Sunday, February 3, 2008

My Story

I thought it might be therapeutic to write about what happened to me over the last couple of years. I am writing it in a few parts as it sometimes is a bit overwhelming to recall these events.

I love shopping at Trader Joe’s; they have such a great variety of food and goodies. Well on this particular day I was having some pain in my shoulder and decided I have to go anyway. I was not going to let the pain keep me from enjoying my shopping trip.
I popped a couple ibuprofens and off we went.

It was such an odd kind of pain, I couldn't tell quite where it was coming from, my collar bone or my shoulder.
By the next day it was a bit worse and I took it easy.
Well, by the third day, it was very bad, so I called the doc and he prescribed some pain meds and that seemed to help for a bit.

As the days went by it was getting much worse and I couldn't take the pain anymore so I took a trip to the hospital.

They told me it was probably a tore rotator cuff and I might need surgery, but sent me home with some more pain meds.

It was about a week and a half later and I still couldn't take the pain and it was starting to get pretty swollen.
I called my family doctor and he said to go to the urgent care clinic as they would be able to better treat and diagnose.
The doctor there says he doesn't understand why my family doctor would tell me to come there as the hospital emergency room would be better to help me.
Whatever the case may be, I was there, he pushed on it a few times and caused me so much more pain, I mentioned to him that I believed it was an infection because it was so red, swollen and hot.
I had ice on it for about 12 hours straight and it never cooled down, he looked at me and laughed and said you can't get an infection there, you can't I said, his response, no, it's probably some kind of sprain.
Oh, I said, and he gave me some pain meds and told me if the swelling doesn't go down and the pain persists go back to the hospital.

A couple days go by and the pain is excruciating. I couldn't move without having severe pain, it hurt to breath, move, lay down, sit or stand, it didn't matter what I did, I was in tears from the pain.

I had to go back to the hospital, they pushed on my collar bone so hard and so many times I was crying from the pain. They couldn't figure out what it was, they took some blood and did another x-ray and all they could see was that it was swollen, or fluid build up.

They told me I had a separated clavicle bone and joint, something like that anyway, and told me to go home and take it easy, take the pain meds and all should be well in a few more days.

Well, again it was getting worse, so back I went to the hospital and they took some blood this time.

I was in the room for about 5 hours with a few different doctors looking and poking around and after the last doctor came in, they said they would be back in a few minutes.

It was about an hour and I figured they forgot about me, so my husband and I went out to see what was going on and the nurse said I was being admitted, for what I said, you have a fever of 103, wow, I didn't even know I had a fever, I guess cuz all the pain meds I was taking I never felt like I had a fever.

So they moved me up to a patient room and they tried about 8 times, (a few different nurses) to get an IV in and they said I was a hard stick and my veins just kept collapsing.
It was not fun, but finally they got an IV in.

They took so much blood, it wasn’t like those regular vials when you go for a blood test, but these glass bottles that looked like those old fashioned coke bottles; they figured I had
Cellulitis in my collar bone area.

Cellulitis is a spreading bacterial infection of the skin and tissues beneath the skin. Cellulitis usually begins as a small area of tenderness, swelling, and redness. As this red area begins to enlarge, the person may develop a fever—sometimes with chills and sweats—and swollen lymph nodes ("swollen glands") near the area of infected skin.
The main bacteria involved in
cellulitis are Staphylococcus. ("staph")

They put me on
Dilaudid, Neurontin, Robaxin and Toradol for pain. 4 different pain meds I needed and that still did not take it all away, it just took the edge off and kept me in a bit of a fog.

They also started me on an IV antibiotic,
Vancomycin, and Tylenol for my fever, and let me tell you, by the next day, it was more swollen; it was starting to look like a golf ball sticking out of my collar bone.

I was also put on Atenolol as the infection had caused me to have non specific arrhythmia, or rapid heart rate after they ran some tests; my blood work also showed that I had infection induced hepatitis and rheumatoid arthritis.


