this or that"- nothing.
I feel 100% up to the job (even if I don't know what I'm doing).
So we jumped in.
We don't really know what each day holds- I mean, were only a week in. But we've had a few REALLY great days where it feels like I can see every color of beauty in the choice we made. And there are other days when I accidently give Rosie, Stella's math homework. Or I give Maeve a history TEST vs. a quiz. (Yeahhhhh…… both of those things have already happened)
Going into week 2, I feel more confident with what my role is. Ryan's feeling pretty good as the "math guy."
Things feel a little more settled.
The kids know what's expected of them because we ran boot camp last week.
They know if they do the work correctly, the first time, they finish WAY sooner.
We all know we're on a ride. We're calling it an "adventure." We know there's gonna be awesome days and horrid days. But WE are going to do this- TOGETHER.
Last night I caught Henry reading to Stella. It made my heart burst. Henry dislikes reading... and he normally dislikes Stella. So it was pretty sweet to find them together, reading Stella's new chapter book. <3
This morning, I was on hold with Abeka (the curriculum we're using) and I couldn't help Rosie with her math.... so Maeve did. I watched my sweet 6th grader work through Rosie's K5 lesson. Ryan and Henry were working together, and I had Stella snuggled up to me, doing her math. Every time she got an answer correctly, I'd give her a little squeeze and a big thumbs up. It was perfect.
The six of us, working through our day together.
We've been blessed with FREEDOM. We have an incredibly unique position; being able to stay home full time, and travel.
I know this is going to be hard. I know its going to be trying. (right now I'm finishing up this blog post as Rosie & Stella "clean up"/smash playdough into the ground).
But... we'll clean it up. Finish language and history. And then eat a big lunch. Maybe take a walk to the park....
Whatever we do, we're ALL in this together.
(high school musical style:)
Friday, August 2, 2019
((today))
***forward note- I was talking to Ryan this morning about how excited I am to write again. Then I said, "It's like baking. And painting rocks. And traveling.... homeschooling. It's like LIVING life." Because before, when I was on medication I didn't enjoy much. I couldn't feel much... so I didn't have much to write about. Ryan said, "Yeah its like you were gone. And now you're back." It wasn't that I couldn't write when I was medicated. I did... I did a lot of things. I just did them on autopilot. And I dropped everything "extra" in my life, to make up enough room- to save enough energy to do the things I had to do, like be a mom. And somedays, it was simply surviving. I can't tell you the vast difference in life 2 years ago. You can see it apparently- I've been told more times than I can count that it looks like I have "LIFE in my eyes." I used to take that compliment and be like "Holy moly- HOW BAD WAS IT?????" But now, I'm like "shine on eyes!" You can also see it in my physical appearance. Two years ago, I was on handfuls of different medications. I was bloated from opioids and steroids. I've had many people make comments about how much weight I've lost... it's because my body was SO. SICK. Detoxing off of meds, helped shed probably thirty pounds. Continuing to heal my gut, my body, AND mind- naturally- has kept me at my "ideal" healthy weight (for my height). Physically, and emotionally I feel strong. I feel SO strong. And most importantly, I feel like my spirituality is on fire. There's a song I used to play when I was in the hospital; "Blessings in disguise" I'd have it on repeat at the dark hour of 2AM.... and the lyrics go, "what if a thousand sleepless nights is what it takes to draw You near?" I took hold of that lyric. And it wasn't until crawling out of the haze that I realized I had spent more time talking to Jesus, more time in His word, than ever before in my life. Which leads me into the actual blog post (yes this is still the intro to the actual post)…
Another song I love and continue to listen to is "Oceans." I'm sure you know the lyrics- but in case ya don't: "You call me out upon the waters, the great unknown where feet may fail. And there I find You in the mystery, in oceans deep my faith will stand."
For a VERY LONG time, I've been trying to figure out how to "start" blogging again, but without saying "it." I knew I couldn't write truthfully, or honestly until I told my story. And yes, I'm still working through so much- I don't think I can ever stop working on myself; I don't think anyone should. There's always room to grow, and learn. Knowing I can write openly, and vulnerably here- sharing the victories, the set backs, and the mundane, makes me smile so big.
With all that said, I've had this post (below) written for awhile... and I think there are about 7 drafts of it. It might sound super similar to the FB & Insta post I shared the other day- and its because I've written this over, and over. On countless pictures, facebook posts, I have "drafts"- trying to make this sound pretty. Or different- but its never going to be pretty and its never going to sound different.
