The Dali Days...

The depression fog has lifted. The medical fears have not. I am not exactly sure why they are plaguing me right now but I am sure if I distract myself enough, I will actually be able to just live in the moment. Something that is almost impossible to do when you live with OCD on the brain. You have to learn to distract to be present. It's an oxymoron but such is my life. The thing is,  I keep feeling like something big and wonderful is about to happen. Not exactly sure what, but I weirdly feel like I am waiting on it. Maybe my piece will get published or the water bill will be super cheap this month. I dunno. What I do know is that I am beyond grateful for a couple of things that have happened so far this year. They are personal and don't actually have to do with me, so I am not going to go into detail about them, but I am so very thankful.

I guess this post is more about hope than anything else. Sometimes it is really hard to imagine good things coming your way when you are wrestling with mental demons. Sometimes the world seems to be a great mass of dark matter. A black hole that burrows deep beneath your veins. A rot that seeps into your cerebral cortex and decays any happy thoughts that may have nestled there thinking it was a safe place to nap. It devours the light. It snuffs out any optimism. It leaves you feeling devoid of anything positive. Sometimes we live in the secret void between everything else and everyone else. It is a very lonely place to live. It is a very difficult place to dwell, even if you dwell there for only a few seconds. It takes it's toll. It feels like holding your breath while under water. Everything is muted. The light is dull. Words and conversations are merely garbled sounds.  Nothing is in it's place and everything seems like a snarled disconnected mask. This world could make no more sense or be any less confusing if Salvador Dali painted it while drunk riding on a donkey. It is a room with no corners and a sentence with no words. Everything that should be clear and understandable is muddled.

But eventually, the dark mass lifts and the sun comes out again. It warms the frostbit fingers of hope. It thaws the frozen ice sculpture you feel you have become. Allowing you to reach out and breathe again. To renounce the secret void you have become accustomed to living in. To see yourself as how you really are, magnificent. To feel like a living breathing human being again. Hope is a powerful thing....

So, thank you all for your well wishes and supportive comments during my "Dali" days. It meant a great deal to me to see such support and positive comments. It helped push me to fight back against my depression and anxiety and to never ever give on hope. I really do appreciate that. Here is to hoping everyone's week is going well and is full of hope.

Neurotic Nelly

I Hope....

Christmas is upon us....

I hope whatever holiday you celebrate this season, that it is filled with love, compassion, friendship, and peace. I hope that the holiday stresses are slight and few. I hope that you enjoy this season and the coming next year. I hope that loneliness and anxiety are absent for you during the next few days.

I hope because that is one of the greatest human emotions a person can feel. We as humans must never lose hope.

I know that this holiday season can bring out a great deal of stress and anxiety. I know that for some people it can be unpleasant and uncomfortable. I know that some people have to spend the holidays with family members that are jerk faces. Some people do not share the holidays with anyone which can also be tough.

For all of those people, I hope that you know what great people you are. I hope you know how much the world needs you and how important you are. I hope you realize that the holiday season is for you too. Even if you struggle through it....

I don't drink alcohol and I hate eggnog so this Christmas I will lift my glass of sweet tea for you all and say a prayer for you, and that you all make it through this holiday season no worse for wear. I will send positive thoughts your way and pray that you too, will have a happy holidays. 

Happy Holidays, my dear readers. May it find you healthy, happy, and hanging in there. After all, the holidays are just a few short days and then it is on to a new year full of new possibilities and new experiences. And we all could use some new positive things in our lives.

Neurotic Nelly

An Ember.......

An ember is a glowing, hot coal made of greatly heated wood, coal, or other carbon-based material that remain after, or sometimes precede a fire. Embers can glow very hot, sometimes as hot as the fire which created them. They radiate a substantial amount of heat long after the fire has been extinguished....

The holidays fast approach us all. And although many are thrilled and caught up in the excitement of red and green, present wrapping, Christmas tree decorating, or candle lighting. As many of our houses smell of cinnamon, hot chocolate, and evergreen. As an electric cheer seems to snap through the air touching everyone in some way creating an unidentifiable warmth that spreads from person to person, I know that not everyone loves this time of year. For many it is not the best time to celebrate. To some this is not a holiday of giving and peace but a holiday full of triggers and pain. Feelings of loss. Feelings of failure. An extreme overwhelming sense of loneliness.

