Wednesday, July 28, 2021

Information Overload

Does anyone else have information overload from the year+ of virtual conferences due to COVID?

Before COVID, I saw some amazing conferences, workshops, and seminars that I would have loved to take part in. However, travel time, admission fees, and making a commitment well before the event (not knowing if I would need to work) made a natural limitation in the number of events I could participate in.

Then came COVID - and the world went virtual. 

Every group I'm part of started holding those same conferences, workshops, and seminars online. Woo-hoo! That meant no travel time, greatly reduced admission fees, and being able to cancel at the last minute because you would almost always get a recording of the information later. For that matter, it was rare that a cancellation was needed because I had very little work as it was. 

The first few months of this were just short of heaven. I was loading my little information-starved mind by the bucketful. I was going to meetings that were being held worldwide and it was just beautiful to hear viewpoints from many cultures while getting the knowledge I craved.

Then after a few months, it became more difficult to sit through another hour or two of anything, no matter how beneficial, at the same desk where I sat working for hours before and after that time. 

I started multi-tasking to pass the time. I'm a photographer so editing is something I can do while still listening, but it did make it hard to take notes and it made it impossible to pay total attention to the broadcast. But I still did it.

By this time more and more groups were going online and there were groups I had never heard of inviting me to this workshop or that seminar. I assume they got my information from the groups I was already part of. But the topics were so very interesting... so I signed up for more and more events.

Fast forward a few more months... All of this wonderful input that I had been so glad to get previously became too much. I no longer cared about the subjects I previously thought were so fascinating, or at least didn't care enough. I canceled more often, knowing that "one day" I would get around to that compelling knowledge through the emailed recording eventually.

But I found that there wasn't time for all of the new classes while trying to fit in the ones I missed. I filed them away in my email folders with the hope that in time, I would finally engage, while subconsciously knowing I wouldn't.

At some point - I'm not sure when - I gave up. I didn't even file those emails anymore. I was barely able to make it through the meetings that I really needed to attend online, and found myself missing even some of those. These are meetings that I would drive 30 minutes each way to attend before COVID and now I couldn't make myself sit at my desk in order to attend.

I've thought a lot about why this happened. I'm one of those who needs almost constant input... as my main goal in life is to be learning, growing, mastering the world around me. Why did I decide to give up the great opportunities for that easy to obtain input?

My only valid hypothesis at this point is information overload. Even though I pride myself as one who wants to keep learning something new constantly, in practice I guess it doesn't work out that way. The ebb and flow of life - working, running errands, cleaning, cooking, eating, sleeping, etc - naturally limits the flow of new information one can obtain. What I thought was "constant learning" was, in fact, only as free time and opportunity allowed. 

The world came to a place where that free time was more plentiful because I wasn't doing as much as before. Plus, I had more time for those varied educational opportunities, I found out that my brain didn't need as much new input as I thought. 

I'm hopeful that once the world gets back to "normal" (whatever that is), that leveling aspect of life will return and I will again crave those times of learning something new. I just also hope that I can stay balanced enough to be able to enjoy them.

Thursday, July 22, 2021

The Opposite of Addiction

 (Author’s Note: I know there are actual differences in the terms of “abstinence”, “sobriety”, and “recovery”. But for the purpose of this article, I’m lumping the three terms together and using the word “sober/sobriety” to mean any of those three things. Furthermore, this article is based on

 Those of us in addition recovery know it well – the opposite of addiction is sobriety.  This is why almost every addict first showed up at a 12-Step support group – to find a way to quit addictive behavior… to become sober.

 But what if the opposite of addiction isn’t sobriety? If it isn’t, then what is?

 First, a quick background on addiction. This stigma about addiction started with the scientific community, according to www.drugabuse.govIn[RC1]  the 1930s, it was thought that addicts were “morally flawed or lacking in willpower.” Overcoming addiction usually involved punishment or encouraging willpower to break the habit.

 Later research showed that with any addiction, the brain reacts the same way – the pleasure an addiction gets from the addictive substance/behavior increases dopamine much more than in a non-addict’s brain when experiencing the same pleasure.

 This was “proven” by experiments made popular during the “War on Drugs” campaign. In these experiments, rats were put alone in small cages with two bottles of water: one drug-laced and the other plain water. Each rat chose to drink the drug-laced water until it overdosed. This idea was generalized to all addictions.

 But in the ’70s, one scientist, Bruce Alexander, decided to test another theory. His thinking was that, of course, the rats would want drugs… they had nothing else to do. So, he set up a similar experiment with very different conditions.

 He got one huge cage with 20 rats of both genders. He added good food, places to mate and raise young, and stimulating toys and activities. He included the same two bottles of water. What he saw was very different than the results of the first experiment. These rats who had a social outlet and various types of stimulation preferred plain water.

 He theorized that human connection is the opposite of addiction. As the author of this article isn’t a scientist and also doesn’t have time to plow through the many scholarly articles about the implications of this finding, I’ll leave it to you to form your own inferences of how this affects long-term recovery.

I want you to know that this was mind-blowing to me. I know the power of support groups by just seeing the success stories in local support groups I’ve attended. I know that addiction is a disease of isolation – and of course, the opposite of isolation is socialization. I also realize that humans are much, much more complex than rats and that’s why a support group alone won’t bring sobriety. But to see it played out by a bunch of rats blew me away.

 I’ll go out on a limb and say that long-term sobriety won’t ever come without it – this human connection.

 One more quick thing I have learned about the power of being connected…

Estimated rates of PTSD have increased in war veterans from about 5% after WWII to 15-20% for the more recent wars, according to an article titled “U.S. Wars and Post-traumatic Stress Disorder[RC2] .”

 What was the difference?  Though there are many possibilities for this change, at least one speculated difference was that in WWII, the soldiers came home by boat. They had weeks to talk about their experiences with others who understood. However, in modern times, soldiers are home within a day, by plane. They go from a very traumatic situation to regular life without anyone to listen to and empathize with about what they’ve experienced. This lack of being heard very likely made a major difference in their future mental health. 

The takeaway… Put a priority and getting and staying connected. Your recovery may depend on it.                                                 


Wednesday, July 21, 2021

Fear and COVID-19 - A Flashback

(Originally written March 17, 2020 and for some reason never got added to this blog.)

It has been a while since I’ve spent time writing. I have been sick, then super busy making up for being sick, then just super busy. My writing has been pushed aside more than once when I really wanted to... because, in this time of such uncertainty, I felt this wasn't being "productive" (with my definition at the moment meaning “do something to make money”). Well, I hit the breaking point just a few minutes ago and it doesn't matter if it's technically "productive" or not, I need to write.