I remember being so cold and when the nurses would come in they would take my blankets off to keep me from getting any warmer. They said it was making my fever stay elevated.

Doctor after doctor they came and looked and just couldn't figure it out, I was in there for 9 days while this thing grew and grew, it was about the size of a grapefruit sticking out of my neck, it hurt so bad.

During this time they thought that I must be an IV drug user. They felt it is so rare to have an infection like this unless you are using drugs. Although I told them I wasn’t, they figured that I might have shot up for the first time in my collar bone. I can’t imagine someone using drugs for the first time would choose their collar bone area, it just sounds a bit odd to me!

Even though I had breast implants for a couple years prior to this infection, my left breast had capsular contracture.

Capsular contracture is an abnormal response of the immune system to foreign materials. It is most discussed in the context of complications from breast implants and artificial joint prosthetics.

Due to this capsular contracture in my left breast, I needed surgery to remove the scar tissue and this took place a couple months before my infection. A couple doctors said it could be possible too that the infection in my collar bone was my body rejecting the implants.

When I first got my new boobs, I thought they would change my life, and now I wonder if they caused my infection. Leaving me thinking, do I have them removed or not???

Back to my story:

Finally one of the doctors decided he wants to open up the lump on my collar bone, he said he thinks it might be filled with an infection, hmmmmmm, an infection I said, wow, and that is what I tried to tell the doctors in the first place.
Oh well, nothing I could do about that so I said, yes, do whatever you need to do.

Now here are the doctors that I am trusting to operate and they said to me that if I had waited any longer to come in, I would have died. I was lucky to be alive they said.
I was there 3 other times, how about that.

Okay, so they operate, and they find it was a staph infection, it was such a huge hole, they said it needed to heal from the inside out so it wasn’t stitched up and it was packed with about 10 feet of gauze, wow, that's a big hole in my collar bone.


They said it also spread to the bone but with the antibiotics it would clear it up.

It was time for the nurse to change the gauze, yowza, and I thought it hurt before, she had to pull this stuff out and poke around in this sensitive area, she was not that gentle.
Just thinking about it, I can feel her poking that area, it was like a knife being shoved into my skin and it burned and ached.


But, alas, she got it all out, now it was time to repack it with gauze, well, she was trying to shove this gauze in there and that hurt even worse, finally I couldn't take it, so she went out to the doctor, (after telling me she knew what she was doing) and the doctor told her she was putting too much gauze back in, it only needed a small amount to keep it open.

Thankfully, she was done.
So the doc's decided I needed a 4 week antibiotic treatment and the best way to do this is with a
picc line. I did not want that but they said it had to be done because my veins would not hold up for 3 times a day with shots and taking blood.

Alright, the woman comes in to do the
picc line and says it will barely hurt, why do they lie???
She tried for 2 hours trying to get this
picc line in and the pain from that tube in my arm was awful, it was so hard to stay still, all the while she is telling me how she just can't believe she can't get this in, it usually goes so well.

So, then I said, that's it, get out, no more poking and prodding, I couldn't take it anymore.

They argued with me and sent in a counselor to explain how this had to be done or I would die.
Okay, well put me to sleep if ya have to put it in, I do not want to go through that again.

Okay, they gave me
Versed and off to lala land I went.

When I woke up the
picc line was in and I had this tube sticking out of my arm with nozzles, the weirdest thing I ever saw, I felt like a robot or something from the future.

I think it was the next day I was sent home, I may have been there 2 days after the picc line was put in but I don't remember for sure.
Mark had to give me my meds 3 times a day; he would hook the syringe up to my tubes and squirt in the
Saline solution first, then the Keflex and then the Heparin, to keep it from clotting.
I coughed every time I got that medicine. Mark said he thought maybe cuz I knew I was getting it, but then when he had to give me the meds in the middle of the night, I would cough even my sleep, so apparently it was somehow affecting my throat. This was really strange to me, I could feel it, taste it and smell it, it was quite bazaar.