So here it is:
((March 2019))
.
I keep asking Ryan, "What should I post? What should I say? How should I say it?" And he keeps telling me, "Just write it out. Just write it all out. And then we'll piece it together"
The thing is, it's not easy stuff to tell. It's something that will forever be etched onto me. There's no redo, rewind, start over. It is what it is. I messed up. I have literal and emotional scars that are slit across me; forever reminding me of "then."
When I was pregnant with Maeve, I developed anxiety. After her birth I was in THE DEPTHS with depression and anxiety. I've blogged about all of that before... it was bad. About a month after Maeve was born I was put on Zoloft and Xanax. The Xanax worked- in that it put me to sleep, and I wasn't in complete panic mode. I couldn't tell a difference with the Zoloft so my doctor transferred me to a specialist.
Things were so bad around this time, I wasn't even driving- I couldn't drive. I had it in my head that if I drove the car, we'd crash- it would be a catastrophic event, etc. (warning- I can take a HECK of a leap from A-Z).
My sweet hubs would drive me to my weekly appointments, and sit out in the car with baby Maeve. My new psychiatrist adjusted my medications; 60mg Prozac a day, and up to 4, 1mg Ativan as needed.
Ativan got me through. So don't for a minute think I'm knocking modern meds, or doctors- I wouldn't be here with out either. God has truly gifted some doctors with the ability to perform miracles on earth. I've seen it happen, time and time again.
Anyways.... after being on Ativan and Prozac for a year, I found out I was preggo again.
My psychiatrist at the time suggested an abortion because I wasn't ready to be off of medication yet.
I don't remember the rest of that appointment, or day; just slamming her door shut and saying "ADIOS!" to that gross psych center. (side note- that "suggested abortion" is Henry. My beautiful, incredibly smart, sweet Henry).
Fast forward to Rosie (I know its a big time jump) but while I was pregnant and breastfeeding I didn't take my medications full time. So.... for basically 5 years I was hopping on and off of anxiety medicine as needed. I was young. I was living in that time of "if the doctor says to take it, take it. " I had no clue other options existed. I was uninformed, and desperate to feel "normal."
About six months after having Rose I started to develop a TON of neurological problems that in turn, caused some CRAZY things to happen. Before I knew it, I was weaning Rosie from breastfeeding, so I could hop on every medication under the sun. My reasoning was that the doctors know best; for some reason, I didn't weigh any of the side effects. I leapt right to "WHAT IS HAPPENING MAKE IT STOP."
My kidneys started to do weird things; stones and constant infections. I had 3 kidney stone removals, countless cystoscopies, and one particularly brutal infection that landed me in the ICU. I remember counting the bags of medication, hanging on the IV stands; it was staggering- 7,8 bags? I can't recall the exact number. I just remember thinking "WOW that's a lot of stuff going in me." 2014 was a rough year.
And then the back pain- flank pain- started. It was chronic. It never left. And it was awful. I went undiagnosed with it for at least a year. Finally my doctor ordered a bunch of scans- more invasive tests because I needed answers. I remember a doctor coming into my room and saying "I think I found what's going on." He showed me scan after scan of my liver, and the giant tumor protruding from it. The reason for the chronic pain was because it was pinning my right kidney to my back wall. I had a ton of thoughts; um.... how the heck is it that big.... and HOW are we just now finding it??? How do I get it out???
I was referred to Mayo. We talked to a group of specialists who said the best thing to do would be a liver resection. They explained to me; they'd remove the entire tumor, including the area of my liver where it was growing. Then they'd take my severed liver, "resection it" and wallah! A new, healthy liver! God bless those liver doctors- they literally saved my life in the operating room. I think I had every complication you could have during a big surgery. The doctors had told us how vasculated the liver was; and there was a "tricky" area where my hepatic artery intertwined with the tumor a bit. I was still thinking "I'm young. This is going to be a hiccup in my life. I can do this. I'll be out of here in a few days."
Obviously I don't remember surgery at all. And I don't remember "recovery." Because I had so many complications, I was just kept sedated.
I remember waking up a few times with a million doctors looking down on me. I was asking for my family. And then I'd feel like I couldn't breathe and I'd fade out again.
It took almost a full 24+ hours for me to fully wake up. And when I did wake up, I wanted to go back to sleep. Or to wherever it was that I didn't feel this crazy pain.
