WORK: I was working in HR in 2010 and questioning and second-guessing EVERYTHING I did. To a couple of people there, nothing ever seemed to be to their liking, because I actually wanted to follow little things like correct hiring practices. By 2013, I was out of active HR (doing payroll support and some other things) but crying at my desk at some point almost every day. I kept thinking where had I gone wrong, where had this path diverted to this? I was technically let go that fall from that position and in the company, but given the opportunity to stay on in a different department. I felt like I had no choice -- I needed the benefits and the salary. So I made the move but I felt so defeated. Again, I questioned for months if I’d done the right thing — it ended up being one of the best things I ever did. I found my niche and I love what I do and the team I work with. That's not to say we haven't had our share of swerves, curves, and craziness. In the 2010s, I filled at least 8 different roles, worked on 5 different systems (and 3 different payroll systems too), had more bosses than I can count (5 this year alone) and one physical move to a new location. Most of the changes happened without me ever leaving my cubicle. (Reminds me of an ex-boyfriend who has never left his office and worked for 5 different companies thanks to acquisitions and mergers). Underwent a few of those as well …..
HEALTH: the 2010s were a case of "what else could POSSIBLY go wrong?" In 2010, I was at my lowest weight but finding lots wrong with my overall health. I passed out cold twice in the next two years, to be sent to cardiology referrals to figure out why an otherwise healthy person was passing out, and having pulse rates in the 50s. What I learned after a year of monitoring was that I had just a naturally low heart resting rate and strong vasovagal reactions, especially under extreme stress. Even now, at the highest weight I've been in a very long time, my resting heart rate still barely registers above 60 -- most of the time, the high 50s. In the midst of all that, in 2012, I got the call no woman ever wants: “hey, we found something odd on your last mammo, can you come back in?” Long story short, it took 7 weeks and an MRI to determine that “oh, it may have just been a bad area of film, you’re clear....” Starting that summer, the migraine disorder kicked into high gear. The old OTC remedies weren’t working. I begged my doctor for a neurology referral.... but instead I got sent to an ENT. I learned after almost a year of migraines and sinus/respiratory infections, that I have chronic rhinitis — meaning that there pretty much isn’t a damn thing they can do. My baseline is another person’s raging infection. Thanks for nothing, doc. In 2014, the stress had gotten to me from all this, and I broke out in a horrid case of shingles. I would not wish that upon my worst enemy. I struggled with weight again — and after a foot injury in late 2014 which would worsen, my weight went up. In 2015, I had foot surgery to correct a bunion that was getting worse and straighten out the two adjoining toes which were almost in hammertoe shape. I was off my feet for months, so yeah.... you see where this is going. With other things (see later) that happened, I turned to food again for solace. And now on the entrance threshold of a new decade (even though technically, the decade does not end until 1/1/21 but WHATEVER)…… I find myself trying to figure out where to get back on track.
MENTAL HEALTH: In 2014, after all the stress and the shingles outbreak, I also decided that I needed to get my ass into therapy. That for me was a MASSIVE step. My last experience with counseling had been a couple of quick trips to the counseling center on campus when I was in college, and I had stopped going once my crisis was over. Not this time.... I knew I would need some additional help. Some friends I lucked into a really good and caring therapist who diagnosed me with generalized anxiety disorder and thought there may also be some depression at play. She was a great therapist, and the only reason I stopped was because I couldn't make appointments while recuperating from foot surgery. But there was one more twist...... in the last part of 2015, although I didn’t see it at the time, I was spiraling into an awful place. I was snarly and snappy and just plain mean, and having the closest thing to a manic episode ever the last few weeks of 2015. I suddenly had a crapton of ideas and yet I felt like my skin was going to peel itself off me from sheer energy. Example: one night, driving home, I got the bizarre idea that I needed to pull in somewhere and buy a pack of cigarettes just to have something to do with my hands and the odd idea that in the rhythmic inhale and exhale of smoking, I might find a crazy peace. Now that is messed up (especially knowing that prolonged exposure to cigarette smoke will trigger a migraine). Finally, after my boss sat me down and asked me if the workload was too much -- because all my coworkers were going to her to ask what had happened to me..... the very next week, I sat with my doctor and got on an antidepressant. Best. Thing. Ever. Ever. Ever. Seriously - because without those meds I could not have made it through the next portion of my life.....
