Thursday, September 17, 2020

An Expression and a Question

A while back, I made a note about something that was said to me in a support group meeting. This happens often. Many meetings I will find myself writing down insights others share, so that I can ponder them later. 

This particular phrase isn't an "insight," however. It's said often in these types of support groups and the one who says it probably has no idea that it can have two meanings. It's spoken as casually as the more common term, "Thanks for sharing," that several say at the end of every share.

Most of the time, this expression is saved for those instances someone shares a particularly heartfelt experience. There are some support group members who gravitate towards using it regularly, so during some meetings, it might be heard more often than usual. But in most of the groups I attend, it's rarely used.

This phrase is "We're glad you're here."

On the surface, it doesn't look like it has a double meaning. It's pretty straightforward. When you tell someone you are glad that he/she is here, then that's what you mean - you are glad that person is at the meeting.

I've been involved with support groups now for over 2 1/2 years. For the first 18 months, I didn't hear it that often. I said it maybe once or twice. But then September 2019, it was said to me after I shared and a lightbulb went off.

I'm Bipolar Type 2 and have several other medical and mental health issues. Suicidal thoughts flood my mind often when I'm really depressed. A stretch of several days in September 2019 was one of those times. Though I never got as far as having a plan on how to do it, this time I got very close.

I went to a meeting because it's what recovering addicts do. When I'm depressed, I'm usually quiet and won't talk to anyone. I had no plans to share. I was just going to listen to others and was hoping I'd walk out of there encouraged enough to not even want to make a plan.

I can't remember what the topic that night was, or even exactly what I shared. I'm pretty sure I shared some of the struggles I was dealing with and that I was really depressed. I may have even shared that I was suicidal.

I finished my share and heard many say the standard, "Thanks for sharing." But then I heard a sole person say, "We're glad you're here."

You know those "lightbulb moments" that you sometimes get? I had one right then.

I don't know if the person who said it meant for it to have the straightforward meaning. I didn't notice who said it so I couldn't ask. 

But when those words were spoken, to me, at that time, in my current state of mind, it meant more than 'someone was glad I was at the meeting.'

To me in that moment it meant that the person was glad I was still here, on earth, alive. 

I came across that phrase today when I was looking through some old notes. As I was even more suicidal a couple of weeks ago, and did have a plan during that dark time, I'm thankful that I was reminded that there are those who are glad I'm still here.

I'm also thankful for others who are still here, and not just at a meeting.

On this same idea of being glad you are here, I want to share a life-saving question that has saved my daughter, some of her friends, my mom, and myself. 

It is, "Will you promise you'll stay safe?" 

My daughter and my boyfriend know when I get really depressed or incredibly anxious to ask me. I do the same for them. We don’t answer until we are sure we can really promise… and being asked the question helped saved me that night a couple of weeks ago. Suicide hotlines are helpful but knowing that someone you know cares enough to go out on a limb and ask that question can literally be the difference between life and death.

If you see someone really down and have even the slightest suspicion that he/she is thinking about suicide, ask the question. If suicide is being thought about, it's not offensive if you ask. Those six words could potentially save a life.


Sunday, August 23, 2020

"Quarantine" has Reached a Whole New Level

Sometimes it seems like life just won't go your way. This can happen due to illness, relationships, job issues, mental health, or an infinite number of other reasons, including a pandemic. I know that every person out there is battling right now in some way or another due to COVID. But right now, I'm having a difficult time thinking about "every person out there" when I'm having it especially rough right now. 

August has been an incredibly tough month. It started out with a stomach issue I had. Though I was still able to do some things, I felt miserable a good bit of the time. I still have no idea what was going on at the time but after a little over a week, it just went away.

The first day I felt half-way normal, I decided to get back into my regular routine. Now that the YMCA is back open, I have started swimming again a few times a week. With my stomach issue, I couldn't chance it so I was greatly looking forward to getting back to doing it.

Something you need to know to understand what happened is that I don't have full range of motion in my right foot due to multiple injuries throughout my life. When I swim I work on this and try to flex and point that foot to increase its range of motion. 

For some reason that morning the range of motion was much greater than usual. I decided to take advantage of it and worked it out harder than usual - thinking I must be making progress with it since it was increasing.

I was fine the rest of the day... until late that afternoon. While walking down the hill to my boyfriend's apartment, I felt a sharp pain. I didn't turn it and didn't feel a pop or any other obvious reason for the injury. However, I could barely walk the rest of the way to his place.