During this time I had pain in my left arm and the docs told me that it doesn't cause any pain cuz it is stuck in the vein and there are no nerves, you just think it hurts. Wow, that is so great when a doc says you just think something hurts.
Well, I figured, maybe they are right, maybe I do think it hurts and it really doesn't.

So, I let it go, and a couple days before the
Picc line was supposed to come out, blood starting dripping out of the insertion site. I called the Visiting Nurses office (they were the ones who came to check on it weekly) and they said I could either go to the hospital to have it pulled out or they would come out and take it out of my arm.

I opted for the hospital as I felt that maybe my arm should be looked at.
Well, my instincts were right, something was wrong. When they pulled it out it was covered in clots.
My arm was a couple inches bigger and hot.
They did an ultrasound of my left arm and found very large blood clots.

But yet, I never had any pain right, yeah, okay.
So this started me on a regimen of
Coumadin and Heparin and then Lovenox shots which they taught my husband how to give them to me in my stomach.
I always freaked out about shots and since it was something I was going to be getting for about a week. I needed to get over it quick,

It was somewhere around this time that I went back in to the doctor for pain in my collar bone so they did a bone biopsy to make sure it wasn’t any further in my bone. That was quite an experience too. It really hurt after the surgery.


I was on
Coumadin for about 6 months.
The doctor said I was to sit around and wait till I was finished with the medicine. Extra activity or too much exercise could force the clots to move and travel to my lungs causing a Pulmonary Embolism.

Pulmonary embolism (PE) is an extremely common and highly lethal condition that is a leading cause of death in all age groups. A good clinician actively seeks the diagnosis as soon as any suspicion of PE whatsoever is warranted, because prompt diagnosis and treatment can dramatically reduce the mortality rate and morbidity of the disease. Unfortunately, the diagnosis is missed more often than it is made, because PE often causes only vague and nonspecific symptoms.

The doc’s told me as long as I sat around, everything should be fine. Through out the 6 months of blood thinners I was in and out of the hospital because of chronic chest pain. They thought small clots were probably breaking off and traveling to my lungs. It was a hard crushing pain in my chest, like someone was sitting on me and it hurt to breath what very little breath I could take in and out.

Aside from the chest pain I was having I was also continuously sick with a variety of viruses during those 6 months.

I believe it was either the end of the 6 months or shortly after I finished my coumadin. I went to the doctor because I didn't feel well, general ailments, stomach ache, tired, headache etc...
She thought perhaps I was depressed, well, I told her I didn't think I was depressed at all but she insisted I try a medication to see if this helps me to feel batter.

She put me on Celexa, an antidepressant. A few weeks go by and I felt no different, not happier or sadder and I really didn't think I was sad in the first place. My health was not improving either; I was on a few different inhalers as apparently I developed asthma as well.
So she thought I should try Lexapro. A few more weeks go by and nothing, no difference in how I felt, she upped the dosage from 10 milligrams to 20, I think it was 1 x a day.

At this point I actually started to feel depressed, very sad and sleeping a lot, I had no ambition to get out of bed. She decided I should go to St. Luke’s Behavioral Health and have them try to find the right dosages or medications for me. I cried terribly as I did not want to go to the "crazy clinic” my words here, remember, I was starting to feel a little bit nuts.

They decide I should try Effexor, well, that was it, I was totally bonkers by now, thoughts of suicide, scared, paranoid and really depressed. They took me off of Effexor and said that medicine was no good for me and I was put on Prozac and Xanax, well, the Prozac was not helping and so they increased the dosage and added some meds to help me sleep, Seroquel. Weeks are going by and I was actually getting worse, they said I had severe depression, looking back now, I sure did, I was really going insane.

They added more meds as I did not seem to be getting any better to them, Prozac went up to 80 milligrams, Wellbrutrin, 150 milligrams, I think I was actually at 175 milligrams but they lowered it as they thought it was too much, added a few hundred milligrams of Topomax and upped the Seroquel on and off from 300 to 400 milligrams. Ativan was also part of the regimen as it was supposed to be taken every 6 hours as needed for anxiety. Well, you bet your ass I was anxious, all the time in fact!


