Category: Self Care

April 4, 2014: It’s Been Five Long Years;(

It’s been a really tough week for me, like omfg tough. It’s been a roller coaster of emotions causing so much pain and anguish which in turn leads to very scary and intrusive thoughts. I’m used to it by now though because you see, I’ve been on this roller coaster ride for 1,825 days, 43,800 hours and 2,628,000 minutes (no wonder I feel so nauseous all time). It was five years ago today; April 4, 2014 when I headed out the door to go to work that Friday morning like any other seemingly normal weekday, but by five o’clock that afternoon my entire world came crumbling down and I have been trying to put the pieces of my life back together ever since.

That Friday morning, April 4, 2014, I was doing what I had been doing for several months. I was heading to a job that I hated. A job that made me doubt my self-worth. A job that made me uncomfortable. A job that made me question my integrity. A job that made me compromise my morals and a job that made me feel unsafe. Ok so it wasn’t so much the job itself that did all that, but in actuality it was a boss who did.

Turns out I was working for a crook, a scam artist and one mighty smooth talking jackass (actually there were two of them!). I started to realize very early on that this crook, scam artist and smooth talking jackass was doing some very illegal shit and partaking in some very immoral behaviours which included ponzi/pyramid schemes and stealing money from innocent and unsuspecting people (your welcome to google his name because it’s all there for the world to see on the world wide web).

He wooed me for several months before I decided to leave another job to start working with him. When I did eventually start working with him I was so excited and thought I had finally found a job that I could build into a thriving career. I fell for his charm (stupid, stupid me) but at least I was lucky enough to have only invested my time with him and not my money.

But on April 4, 2014 after I was asked to do something I felt was ethically and morally wrong I packed up my belongings and hightailed it out of there. I got into my car completely petrified and completely broken (but at least he actually paid me that day, unlike so many previous weeks). I drove around petrified and broken for hours upon hours while my entire family and many friends headed out all over the city trying to find me because the last thing I did after leaving my office was tell my husband I wanted to die and then I turned off my phone.

It was on that day that I lost my will to live. It was on that day that I became hopeless. It was on that day that I felt worthless. It was on that day that I realized I was a complete and utter failure and it was on that day that I discovered just how much of a burden I truly am. Something inside of me snapped that day five years ago or so it might of seemed at the time, but what I didn’t know then was I had truly been suffering in silence for a long, long time and didn’t even realize it.

A great deal of my pain and suffering is from many of the regrets I have in my life and although it’s only human to have some regrets throughout your lifetime, if they are not safely managed they can turn into depression and anxiety. Many of my regrets have left me feeling completely broken and feeling like I have absolutely no purpose in my life either. But at least now I can recognize how much power many of my regrets have taken away from me so that maybe I will one day be able to build from those regrets and find my true purpose in this world (this does not include my role as wife and mom).

Ounce By Ounce: Experimenting With Cannabis

For those of you who have been following my writing over the last couple of years may already know that I stopped taking conventional medication to treat my depression and anxiety about two years ago (Blog: Anti-Depressants; My Reality, April 2017). There were many factors involved in mine and Rich’s decision to stop taking them, but the most obvious one was that they just weren’t helping me. In fact they were doing quite the opposite for me and after experimenting with over 20 different concoctions the decision seemed like an easy one. All that the medications were doing by this point were creating even more problems both mentally and physically, and not to mention I could no longer be trusted to keep them in my possession without the worry that I would abuse their use if no one was watching over me. I just needed to sleep and take the edge off somehow, I swear!!

Although my Psychiatrist at the time (who moved to Alberta shortly thereafter) wasn’t on board with our decision he carefully and patiently weaned me off the concoction I was taking at the time. Once I completed the extremely grueling, exhausting and debilitating task of detoxing I almost felt a sense of relief except we were then left with one question; what now? So my Psychiatrist suggested medical marijuana. He wrote me a script and referred me to a clinic in which I followed up with in the coming weeks.