For those that feel this way about the Christmas/Holiday season, this post if for you more than anyone else. I know the frost in the air freezes to the bone. I know that instead of joy you only see a gray expanse of nothingness. I know that all of the carols and wishes of good cheer fall silent in your mind. I know that you feel like no one on the face of this planet understands you, knows how you feel, or gets what you are going through. That nothing can reach your heart because there is so much pain. Too much pain to accept anything else.

To those people I want to say that I was you once. I have been there. Many of us have. You are not alone. People do see you. People do understand your pain. And it is simply not true that you are a failure or that your life goes unnoticed. You matter even if sometimes it doesn't seem like it.  You are important. The people, the world, the universe needs you. You are here for a reason. We do not understand how the world works or for what reason we are where we are but that doesn't mean there is not a reason. There is and you are here on purpose. You belong here. You belong. 

I don't expect a blog post to make you feel less alone although I sincerely hope it does. And I don't expect you to change your whole feelings about holidays just because I wrote a few words. What I do hope is that this little message of support I am sending out to the world, will touch you in some small way. That it can be a little spark of hope that could turn into a tiny little burning ember. An ember that could in time, become a raging fire of self acceptance. 

I hope that this post reminds you of how important you are even if you have forgotten in the mess of things. I hope that you can start to see yourself like I do. As a strong, intelligent, magnificent human being. You are not just a person lost in the hustle and bustle of the holiday season. You are the stars that light up the sky at night. You are the magic that flows through the leaves hanging on the branches of the world's strongest tree. You are what makes the world a unique and wondrous place. You are worthy. You are important. You are not alone. You matter.

I hope this post becomes an ember that reminds you are just you and you and you are magnificent. Thinking of all of you this Holiday Season. Take care my friends....

Neurotic Nelly

Here's For Hoping Anyway...

I am back. Sorry for not writing on Saturday but I really needed the time off to reflect on things. Loss in the family, mental stressers, things I needed to do at home. This last week has been really trying for me. I have felt overwhelmed, sad, and a little apprehensive. My writer's block came back and well, I just decided to wait until I could form my thoughts on paper better. So I am back and I thank you all for being patient with me.


I am hating this weather. The ice and snow has made it almost impossible to do anything or go anywhere. The salt used to melt the snow is tracked all over the place, mainly through my living room. It is almost as if everyone in the world has stepped in rock salt and took a quick once over in my home. It is slowly driving me insane. I sweep. I mop. I vacuum. I sweep. I mop. I vacuum...you get the picture.

Then there is the dirty baseboards that are the thing of my nightmares. They are old and marred. Covered in decades of bad paint choices. No matter what I do, they refuse to clean up or even to remotely appear that way. I know that most people don't look at baseboards but I am not most people and I can't look away from their ugliness. It haunts me like a bad B movie.  It is just like a horror flick except instead of Freddy Kruger waving around his glorified razor glove,  it is a dirty baseboard flailing it's dented arms at me laughing in high pitched creaks and pointing at me accusingly.

 I am planning to fix my dining room into a formal dining room. Something that I have always wanted. A nice table to sit with the family and discuss the day over spaghetti and meatballs or homemade chicken noodle soup. A beautiful pace to have Christmas dinner and Thanksgiving at. A place that makes me feel proud and not embarrassed. You see, I have a tendency to only see the imperfections. I notice what others do not. I can not simply enjoy the meal I have with family when I see smudges on the wall or a dirty wood floor that is desperately crying out for carpet. I can't truly be present in the conversation if I am subconsciously thinking about all of the unfinished things in my home.

And it has become quiet a double edged sword. I love to design interiors. I love antique and vintage pieces, mixed with some newer pieces. I love bold paint colors and warm reds and soft grays. I love everything about designing a room in my home. And because I have OCD I get caught up in it. I end up ruminating on it over and over and over and over again. Do I want this paint color or this one? I search google for images of the look I want to achieve. I greedily read articles about whatever aesthetic I am going for. I am constantly obsessing over it.

In a way I find it helpful to have this as a distraction. If I am obsessing over paint colors and baseboards then I do not have time to obsess over intrusive thoughts. I am not able to think about my deep sadness of a loved one passing, or listen to my OCD trigger about germs and contamination in the middle of flu season. If I cant quiet my mind enough to sleep, I can go through every change I want to make in my house, in minute detail until I fall asleep. It allows me to block all of the bad and hold onto happy exciting things, like making the improvements I have always wanted to do.