The timing has been weird on this one. I'm about to have cataract surgery and due to a test I need to have before the surgery, I have had to go without contacts for a week. Given the nature of my businesses, wearing my old glasses has made it very difficult to do some of my jobs and impossible to do others. 


I have known this for a few weeks and have been preparing for the loss of work and income. I was very proactive by making a list of things that I've been putting off for a long time that needed to be done and could be done with less than ideal vision. I knew this would keep me busy and not feeling quite as bad about the loss of income. I actually wasn't anxious during the beginning of the news about COVID-19, maybe because I was already mentally prepared for this downtime.


Then COVID-19 hit my immediate area, one of the last states in the country to really be impacted. When I was "just" missing work due to wearing my glasses and recovery from the surgery, I could still make money a few other ways, just not as much. However, because I live with my parents who are very high risk, it's safer for me to stay home. COVID-19 killed that potential for "not as much" work that I was still hoping for during this time.


Add to that, I hit a down cycle in my bipolar disorder and have been extremely depressed (bipolar depression – not related to the circumstances around me). Several non-COVID-related hard to deal with issues have happened personally and with some of the people I love. The support groups I rely on have had to cancel (though we were able to pull off a phone conference for one support group last night). 


I have figured out that the most difficult issues I'm dealing with right now are the lack of control and uncertainty. I'll talk about each of those separately. 


Control... Everyone loves to be in control. Worldwide wars have been fought over control. Marriages have been lost over control. Businesses have fallen apart because of control. Wanting control is a common feature of humanity.


But note that control is a defining characteristic of an addict. Trying to control others and the surrounding environment and always failing is one thing that leads to addictive behavior. Not being able to control the addictive behavior leads to shame and a feeling of worthlessness.


So, I'm an addict who has major depression and anxiety issues and is a freelancer who can't work for who knows how long. Under these circumstances there is so little I can control.


I'm not doing well.


Uncertainty... I think we are all programmed to know that we can deal with just about anything for a specified amount of time. When I was still in college, I remember thinking that I could deal with any subject or any professor for just a quarter. If I know that I was going to have a medical procedure or if I was sick, I had at least some idea of how long it would be until I could get back "to normal." 


Not knowing how long this pandemic will last, what will happen before it's over, and what will be the aftermath is a huge problem for me. I have lived through some horrible times in my 50+ years and there was always an end. So intellectually I know there will be an end to COVID-19. But the biggest issue is what my life will be like when it's over.


For several years now I have been building a photography business - specializing in event photography. I was just starting to build up some momentum in my business. Big events have are obviously being canceled left and right. It's scary to not know if the businesses that host events will still remember me when it's over.


Of course, I'm also worried about my parents. I'm worried that they will get sick... and I'm worried that if I leave my house and catch it, it'll be my fault that they got sick. Both my boyfriend and my daughter are high risk so I’m also worried, though not as much, about them getting sick.


Surprisingly, I'm not worried at all about me getting sick. For myself, I'm worried about being inconvenienced... specifically with my cataract surgery. Wearing glasses for this week has been truly horrible. If the test is canceled at the last minute, then all that misery will have been for nothing. If the surgery is put off, then it's that much longer before I can get back to work full-time after recovery.


I know I’m whining… I know that I’m one of many dealing with all of these issues… I know that there are many others who have it worse off than I do… In this case, though, knowing I’m not alone in how I feel doesn’t matter one bit to help me feel better.


The only thing that has made me feel better in this time has been to help others. Setting up the phone support group last night was one of the better times I’ve had the last week. Knowing I was doing something for others kept me out of my head for just a few minutes. It didn’t lift the overwhelming depression I’m feeling but did keep me going for a little longer while I’m in the midst of it.


With all of this, there is no better time to recite the Serenity Prayer... and really try to live it. "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."

Tuesday, July 6, 2021

Fireworks Thoughts

Independence Day fell on a Sunday this year, so it was extra fun! (Insert loads of sarcasm into those last two words.) That meant we got to stay up and get bombarded by the sounds of fireworks for TWO nights, not just one! 




(Insert even more sarcasm into those statements.)

Our across-the-street neighbors decided to put on a major fireworks show. As I had no idea how long the Sunday night show would last and my boyfriend and I were hanging out playing a puzzle game, I elected to stay inside and didn't see that show. The next night, my boyfriend and I were trying to finish a movie so we missed watching that evening's show. 

When I say we missed seeing and watching, I want to make it clear that we did NOT miss hearing the fireworks. They sounded like they were literally just outside of my bedroom window and they were incredibly loud.

I don't like loud noises; I haven't my entire life. I used to hate to go to the city-wide fireworks show each year. I thought they were beautiful to watch but just couldn't take the volume, especially at the finale'. I spent the entire show with my hands tightly clasped over my ears.

Normally, if this happened in my neighborhood, I would have put on headphones or earbuds and turned the music up. But since I was with my boyfriend and both times we had started something we wanted to finish, I didn't feel comfortable drowning both the fireworks (a good thing) and him (a bad thing) out. 

So both nights I endured... clenching my teeth, getting knots in my stomach, jumping at the loudest booms. 

As they lasted much longer than I would have ever expected (who has that much money to spend on fireworks, anyway?), I had plenty of time to think as I prayed for them to be finished soon.

One thought that was pervasive during both "shows" was how I wanted to be the mean old neighbor who would call the cops. It's technically illegal to shoot fireworks in our small town, but I know a lot do it anyway. But there are lots of illegal things that I used to do and hated those adults who were too serious for anyone's good. (Don't go too far with that - I'm talking about trespassing to get our sole baseball or TP'ing a yard, not stealing a car.)

I decided I wouldn't be that neighbor. I would continue clenching, knotting, and jumping for a little while longer.

Then they kept going. So I had more time to think. 

During the Sunday night extravagance, I was thankful for a strange issue - that my cat was at the animal ER. Annabel jumps up and runs when I sneeze. Though I was very scared that we might lose her as she was very, very sick that morning, I thought that at least she wouldn't be subjected to this onslaught.

Monday night she was home but wasn't completely well. Earlier in the day I remembered thinking that I was so glad the fireworks were the night before and that she missed them. When they started back on Monday night, I was upset - I wanted to scream and cry at the same time. She was fragile anyway and I knew this would stress her out even more than her overnight stay in the vet hospital. 

I almost broke my prior night's vow to not be the mean old neighbor when she ran and hid behind the couch. I wanted so much for those kids to stop and I didn't mind if they got in trouble in the process. But I also know how much fun it is for kids to shoot off fireworks and there was a part of me that hated to spoil their fun.

(Besides, the police might not have even showed up so I would have still had to endure.)