There was also a time when one of the doctors said I should get ECT, electric convulsive therapy. I declined, thank goodness I did, she told me that she felt this was the only thing that could help me and that maybe I should think about a divorce if my husband wasn't supportive.

Electroconvulsive therapy (ECT), also known as electroshock, is a controversial psychiatric treatment in which seizures are electrically induced in anesthetized patients for therapeutic effect. Today, ECT is most often used as a treatment for severe major depression which has not responded to other treatment, and is also used in the treatment of mania (often in bipolar disorder), catatonia, schizophrenia and other disorders.


Well, looking back now, that was a lot on my husbands plate, he had to take everything over, we lost so much because he couldn’t get a job or I couldn't get any help from the people I was supposed to trust, i.e. family, doctors, no one could help, but it’s because they weren’t able to help someone who is suicidal, irate, very moody and totally off the wall, who the hell can help a person like that???

No matter what Mark and I said to the docs, they insisted I stop blaming the meds and try to live as normal a life as I could while all doped up!

What a nightmare I felt I was living. I was really scared and thought I was going to kill myself, I was afraid that I couldn't trust myself at all and I expressed this to my doctors, I repeatedly told them I was hearing voices and wanted to die.

Feeling like you can’t control yourself is very scary and confusing; I was so convinced that I would not be able to stop myself from cutting my own throat. They weren’t your normal suicidal thoughts, I wasn’t planning on overdosing or cutting my wrists, ya know the shit you see in the movies.

I constantly imagined myself stabbing right into my chest with the most shiniest, sharpest and biggest knife I could fine, cutting my throat, throwing myself down the steps, running our into the street into traffic. I can remember wondering if I would be able to drown myself.

I know it sounds messed up. That someone would actually think those things but looking back now, wow, I had no idea I could delve that far into my brain imagine things with such vivid and graphic detail.


During my suicidal phase I started cutting myself and I was actually proud of this, I could do this without feeling any pain and I was so happy with the scarring that was taking place on my body. I showed Mark all the time and basically bragged how it made me feel better and didn't hurt at all; it was a nice high and release for me. I would use anything that was sharp and cut break the skin, it like joyful time when I would first cut into my skin, just watching it open and then bleed, it’s weird to recall this and dig up those memories but I can see it like it was yesterday and I can see myself sitting there, just in awe of the beauty I though I was witnessing when my own blood would run out of my body and I would watch it drip.

It does kind of sicken me a bit to think about how much joy I got out of it. When you do something that is out of the norm and the behaviors are endangering yourself, it’s freaky

Thinking about that person you see doing these things and then seeing that the person is you.

There were so many events that took place during this time that were way out there. I was always making messes so that the kids would have to help me clean up, and I was really nasty about it to them.

I told my children I didn't want to be with them I didn't care about them and I always yelled at my family members. I kicked my son out many times and my husband because I really didn't think they were there for me.

I pasted stickers all over my house, and yelled at my children to take them down the next day! I vaguely remember calling my husband about this and crying to him all the time that I didn't know what to do, what was wrong with me what is happening, it was a very scary time for me and my family!

My son was going to go to college, a trade school really for construction, well, my husband couldn't earn more than a certain percentage or I was not eligible for state benefits and because of the system of our welfare, my son wound up having to take a job so he could help pay the bills.

I was not able to perform any of the things that I loved doing, making soap, writing and making things with my kids. I missed out on a couple years of my oldest daughter middle school teenage years. I couldn't go to school functions as my kids and my husband were afraid I might freak out or start crying and they were embarrassed because of this. They didn't invite friends over otherwise they had to explain why their mother was nuts and crying and yelling all the time.
I missed out on my youngest daughter’s grade school years. Important times were taking place and I couldn’t be there for myself, my husband or my children. I couldn’t show up and be me and that was tough for everyone to witness, myself included, it scared me everyday because I didn’t know what I was gonna do, I couldn’t control my thoughts at all.