Then again, my constant questioning and rumination over such minor things can be irritating and annoying to those closest around me. I can end up talking about the same paint colors ten times before I realize what I am doing. I can debate over which rug to use or where to place the furniture for hours. Because OCD is very much a disorder that just can't let anything go or let anything rest, I am almost always ruminating about something. It is the ravenous beast that must be fed constantly.

I am excited to start painting and fixing the things I have obsessed about fixing for the last few days. I can't wait to do it. I can't wait to see the finished project. In fact, unlike the negative things I have ruminated over, I find ruminating about these things quiet nice. I like to plan, after all, and rumination allows me to plan well in advance and in great detail. Being creative has always been an extremely important outlet to release my anxiety, my doubts, my fears, my emotional stability, and to create the peaceful moments that I so desperately need in times like this. I need to get my hands dirty. I need to change something around me to break up the monotony. I need to escape for a few minutes into the creative side of my brain and abandon the logical, hardwired, unforgiving OCD side of my brain. If only for a few moments.

I have been feeling so down lately. Not a depression, just a numb kind of acceptance. I am happy to finally be excited about something again after a week of feeling lethargic and hollowed out.  Excited that I am finally coming out of the fog and back into my original spunky self. I mean, I am still sad at the passing of my Aunt and am still dealing with that but I am no longer an emotional zombie walking around with my mouth agape and my eyes droopy with exhaustion from crying.

Tomorrow I paint, and then new carpet, and then new baseboards! Yay!!!! I am hoping that this excitement will help keep me away from the negative feelings and depression. I have already started to clean with a gusto like I used to. Which is a good thing, because you can't let yourself get too far behind living with four cats, a man, and two boys. That's a recipe for a cat hair covered, bomb of toys going off in the living room,  dirty laundry on the floor that failed to make it to the laundry chute kind of disaster. And trust me, no one wants that.... I am hoping that by replacing my sad ruminations or painful intrusive thoughts with ideas on how to improve my dwelling, it will help save me from the funk I have been in and keep me from plunging down the rabbit whole any further. I am hoping that a couple of  Valspar paint cans and this nifty and thrifty chandelier I found to jazz up the place, will help keep me occupied while I am at this vulnerable state. I am hoping the new carpet will allow me to quit seeing every imperfection of my unfinished hardwood floor. That new baseboards will let me finally concentrate on the things that matter most, like family. I am hoping that the antique dining table I got for a freaking steal will ease the worries about not spending enough time with my kids and husband. Ease the anxiety that we may have become disconnected somehow between all of the computer games and cell phone texts. That I can finally let go of the fear that I am missing out on their daily events because we don't eat together at a big table and talk, like I did when I was their age. I am hoping that all of these small improvements will make our house feel more like a home. Our home. And that we will feel peaceful and safe and at ease because we have taken the time to make it as comfortable as possible. Maybe it is silly to think that way. Maybe it is unhealthy to obsess over paint colors and carpet textures. Maybe it is, but then I would rather ruminate on something that doesn't involve me feeling tons of guilt for something I didn't even do, or can't help, or don't want; than on something harmless like house improvements. It may very well be silly. It may be odd. It may be just be the proverbial putting lipstick on a pig, but right now it is what is keeping me functional. You know, dreams and wishes, and what have you. Hope is a powerful thing. You have to have hope to dream. And having and believing in your dreams can get you through almost anything.

 Creating, designing, and crafts have always helped to calm me and keep me focused. I am hoping that this will do the same. Here's for hoping anyway....


Until next time,
Neurotic Nelly

Crossroads

Yesterday, a local teenager went to school and shot himself in his home room class. As I write this, he is in critical condition. I have to wonder as heart broken as I am, what is wrong in his life that this seemed like the only option. I don't have to wonder very hard because I have been there at that crossroads before. I think many have. My heart aches for him and his family and friends. I pray that he gets better and the help that he so desperately needs. I sat there watching the news crying, not because I know him, but because I am a mother. Because at one time I was so very close to being just like him. Because there are so many who are like him and feel trapped and alone.