Let me take you back in time for a minute before I continue with my story. You see, as a teenager and young adult I never really had the desire to smoke marijuana or even drink alcohol, in fact I am to this day mostly the designated driver. Well not so much in the last few years since I haven’t driven at night in over three years and only drive the bare minimum during the day, but up until then I was for sure! It wasn’t like I didn’t have access to drugs and alcohol because I did. In fact I was completely surrounded by it. All my friends did it and boyfriends too (some quite a bit!). It was everywhere I went, but for some reason I had very little interest in partaking in these activities. But now in my late 40’s I find myself consumed by trying any alternatives I can to traditional medication so I guess desperate times call for desperate measures (and it’s legal now!).

I experimented for a while with different types of medical marijuana but quickly realized what I didn’t like about it thirty years earlier and the whole process was stressful and I still found no relief nor was it helping me sleep any better so after about six months I stopped doing it. About that same time I had been introduced to CBD oil and researched it alot until my husband and I found the right concoction (Blog: Cannabidoil (CBD OIL) My Personal Discovery Toward Wellness) from a company in the States and although it didn’t help with my sleep deprivation either, it did something more important for me. It instantaneously relieved many of my symptoms of anxiety. Within minutes of taking the drops I would feel calmer, my heart palpitations would slow down, my nausea subsided and so much more. It certainly wasn’t a cure but I could take it as many times as needed throughout the day as my anxiety levels rose and did so without getting “high”.

I am still using it today but of course like everything else in my life, it hasn’t been without drama. You see, several months ago it was banned from shipping to Canada. Ya the one and only thing in my life that gave me any sort of relief and I didn’t have access to it anymore and like a junkie would do, I began searching for any way I could get my fix. Once the ban was lifted (It’s legal in Canada so I have no clue what the hell the problem was!) we decided to stock up (I’m not the only one in my home using it), but guess what happened next, after a couple of weeks anxiously (literally) waiting for my oil to arrive, Rich gets a call from the Canadian Customs that our order had been seized at the border (I felt like we were smuggling cocaine across the Mexican border). Anyways, we were refunded our money and we reordered it again and this time it came through but then operations got shut down again for shipping to Canada and I have been left high and dry without any oil for weeks while awaiting for the ban to once again be lifted. I know you must be thinking there are so many other ways to purchase different strains of CBD oil but you see, I have not found any others with the right concoction that works for me anywhere else. Nothing with that instant relief, nevermind any relief at all (the medicinal oils take three hours to absorb in order to take effect).

So as I wait for the ban to be lifted once again (they claim will be by the end of March which is in two days from now so I’m doubtful that’s gonna happen), I have gone on to experiment with other methods of smoking and ingesting marijuana but I just don’t react well to any of it (kinda like all the anti-depressants). Nothing can ever be simple! Nothing can ever be easy!

I was introduced to another cannabis product about a month ago by a friend. It is an oil based vape pen containing only pure extracted ingredients just like my CBD oil I am so longing for which is why I decided to give it a try. However, unlike my CBD oil which is in the form of drops, this oil is vaped and also contains very high levels of THC (Tetrahydrocannabinol, basically the psychoactive part of cannabis) which also means I can only use it at night. If inhaled in just the right quantity (not to the point of feeling stoned which has happened many times while experimenting) along with my new weighted blanket (which I really like: See Blog; My Weighted Blanket, January 25, 2019) I am able to get a few solid hours of sleep some nights but I still needed more, especially to help relieve my debilitating nighttime anxiety.

So I recently decided to take my experimentation one step further and try some “weed gummies”. Let’s just say it didn’t end well. What it did end with however was Rich having to stay by my side until almost 4am that morning (with a glass of water in hand) as I hallucinated and became severely panicked, paranoid and hysterical. I couldn’t catch my breath and even had trouble swallowing for almost four hours. Thankfully all three kids had slept out that night however upon hearing about my experience the next day they were only upset that their dad hadn’t videotaped the whole thing for them to see. Oh and yes Rich regrets it too!