For pain, I had a dilauded pain pump. Every 7 minutes I could push it, and get relief. Sweet, sweet relief.
They told me I needed to be bathed (no clue how many days post op this was- I want to say it was either day 1 or day 2...) and as the nurses went to help me turn, my entire body locked up in indescribable pain. Listen. I didn't make a peep when ANY of my kids were born. But this pain made me wail. I remember locking eyes with my sister and begging her to make them stop. She couldn't even watch. She left the room. She joined my mom and grandma and sister Meghan- all whom were there, but couldn't stand to be in the room while this was happening. I don't blame them. I pushed the pain pump. I HATED to see them hurt so badly for me. It might've been worse than the physical pain
Ryan was with me through it all...somehow he was juggling everything.
I nodded in and out for a few days; pushing my button. I think they took my chest tube out on day 2... I had a heart episode that brought Mayo's finest heart docs down to my room- after a ton of tests they found that it was an interaction with my Prozac and the Zofran they were giving me for nausea.
Once they swapped nausea meds, all was well. But I had to be monitored at the hospital longer.
My dad would visit me in the afternoons and evenings, and we'd talk about hard stuff. But he made sure to leave me laughing.
When I was able to sit and walk (with a walker) we had the kids come visit. It hurt to see them hurt. And I wanted to be at the park pushing them on a swing set. Not showing them how I can do a lap with a walker around the 5th floor. I was so embarrassed. "Shame. Not good enough. Worthless." It's an ugly mantra that I picked up during my liver surgery recovery.
It was always a relief to get back to my room so I could push my pain pump.
The hard thing about this situation is that I was having legitimate medical problems, which required legit medication. Like... having your liver chopped apart and pieced back together absolutely warranted pain medication. NO DOUBT.
But... it was like every time I was recovering from something, I'd get hit with something else. The longer I stayed in the hospital, the sicker I got. That's a fact. And again- I'm not knocking hospitals. My GP actually told us, for every day you're in the hospital, give yourself at least 4 weeks to fully recover. Even if it was just an infection- or something dumb like my gallbladder. Recovering from the hospital was no fun.
I would have some FANTASTIC weeks here and there, kind of polka dotting the year. We'd say "Oh! I think this is it. We found the right doctor. I'm on the right combo of meds. I haven't been sick in a few weeks!" In fact, I was doing pretty well in the summer of 2016. We had had an amazing summer, and I was starting to feel "steady." Back on my feet- back to me. And then BAM- in August I got a blood clot in my chest. And any resolve I had was washed down the sink.
I remember feeling overwhelming defeat as I sat in the ICU recovering from the blood clot. And I also remembered how I could make that feeling go away. I had access to pain medication again.
By the time 2017 rolled around, I was at an all time low. Like- surviving from day to day was a challenge. It hurt to simply take a breath- to breathe because I was so bloated on steroids. I slept sitting straight up, because cramping my chest was too painful. I was having to self catheterize myself. Sometimes I'd have a cath bag attached to me because I was too weak to use the bathroom. I had stomachaches so bad, I'd vomit blood requiring too many tubes up the nose to count. I had migraines that would take days to go away- and that was WITH every pain medication under the sun. I had no energy. I had no drive. I had no interest in life. Every neuro test was coming back negative. Nothing was connecting. I had a list of chronic conditions and nobody could agree on an overall diagnosis. (to this day- I'm still listed as a "suspected MS" patient- and trust me, there are times my mind goes there..) I was obviously depressed, and getting fueled by the ugly monster of anxiety. It (the anxiety) was demanding to know exactly what was going on. Something in me, was insistent that we keep going; keep testing; keep figuring out this or that.
Guys... it got so dark. So, so dark.
And I wish I could tell you exactly when and how this snowballed, and got SO out of control; but I can't because I was a steroid inflated shell of myself. I was a zombie. Overmedicated. Overtreated. Out. Of. Control. Out of strength. Completely weak. I was so depressed and felt absolutely helpless. Like an infant. I told my GP I wanted to go to a pain doctor.
He referred me to a place in Jacksonville. The first time I walked in, I was scared; it was literally a waiting room of incredibly sick, overmedicated zombies.
We met the pain doctor; he read my medical history, listened to me whine about needing it all to stop. The migraines, the constant joint aching, the clot in my chest, the complete defeat I felt in every time I had to use the wheelchair... I didn't want to feel any of it.