My son was only around for a few minutes a day just to shower and then head out, he was afraid to come home to a nightmare.

He was so upset because there were times his father would call him and ask him to check on me as Mark was not always able to check on me himself.

I was afraid to leave the house, talk to people, see people, anything that a normal person would do. I forget when to take my meds and my husband then had to give them to me so I would take the right dosages. I would hide medicine so I could take extra cuz I wanted to be numb. I wanted to sleep forever so I couldn't think about anything or listen to all the madness in my head. It came time then for my husband to take over my medications solely, he had to hide them from me so I couldn’t take too much or not enough and at times I was forgetting what I supposed to take. So the doctor told him it was up to him to make sure that I take the right dosages at the right times. My husband did the best he could,, I know he did, I didn’t think he was during this time, but I couldn’t think that, I was convinced everyone was against me.

He had to become so strong and d o things that he never had to do before. For one, we couldn’t be best friends like we once were, no matter what was going on in his life, he couldn’t share it with me, I didn’t care. We didn’t go to bed together anymore and we certainly couldn’t be intimate in any way, I was physically and mentally unable to be a best friend, wife, mother and lover.

My kids would come home and find me cutting myself, how scary for them they were 8, 11 and 19 at the time. My oldest daughter found me one particular time that scared her, it was the first time she caught me.

I had gone out to the garage in hopes to find something sharp to cut with, well, I found a razor and sat on the garage step and started cutting away, making line after line and circles, all kinds of shapes.
I didn’t know my daughter was behind me and before I knew Mark had come out and stopped me from continuing.

My daughter told me she ran in the house and couldn’t say what she saw, all she could get out was Dad, and tried to show him on herself what she found me doing, Mark dropped the dishes and ran out to get me.

I know I was so pissed that he stopped me and we argued about it for awhile. I think he finally sent me to bed.


I had to put my business on hold, something that I was once so passionate about became such a chore, I couldn't complete an order, I forgot ingredients and wasn't able to email anyone without my emails looking all jumbled and making no sense.

I don't remember all of what happened; I know there are a lot of events that I don’t recall and perhaps one day I will or maybe I never will remember most of it, I don’t know.

I also don't remember alot of my life and things that happened before all this, it comes in spurts and bits and pieces. The docs said it’s probably due to all the meds and maybe my memory will come back fully. I don’t know though, I wondered if maybe those memories are blocked out, ya know like people that experience traumatic events somehow block them out of their mind.

I was told about things that I know I would have said but just don't remember.

A side affect from all the meds I was on was also weight gain, something that I am still working on losing. I was always a thin person and this was something that didn’t' make any of this any easier as well. Despite everything that happened, I am grateful to be alive, however, what I went through, was not easy to go thru, it hurt myself, my husband and my family in ways others may not be able to understand. How dose a child get over what they saw their mother doing, knowing it was not normal. My family is still working together to resolve some of the pain that was caused by all this. However, it is still very hard for my kids to talk about. Yes, they live a perfectly normal life, but some of the decisions they now make are because of fear, lack of trust, not knowing for sure if this would ever happen again, they fear the doctors, because they too were there when the doctors wouldn’t listen.

My hope is that when someone goes to the doctor that tests are done, more counseling instead of drugs right away, and please please listen to your patients, and your patient’s family.

I know not all families are very close, but there are lots that care about their spouse and children and want to be part of a healing, recovery or illness in which they can give support, but the doctors must allow this too.

I can remember telling the doctors and the counselors at St Luke’s behavioral health that I was scared I may take my own life; their response was “do I have anyone at home to be with me”. I know that may seem like it would help but technically, if I was severely depressed and bipolar as they insisted I was, why didn’t they hospitalize?

Although they said I was diagnosed with middle aged bipolar and it was completely normal for this illness, as this happens many times and it takes a tragic event to trigger this, yet, it was Bipolar NOS, meaning not otherwise specified so that I technically didn’t have symptoms of the “regular” bipolar but a bit of both. That sounds like a bunch of shit to me!