So for now I think it’s best that I lay off the experimenting for a while, not sure my body or mind can take much more defeat. Just make sure to keep me away from the new retail stores opening up on Monday!

What Do You Have To Be Depressed About?

To many outsiders maybe my life looks great, I mean look at all my blessings. But you see, depression doesn’t care about all my blessings and when an outsider tries to “help” me by pointing out all the reasons why I shouldn’t be depressed it only makes me feel worse and causes me to feel more guilt and even more like a burden.

J.K Rowling who is most well known as the author of the Harry Potter series, who many may not know had also suffered with depression for many years was once quoted as saying “It’s so difficult to describe depression to someone who’s never been there, because it’s not sadness.” This is possibly the biggest reason why depression can be so confusing to so many outsiders because she’s so right, depression is a lot more than just feeling sad; it’s a blackness, it’s feeling insignificant, it’s exhaustion, it’s loneliness and it’s a feeling of hopelessness all rolled into one.

To imply to a person who is suffering with depression that they have so much to be thankful for, that they are so lucky, that they should just look on the bright side or that they have such a great life may be seen by the outsider as a good intention but in reality it is actually deeply discouraging to someone battling with depression. As I said above these phrases are just creating more feelings of being a burden and more feelings of guilt.

It may also make someone suffering with depression feel like they are not being heard and that their feelings are not being validated. These thoughts from an outsider implies that the individual who is suffering have no feelings of gratitude or that they are too self-absorbed to be grateful when in reality they are just too damn exhausted trying to fight with their emotions.

Depression is not just one simple feeling of sadness but is instead a complex combination of neurological, environmental and social components leaving someone suffering with depression feeling even more misunderstood when they hear these well intentioned phrases while putting an even bigger target on the disease itself by perpetuating the stigma further and dismissing the severity of the illness.

I can’t keep apologizing for who I am or who I have become anymore. I can’t continue to feel ashamed of my mental illness anymore and I can’t live with the guilt associated with the outsiders looking in who think that someone else may “have it much worse” than me. It won’t change the fact that I am who I am or that I have what I have and with or without guilt I am just trying to do what’s best for me. And yes I am beyond grateful, thankful and lucky for all the love and support that surrounds me everyday.

What Will It Matter

In the wake of Hollywood’s latest scandal I have found myself engrossed in all its details and not only because of how disappointed I am in “Aunt Becky” but mostly because I see the damage it’s caused from a mental health perspective.

I’ve already been through the process of applying to University programs with two of my kids and in less than a year from now I will be doing it again for a third time so I know what it’s like. The process is stressful on everyone involved but sometimes as parents we make the process far more burdensome than it needs to be. Sometimes we may think we are doing what’s right for our kids but deep down it may just be our way of trying to fill our own void, doing more harm than good to them in the process. I mean heck, they are still kids when they begin the process in the first place so why wouldn’t we try and bias them. And let us not forget that only a few months prior to the start of University, while trying to make these life altering adult decisions regarding the rest of their lives, they were sitting in a high school classroom needing to raise their fricken hand to ask permission to go to the bathroom.

So I know that it’s hard as parents to want to do whatever we can for our kids if we think it will be in the best interest for their future but what’s most important to remember is that we need to listen to our children more than ever and stop pressuring them to be something we want them to be or what may look best to “The Joneses”. We quickly forget that all kids are different and that all kids have different needs as well.

Maybe if I had had more support and encouragement during this process back when I was in high school I wouldn’t have surrendered to the pressure from my parents or society and maybe I would have chosen a much different path, one that was better suited to my needs and wants. And even though it’s been over 25 years it has been a huge part of my pain and suffering over the last 5 years, something I never want my kids to feel because the pressures that teenagers and young adults face today are insurmountable compared to all other generations before them and it is taking a toll on their mental health like never before.