The pain got worse throughout the evening. By the time I needed to leave, I knew I wouldn't be able to drive. It took everything I had to get back to my car... and my boyfriend drove me home. Little did I know then what the weeks ahead would involve.

I thought it was some type of strain or sprain. I looked up articles about foot injuries and from everything I could tell, there wasn't a break. I was pretty sure there was nothing that my doctor could do except get me a walking boot or brace (I already had both) so I decided to rest and wait it out. 

The first few days after the injury it seemed to be healing. I stayed off of it absolutely as much as possible and used an old walker that had been stored in the attic to go to the bathroom (the only place I went other than my bedroom). I did the RICE treatment, rest, ice, compression, and elevate, and assumed it would heal within a week or two.

But then it didn't. 

It got worse.

I decided to break down and call my primary doctor. Because they don't have the capacity to do an x-ray at their office, and I had no idea how I was going to get to and from the car to get to an office visit, we did a telehealth appointment. I described what was going on and was told to keep doing the same thing I had been doing. She gave me some slightly stronger pain medicine than the OTC meds I had been taking and I thought it would be enough.

It wasn't.

I don't know if the little bit of weight-bearing I did on it injured it more or if it just couldn't ever completely heal, but sometime towards the end of that first week, it was excruciating even when I was laying down. I couldn't even rest it on a pillow without crying. Nothing helped. 

I got a message to my doctor that I needed a specialist as well as a knee scooter or something similar in order to not have to walk on it at all. (I fell when I tried to hold it up while using the walker so I knew I needed something more stable). This was a long process - to get the referral for the orthopedist and the prescription for the scooter and I was in incredible pain while I waited.

Finally, the day of the appointment came. The doctor confirmed it was ligament damage (nothing broken) and gave me some steroid shots all around my ankle. I finally picked up the knee scooter (possibly the only one in the city). I got some better prescription meds - for pain and to relax the muscles around the ligaments. 

I am now on my 17th day with this injury. During this time I have only left my bedroom to go to the bathroom (just a few steps away), work in my study once (before it got so bad), go to three appointments using a combination of walking boot, walker, and wheelchair for each, and eat with my family earlier today in the dining room maybe 10 steps from my room.

Even though I have a laptop and a bedside table, I haven't been able to do much because it hurts too much if I let my foot dangle down for more than a few minutes (for example, I couldn't make it through lunch with my family without major pain). I am only able to do this blog because I finally figured out a way to set up the laptop so that I can keep my foot on the bed while I write.

So... August has been a bust. I have been able to get some things done on my computer but it's been slow going. Many days I was just in too much pain to be able to form coherent thoughts (which is why writing just hasn't been happening). 

I'm thankful for a few things even in the midst of this, though. I'm thankful that it happened during COVID, when I have very few events to photograph. I've been able to do a little writing but that's also limited due to COVID so I haven't gotten behind with work.

I'm thankful that I live with my parents. If you have read much of this blog at all, you know that it's been difficult at times to deal with being an adult living with your parents. But I honestly don't know what I would have done if I didn't have them. I try hard to not ask much of my parents but at least they will bring meals and drinks when I need them and when my boyfriend is at work.

I'm very thankful for my boyfriend. He has been amazing and has come over most of the time when he's off work, and he does whatever I ask without complaining (even empty the bedside commode I got - yuck!)

I'm thankful that earlier this year I changed to a laptop with a dock and an external monitor for my main computer instead of a CPU/monitor combo. At least I can work with everything on my desktop while I'm stuck in my bedroom. If I didn't have this system, I would've had to get help transferring files from my CPU to a laptop just so I could get some basic work done.

I'm also thankful that it's summer. I'm extremely heat-intolerant and am absolutely miserable in the heat and humidity in the South. If I have to be stuck at home, at least it wasn't during milder weather.

Yes, it's been an extremely difficult month so far. But even in the midst of the problems and pain, I have been able to endure and I've been taken care of. I have a lot to be grateful for.

Thursday, July 16, 2020

Why Reward Based Systems Don't Work with Addicts

The other day I treated myself to a much-needed and long-awaited massage (obviously with the masseuse wearing a mask). While I was lying there, I thought about why I'd put this off for so long. My first thought was obviously my finances, as I've never made much money. But as pondered the whys, I realized there was also something else much more thought-provoking.

I love touch. It's my main "love language." I remember crying at my first massage after my prolonged separation/divorce because I had so little touch in my life after my ex left. I didn't date much because I wanted to focus on my daughter and my career, so massages were the only lengthy times I got to experience that craved touch. So, at first, I easily justified the expense. 