The earlier thoughts both nights led to a very important one - when does one person asserting their rights trample over another's? On one hand, I had the right to have a quiet evening at home. I had the right to not have to fight a panic attack over something I couldn't control. I had the right for my sweet kitty to not have to stress out so much she can't heal.

But those kids also have rights. Leaving out the whole "illegal" part of this, they have the right to have fun as long as they weren't on our property. 

This led to a debate I have within myself multiple times a week - when is it okay to tell another individual that they can't do a particular activity because of how it affects you?

Some examples...

- TV volume: 

I live with my parents. They are at the age that hearing loss is pretty much a given fact. They watch tv a lot, loudly - shows I don't like and that particularly annoy me. But is it "fair" for me to ask them to always turn the volume down when they can't hear it otherwise?

- Dogs:

We have sidewalks in our neighborhood and many of those who live on my street have dogs. This combination leads to dogs being in or near our front yard almost every day of the week, multiple times per day. Sometimes these dogs bark at or run towards my cat. I would love for them to not go in front of my house and terrify my anxious cat, but is it "fair" for them to not be able to walk their dogs on the sidewalk in their neighborhood?

- Food:

I am what is called a "Supertaster." This means I taste bitter and spicy more aggressively than most. I don't even like black pepper. The bitter isn't usually an issue but there are many times that the food I am eating in a group situation is too spicy for me. But is it "fair" to ask the hosts beforehand for bland food? I mean, it's personal preference, not like a life-threatening allergy.

- Seating:

Being very overweight means seating can be an issue at times. The biggest fear related to this area is that I'll break one of those little wedding chairs or something similar at a gathering of friends and family. I would love to ask that whatever would be appropriate seating for me be used for all of the guests so I don't have to be singled out. But is it "fair" that those hosting have to pay more for seating due to one person's needs?

I could go on with more examples but this is my point... I'm an advocate for helping those who need special accommodations. I'm one of them. I've written several articles about the value of doing so. 

However, every time I ask for something special I wonder if it's "fair" to ask. After all, I'll be inconveniencing someone else, even if it's in a tiny way, to get my way. How much should a disabled person or someone with mental illness or an elderly person be able to ask for before it's too much? 

It's entirely accurate that the fireworks the past two nights were anxiety-producing and could have easily led to a panic attack either or both nights. We had just spent a lot of money taking our cat to the ER, only to possibly have her hurt herself due to the noise. We had plenty of reasons to ask for them to stop shooting those fireworks.

I'm glad we didn't. 

But the next time I have a dilemma like this, which will I choose? Asserting myself for what I or a loved one needs or keeping in mind that the other person(s) rights are just as important?

There's not a clear answer. There never will be. I just hope that as we keep standing up for the rights of those who need something special to have the best life possible, we don't trample over the rights of those who don't.

Please comment on what you would have done in this situation - would you have called the police or endured? Also consider following this blog, my Facebook pages (SpotlightonStigma and nowNovelPhotos), and my website ( Thanks for your support.

Thursday, April 29, 2021

I Saw A Baby Today...

 ... and he was adorable and cute and cuddly and flirted with me. Nothing unusual about any of that. It was what I realized about myself that was somewhat unusual.

I haven't held a baby in at least 15 years. Now... some of that is just because I'm not around them very often. My adult daughter isn't planning to have kids; none of my nieces or nephews have decided to go that route just yet; and I recently moved and so I don't have any friends nearby who have grandchildren. The church I go to is made up of mostly older adults and we rarely have babies there. So I'm just not exposed to them very much.

But even if I did have them around, I know I wouldn't be holding them unless necessary (like someone just handing me their baby so that they can do something). 

You might think this is because I don't like children. However, it's the exact opposite. Until recently, my life centered around children - my daughter, her friends, and those I babysat, nannied, or taught. I played with dolls until I was about eight years old and my dream was to marry young and have lots and lots of children. 

I was one of those kids who couldn't wait until I was old enough to help out in the nursery at church and I was soooo excited the very first time a baby fell asleep in my arms. I started babysitting at home (with my mom nearby in case something happened) when I was nine or ten years old and then had a regular job babysitting by the time I was twelve. 

I never worked in food service or retail as a teenager - I worked in gym nurseries or daycares. I was a nanny right after high school and then part-time again during college. I taught for about twenty-five years, with most of those years being in preschool special education. I was a child and youth minister at several of the churches I attended.

So why won't I hold a baby now if the opportunity presents itself?

Something that I have recently realized about myself is that if something hurts me badly, I try to cut off those emotions within myself to save myself from the pain... and I avoid any reminders of that pain.

The first time I did this concerning babies was when I couldn't have children - at first because I was in college and my husband and I knew we couldn't juggle our schedules or finances with raising a child at that time and then later when I actually realized I had infertility issues and had to work extra hard to get pregnant.

During the time I wanted a baby with every fiber of my being, I avoided holding them. This was while I was completely in charge of the nursery at church so it was a real feat to work there without that close contact. I just made sure there were plenty of people who had none of my weird qualms about this issue and no one ever noticed. In fact, I think they were glad they got to keep the sweet ones to themselves.

Then I finally got pregnant and had my daughter. I was ecstatic - probably the happiest I've ever been in my life. My best friends also had daughters within a few months of the birth of mine so it was a babyfest within our circle of friends. During that time, the earlier issue I had about holding babies had completely disappeared. 

Then, about the time I thought that we were ready to have a second child, my husband left us. Since I had my daughter later in life, I knew that by the time I got remarried, I might not ever have another child, but I never completely gave up hope. In fact, I'm 53 now and only within the past few years have I totally given up the dream of having another baby, thinking that I might be one of those women who shares the pregnancy experience with an adult daughter who is also pregnant... that most people freak out about. 

It was sometime during the separation and divorce that I again buried that part of my heart. I just couldn't hold an infant without that longing for another child tearing me apart. So I avoided those situations like I did during those years of not being able to have a child.

So... exactly what was the revelation from seeing the baby today? It was twofold:

- I had not realized how many years it had been since I closed down that part of my heart, and 

- I do this with so many other things in life.

I am still exploring the idea, but I learned recently that one symptom of PTSD is doing just that - avoiding anything that reminds you of the traumatic event. It's something that I need to learn much more about and discuss in therapy, but I can't help but think it's not good. I've done this to myself in so many areas that it's no wonder that I feel very little joy in my life - I've shut it all down. 

Maybe one day (after COVID), I'll again be one of those people who ask to hold that cute, adorable infant instead of wanting to run the other way. Maybe one day my heart will be healed enough to take that risk and, instead of it causing pain, it'll cause the joy I had when I was that pre-teen who was beyond thrilled to have an infant fall asleep in her lap. 