I never want my kids to feel like they were pressured to choose a career path they didn’t want or become someone their not. I want them to feel like they have the confidence and control over their own destination because of the support and encouragement they were given. And trust me when I say they have needed lots of it along the way thus far. You see, sadly at the end of the day, it’s the kids who wind up suffering the most, not the parents (unless your Aunt Becky). “Aunt Becky” didn’t listen to her kid’s needs or their desires and just saw the prestige and admiration from the Hollywood elite (or The Joneses in layman’s terms), or maybe she put her own needs first and felt the need to sit on the sidelines while bragging to the world (which seemed to be often) and forgetting how little it will matter in the end or who’s lives it may destroy.

Will it matter in the end that your kid got an early acceptance to the program they wanted or will it matter in the end if they don’t get into that dream school they wanted or will it matter in the end if they took a different path altogether? No, none of that will matter in the end. All that will matter in the end is that their successes, their failures and their future happiness always be supported and encouraged by you because all that will truly matter in the end is that they feel happy, healthy and empowered in spite of it all.

Some Memories Are Unforgettable: Electroconvulsive Therapy (ECT)

Lately I’ve been noticing that my ability to retain small amounts of information is becoming more and more troublesome. If I don’t jot things down right away then I am sure to forget many significant or even trivial details that may be of importance to me. I also find myself losing my train of thought while in the midst of a conversation or even forgetting what I am talking about all together. Although I have been struggling more recently with my short term memory loss it has actually been of concern ever since I made the decision to do ECT (Electroconvulsive Therapy) 4 years ago.

I have mentioned ECT several times in my blogs but I have never really gone into much detail about my actual experience. But before I go any further I want you to know that this is by no means a public service announcement or in any way a deterrent from changing someone’s thoughts or feelings on this method of treatment or any other for that matter.

This, like everything else I write about is my own truth, my own story and my own reality. My intention is never to discourage someone from trying anything that may be beneficial to their own treatment of depression or other mental illnesses because if there is one thing I have learned throughout my journey it’s that no two truths are the same, no two stories are the same and certainly no two realities are either.

I share my own truth, my own story and my own reality in order to help give others some insight into this dreadful disease by bringing about more awareness, more change and more understanding. It’s not so black and white like many want to believe, there is often a lot of grey in between too. And it’s that grey area that led me to try ECT.

ECT has been around since the 1930’s which has thankfully been updated over time since the days of “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest”, but still carries with it many of the same stigmas. ECT works by using electricity to induce seizures as a way of relieving the symptoms of many mental illnesses.

When I entered the hospital in October 2014 ECT was quickly presented to me as an option for treatment. I declined right away, but 2 months into my stay I was left feeling so defeated from the many medications that were failing me, that I decided to revisit the option, mostly because I just wanted to go home. I had observed many other patients regularly being scheduled for the treatment and I thoroughly trusted my team of doctors in my care. That was until I began my own treatment and almost immediately regretted my decision.

To have the best possible outcome, ECT is done a few times per week at a minimum of 8 to 12 sessions. Every morning that I was scheduled for a session a nurse would come into my room around 5:30 am, turn on all the lights, wake me up and start taking my temperature and blood pressure. Then the real fun began when she started pricking me with a needle in order to put the IV pic in my hand. I then could choose to go back to sleep or what I did instead was anxiously await my turn to be called down to the OR which could sometimes be many hours later. Once I was wheeled downstairs into what felt like a dungeon, I lay down on a cold hard table and the next thing I would feel was a sharp coldness burn through my veins as they injected me with the anesthetic before I drifted off to sleep.

Once the procedure was done and I was awake they would monitor me for about an hour until I was stable enough to go back upstairs. The days that I had treatment were extra hard for me as the immediate side effects were usually exhaustion, headaches and muscle pain. But I also began to experience terrible panic attacks from the whole treatment in general. My doctor tried to ease some of my panic and fears by making sure that I was first on the list of patients every time treatment day rolled around but after my seventh session and of course no sign of relief in sight I decided I couldn’t do another day.