Then money got much tighter - and as time passed it got even tighter. My ex stopped paying child support. My daughter and I both had a lot of medical expenses. Massages were now considered a luxury. Even though they still fulfilled a basic need in my book, I wouldn't schedule them due to other needs that I felt had much higher priority.

Several times through the years when I decided to try once again to lose weight, I decided I could kill two birds with one stone - making that desired massage a reward for losing x-number of pounds. 

But the thing was... I was never able to get that reward.

Not...
Once...

Over the course of many years...

It...
Never...
Happened.

Even though it was one of my most enjoyed self-care elements and it fulfilled a need that nothing else could at the time, it never happened. I wanted one so badly. So why could I accomplish so much in life but never could make myself lose even a little weight in order to get something that I so desperately desired?

Since then, I've learned so much about that why. I realized I'm a food addict/compulsive overeater. One of the main tenets of addiction is that no amount of willpower and no punishment/reward in and of itself will provide lasting change. So that was one reason why I could never get to that place.

But somehow I felt there was more involved.

Fast forward to this past weekend... lying on that table, thinking about all this. I recognized there was more involved in this issue that just being an addict didn't include. Then I had the thought, "I'm glad I did this, even though I haven't lost weight or done anything to deserve it." 

The lightbulb went off - I didn't "need" to do anything to "deserve" it. 

The real reason I didn't get a massage during those lean years was that I didn't feel worthy of spending time and money on myself. I could have come up with the money to pay for it if I really wanted. I thought I had to perform (which, in this situation, meant losing weight) to justify the time and expense... to make myself "worthy." 

One huge struggle during my addiction recovery journey is that I'm loved the way I am. Though I am trying to recognize that who I am isn't defined by what I do, I still don't believe it in my heart. 

Every time I fail, there's more shame... there's more heartache... there's more confirmation that I'll never be able to do this (recover and reach a reasonable weight). Every time I lose a reward that I set up for myself these feelings are magnified and flood over me - and I feel even less worthy.

In fact, using punishment when I fail doesn't help because it's what I already think I deserve... all the time. I am so full of ever-present shame because I got myself into this mess that I punish myself daily - even when I'm experiencing success in my recovery battle. That punishment takes many forms but mostly it's by things like not buying clothes that look good on me because I feel I don't deserve to have them. (I also feel I don't deserve to be happy - possibly one reason for my overwhelming depression - but that's something to ponder more later.)

However, what I realized is that maybe I need to do those types of activities because I already am worthy... even if I'm not able to obtain one full day of abstinence from my eating addiction, even if I'm not successful at my career at the moment, and even if I feel like no matter how hard I try, I'll never make a difference in this world. 

I am worth spending time and money and effort on myself because I am me... and I don't need another reason. 

Another awareness from this idea is that maybe I've had it wrong all these years (actually, I know I've had it all wrong all these years - this is what got me into this mess). I've had it backward. 

Part of the reason I am so overweight is due to not feeling that I am worth enough to put the time, effort, and money into eating in a healthy way and exercising regularly. So feeling worthy enough to treat myself to a massage when I need it could be a big reminder that I'm also worthy enough to work the 12-Steps and do everything else that's included in eating disorder recovery. 

Then one day, chances are good that abstinence will come - not because I used rewards when I lost a few pounds or punished myself by not allowing myself nice things (like good clothes) when I didn't - but because I learned my worthiness doesn't come from performance...

And though my plan is to continue on this lifelong journey of recovery, I must remember that even if  I never reach my goal weight... I am worthy no matter what.




Monday, June 22, 2020

Literal Calm in the Midst of a Storm


It's been a terrible day.

It’s storming all around me. Incredible winds... thunder/lightning... a small lake forming in the backyard... and I'm in a screened-in porch. I had to move close to the house and put a big bag around my laptop to protect it from the blowing rain so I could write while I enjoyed the sounds, smells, and feelings of the storm. 

However, though externally I'm enjoying the storm, internally I'm a wreck.

It’s one of those days that's been a true roller coaster ride - jerky ups, steep downs, twists and turns and loops, and some boring straightaways. I fought with a company who misled me (and lost), contacted another company who charged me for something I didn’t receive (and won), filed for unemployment once again because they messed up at the unemployment office once again, had a huge fight with my daughter, was interviewed for an article about having a child who deals with mental illness, and did a few mundane chores.