He referred me to a place in Jacksonville. The first time I walked in, I was scared; it was literally a waiting room of incredibly sick, overmedicated zombies.
We met the pain doctor; he read my medical history, listened to me whine about needing it all to stop. The migraines, the constant joint aching, the clot in my chest, the complete defeat I felt in every time I had to use the wheelchair... I didn't want to feel any of it.
I'm sure you've heard a zillion stories that start like this- and I'm going to add myself to that list; it started with Lortab. A measly 5mg of Lortab. And somehow within a year, I was on a fentanyl patch.
After I developed not only a dependency, but tolerance for 5mg of Lortab. Then it went to 10mg. Then 20. Etc. Eventually, Lortab wasn't cutting it, so we bumped up to Oxycontin. Then the Oxys just weren't doing it, so we switched to morphine- MORPINE?!? - and then my pain doctor prescribed me fentanyl. A fentanyl patch to be exact. Fentanyl. For those who don't know what fentanyl is, its 80-100 times stronger than morphine It's the drug that killed Michael Jackson, and Prince. It's the drug that is now responsible for more deaths than car accidents. I knew full and well what having a patch would be like. I knew I was crossing a line; one that wouldn't be easy to cross back over. To put it quite bluntly, when I (ME) chose to say: "Yes, I'll wear the patch," my kids lost their mom. Ryan lost his wife. My parents lost a daughter. My brothers and sisters lost a sister. I lost myself, and so much else. Vacations, dance recitals, Christmas mornings, birthdays, precious moments. Gone.
Along with the fentanyl patch, I was prescribed an additional 25mg/day of hydrocodone ( to take as needed- for breakthrough pain). My psychiatrist who was absolutely aware of my pain medications, and the dosages, prescribed me benzodiazepines. "Up to 6mg/day" for my anxiety. Sometimes when I needed scans or procedures, she'd prescribe me 10 mg of valium. Like it was nothing. It was easier to get than candy. Again- I am NOT blaming the doctors- I chose to take the pills. However I DO feel like doctors should take some ownership when it comes to overprescribing. And my psychiatrist was the queen of overprescribing.
Everything was on autopilot. I recall being pushed in a wheelchair at a Florida Gator's gymnastics meet, "nodding" in and out. And I remember thinking "this is how my kids are going to have to look at me." I was always thankful for that "extra" as needed Lortab...it was ALWAYS "needed." The shame I still feel- (still working on/and through a lot) is indescribable.
My family has told me stories about me falling asleep at the dinner table. I remember my dad picking my head up and snapping his fingers, saying "Ashley.... Ash.... ya with us?" That should have scared the junk outta me. But in my mind, it was ALL OKAY, because I had a bottle with my name on it.
In February of 2018 Ryan and I were at my appointment and they showed us some paperwork; something about "Morphine Equivalency." The nurse charted my dosages, added in the benzos and circled a number. I can't remember the exact number. It was a high number, and I remember she circled it in red. The doctor came in and explained because of my "number" I needed to own a "Narcan kit." The state of Florida says (because of my MME number) a Narcan kit is required at our residence. I knew what Narcan was. I watched intervention on TV. I've seen the rescue videos on the news; drivers slumped over and Narcan being used to revive them.
I was genuinely shocked when the doctor told me this. Like jumped back, tears in my eyes, wondering why I'd need a Narcan kit??? I wasn't like the people on tv. I was prescribed medicine. I was supposed to take this; I needed to take this.
That day at the doctor- he explained the dangers of the amount, and type of drugs I was on, the combination, and other factors, that put me at high risk for overdosing.. He still however wrote me a refill for the fentanyl and hydrocodone. I had a new prescription to add to the shelf as well; "Naloxone." I carried all three out to the car, looked at Ryan, and said "nope." I never filled those scripts. I never went back to that clinic.
I knew I didn't need that amount of pain and anxiety medication. I knew it the entire time. I completely abused it; taking Lortabs and klonopin like candy... when now, I know, there are about 300000 options between getting a headache and taking a Lortab. And I knew it then too- but I was too lost- WAY TOO LOST to even think about it.
One of the most embarrassing parts of this, is my job. A TON of wellness sat literally under my nose- my sweet oils. The ones that were great for diffusing, and worked wonders on my kids- yeah, we used them throughout all of this. But I was in a different category. I had "real" medical issues and I needed DOCTORS. I had it in my head, there was no way to feel better unless I was taking pills. I remember thinking, "Oh I miss those days, when I could take peppermint if my stomach was upset. But now, I 'need' these pills." I was sick. So, so sick.