I was asked once why do I write about about mental illness. This is why. I believe that honesty is the only way to help others. I don't just put myself out there because I like to hear myself type, I truly believe that if we stand up and say, "I have mental illness", we are saving others. We are showing them it is ok to suffer from mental illness.That we can have good decent lives. We are not doomed to live in caves or asylums drooling on ourselves and banging our heads on the walls. That we are not dirty, shameful, dangerous creatures. We are like everyone else and we don't have to suffer in silence. There is help. I truly believe that we are doing the best thing that can be done. We are shining our lights on the stigma. We are shining lights on the pain and suffering.  We are guiding those that need us, to an enlightened truth. We are worthy and strong individuals. That there is a possibility of a different tomorrow.
There are so many ways to get help today. There are websites, communities, phone lines, doctors, hospitals, blogs, online references, organizations, and charities. There are movies and t.v. shows. Mental illness is no longer the dirty little secret, because we as those that suffer from it, are not going to allow it to be anymore. There is nothing to be ashamed of. There is nothing to hide from. We are so many and we deserve to be heard.
I was reading on TMZ that a famous actress was going to treatment for bipolar. I scrolled down to the comments and I was flabbergasted.  Out of the twelve comments, only two were negative. The rest were supportive and understanding. I was so proud. Not because I had anything to do with their opinions. None of them have read my blog or even know I exist.  I was proud because through all the hard work of those that suffer from mental illness and their organizations, people have listened and learned. It is a beautiful thing.
So, when I say we can change the world, I mean it. If we all stand up and are honest, people will learn. People suffering will get better.We can offer them hope when they are at the crossroads because we have stood where they stand. We have had to make a choice and we can help them to see the right one. We can offer something that others can not, promise. Promise because we are proof that there is a better path. That the fight is worth fighting. That we can and do live productive and meaningful lives. That we can still be what we want and we can fulfill our dreams. That we matter.
Promise of a future is what we offer to others. Will life be easy? No, but it will be worth the struggle. Will it be everything a person could want? It will be whatever we choose for it to be. Will it be different than normal people's future? Probably, but isn't different an amazingly beautiful thing?
We stand united. We stand for what is right. We stand at the crossroads and we are choosing. We choose for ourselves but also for others. We are going to be the examples of mental illness the world needs. Examples of strength. Examples of wisdom. Examples of kindness and compassion. Most of all, we are examples of honesty and hope.
                          Neurotic Nelly

Ugh

Recently I was reading a post by a woman who suffers from OCD.  As a fellow sufferer I felt her pain and anguish. I was reading through the comments left on her page. I was, at first, really comforted by the support she was receiving until I started to read posts referring to her diet and vitamin intake. I was horrified and angry. Neither of these posters were doctors or dietitians.  In fact, one of them said they had never known anyone with OCD. I am going to take a second to say that some mental illness is vastly improved by diet. There are some forms of autism that have had great success with a change of diet and supplements  That being said not all metal illness can be cured by salads and gluten free pasta. It would be like thinking that one antibiotic cures all infections. It is not so and it does not work  People need to stop it. Just stop. Stop sitting on your high horse and judging everyone. Stop telling people that have no idea what OCD is or people that have just been diagnosed that diet change can cure them. It gives them false promises that can not be fulfilled. It makes them think that they can cure themselves with special salads with extra tomatoes. It victimizes us. Gives us false hopes. When we fail to cure our disease with these ridiculous notions we are left feeling like failures. We are left feeling hopeless and ashamed. Are you going to be there to pick up the pieces left behind from your "helpful" advice. No you are not. Diets help some mental illness but it does not change OCD. OCD  is a genetic mental illness. It is a hereditary disease. Do not tell me that if my grandmother had stayed away from fried chicken or ice cream that I would not suffer from OCD. That's silly. People unfamiliar with how OCD works, that believe this tripe will then start to judge us. They will get the idea that if we eat differently or change our habits that we could tame our OCD. That we are somehow responsible for our own disorder. That we can change the severity. That we want to suffer. This is simply not true. It is damaging. It is hurtful.
All of my life I have suffered from OCD. It has been a hard struggle. I don't need some holier than thou person who heard that their second cousin's best friend's sister once had OCD and cured it with vitamins. It is ridiculous. If you are not a doctor, dietitian  or OCD sufferer do not tell people that they should try dietary supplements or diets to change their symptoms. Stop harming them with your unproven and  highly inaccurate advice. You are wrong and are spreading the myth that we must like to suffer or we would change our eating habits. If I had an extra toe because my family all had extra toes and it passed on to me would you suggest that I take a vitamin or eat differently so it would disappear? Of course not. That would be silly. That would be dumb. OCD was passed down to me. I don't like it , but I have to accept it. If your advice actually worked, don't you think OCD would be extinct? No one wants to suffer like this. No one wants to be told that their suffering is because they didn't try hard enough or eat well enough. You can not cure OCD. There is no magical pill, special vitamin, or phantom diet that will change that. It is something that we will live with for the rest of our lives. We make it better with therapy and medication. We make it better by talking about it and being honest with ourselves and each other. We do not make it better by spouting off things we have no idea about. We do not make it better by saying that we can cure ourselves by diets and vitamins. Please before you make comments about how you think diets will cure everything, research the disorder you are talking about. Please educate yourself. If you do not your advice may be doing much more harm than good.
                                                                    Neurotic Nelly