Unfortunately, I don't have the choice of riding again. Most days include similar rides. Some are kiddie versions and some are the latest and greatest thrill rides, but for those who battle mental and physical illnesses as well as addictions, there are very few days with the option of not getting on at least one type of roller coaster.

Finding calm in the midst of these storms while riding that roller coaster is my goal. But how? 

In every addiction recovery group, the importance of gratefulness is mentioned. It's also vital for those with mental illness... or who lean towards pessimism... or actually anyone breathing.   

With everything I've gone through in my life, I thought I had justifiable reasons to be pessimistic. I use it as a safety measure - after all, if I've imagined and prepared for the worst thing that could happen, then I'd be ready for anything. 

But it doesn't work that way. Looking for the bad in everything, consciously or unconsciously, takes its toll. I am a prime example that if you have that attitude long enough, it's extremely difficult to change.  

Having several anxiety disorders doesn't help. In fact, they may be the cause. It's like the question of which came first - the chicken or the egg – but it really doesn't matter. It’s something that needs to be corrected. 

My epiphany started with a phone call. It was pity-party time and my boyfriend mentioned that I should be grateful within my horrible situation. However, earlier in the conversation, he had his own pity-party about an issue he's having. I thought I was so clever when I turned the tables on him, telling him that he should also be grateful in his situation.

Then he said three words that floored me:

"You are right."

I was speechless. I wanted him to agree that us wallowing in pity was okay. I sat there and tried to think of a good counterargument. 

I couldn't.  

There isn't one.  

In both situations, if we each looked hard enough, we could find something to be thankful for, even though just a few moments prior we each thought that these obstacles were insurmountable.

I then thought about other circumstances in my life that have been highly anxiety-producing lately: my eyesight and unemployment benefit problems. Both are massive issues. 

Every time I look around and can’t see something in the distance clearly, it produces anxiety. The doctors said that my eyes just need more time to completely heal after my cataract surgeries but there's always that little voice saying, "But what if they don't?" 

I am currently getting unemployment benefits (PUA) because there is almost no work currently in my field. You might be thinking, "But she can't work anyway due to the cataract surgeries." I could do photography shoots if I had to (it's just harder with these vision issues) so I’m relying on those benefits until events start back. Since I don’t know how long that will be, the anxiety keeps increasing every day my unemployment problems aren’t solved. 

Either issue could make even the most optimistic person worry… and I’m definitely not an optimist. Plus, I am dealing with both as well as several other small, but very burdensome, matters.

So how can I possibly be grateful? I can understand accepting them as "things I cannot change" (from "The Serenity Prayer"), but being grateful? 

Using the skills I use to find the worst in a good situation - and flipping it around - I found ways to be grateful even in bad situations. 

Concerning my eyesight... I don't have to dread the cataract surgeries anymore; because they were postponed to a time when I am out of work, I've been able to rest and heal easier; and even though I can't see clearly yet, my vision is much better without correction than I’ve ever experienced in my conscious memory.

Concerning unemployment... Freelancers typically can’t get unemployment, so receiving anything is a blessing; through working on these latest unemployment issues, I found a mistake in my favor; I discovered a useful app that auto-redials (the only way I could get a human in the unemployment office); and I was able to pass along what I’ve learned to others having similar problems. 

Concerning today’s issues... Although I lost money over the misleading subscription practices, at least I noticed it before I lost even more; the fight with my daughter helped me realize some things about myself that I need to work through; and I was able to contact unemployment the third time I called (a new record!) and hopefully fixed one of the issues.

So, though life might be storming around me while I'm riding that dang roller coaster (aren't rides supposed to be shut down during storms?) gratefulness might be the ticket that leads to calm in its midst.

And on a side note… the storm that was whirling around me when I started this post has now stopped. There's blue sky peeking through the clouds. Birds are singing. The wind is barely blowing. It's really mild for a late June afternoon in the South.

I loved the ferociousness of the storm but also love this calm. I just need to keep reminding myself that being grateful for the positive aspects of each will help me enjoy wherever I am - calm or storm.


... Just as I was finishing up this post and about to go inside, I heard "Taps" being played at a local cemetery.  I have never heard it from my home before. Hearing that wonderful song from so far in the distance during this enormous quiet after all of the sounds of the storm while writing this emotional blog is just one more reason I'm now calling today an amazing day.

Monday, June 15, 2020

Focus

I just realized there's a double-meaning to the title of this post. I picked "Focus" for what I need to be doing as far as activities and professional work in the upcoming weeks. However, as someone who just had cataract surgery on my second eye and who is having trouble "focusing," it works for that too.