Whether he meant to or not, the doctor's script of naloxone changed the direction of my life.
Ryan was driving home, and my wedding ring ALWAYS makes a teeny rectangle rainbow refection whenever the sun is at a certain angle. I call it my own pocket of personal promises- I've taken pics of it tons of times :) I remember the colors covered the back of my prescriptions. A rainbow; HIS promises. And with fight like I never felt in my LIFE, I tore those scripts up, and said ""this is over." There has to be a different way to live. And I surrendered. I gave up control. Control I never had to begin with- I gave up the "safety net" of medication. I put my hands up, and surrendered- "Jesus DO this. Jesus take this. I can't do it. But I want to. I want to live. I want to see my kids grow up. I want to be the best me I can be. And I can ONLY do that with YOU pouring into me."
And so I chose to detox; it sucked. It sucked really bad, and there's no nice way to put it. But I made it through- and when the whole ordeal was done and over with, I remember thinking "Well... never doing that again!" My head space started to become wayyyy clearer too- and it was good to "feel" again. I should rephrase that; it was good to KNOW I could feel again. There were many times I would've loved to have taken the easy way out and gone crawling back to my pain doctor for relief. But knowing I was right there- right at the cusp of crawling out, gave me so.much.motivation. to get ALL THE WAY out!
I started making appointments with different doctors, (specifically my script happy docs).... I found a homeopathic doctor who challenged me to eat RAW and CLEAN foods. My blood doc (oncologist- I've always hated that he's called that) challenged me to walk a mile by the date of the 1 year anniversary of my blood clot (did it-actually I was walking an average of 6 MILES/day)! I also found a new psychiatrist, which was huge and scary... but one of the best things I've ever done. She fed into my sickness... assuring me that in fact, I was too weak to do things without meds. She would tell me I needed klonopin to make me brave. I needed it to get through things. I needed it to "do life."
I started to wean off of other medications that were just "there"- like this one antibiotic- I was taking it to avoid infections, but as soon as I started eating different foods, moving around more, taking less medication, etc. a TON of those problems started to go away. It was like the domino effect- once we got my migraines and joint inflammation under control via alternative medicine and therapy (lifestyle changes, CBD, acupuncture, oils, supplements, biofeedback, and vitamins) I was able to get rid of my nausea medicine. Once I got rid of my nausea medicine, I was able to stop taking my steroid. Then I was able to start weaning off the benzos and SSRI (which I am STILL weaning off of...)
Friends, I'm writing this for several reasons.
YOU are worthy of LOVING and LIVING life. Yes- YOU. ARE. God created us for a purpose. We are here for a reason.. There is not one mistake about you being here. Reading this.
If you're walking on a dark road please know this; your walking has a purpose and a direction. PROMISE. And there are people that will WALK with you. Had I chosen the "the other road" and filled those scripts, I can't tell you if I would even be here. In fact, the way my tolerance and dependency was growing, I feel safe to say things could have gone in a completely different, devastating direction.
So while this post isn't fun AT ALL, and there are no unicorns to write about, I have to write this. Because I'm HERE. I am here. I have four crazy kids running around, a husband who has more love, patience and compassion than anyone I know, and a family who is so darn proud of me- not for how well, or poorly I do my job, or how clean or messy my house is- but proud because I came back. (that's how they describe it:)- "Ashley, it's like you're alive again... you're YOU." It's a responsibility I feel I have now; to tell you the suffering and devastation my family and I have suffered because of the disease of addiction. And it's my responsibility to tell you, I GOT OUT. And YOU CAN TOO.
There is an epidemic in this country. It's spreading quicker than wildfire and here's the terrifying part: IT DOES NOT MATTER WHO YOU ARE. It doesn't care. It's not choosy; there is no immunity to addiction. Don't for a second think, "that could never happen to me." Because that's what I thought WHILE I was hopped up on pain medication. "It's prescribed to you Ashley.... you're SUPPOSED to take it. 5mg, 10 mg- it doesn't really matter...however much I need to get through."
But there is SO much room for abuse. ESPECIALLY when its medicine prescribed to you. I was "allowed" to take up to 4 pills a day. I didn't HAVE to. I didn't NEED to. But when I took the extra hydrocodone ,I was able to get out of the bed, and be with the kids- even if it was just to eat dinner with them... before crashing, and needing another dose. And the cycle went ON & ON.