It was odd through out this whole experience but somehow a small part of me stayed sane, sane enough I should say to continue to push the doctors to help me and take me off of this medicine. Although, that never happened, they would not take me off of anything, many times I would ask them to lower my dosages and they would up them.

At first I trusted the doctors and so I thought, well, perhaps they know something I don’t and I am depressed.

Never, ever doubt yourself; you know what is right in your head. I knew I wasn’t crazy yet something wouldn’t allow me to trust myself, I guess it was all the drugs, I kept thinking, maybe, just maybe they are right even though I felt they weren’t I just wasn’t strong enough to say, no. My husband tried many times to tell them, please, something isn’t right and after awhile they wouldn’t let him in the room with me. I guess they felt he wasn’t supportive that he was just hurting the situation more when really, I couldn’t have asked for a more supportive husband. He did the best he could with what he was given, it was a very stressful and quite an emotional rollercoaster. I don’t know how I would have handled it had we switched places.

I am thankful that I came out of this alive; however, I still have much difficulty remembering and sometimes trouble concentrating. It’s not something that I can’t handle; I take a few deep breaths and move on.

I know this is a result of all the medication I was on. They were mind altering drugs. Like any drug, legally prescribed or illegal, they is always lasting affects and I don’t know if my memory will come back all the way or if this is something that I have to learn to live with.

Making lists, asking the same questions to my family because I forgot what we had talked about. This isn’t just about the time which I was considered mentally ill, but now. I am constantly learning how to deal with the things that I forget. Perhaps you may even find in the writing that I have repeated things. I don’t know if I am always accurate in what I am recalling and for that I have to rely on my family for this information.

I wouldn’t wish this on anyone; no one should go to the doctor and be treated as though what they say does not matter. I understand there are people out there that think they are always sick and the doctors can’t find anything or people who aren’t really sick but they think they are ill with something. It’s up to the doctors to weed through that mess and push past all that stuff so they can treat the patient and not the symptoms.

Sometimes all a person needs is for someone to listen to them and hey, if they are paying the doctor for their time, the doctor should listen, they could always recommend they see a counselor if they feel there is nothing medically that can be done. But please, in our society, all we do is prescribe medicine, we must stop this, it is ruining lives, tearing apart families and some people are not lucky enough to come out of an experience like mine, alive!

My hope is that one day, my story will help other families take control back, trust in yourself, yes, go to the doctor if you need medicine or help, but also, listen to your intuition, someone out there wants to hear what you have to say, don’t stop until they listen!

I was told by my children that I was horrible to be around, a very hurtful person toward them emotionally, and physically toward myself, they couldn’t bare to watch.

One time that seems to stick in my head the most is the time I pasted stickers all over the house and insisted my kids help me and after putting up such a fuss for them to help me, only to scream and tell at them the next day to rip them off the wall.

Too many times they had to listen to me say how I wanted to die and see cuts all over my body, they knew they were self inflicted, but they didn’t know what to do and most of the time, they left, as often as they could cuz they couldn’t take it. I know it had to be very hard to watch.

My kids had to go through so much at such young ages and I just don’t get it why the doctors can’t see what they were doing to me, it almost tore my family apart. My husband told me he was afraid that he might come home one day (during all this crazy stuff) and find me dead. What a horror to even think about.

My husband and I always shared everything with each other, he is and always has been my best friend, it doesn’t matter what it was, I could tell him. During that time, I was afraid to share anything with him; I really thought he was against me. I cried so much cuz I didn’t believe that he or my kids really loved me. It’s sad that some people really do have to go through this as there is real illness’s that can consume your mind if left untreated or not treated properly. But I was totally functioning and never near suicide in my life. I never felt all those things that I felt before they doped me up.

So many people told me when I talked to them, it didn’t make any sense.

I remember on incident where I called a few people and sang something on their answering machine. It scared them, they didn’t know what to think cuz what I sang didn’t make any sense to them. They called my husband and asked, is she gonna be alright?