As I said, I'm now recovering from my second cataract surgery. I'm really disappointed and frustrated. I can't see with my left eye - the one I use for distance vision. (Note... I have been corrected for what's called monovision - where one eye is corrected to see close up and the other to see far away. With most people, your brain adjusts and uses the correct eye to focus on what is needed at the time while temporarily shutting down the other. I used this method with contacts and had really good success, so I do know my brain can adjust.)

I know that my eye doctor, multiple websites, etc ALL say that it takes, on average, 1-2 weeks for your eyes to get clear - with full clarity not coming for up to 3 months later. My follow-up appointment yesterday went well. I was cleared to drive (though it's scary because I cannot see clearly, but legally I can see well enough), the pressure of my eyeball is fine, and everything is healing the way it should. 

I also realize that because of the monovision, not only does my eye have to adjust to the new lens, my brain has to adjust to making both new lens replacements work together, which will take even longer.

But when you have anxiety and you are a photographer where your livelihood depends on sharp eyesight, the fear is HUGE that you will be one of those few where it doesn't work. 

That's where I am.

It's all I can do to keep from living in a constant panic. I keep testing my eye for improvement - only to not be able to tell any real changes. It doesn't help that the vision issues not only are difficult to deal with to see, but also make me feel really nauseated. As someone who has an eating disorder, this adds to my frustration.

But back to why I initially titled this post "Focus"... 

I am now coming up to almost 3 months of being home practically 24/7 - only going out to to get groceries from Walmart pickup, doctor's appointments, cataract surgeries (obviously) that included staying with my boyfriend because someone had to take care of me afterward, and early on, a few no-contact photography shoots. 

I have gone from being actually a little excited that I had all this "at home" time to getting really depressed to lately being extremely anxious about the future. I am very blessed in that I have been able to receive unemployment so financial issues haven't been a huge problem. However, right now that is supposed to stop the end of July, which is 7 more weeks. 

In thinking about August, even more fear than my usual arrives. I'm primarily an event photographer. Most events won't start back in August; in fact, many concerts might not start back until NEXT August - 2021. Because of lingering depression, it's incredibly difficult to be motivated to figure out what to do. 

I have been drifting for a few weeks now.  I have some ideas on how to make money instead of using photography - mostly through writing and one product idea that could be profitable. But I can't seem to figure out where I need to focus the very little motivation and energy I have each day.

Fast forward to a couple of days later... Because of my limited energy, nausea, and headaches from eye strain, I haven't been able to finish this post. I have been trying to rest and, as much as possible, not obsess over my vision issues. I'm so thankful for others, like my boyfriend, therapist, and support groups, that have given me permission to rest. The guilt and shame I feel from not being productive are so much easier to handle if I know that others empathize with how I feel and are encouraging me to take care of myself.

So, with that in mind, I'm also not going to obsess over this post. I'm not going to read over it a few times to triple-check for errors or for a better way of expressing a thought. I'm going to take care of myself and go lay down. 

(By the way, I give you permission to do the same.)

 

Monday, June 8, 2020

Blah (My Journey Between Cataract Surgeries)...

No real theme for this post, except that I'd like to just share where I am. 

Life just doesn't seem to want to let up. Almost two weeks ago my mom had a stroke. The day after that, I had the first of two surgeries on my eyes due to cataracts. The air went out at my house (at a time when I was told to NOT sweat, and I sweat even when it's in the low 70s). For many reasons, I was the only one who could stay with my mom at the hospital, which I did from Sunday until Friday all day, every day. My daughter had a big issue with her dad and I had to help mediate it. 

Yesterday was the first day I had a break. I expected to be able to rest (finally!) and just be a bum all day. 

It didn't work out that way. 

You see, even before the cataracts, I had horrible vision. When I was about six years old and got glasses for the first time, my parents told me that I looked around and said, "Wow! The trees really DO have leaves." I probably actually had terrible vision from the time I was a toddler or preschooler but just adapted really well. 

My vision was so bad, in fact, that I was the youngest my eye doctor ever put in contacts, because my glasses were so thick that he thought I'd do much better in them. I'm now 52 and I've been wearing contacts since I was 8. 

Thankfully, age-related vision problems started late for me, not like the early 40s as is typical. When they did, as a photographer, I didn't want to wear reading glasses because I would be taking them on and off with every image I took. I tried the multi-focal contacts but I couldn't get used to them (plus, they were thick and due to my extreme dry eye, I needed thin contacts). 