Update on July 19, 2021 (about 3 months later)...

Today I saw another baby but it wasn't the baby that got to me. It was his bottle. He was drinking from the same brand of bottle I used with my daughter. I felt like I had been punched in the gut - just from seeing a baby bottle! This goes deeper than I thought...

Wednesday, April 21, 2021

Wait Before You Judge Someone's Weight

I am overweight... very overweight. The medical term is "morbidly obese" (which I hate) and the standard term is fat (which I'm trying to accept as an accurate description while ignoring all the emotional pain that word brings up). 

From the time I was young, it seems that everything that was wrong with me was because of my weight. I remember going to a doctor one time as a young adult because I had an ear infection and before the doctor even looked at my ears, I got a long lecture about the need to lose weight. 

For the longest time, more doctor's appointments than not included a lecture about my weight. It was like they assumed I had never heard that same lecture before, that I didn't even realize I was overweight, or that I hadn't ever tried anything to fix it.

Doctors have gotten more understanding over the years but I still walk out of every appointment with a new doctor amazed when I wasn't lectured about my weight - it is so ingrained in me to expect that.

Just to go on and clear this up, I have tried just about everything... fad diets, low carbs, high protein, Adkins, lots of exercise, fasting, diet pills, fiber pills, etc. I was on diets from the time I was really young until I finally gave up about 10-15 years ago. So, dear doctors of my past, I want you to know that I was trying. It was just that nothing worked.

For the record, I am now trying again. However, no more "diets." I realized I have an eating disorder/food addiction and I'm going that route now to deal with it instead.

At my age, I don't expect to ever be what the charts say is an ideal weight. When I was young and working out all the time, I never got there, so I know it's unrealistic to even imagine that now. But even if I do end up losing a great deal of weight to become closer to "normal," I know that the battle inside my head will probably continue on.

This battle is what my mind automatically tells me that everyone is thinking about me when I differ from the norm. Let me give you some examples:

- Sweating... I have several medical conditions and medicines which, combined, tend to make me sweat. A LOT. I can be sitting at my desk and the temperature creeps up to 76 (which is really mild for most people) and I break out in a sweat. But if I'm outside and I'm pouring sweat, I automatically assume that everyone is thinking, "If that woman would just control what she puts into her mouth, she wouldn't sweat like that."

- No booths, please...When I go to a restaurant, I always ask for a table. Yes, I could technically fit into most booths out there, but it's highly embarrassing the times I can't. Plus, it's uncomfortable most of the time even if I fit. So I insist on a table. The majority of the time the hosts are very accommodating but I've had a few times when I felt that I was inconveniencing them by my preference. 

- Injuries... I recently had an ankle injury, a bad one. Well, I use the term "injury" very lightly, as it was caused by overuse while exercising. (Ironic, huh?) Since then I've had to use a walking boot, an AFO (a stiff ankle brace), a walker, a knee scooter, a wheelchair, and sometimes a combination of several of those items. If anyone else uses these accommodations, I feel that no one thinks twice about it and assumes it was from an injury. If I'm using them, I feel that everyone is thinking, "She did it to herself by eating too much."

- Second helpings/desserts... Depending on what type of meal plan I'm on at the time, I might be able to eat dessert or get a second helping of some type of food. I always feel that I'm being judged for my food choices. Keep in mind that there are those of us who are doing something to work on this weight issue... but it's just not healthy to "be good" all the time. My mental issues and stress levels combined with some past and current life issues mean that I honestly can't deal with the stress of "eating healthy" 24/7. In fact, the first doctor who I ever felt cared more about me than my weight told me that severe depression had a higher chance of killing me (through suicide) than my weight did. So if you see someone overweight getting more food or different foods than you think they should, hold back your judgment. You don't know what's going on in their lives and how losing weight might not be the priority you think it is.

- Saying no to invitations most would automatically say yes to... I'm sure some think I'm stuck-up or don't like them because I don't attend certain activities I've been invited to. There are some places that have a high potential to be embarrassed so I avoid them (and it's embarrassing to admit why so I just leave it to the imagination of the one who did the inviting). Some examples: 1 - An outdoor wedding could mean those little wedding chairs. Those terrify me. How incredibly embarrassing would it be to break one at one of the most important days of a couple's life? 2 - Theme parks could mean sitting and watching while the others go on a fun roller coaster that you just can't fit into. 3 - Fun times at the beach can be embarrassing as you try to walk in soft sand and sink much lower than everyone else. These are just a few examples of things that someone really overweight thinks about that the normies wouldn't ever even imagine are issues.

- Travel... Seatbelts in different cars are different lengths and the receptacle sometimes is almost buried either between the seats or in the back of the seat (in the car's backseat). Airplane seatbelts are never long enough. And back to amusement parks... some rides still use regular seatbelts, which are also usually not long enough. I've mostly gotten over the stigma of having to ask for a seatbelt extension or using a seatbelt extender myself, but there are times I would rather not go out with friends or try to ride an amusement park ride just because I don't feel up to dealing with it. One way I've gotten around it is to offer to drive so that the seatbelt isn't an issue. But for those who work in air travel or those amusement park rides, please be discreet when asking about or giving out seatbelt extensions. You can make an overweight person's day by taking that extra step and saving him/her some embarrassment. 

- Conferences, training, or learning opportunities... Don't even think about me being able to fit in a typical student desk. I've walked into the breakout rooms at some conferences held at high schools or colleges and there was absolutely nowhere for me to sit. The same holds true with classrooms or meeting rooms that only had one size of chairs, with arms, that are not one-size-fits-all. I've learned that it's more important for me to suck it up and go find a chair from another room that will work than miss the information that I planned on getting with my attendance. 

- Theatres, auditoriums, and concert halls... Similar to my last point, many theatre seats are not built for plus-sized people. Older theatres, especially, terrify me because it's not even that I'm uncomfortable in some of those seats - I literally won't fit. I've learned to ask for handicapped seating. Again, it's embarrassing because the other audience members can look at me and think, "She's not disabled." (Oh, but if only they knew the physical and mental issues I deal with...) But I've gotten over that concern so that I can enjoy the wonderful musical, movie, or concert the same as every other person there. Also, to be honest, the other audience members will enjoy it more if I'm not spilling out of one of those tiny seats. (To this same effect, handicapped seating is also great for social anxiety, as I am not sitting in the middle of a group of strangers.)

I could include more examples but these are some that affect my life every day the most. I'm writing this to increase awareness and hopefully to decrease the judgment and stigma that those of us with weight issues deal with frequently. Please keep in mind that a person is not his/her weight - and just like someone who is very tall, or short, or has other physical features that aren't "average," we just want to live life the best we can.