I'm also writing this because we MUST be 100% aware of what we're putting in and on our bodies. Just because a doctor says to take something, doesn't mean you HAVE to take it. AGAIN- I'm not saying nix the doctor/hospital. There is absolutely a place and need for those kinds of medications. Skilled doctors saved my liver and my life when I developed that blood clot. So please don't take it that way :) I DO however, believe there is a ginormous problem with overprescribing. And I don't blame the doctors for how things happened- they treated me like they were trained. But I often wonder why there isn't more room for alternative medicine, and treatments. Sadly, that answer comes down to money... and I think it always will come down to money. And that just stinks.
Today I still check my blood regularly (my INR number/clotting factor) and I'm still on 7.5mg of Coumadin. I've completely detoxed off of all pain medication and I'm over halfway done with weaning and detoxing off of Prozac and nearly done with klonopin. Last year I was on "up to" 6 mg of klonopin. Today I'm down to ONE mg.- if needed.... and guess what? I rarely need it.
I still have a growth on my pituitary. I get it scanned every 6 months or so. For now its just causing some problems with my vision on my left side. Again though, diet, lifestyle changes, CBD and alternative therapies have decreased 99% of my inflammation- so its not really a problem like it was.
I just got my "2 year" blood clot scan & workup back. All is well.
I haven't had to cath myself since detoxing off of pain medication.
I have had two kidney infections this past year....compared to over 20 infections the previous year. Both requiring antibiotics- neither requiring any kind of pain, or nausea medicine.
My gut is happy with good probiotics, and clean food. (although I've been cheating on the food thing lately because of traveling).
And none of this was quick- none of it.
And it wasn't easy either.
I was actually in full detox mode on our trip to South Carolina in Spring 2018. Sweating, puking, shaking, etc. Lovely.
Eating healthy, and noticing significant changes took a solid year. And my gut is still healing because I choose to eat too much ice cream.
I have 18 months worth of CBD and good stuff built up in me- cushioning the inflammation that used to leave me in bed.
Like I said, I am STILL weaning off of klonopin- (it's one of the hardest benzos to wean off of... UGH) and on the weeks where I jump down a notch, it's not that unusual for my friends to get a call from me, blubbering, "I can't do this. It's so hard. It's TOO hard."
But the people around me... they're everything. They encourage me on days when I've thought "WHY AM I EVEN TRYING TO MANAGE THIS WITH STRANGE ALTERNATIVE STUFF? "
But then the day passes. I rest. And a new day begins. And I'm able to stand up and put my feet on the floor and try it again.
Guys... for the longest time (like YEARS) I thought my "trial" in life was the postpartum stuff I had with Maeve. And then I got sick. And I thought, "okay- definitely this. This is my trial in life. Because what can be worse than being stuck in the hospital constantly?" And then I entered into the world of pain management. WOW.
Here's the thing. I'm blogging, sharing my story, my testimony- thinking that THIS is my trial in life. But we're not promised smooth sailing friends. There are going to be storms; MASSIVE ones. This life is constantly changing, spinning, and throwing us for loops. Nothing is promised. Nothing is guaranteed. But I can tell you ONE person Who never leaves me alone at the miserable hour of 3 AM. He's the same One Who walks (or dances:) with me through the awesome sunshiney days. He is CONSTANT. He is Jesus. And He is life.
We need to take the stigma off of mental health; it needs to be put in spotlight. We need our kids to know how real, and how dangerous drugs are, INCLUDING prescription drugs. Because this ordeal is absolutely something that has and will impact my kids forever. And I refuse to let those lost years be lost in vain.
There's nothing else to do; nowhere else to go. I will never press quit.
I can sit here and beat myself up for days (weeks, years, etc.) or I can USE my days. And that's what I've been doing... using these sweet, good days- making them count.
Filling them up with as much GOOD as I can.
This post is from my heart.
The most vulnerable pieces of my heart.
I am choosing to be bold and put this "out there."
I know judgements will be made.
I know things will be said.
And that's okay. :)
Because it my story can help one- JUST ONE- other person from feeling a little less alone, and a little more hopeful?
Then AMEN.
Life is too incredibly precious to miss out on.
LOVE YOU FRIENDS!
xoxo
Ash
PS- I feel like this was "the big elephant in the room"- and it feels good to address it. With that said, I'm excited to start blogging about our homeschooling adventures... and a billion other thoughts on life :)
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