If there was any sign that some of my symptoms were lifting I may have fought through the agony it was causing me but if after seven sessions of torturing myself to get through just one more, left me thinking there’s no way one more is gonna make a difference (but never doubt that my feeling like a failure again doesn’t cross my mind daily). And I was also beginning to understand the severity of how much memory loss I was having. Much of December 2014 and well into that new year have been pretty much erased from my mind and maybe that’s for the best, but it never seemed to have fully restored to the capacity I functioned at before I began the treatment.

I know ECT has saved many lives, but it just couldn’t save this one. I saw it save lives right before my eyes. I’ve seen brightness again in someone’s eyes and hope in another’s heart. They are the brightness and hope I’ve been longing for and the memories that never leave my mind.

My Vicious Circle

Depression and anxiety suck the life right out of me, both literally and figuratively. They make me feel inferior. They make me feel angry. They make me feel exhausted. They make me lose my sense of self-worth and they make me lose my will to live. Basically to sum it all up in one word, depression and anxiety make me feel useless.

Depression and anxiety create a vicious circle for me, one which can cause injurious results when trying to change one bad situation or behaviour that may be caused by another situation or behaviour and in turn often causes more damage to the original situation.

I try, I really do. I can even present myself to the world sometimes as eager and enthusiastic when I engage in tasks or chores that may be seen as appealing and enjoyable to most people but for me these simple tasks and chores quickly create a newer or greater problem by exasperating the old one and triggering a continuum of that vicious circle. Those seemingly simple tasks or chores rapidly become too overwhelming, too intimidating and darn right near impossible to follow through with, creating a wall (way bigger than Trump’s wall) which I don’t have the strength to climb over, precipitating further anxiety, panic and self-hate.

At first my eagerness and enthusiasm seem like a great idea, especially when looking on from the outside in. I want so badly to prove to the world that I can do it, but then without warning those emotions fabricated by my depression and anxiety cause me to feel worse, cause me to feel like a failure and most definitely cause me to feel useless. It’s as though I will never be able to accomplish anything at all and these overburdening emotions have taken away my will to want do anything at all anymore.

I know that several of my current situations I’m dealing with (and there are many) I have to approach in their own distinct manner as they all have their own distinct set of attributes but once I take a step back, take in a few deep breaths, ask myself some very important questions, set some very important boundaries, cry, yell and berate myself further I just feel more overwhelmed and muddled. I’m desperately trying to stop my vicious circle from continuing to spin out of control because listening to that voice in your head tell you all the time that you are incapable of achieving anything really can make anyone feel useless.

Dear Abby; Signed “Disheartened”

I used to love reading Dear Abby when I was a kid as I’m sure many of you did too (but it’s certainly okay if you were more of a closet reader). I had no idea until this week that Dear Abby was still such a thing, I mean never mind the fact that she died about 6 years ago at the age of 94, but who actually takes the time to sit down and write a letter with a pen and paper these days? (But kudos to you if you do!) Well the good news is that upon further research I discovered that you can still write to Dear Abby with a pen, a piece of paper and a stamped envelope or you can also visit her Facebook page (or website) and send your letter via email too! Phew!! Oh and I should also probably point out as well that her daughter Jeanne took over her very publicized advice column many, many, many moons ago.

So now back to why I started writing this in the first place (I tend to lose my train of thought quite easily these days). As I mentioned above, I happened upon one of Dear Abby’s millions of letters she receives as it pertained to mental health (but of course) and it popped up in my newsfeed from a site I follow and trust immensely. What I read was truly heartbreaking on so many levels, but from a mental health perspective her “advice” was both disheartening and alarming.