We all had it very rough, my children and husband went through hell!

During all this I was also on thyroid medication which the dosages were constantly changing because of the heart medicine I was also taking, the two meds were in a snese working against each other. From my first stay in the hospital I was put on Atenolol for irregular rapid heart rate. Which down the road they said was rapid due to high a level of Levoxyl. Also, lots of stomach medicines, side effects from the antidepressants were eating through my stomach, at least that is what it felt like, constant heartburn and upset stomach all the time. Prilosec, Aciphex, Nexium yep, a whole other list of meds was added to my already large list of medications, and my husband had to dispense them all to me as I had no clue how many to take, when to take or what. It was a constant battle for me to even be alive.

It was non stop back and forth to the doctors without any sign of peace for a few years. I hope that this never happens to any other human ever, this is no way to live. You have to trust your doctors, they are supposed to listen to you and help you, and if they truly believe you are mentally ill, then perhaps a nice long chat with some family members might just resolve that and they can say, hmmmmmmmmmmmmm, no, she never had any problems like this before, instead of trying their hardest to persuade you that your family is against you. Too many children and adults are being used as guinea pigs for new meds, old meds, whatever, so what, they are alittle rambunctious, and perhaps they just need alittle more attention. Not all of the people in this world that are taking antidepressant drugs or mind altering medications need to be on these types of meds.

At some point I was losing my medical benefits and we were advised to see our state representative which we did. We went to their office and told them that my benefits were about to be stopped and the income level had not changed. I was still considered mentally ill at the time so a worker from their office took our info and told us they would get back to us and do everything they could to help us so we would be getting what we qualified for. For whatever reason, we made more calls to their office and they chose to do nothing, despite what they said they would do. They never called us back to inform us of any of the changes they said they would fix. After awhile we just stopped bothering with their office staff. I believe it was Lisa Boscola’s office at the time. Again, people you are supposed to trust and help you in times of need, they apparently had better things to do then actually do what their office is supposed to do, which is assist in paper work, if it needs filling out or make sure you are getting the proper care from your state benefit plan.

There was a time when my aunt had to take the kids school shopping for clothes and my neighbor helped out with the money and gave my aunt a couple hundred dollars toward my kid’s supplies because the money was being spent on my medications.

I missed out on a lot of the sibling things that kids go through. At times when my kids needed support from their parents, I couldn’t provide it, my husband didn’t know how to console them or help them cuz he was in just as much of an emotional rollercoaster as they were.

Squabbling for instance, when my kids have their disagreements now or fights, whatever you choose to call it,. I asked them why they are having such difficulties now when they got along so well for the last few years. Their answer, Mom, we couldn’t fight with each other, we couldn’t do anything wrong, everything was about you. We didn’t have time to fight or play or even talk to each other cuz we were always afraid something would upset you or you would be mad cuz we needed attention or something from you and dad.

How does one handle something like this, cope with all the emotions flying around, it’s very difficult to endure.

I am thankful I never received ECT treatment as I would be totally nuts now, who knows what my life and life for my family would be like had I said yes to Dr. Snyder. I am sure I would have substantial brain damage if I would have opted for this course of treatment, my family would have been forever taking care of me instead of living a normal life cuz I would have been just another “mistake” and been actually made to be mentally ill due to their neglect and ignorance.

I am now looking forward to moving past this and healing myself and helping my family heal also.

It was around the end of 2007 or early 2008 and I decided I would see a polarity healer, it was after taking our youngest daughter for sessions first because she was having lots of health concerns too.

My husband worked with someone who was related to a polarity healer. He shared with my husband his experiences for himself and his family and how well their sessions helped them through the health issues they were seeking treatments for.

We made an appointment to see Cheyenne at Health Heart Soul. Truly an amazing experience for all of us.

My daughter immediately felt better and her illness's stopped and she improved in so many ways. Her self confidence and self esteem really soared. She was healthy again.