Wednesday, March 31, 2021


It's 2:26am. I have fallen asleep twice tonight but woke up within 30 minutes each time. I don't know what I can do to get to sleep.




...but I just can't sleep. 

I know at least some of the factors that are keeping me from sleeping. 

I have a pretty severe case of RLS (Restless Legs Syndrome). This is why I'm not in bed at least trying to sleep. The creepy-crawly feeling in my legs and the almost constant kicking drive me crazy. If I'm up doing something, it's not quite as bad. So I decided it would be a good time to do some cleaning and work at my desk.

I have several auto-immune disorders and a storm front is coming in. The change of barometric pressure seems to always cause a flare-up. For me, a flare-up causes increased pain (more than my normal), increased dryness in my eyes and mouth/throat, and I've just started suspecting it's why the RLS is worse at some times and not at others.

I'm also hypomanic right now. I have several indicators that I'm manic and currently, I'm hitting every one of them. Obviously, mania makes it harder to sleep just by definition.

This blog is being written with my eyes half-closed. You would think that if I'm so tired that I almost can't keep my eyes open, it's time to go to bed, right?

Wrong. Though I do plan to try again after I finish this post, I don't have a lot of hope that I'll be successful. I'm mostly going back to bed because I'm tired of sitting at my desk, not because I think sleep is forthcoming.

So far this evening I've tried many of the traditional approaches that help me sleep when I'm having these issues: taking extra RLS meds, eating a snack, taking a warm bath, listening to ASMR, and reading. None have worked.

This is something I've dealt with off and on for as long as I can remember. Most nights aren't quite this bad, however. Most nights I'll get at least a few hours of sleep. I'm trying to stay hopeful that it's now only 2:40am and maybe I can still get a few hours in before I need to get up and start the day.

If not, at least I got a few things done.

Saturday, March 20, 2021

Journaling to Help Focus on Abilities rather than Disabilities

It's been close to two weeks since I first met with my new therapist. The last blog I wrote was about her insight that I had become too enmeshed with my various disorders/conditions/issues. 

I've been pondering this idea a lot this week. One of the big changes I've made was to revise what I record each day in my journal. 

Over the past year or so I've been producing my own guided journal. At first, I made up a word document and printed it out for the month, writing in it both morning and evening. Some examples of points I recorded each day were:

  • Thoughts about a Daily Meditation...
  • Focus for Today...
  • Today I Feel...
  • One Thing I Really Want to Get Done Today...
  • Excited about Anything? 
  • The Hardest Part of Today...
  • Plans for Tomorrow...

Each month I would decide what worked and what didn't. I would add things I decided I wanted to focus on (like one topic became: One Time I Laughed Out Loud about Anything because I was trying to focus on noticing good things that happened). I would also take out points whose answers never changed day-to-day (e.g. "Excited about Anything?" because I was very depressed at the time and always answered "no").

I also recorded my moods, as I was still learning about how having Bipolar Type 2 affected my life as well as noting whether I had stuck to my food plan (I'm addicted to food) and whether or not I had practiced ASL (a goal of mine is to become a sign language interpreter). 

The problem with that system was that I have very limited storage space, and writing a page each day was quickly adding up. It also took a lot of time to design and print each month's entry pages, hole punch them, and add them to the binder I used. 

I also have a difficult time writing by hand. My handwriting is atrocious and I don't have a good writing surface within my current living situation.

So, I went digital. I did the same kind of idea, except that I do it all on the computer. It's much easier to revise as needed and it only takes a tiny bit of digital memory to keep the days I've already journaled.

At first, my digital journal was the same as the one I produced myself, just not printed out. But I found that because it was easier to make changes, I made many of them. 

I decided to incorporate a to-do list in it and have it be something I fill-out every day when I first sit down at my desk, so it's a combination journal and to-do list. 

But I digress... The point wasn't to describe the journey my journal has taken the past year or so. The point was how my thinking is changing what I focus on each day in my journal - and vice versa.

The latest major change has been to take out if kept my food plan the day before. Even though most of the time the answer was "yes," I'm finding that, for me, a long string of days of adhering to the food plan isn't the point. It's that, if I do mess up, I can start again the next day. 

Taking that bullet point out is a small aspect of this change of focus, but it's important. I can't go back and hyperfocus on the days I did it "right" (which becomes more of a focus on the days I messed up). 

I added in something that I had in my original journal but took it out somewhere along the way - "One Thing I am Grateful for Today." Even if it's something as small as the yummy breakfast I ate or that I got an article finished and submitted to my editor, I write it down. 

Not only do I write it down, but I also copy and paste it to an ongoing list I have at the bottom of the document. The idea is to occasionally look back and see all of the things that I (not someone else) have noted as good things going on in my life. 

I also added "One Good Trait about Myself." As someone who doesn't like or even hates myself, some days those traits are hard to find. But every day that I concentrate on whatever I can find about myself that is good, I think it helps me realize that I'm more than my problems.

This is just one of the steps I'm taking to try to change the focus from my disabilities to my abilities.

Friday, March 12, 2021

A New Focus

"You are more than your addictions, health challenges, and mental health issues."

This is something that my new therapist emphasized with me at the end of our first session together. At first, I was defensive when thinking about it.

Not to excuse what I've been doing but in order of explanation, when, within the span of fewer than five years...
  • figure out that you are an addict... and then recognize that you have addictions in two areas, not just the one previously recognized;
  • ... you are diagnosed with several new physical health conditions, not just those you've been dealing with your entire life;
  • ... you realize that you have bipolar type 2... and then learn that you have a few more mental health conditions, not just those you've been dealing with your whole life,
... it's difficult not to focus on these things.

Any one of those three aforementioned areas would be hard for anyone to deal with in that time span. Having to learn and navigate what all this means, as in typical symptoms, life implications, and treatments, is overwhelming enough. Then figuring out your symptoms, life implications, and treatments is even more overwhelming. 

Life added additional stress. During that time, I also have been dealing with a major life trauma, navigating how to live as a freelancer, helping my teenager become an adult and both she and my parents with their own physical and mental issues, nurturing a new relationship, and trying to fulfill a childhood dream, it's honestly no wonder I got caught up in it all. 

After all, many of the diagnoses explained a lot about how I act and react, why I feel the way I do mentally and physically, and gave me communities of people who I could relate to in ways I couldn't with "normies."

But my therapist was right. After pondering it over several days I realized that I've done what I preach against in mental health advocacy - that you are not your condition. 

There has been a move for a while now to change the language of how we talk about people with mental and physical issues. For example, it's not "that autistic child." The better way to say it is "that child with autism." 