The letter was signed “Done With It”. In the letter the reader explained to Dear Abby that he had been suffering with severe depression and suicidal thoughts for many years now and that he was recently diagnosed with Cancer too. He wrote to her to ask her for advice as to whether or not he should share his Cancer diagnosis with his family as he felt that he just wanted to leave his Cancer untreated and let it end his life so he didn’t have to suffer any more.

How I believed Dear Abby would respond to her reader next and how she actually did were both shocking and frightening. I believed she would encourage him to reach out for help, lean on his loved ones and then give him some inspiring words of hope. But instead she did the unimaginable and erased every single bit of faith I had in someone with such an incredible opportunity to help millions of their trusted readers looking to her for aspiration. She told him that “if you have truly made up your mind to refuse treatment, I vote for not telling them, which could be construed as trying to put them on a guilt trip.”

A guilt trip? Are you kidding me? Opening up to others about your ideations of suicide whether they are passive or active ones should never be construed as a guilt trip. Take it from someone who lives with guilt every single day for feeling like a burden to those who love me and blaming myself for all that is wrong in the world while feeling like everyone would just be better off without me. It’s not guilt, it’s my reality, it’s my family’s reality and it’s the reality for millions of other vulnerable individuals reading Dear Abby’s “advice” and feeling shame for being alive.

Instead of using her platform to discourage a person from wanting to take their own life she all but encouraged him to just give up trying to beat both his depression and cancer. In my opinion she made him and many other hopeless individuals feel like it was the most practical option, like hey, what other choice do you have at this point, there’s no help for you and your life doesn’t matter to anyone.

So Dear Abby I have some advice for you this time; be careful how you choose your words next time. We have come so far in our fight to end the stigma against mental illness and you just took us back a generation or two with your isolating vocabulary. Maybe it’s time for you to pass the torch on like your mom did all those years ago, but hey if Dr. Ruth is still giving advice about sex at age 90 then maybe you aren’t ready for retirement at age 77! But the difference is Dr. Ruth’s advice isn’t a matter of life or death to someone you love.

BEEN THERE, DONE THAT! NO “SPECIAL K” FOR ME

Over the last couple of days there has been a lot of buzz on the news (especially CNN) regarding the drug Ketamine as it has recently been approved by the FDA for treating Treatment Resistant Depression. For those of you who may not know exactly what Ketamine is or have never heard of it before I will tell you. Ketamine is actually a very powerful drug which is used as an anesthetic and for all of you with teenagers out there it’s important to note that it is also an illegal street drug better known as “Special K”.

The drug is to be sold by prescription only under the name Spravato to patients suffering with depression and have been unsuccessful in trying at least 2 other medications to treat their symptoms (I’ve tried at least 20). Spravato is not intended to be taken orally but instead it will be administered in a nasal spray, under the supervision of a health care provider and cannot be taken at home.

The drug is to be given either once per week or once every other week and is said to be fast acting by restoring brain cells in treatment resistant depression patients. The side effects can be very unpleasant including “dizziness, nausea, increased blood pressure, anxiety, vomiting, suicidal thoughts, decreased sensitivity, sedation and disassociation, a feeling of being temporarily disconnected from your body and mind.” At this point in time since the drug is still so new for treating depression it is also difficult to know what the possible long term cognitive health effects could be as well.

Since the news broke about this potential ground breaking treatment I have literally been flooded with text messages and private Facebook messages from so many of you reading this right now who have been following my journey and want nothing more than to help me with my recovery. Your support and kindness is unfuckinbelievable. Just knowing how many of you are rooting for me is unfuckinbelievable and also knowing that I am in so many of your thoughts and prayers is beyond unfuckinbelievable.

Here’s the thing though, I already tried Ketamine. Two years ago. In one of my many hospital stays I was asked to join a research trial that the hospital had just been approved for. I filled out what felt like 100’s of pages of questions and was explained to in great length what this trial was hoping to do as a breakthrough in Treatment Resistant Depression. As with everything else I am presented with I said okay since my begging to go home wasn’t working, what else did I have going on to pass the time.