Failure

Failure is a huge fear for everyone. It plagues our thoughts. It fills our dreams. It prevents us from trying to reach our dreams. Most people's fears of failure is about a promotion, a career, or a relationship. For people with mental illness it can be much smaller things that we are afraid to fail at. For us it can be a simple as failing to be able to leave the house. To go to school. To even get a job because at some point our illness is going to appear at work and make it impossible to work. I used to love school. I was an excellent student. I liked most of my teachers and was respectful to all of them. I stunk at Math but I excelled at Reading and Language Arts. I love books. Their contents are precious. The old musty smell of hundreds of uses before me. I would often check the names of who this book belonged to before me and try to imagine what their lives were like and what they did now. I loved this class so much I wished it was the only one that we had. I was as odd child. I used to and still use big words that the other kids didn't understand. I loved book reports and assignments. Reading was a away to escape myself. In them I could be the hero. I could be tall and beautiful. I could be brave and strong. I could be all the things I was not.

 In high school the anxiety started. I had lots of friends so I wasn't sure why getting out of the car or to the bus stop would scare me. I couldn't breathe. The world would close in on me and the floor seemed to move. Many times I was frozen to the seat and the tears would rain down. I was unable to walk in to the building I so loved. In my freshman year I missed half of the classes most of the time. I was smart enough and my test scores were good enough that I was passed. The school was made aware of what was going on. I tried so hard to go. Often times I failed. After passing sophomore year came. It was the second day of school and I had to miss because I was sick. It wasn't anxiety this time. I was fine to go the next day and so I did. I was doing really well and proud of myself. Maybe I had beat this stupid anxiety. I had my English class second period and although I had only met the teacher once I just knew she was going to be great. This, after all, was my element. I couldn't wait. I had to go to her and give her my absence letter. She took one look at me and in a snarl said,"We aren't going to do this missing school all the time thing  again are we?"

That was it. I don't remember anything else that day. I was crushed. I was devastated. Her unkind words made it impossible to go back. I could not face her again. After I was doing so well she had judged me and found me lacking. Worse she humiliated me in front of my peers. My anxiety was back full force. I had to be home schooled after that. The school agreed to work with me at home. I was fine with that but I had missed out on all the friendships and experiences that I could have had. All because she didn't believe that my illness was real. I felt like a failure.

Working was something that I loved. I love to talk to others. I love being around people.  I excelled at doing what was asked of me.After a month the anxiety was back. I became unable to leave the house. I started to get physically ill. I was fired. Again, I  failed.

It is has gotten to the point that anxiety comes when I have to do something as a schedule. I had a lady last year come visit me. It was every Tuesday. After two months I was trying to hide from her so she would think I was not home. I couldn't even face her to tell her why I could not talk to her anymore. I finally broke down and called her. I thanked her for her time and her compassion. Failure.

That's what I wanted to tell her. That I was a failure and I have failed in everything that everyone else seems to be effortless at. That I am broken to the point that I can not function like I should. That I look like I am normal but inside I am a complete basket case.

It took me years to realize that I am not a failure. That I may have failed at things I have tried, but the difference between a failure and me is that I keep trying. I get back up and try something else. I always try. I can't be like everyone else, because I am not like everyone else, and that is ok. I don't have to be.

If you have anxiety please realize, it is not you. It is not your fault. You are not a failure. You just have a different path to take. And if you are reading this and you know someone that has anxiety do not make them feel bad for not being able to do certain things. We are aware of what we can not do. We know what we have failed at and we don't need you to remind us. We deserve better treatment than to be made fun of or chastised.  We don't need you to do that for us, we do that to ourselves enough already.. Chances are you are not perfect either and you should take time to reflect on that before you judge.

                                                       Neurotic Nelly