It's a subtle change but it really does make a difference. In the first expression, autism is the focal point and the implication is that that characteristic is more important than anything else about that person. In the second, autism is just one of the parts of that person as a whole.

I knew this shift in language and I've adopted it. After having to work at it at first, now it's automatic to use this "people-first" way of speaking.

But until my new therapist gave me that bit of insight, I didn't realize that I hadn't used it for my own life. Like I said earlier, I have had good reasons for being wrapped up in focusing on those issues for the last few years and so my life hasn't been "myself-first, condition-last." I have been my diagnoses.

It is always a major revelation when I realize how one of my issues explains something I do or feel. For example, the reason I have insomnia at times and have no problems with it other times is due to being hypomanic or not. It was a big deal when I found out that the sinus issues I've dealt with for years and couldn't ever effectively treat are a result of having fibromyalgia. It's important to know that I'm an addict with an eating disorder and no amount of willpower will make me lose weight - that I need support in ways that even the best weight-loss program can't manage.

But in the process of learning about all of these new diagnoses and how they impact my life, I lost who I am. When I am really confident about my images, I chalk it up to being manic, not that my photography skills actually have improved. When I'm hurting, my first thought is that it's the fibro and not that I worked out hard the day before, which is something I should celebrate. When I want to avoid social situations, I tend to focus on the fact that I have social anxiety and not that I have been complimented on my interviewing skills as a journalist, so there must be a social part in me somewhere.

Again, not that it was a horrible thing to learn about myself through the filter of all of these diagnoses, conditions, and disorders. It's been good to know more about why I am the way I am. However, it's really time to move on. 

One of the first decisions I made, in order to distance myself a little more from these issues, was to stop going to one of the addiction support groups I have attended every Thursday night for almost three years. As a disclaimer, I'm not advocating that everyone do that - I'm just discussing my journey. For me, it just made sense. 

I still am going to two support groups a week - one focused on each addiction. I still have numerous doctor's appointments scheduled to keep trying to figure out ways to combat my physical problems. I still am working closely with both a psychiatrist and a therapist to help with the mental health side.

If I'm going to become more than my issues, then I need to focus on other parts of my life. Though that support group only takes about an hour of time each week, I could take that hour and use it to practice sign language, as becoming fluent is a childhood dream of mine. Though the virtual conferences that are now very abundant due to COVID are helpful, right now it's more important that I use that time to rediscover what I enjoy doing. 

My therapist asked me what I do for fun. I honestly don't know. Nothing is fun anymore. Though I realize that's part of my mental health issues (not enjoying things you used to love), it's now time to not just automatically blame that on depression but instead try to find things I enjoy doing. I need to actively put forth the effort to find out more about the playful part of myself. 

I'm not sure how to do this. Giving up one support group a week and skipping some conferences won't make a big difference if I don't use that time to learn who I really am - not just about my issues.

My goal is to once more learn to enjoy life... to live again.

Saturday, March 6, 2021

Fibro Symptom or Something Else?

When you have multiple physical and mental health issues, new symptoms pop up all the time (or old symptoms come back into play). When you have an anxiety disorder and those symptoms show up, it's less than exciting, as the big dogs - cancer, heart attack, and major organ failures - are the first thoughts.

The latest was a pain in my ribs, mostly in my right side. I've had this pain for a long time, off and on. During the time I've had this pain, I had my gallbladder taken out (as it's in that area) and I was diagnosed with diverticulitis after an ER visit when the pain became extreme. 

However, my gallbladder has been gone for several years now and I'm not showing the other symptoms of diverticulitis. I have researched it over and over throughout the years I've experienced this pain. 

Last night it was acting up and I decided to research it again in order to calm my fears that it might be something serious. After reading all the same information I had read the other times I looked into it, I happened to think, what if it's related to fibromyalgia?

It's not one of the main symptoms by any means, but it did come up. In fact, I found a site that relates experiences from those who have fibro. One person asked the question I have and several responded that yes, they have those same symptoms. 

Now, my anxiety mind started racing with questions I wish I could ask them... have they been checked out by a doctor for those specific symptoms to rule out other issues; do they have other disorders that could have that same side effect; how long have they had the symptoms?

I have an upcoming annual visit with my primary care doctor so I'm going to bring it up. I just had one with my rheumatologist and I wish I had thought about the connection before that appointment to bring it up to him. If I don't find out anything from my primary care doctor, I'll contact him about the possibility.

But the point of this blog isn't about whether or not others with fibro are having this same symptom. It's that it's so hard to figure out if a new symptom is related to fibromyalgia or something new. 

Is anyone else having this issue?

Sunday, February 28, 2021

A Year Later

It's a month later. 

My last blog post exactly a month ago. It was a quick one - I wrote it almost frantically as I realized that Groundhog Day was coming up and, as it was based on that event, I needed to get it done quickly. This month has flown by. I have barely thought about this blog. Of course, it has only 28 days and that's part of it, but that's not the only thing. I have noticed this phenomenon of February feeling like it lasts only a week year after year.

But the more important point is that it's a year later.

It's now been almost a year that COVID has been a part of our lives. Can you believe it's been a year? 

When we first heard that we needed to stay at home as much as possible, wear masks, and that restaurants, businesses, schools, and churches would temporarily close, they told us it would last only about two weeks. 

I don't know about you, but I know that I can do anything for two weeks. I remember when I was in college, I would make the conscious decision at the beginning of a semester of classes that I hated that I could do anything for those few months. 

I didn't think about the other horrible classes I would have to endure to graduate. I just concentrated on getting through the current semester. Though it was more than two weeks, I knew I could make it because there was an end in sight.

You may have seen the 1986 movie, "The Money Pit," with Tom Hanks and Shelley Long. They also had to deal with the concept of "two weeks." They realized that the house they bought for almost nothing had multiple problems after they moved in. 

They hired a contractor to rebuild practically the entire house. Even when it had holes in the walls, the water didn't work, no stairs to the second floor, and no electricity, he continually told them that it would only be "two weeks" until it was finished. As the work stretched out into months, he continued to say it would only be two weeks until it was done.

If we had known that a majority of the COVID restrictions would last for a year, I think all of us would have gone crazy. It was hard enough to last those first two weeks... can you imagine if we had known it would be a year? Or even worse, that there is no definite end in sight?

I'm a recovering addict and also have some mental health issues and one of the main principles of overcoming addiction/coping with mental illness is living "one day at a time." It's also a basic concept of many religions, including Christianity - taking each day as it comes and dealing with those immediate concerns instead of fretting about the past or worrying about tomorrow.