Once all the paperwork was approved I was scheduled to begin the next day. This was not a nasal spray, this was instead being done in the OR hooked up to an IV with a dose of Ketamine being administered intravenously. They told me I would receive a low dose of Ketamine for 45 minutes and that when complete I would have to lay there for another 45 minutes while the drug went through my system. I asked if I would feel anything and they said I may feel a little woozy. Well I was more than woozy. For 45 minutes I watched my life flash before my eyes while they were closed and I saw lots of psychedelic colours and images swirling around the inside of my head. In a nutshell, I hallucinated for 45 minutes straight and although I have never done LSD before, I’m pretty darn sure that’s what it felt like. I was beyond relieved when it stopped. I lay there for another 45 minutes afterwards just trying to come back down to earth.

I was scheduled to do this another 5 to 8 times over the course of a 2 week period but upon speaking with my psychiatrist in charge of my care at the time of my stay, together we decided it was best that I didn’t continue with the trial. But I guess that’s why they have trials, to see what works and what doesn’t. I of course just beat myself up every time I feel like I have failed at yet another treatment, no matter how big or small it is.

But what I really wanted to say from all this was thank you for letting me know you are thinking of me, thank you for continuing to check in on me and for taking the time to send me any new or pertinent information on what could possibly be that one promising treatment to help with my recovery. Basically, thanks for always having my back!

Poem: I Want To Live, But I Want To Die

POEM: I WANT TO LIVE, BUT I WANT TO DIE

I want to live, but I want to die
It’s an endless struggle, I will not lie.

I want to live, but I want to die
My heart is heavy, there’s no denying.

I want to live, but I want to die
I find some comfort when I can cry.

I want to live, but I want to die
I dream of ways to say goodbye.

I want to live, but I want to die
My feelings are valid and very justified.

I want to live, but I want to die
Will I ever become that butterfly?

I want to live, but I want to die
I feel so confused and mostly terrified.

I want to live, but I want to die
So I need to ask the question why?

I want to live, but I want to die
It’s so hard some days to even try.

I want to live, but I want to die
I wish the two could see eye to eye.

I want to die, but I want to live
To show my illness what more I have left to give.

Get Me Off This Hamster Wheel

It’s been a really hard week for me. There isn’t just one thing in particular that has made this week really hard but instead it’s been a combination of many things much of which I will not disclose of today or maybe not ever because even though “I would love to tell you, then, I’d have to kill you!” Okay you know I’m just kidding around on that last part but sometimes I feel like I utterly can’t catch a break.

I’m sure you’ve all felt this way from time to time but when you are relentlessly battling with depression and anxiety like I do and continue to try everything in your power to make it through just one more day yet you are persistently being met with one roadblock after another it can make it seem near impossible. Trying to push through each day or find any motivation at all to do so is really hard when you just keep spinning around and around on that hamster wheel that just doesn’t seem to want to stop.

I wake up every morning (well not that I really sleep) to a brand new day and as soon as I get my body moving, my heart rate elevates and begins beating a mile a minute which more often than not will then lead to feeling nauseous and metaphorically speaking my hamster wheel is only just warming up for the day ahead. On a typical day the wheel will spin uncontrollably, getting faster and more worn down as the day gets on leaving me so physically and mentally exhausted.

Where do these hamsters think they are going? Who is threatening them? What are they running from? Why are they spinning around and around with no end in sight? How do they do this night after night? Don’t they realize that they aren’t actually getting anywhere so how are they to ever catch a break?

These are all questions I wonder about as I spin on my hamster wheel day in and day out while trying to figure out how to make the damn thing stop. I mean it’s fricken claustrophobic on that wheel and boy oh boy is it ever tiring to say the least. I mean when you think about it, even those sweet little rodents catch a break to sleep sometimes. Don’t I deserve to catch a break too?