LOSS: 6 weeks after going on antidepressants, I was planning my mother's funeral. I had gone to the doctor near the end of January 2016. In late February, my mother had some sort of cardiac event and we had her taken to the hospital. She never came home. We know she had a heart attack, but we think either she also had a stroke of some sort because she pretty much became non-responsive -- or she just mentally checked out and it took the body a while to catch up. She ended up going into organ failure, primarily in the kidneys. In her weakened condition, dialysis was not a viable option. We did all we could do - so we had her transferred to Hospice House, where she held on for another 42 hours. Here I am almost 4 years removed from things, and I am forever analyzing and revisiting my relationship with her, what I could have done better, and yet knowing I did all I could. I was the last of us three to be with her at the Hospice facility. I sat beside her and talked and sang, and I did my best. I helped plan a beautiful send off for her. 8 weeks later, I lost one of my aunts by marriage. My cousin Lori and I were suddenly bound by a same pain. We had to suddenly navigate seas we weren't quite ready to sail on. On the 9-month anniversary of mom's funeral, I had to say goodbye to my beloved Maddox. I thought saying goodbye to Mom hurt, but this one killed me. I held him as he began breathing his last deep slumbering breaths, and I still cry at the memory. Not even 2 months later, I said goodbye to one of daddy's sisters. My childhood was dropping around me and I was powerless to do anything. Then in May, I lost my favorite musician -- in 2016, some of the ones I loved most were all dying at a staggering rate, but losing Chris Cornell only 2 weeks after I'd stood 10 feet from him on stage (me in the pit) was heartbreaking. And of all the losses I would suffer, his is still the one that has no reasonable explanation, no rhyme or reason or anything which would make sense. But the worst was yet to come.....
RICHARD: Four months later, I was at work on a Friday, getting ready to work a weekend shift because we were so far behind after a system changeover. I was almost out the door when I remembered I'd left my phone at the desk being charged. I turned it over face up, and there was a string of messages from daddy, "Come home as soon as you can, I think your brother's having a heart attack." I lost the color from my face (so they said), and leaned against the wall. One of my bosses offered to drive me home, but I declined -- because by God, I was going to break whatever laws I had to in order to get home. I was going to say some decidedly unladylike things to the other drivers (and I did, be sure of that). I drove up right at 7:00 to see Daddy and his pastor on the porch. There was no news yet. Daddy and I started calling family members to tell them to pray and pray hard. Lori's response was unlike all the others -- while all my cousins and aunts and uncles were shocked and going, "Oh my gosh, what do you need, what can we do?" Lori gave me a quick, "Okay. Okay. Okay. I'm on it. Okay." The same type of response I give in crisis mode - no time to panic, just do. Daddy and I left for the hospital - Lori met us there, saying, "There is no way that I'm letting y'all be alone in whatever you need at this moment." They took us in a room and a lady came in. I knew who she was by her name badge: the coroner. They don't send the coroner in when they're telling you that he's still in ICU, etc. So I knew he was gone. But to hear her say it...… My cousin held me as I cried. She helped call the family to tell them the bad news. It's been 2-plus years, and I am still not over my brother's death. I don't know that I ever will be. There are times I look up to the skies and scream, "You ought to be here, you asshole! You left me here to do all this shit myself and I need you here, you little turd!" (These are my moments of anxiety when I'm scared to death at the thought of being a caregiver for my dad when those days come and having no one to count on - not that I'm sure I could have really counted on my brother, but that's another story).
And lest we forget: POLITICS: if the last three years haven't given me a breakdown yet, nothing will. But it has damn sure galvanized me and that is ALL I have to say.
So today I looked at an article that said, "If you have dealt with mental health issues in the past decade and feel like you haven't accomplished anything, WRONG! You survived....." I started thinking about the 10 years past and HOLY SHIT, I have survived. I haven't always thrived like I wanted to, but I have by God survived. And I've become more open about my struggles because I am not ashamed of them -- There are days when I throw my arms open and think, "you haven't taken me down yet, motherfuckers!" (But then I don't because I do not want to invite any bad juju, you know....)
So what do the 2020s hold? I don't even want to think about it. Literally. I spent a little time doing so the last few weeks and honestly, some of the options overwhelmed me so much that I had to take breaks to go breathe. I'm still holding out for a safe time and space when I can book the meltdown I so richly deserve.
But I have survived things that I never imagined I would. Pure grace and stubbornness and overwhelming kindness and the refusal to give in for even one minute. That's my odd mix of coping mechanisms. Oh, and concerts and plenty of dank humor that no one else would even begin to understand.
Oh, I, oh, I'm still alive...….