That principle is easy to talk about but difficult to do. If it was easy, there wouldn't be numerous workshops on how to learn "mindfulness," the concept of staying in the moment. We wouldn't have to pay therapists nearly as often to deal with our issues from the past and our concerns for the future. We wouldn't have sleep issues or need to take prescriptions to calm our anxiety.

But even though it wasn't easy, we've made it through this past year.  It's become almost automatic to wear masks and keep six-feet away from others. We have grown accustomed to meeting virtually and keeping the few get-togethers we have small in number.

We now have a vaccine that is being distributed to more and more people. There's hope again that maybe one day we'll be able to leave the masks at home, open restaurants, businesses, schools and churches without special restrictions, and shake hands and even hug each other.

Even without that definitive end in sight, we've made it a year and we can make it longer if needed.... one day at a time.

Thursday, January 28, 2021

How the Movie "Groundhog Day" Parallels Addiction


Groundhog Day, the iconic comedy from 1993 starring Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell, had some success at its release but has become a classic as fans watched it over and over. In fact, the term itself has become part of popular culture. In Cambridge Dictionary, the term “Groundhog Day” has come to mean “a situation in which events that have happened before happen again, in what seems to be exactly the same way.”

According to Wikipedia, the film has been analyzed by various religious groups who see it as an allegory. It’s reported that screenwriter Danny Rubin based how the main character, Phil Connors, changed as he tried to cope with re-living the same day again and again using the Kubler-Ross Stages of Grief - denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

A Twelve-Step support group I'm a member of has made an annual event out of watching Groundhog Day together. When I first heard of this idea, I wondered why they chose this movie to be the center of one of their very few annual events. After I heard the explanation it was obvious… addiction is doing the same thing over and over. No matter what one does to try to change, it doesn’t just go away.

This year right before this annual event, I decided to really dig into the movie and parallel the stages of recovery with what Phil went through. I realized something very surprising at the end of my search.

(Warning: spoilers and mentions of suicide ahead.)

The first step in Phil’s journey clearly corresponds to Kubler-Ross’ Stages of Grief with his apparent denial that the day was starting over. Everything he did showed his disbelief. He finally checked for the truth by breaking his pencil before going to sleep, only to find it whole again in the morning.

Anger (and I’m adding fear) are next. He avoided interaction with others and made the same mistakes he made before, like stepping in a water puddle. He reached out for help by talking to his colleague Rita, who didn’t believe him, and a psychiatrist, who also didn’t believe him and asked if they could meet again the next day.

A form of bargaining began when Phil finally found some guys who would listen. Phil asked his new friends, "What would you do if you were stuck in one place and every day was exactly the same and nothing that you did mattered?" One answered, "That about sums it up for me."

He then tried to deal with it with risky behavior – knowing he wouldn’t have to suffer the consequences of his actions. He had a car chase with the police on the railroad track. He ate all he wanted, drank coffee by the gallon, smoked, and “[didn’t] even have to floss.”

Phil remarked, “I’m not going to live by their rules anymore.”

Phil also started to use his knowledge of daily events to get his way. He obtained facts about women so that they would concede to his advances. He figured out how to steal money from an armored vehicle. He asked Rita questions and used the information so that she would fall for him.

This built up to one perfect day with Rita, where he almost got what he wanted. However, Rita soon recognized it was a sham. As Rita said, “I could never love someone like you, Phil, because you’ll never love anyone but yourself.”

Phil responded with, “That’s not true. I don’t even like myself.”

Phil tried to re-create that same perfect day with Rita, only ending with her slapping him each time. On his way back to the bed-and-breakfast after one such day, he started to show signs of depression. He started looking really rough, staying inside in the evenings with the senior citizens and answering every question correctly while watching Jeopardy. His news reports during the Groundhog Day event became extremely sarcastic. He broke his alarm clock every morning.

He finally completely lost it. He kidnapped Punxsutawney Phil and drove a truck he stole off a cliff, with them inside. He tried various ways of killing himself. This finally led to him desperately trying to convince Rita to stay with him for the day.

Phil had one more good day with her, ending it by them both tossing cards into a hat. Their conversation included Phil saying, “It's alright, I am a jerk.” Rita’s responded by saying he wasn’t.

Phil fully showed how depressed he was when he replied, “It doesn't make any difference. I've killed myself so many times, I don't even exist anymore.”

At this point, the movie leads you to think that now that she loved him, his endless day was about to end. She spent the night but when he woke up, he found her gone.

It was at this point that Phil began to reach the acceptance stage. He started to focus on making himself a better person and helping others. During one day portrayed, he gave all of his money to a homeless man he encountered. He began to learn to play the piano and create ice sculptures.

That same evening Phil showed compassion for the homeless man by bringing him out of the cold. However, the man died. Phil decided his next mission was to save him. He tried various methods to keep him alive, like buying him meals and performing CPR on him, to no avail. As one nurse said, “Sometimes, people just die.”

The final day started with Phil giving a very eloquent and moving news report. Rita wanted to hang out with him, but he put her off, saying he had errands to run. During that day, he caught a boy who fell out of a tree, fixed a flat tire, performed the Heimlich maneuver on a choking man, talked a scared bride into agreeing to the marriage, and later gave that couple a gift, and fixed an older man’s back.

Rita finally fell for him when she heard him expertly playing the piano with a jazz band and discovers some of how he spent his day. Rita bought him at a bachelor auction, and they spent the evening together during which he made a snow sculpture of her face. Phil remarked, “No matter what happens tomorrow, or for the rest of my life, I'm happy now… because I love you.”

After Rita spent the night, Phil is disgusted when he woke up to the same song on the radio, thinking it was one more day in the endless loop, only to see Rita still in bed.

After this realization, Phil asked Rita, “Do you know what today is?”

Rita replied, “No, what?”

Phil responded with, “Today is tomorrow. It happened,” later saying, “It was the end of a very long day.”

So… yes, Groundhog Day at least loosely covers the Stages of Grief. But what does this have to do with addiction?

I went into this project thinking that it was similar to the stages of recovery. And one could make the argument that it does.

But what I realized is that even more parallels an addict’s entire journey – from addiction to sobriety.

Every addict knows that first stage well – denying the addiction, denying that “I” am an addict. Eventually you break a pencil and hope that you are wrong about not being able to get out of this cycle, only to wake up and know you are still in it.

Then comes a point of realizing this is bigger than you are. You find yourself stepping into the same puddle of water over and over. Sometimes when you first start to reach out for help, no-one believes you or puts unrealistic expectations on how to recover (like asking you to come back tomorrow when there is no tomorrow.)

If you don’t find help, you reach out to those who you know will understand – other addicts still using. You find yourself doing more and more risky behavior and you no longer concern yourself with following the rules of society… you drive on the railroad track.