My eye doctor offered another solution - using one eye for near vision and one for far vision. It's one of the cool things about how our brains can adapt... when your eyes start seeing that way, your brain learns when to get most of the data from the eye that's being used more at the time. For me, because I am left-eyed (like some are right-handed), my left eye is for distance and my right eye is for near vision. 

I had a hard time adapting at first to this type of vision correction, but my brain did eventually work well with this system. 

Until it didn't.

As my cataracts got worse, my brain started relying more and more on my left eye, as my right eye had the worse cataract. Plus, I wore my glasses a lot more or didn't use contacts at all and used the tiny bit of clear vision I had about 6-7 inches from my face (no more, no less). My brain couldn't keep up with the changes. 

As the cataract surgery drew near, I went without contacts completely because I had to put drops in my right eye 4 times a day - and couldn't have a contact in when I did it. It was a lot easier to just deal with my glasses (though they weren't the correct prescription - they were old) or with nothing.

So my brain got somewhat re-trained for my eyes to work together to focus. 

Now I have a new lens in my right eye. It's still for near vision and my near vision is amazing - 20/20 in that eye. But my brain hasn't yet re-adjusted to one eye being for near vision and one for far. It's not helping that I take out my contacts at night and so my left eye is incredibly blurry while my right eye can only see up close - but then when I wear them during the day it's the opposite. 

It's amazing just how annoying this is - it gives me a slight headache and just makes me feel "blah."

Are there many other life issues that are much worse? Yes! Does this mean I'm not thankful that my mom is doing well? Of course not! But I'm still very tired and SOOOOO ready for the other surgery in a few days. Then maybe my eyes can learn to work together and I can get past all this. At least I really hope so...


Wednesday, June 3, 2020

Numbers

Have you ever stopped to notice how numbers define our lives?

Some examples:
- Grades
- Bank account balance
- Credit score
- Likes on a social media post
- Facebook friends
- Blood pressure
- Weight
- And with COVID-19, temperature.

Those are just a few examples.

But have you ever gotten depressed over a number?

I have thought about this a lot throughout my life. If you have read much of my blog at all, or if you know me in person, it's apparent I am extremely overweight. My number phobia probably started in elementary school when they weighed every student. It might have been done in private but I think it leaked out. Or maybe I was just embarrassed that the number might get out. But either way, I remember it as being traumatic. 

Fast forward to a little later in life... the number still terrified me. However, I didn't know that it was possible to refuse to be weighed at the doctor, or at least to turn around so I didn't have to see the number on those few instances when it was necessary for them to get an accurate number. I would actually avoid going to the doctor for something like an ear infection because I knew hearing the actual number of my weight would spiral me into depression.

I deal with clinical depression and chronic, horrible anxiety, and have since I was a young teenager. When I say that it would depress me, I don't mean that it would make me sad... it would make me want to crawl into the bed and ironically, eat. This depression and unrelenting anxious thoughts related to it could last for weeks.

I know the saying that your weight is just a measure of the gravitational pull of the earth on a scale and it has nothing to do with your self-worth. That saying is really, really true... but it doesn't help my phobia - or my depression when I do hear that dang number.

In the past few years, I have been extremely diligent about avoiding hearing that information. But one day when I had to be weighed for a medical thing, I broke my rule. I asked what the number was (after telling them I didn't want to hear it). 

BIG MISTAKE.

Now I can't unhear it. 

I even dreamed about it last night, even though this happened a couple of months ago. I can't shake it. 

My depression is beginning to lift but it took a good month. It still fills me with so much shame and embarrassment. My boyfriend knows some of my biggest secrets - I tell him just about everything - but I just can't tell him this. I KNOW he won't love me any less for knowing it... but I just can't say it out loud. 

At the moment, I'm helping my mom who is an inpatient in the hospital after a small stroke, literally typing this on my laptop in the hospital room. Being in the hospital with her brought back up this issue of numbers. For her, the key numbers are sodium level, blood pressure, oxygen level, and heart rate. The numbers have got to be in an acceptable range before she can go home, so they are extremely important. 

Because of this importance, they also have the power to cause depression. But it's the kind that's more "just" sad, not an episode of clinical depression that can last for a long time. There is a difference.

Does anyone else deal with this? I know I can't be alone in this phobia but because I don't talk about it, I don't know of anyone else who deals with it. I would love for you to comment if so.

Maybe one day we will all be able to accept ourselves enough to actually know in our hearts that our self-worth isn't based on the number on a scale. I hope so...