We then took our daughter on and off when she felt she needed to be energized like a pick me up. Kinda like a shot of goodness and happiness all in one. I don't know how else to describe it.

I don't recall if we took her sister after I had my first session or before. She too felt better and energized after just one session. You could see it in her face how free of what was bothering her she felt. We take her and her sister whenever they need to feel renewed or feeling like they may have caught a bug and they are as good as new after a session with Cheyenne. They both respond in different ways to the sessions, it's nice to see them learning from this too and feeling better. They also feel better about sharing their feelings about whatever is on their mind. They no longer have any fears about being who they are, it's really great when your child stands up for what they believe in and in themself. I love what the sessions with Cheyenne did for my kids and I know they do too. They tell their friends all the time about how they see a healer for many things and they love "bragging" about Cheyenne. It's so cute to watch them tell stories about what they experince during their sessions and my youngest tells people, go see Cheyenne, she can just" take your stuff away", if your sick or don't feel well, Cheyenne can take it away and make it better!!
It's great!!!

At that time when I took my youngest daughter, I was still on meds and I was afraid to see Cheyenne myself, embarrassed really that she would think I was off the wall. Well, in a way, I was and I just couldn't bring myself to see her until I had decided to get off of all the medications.

Finally, I took the plunge, literally, that is what it felt like, I was so scared, nervous, and confused.

I didn't know what to expect or if I could even handle it.

Well, the first session helped me alot. I felt better physically and emotionally. I then saw her a few more times throughout the year yet I never really mentioned to her my truth's. I didn't know that at the time, I thought I could do all this healing my own so to speak, I thought well, she can heal me and maybe all this other stuff will disappear. It's a bit confusing because at the time that I was seeing her for sessions, I had no idea that I was hiding certain things about the way I felt. I believed I was being as honest as I could. Perhpas that is part of denial, it wasn't until I finally felt like I cracked and needed to spill out all the things that were building up.

Well, that certainly didn't happen, since I couldn't share with her everything, not enough healing was taking place. I was afraid to call her and make appointments because I thought, if she knows that I need lots of help, geez, what will she think of me, I couldn't have that. I was lost in myself and telling myself all kinds of negative beliefs so I could try to get her to think that I don't need alot of help, that the few sessions we did was enough.

Hmmmmmmmmmm, let me tell ya, Cheyenne is quite an amazing person, she can see right through most of all that, and the last straw came when I couldn't take it anymore and I went in for a session, she could see it right away, that I totally felt disconnected from myself, that I was scared of being upset, that I couldn't take it anymore.

Thank goodness, I wanted all this stuff out of me, I wanted to let go of all that junk and move forward.

I am thankful that she is willing and able to help me heal through all this. I am continuing treatments with Cheyenne weekly until the end of this year, 2008. I trust her completely and I know that with her help and me finally being honest, I can get through this and enjoy life once again. What's so great about all this too is that I am able to barter with Cheyenne for sessions, if it wasn't for us barting I would not have been able to see her as often or take my children as often as I could. She was kind enough to do this so that we could all benefit from her sessions!

There were other treatments that I had tried during this time, a friend of mine, Aliza is an EFT practitioner and she was also willing to help me heal. EFT did help me in a few ways, although it kept bringing more and more to the surface, it became overwhelming for me to deal with. I wound up tapping so much through the day that I thought I was gonna go nuts cuz I wasn't feeling better only feeling like geez, I got alot of baggage and that was bothering me.

Don't get me wrong, I believe EFT works wonders but at this point it is not helping me, something is making me resist, so I am working on letting this resistance so I am free to feel good all the time.

I have a great and wonderful family, my husband has been tremendous through all this.

I know he did the best that he could and for that I am very thankful. He is so understanding and he is the meaning of love for me, he showed me that. What he endured could only be dealt with if one loves their spouse. He is quite an amazing man!

1 comment:

Debbie said...

Wow, Maryann ~ I had no idea. I am so glad you are well enough to write all your feelings down. I can't even begin to imagine what you went thru. You are in my prayers.♥ Debbie