You become more and more selfish. Everything you do is to get more, feel better, obtain a bigger high. This all-about-me attitude leads to great feelings of shame. Though it may look like you only love yourself when acting this way, as Phil said, “That’s not true. I don’t even like myself.”

Trying to again reach that perfect high that was so easy to get at first just ends up feeling like you’ve been slapped. Depression hits hard. No matter what you do you can’t stop… and you don’t even get the feeling you want from using. This is when sometimes suicidal thoughts enter the picture.

Even when it’s not a literal suicide attempt, I think every addict has felt like Phil… “It doesn't make any difference. I've killed myself so many times, I don't even exist anymore.” When Rita was gone after that second almost-perfect day, it was Phil’s “bottom.”

Finally, you give up. You realize you can’t change the loop, so you work on changing yourself. But even that doesn’t fix it. The homeless man still ends up dying, no matter what you do to change it. This is where recovery begins and the Serenity Prayer comes in: “Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

This is where I had a lightbulb (more like a searchlight over my head) moment. It wasn’t loving Rita or Rita loving Phil that got him to tomorrow. It wasn’t even Phil making himself a better person.




True recovery doesn’t happen until you have worked the Twelve Steps and then commit to doing the Twelfth Step – service. It wasn’t until Phil got the focus completely off himself, what he wanted, even making himself a better man by learning the piano and ice sculpting, before he got out of the never-ending Groundhog Day.

As Phil told Rita when he woke up with her still there… “Is there anything I can do for you… Today?

Mind… blown…

Saturday, January 16, 2021

Trying to Get Some Good ZZZZZZ's

So... I got a call from my sleep doctor the other day. It was a little bit of good news couched in bad news. First, some background...

I have severe sleep apnea. I was first diagnosed with it by one doctor in the early 2000s... then again with another in about 2010.. and then again with still another in 2018. 

Why did I go to three different doctors for the same diagnosis? Your first thought might be that I didn't believe the first two. But I knew I had it before it was confirmed through the first sleep test I experienced (which was a nightmare, by the way, as was all the others).

Switching doctors had nothing to do with the diagnosis. It had everything to do with the treatment, or lack of useful treatment, to be specific. Nothing the doctors encouraged me to do worked for me, and not for lack of trying.

The first doctor immediately prescribed a CPap. I tried so hard to use that CPap but had no success. It was more than not liking the way it felt... I literally felt suffocated. 

Somehow I found out that an ENT could help figure out what was going on. I'll never forget the end of that visit. The ENT was so mad, telling me at the end of the appointment something along the lines of, "These sleep specialists make me so mad. They never check with us to make sure that a patient is able to handle a CPap before they prescribe it."

Yes, I was one of those he was thinking about in that statement. I actually had several issues that made a CPap not a good fit. These issues were structural, not just emotional/mental (like I just didn't like using it). So I gave up and figured I'd just have to deal with it somehow.

A few years later I was so incredibly tired that I knew I couldn't ignore it. I found a new neurologist and went through all of the testing again. I told him at the first appointment that I literally already knew that CPAP wouldn't work, that an ENT had confirmed it. 

What did he do? He told me that I should try another type of CPAP (BiPAP) with the newest, latest mask would make it work. And he prescribed it for me anyway.

So I bought another CPAP unit and went through all the hassles of trying it again. The newest, latest mask didn't work so I tried other kinds (which I had tried the last time). Was it really too much for him to believe that my physical issues didn't just go away in that period of time?

One thing, though, he did listen to me when I told him I tried it but it didn't work. He suggested a mouth guard, an appliance to keep my lower jaw forward, which would help open my airway. 

This appliance was a pain to obtain and it wasn't covered by insurance, so it was extremely expensive on my meager salary. But if it worked, it would be worth it.

It wasn't fun to use, but I was able to tolerate it. I did yet another excruciating sleep study to check for its effectiveness. I knew I wasn't as tired during the day so I was ready to hear some great news.

It wasn't. I still had severe sleep apnea. So I figured why go to all that trouble to use the thing if it wasn't helping me? I abandoned that treatment too.

Fast forward even more years... I had a couple of people who saw me sleep say that I stopped breathing, a lot. I heard of a new surgery for sleep apnea that totally bypassed the oral/nasal routes that I had tried to compensate for before. So I decided to try again.

Thankfully, this time I found a truly amazing sleep specialist. For one, she didn't make me go through a sleep study to confirm what I already knew I had. Furthermore, she really, really read through my records and figured out some issues that the other doctors hadn't found. 

We looked into the surgery that I was hoping to get, but I'm not a candidate due to some other health problems. So she convinced me to try the CPAP once again, with an even better model, a brand new, just came-on-the-market mask, and settings that would accommodate my physical issues.

I was again encouraged that this treatment would work. But once again, it didn't. I just couldn't do it. I really tried, but it was to no avail.

But my doctor didn't give up on me. She asked if I wanted to try an oral appliance. I told her that I tried it before and it didn't help. She told me that the other doctor had misrepresented the data from that sleep study... it had helped but was not helping the numbers get to a point where it wasn't a problem.

That really upset me. If I had known that it was helping, even a little, I would have kept wearing that mouth guard. But that's in the distant past. It was time to see what I could do now.

Again, the process of getting a new, custom-fitted mouth guard was a royal pain. I won't go into all the details, but it took almost a year to get it done (COVID didn't help but it wasn't the only obstruction). 

So, finally, I get it and start using it. It seems to be helping and I have more energy than before. So I had yet another sleep study to see how much it was helping.

And that brings me to the day earlier this week. I got a call from this doctor explaining the results of my sleep study. Her first words were, "What am I going to do with you?"

My heart sank. It turns out that it is helping, but again, not nearly enough. Because I know it is helping, I'm going to wear it, even though it's not curing anything.

But it's really discouraging. If you read this blog any at all, you know that I'm extremely overweight. The sleep apnea is part of the reason I'm so overweight, as being really tired all the time makes it extremely hard to exercise consistently. But on the other hand, being overweight makes the sleep apnea much worse.

It's a chicken and egg situation. If I lost weight, the sleep apnea would improve. But until I get the sleep apnea under control, it's extremely difficult to lose weight.

This is why I sometimes wonder if I can keep going on like this. Every time I get something fixed or treated with my physical and mental issues, something new pops up, often from the treatment itself.

However, I will. I have too much to live for to give up. It's hard, so very hard, to keep dealing with the myriad of diagnoses that I have, but the other choice is not an option. I'm not a quitter. 

I'm also very thankful that she's not giving up either... on me. She's still trying to figure out something that will help, even with all of my other physical and mental issues that makes this thing so hard to treat.

I hope that if you are going through a similar struggle, you'll know you aren't alone.