When I made the decision to do this blogging, I knew that I would be very open and honest about everything, but I never really considered how some of my health issues would come into play into this discussion until now. Also, I want people to understand this is not about a pity party for me, but instead a part of accepting who I am and healing wounds that have only been scabbed over and re-picked for years.
There are so many places to start, but I will begin with when I was 15 because this is when the true aspects of my psychiatric problems came to life. At the age of 15 I was dealing with a lot of issues and due to the fact that I was already a full fledge adult because my mother was not capable of being an adult in so many senses, I went into overload emotionally. Dealing with all the abuse I had endured as a child, dealing with a mother who was not fit to be a mother, dealing with a very dysfunctional family, dealing with sexual identity issues, dealing with being bullied and harassed, dealing with not fitting in, just dealing, my spirit finally broke. My way to deal with this was by ending my life and not dealing with any of it anymore. I took over 200 pills, was rushed to the hospital, amazed the doctors that I was still conscious, had my stomach pumped, said good-bye to my mother because the doctors did not think I was going to pull through, spent a few days in a hospital room under close supervision, then sent to the psychiatric ward of an adolescent unit, and lived to tell about it. I will say that I was at the end because I headed to the other side and was told to turn around, it was not my time to come home, I still had to many things to accomplish, to many lives to touch, and to many changes to make. However, it was not my place to question what those tasks were because they would be revealed to me at the time they were supposed to be revealed and I had to follow the ultimate plan laid out for my life. Did I completely heed this message? NO. As time went on, things got tough again and I would try again, not once, but several times….obviously none of them worked because I am here writing this story today for some purpose. Many questions arose for me from those experiences…I experienced such a horrible childhood and teenage years, why should I not be allowed to chose my time to go…I had had enough and did not want to face anymore pain, plain and simple. Obviously, we do not choose when it is our time to leave. I have come to believe and accept that we are all put here on earth to accomplish certain task and until those tasks are accomplished one does not get to leave. I know for many what I am about to say is controversial, but I also believe that for some suicide is the way some are supposed to go home, as horrible as it is, but it is because of my belief that there is a purpose in everything; birth, life, and death. I was at one point diagnosed bi-polar manic depressive, borderline personality disorder, severe anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder. Since these diagnosis do too much research and work with doctors, there is a belief that bi-polar is the wrong diagnosis for me and instead I battle severe chronic depression along with all the other diagnoses.
I have been very blessed because in the midst of my own madness, my own running away from myself, I have found a life partner and supporter, my wife. We will celebrate eight years of being together this year, with six of those being a marriage. For her to accept some of the behaviors that I have exhibited because of not accepting and dealing with my issue; I am pretty damn lucky, if I may say so myself. I will not sit here and pretend that everything is perfect because it is not, but I could not ask for better support. I will now fast-forward to what is currently happening with me.
As of November 30th, 2009 I have been diagnosed with the third most common movement disorder Dystonia. My battle truly began September 21st, 2009 when we went to bed and I went to stretch like I do a lot before I get into my comfortable position for sleep and my body literally froze into the fetal position. Laura, being a retired massage therapist tried everything she knew to release my muscles, but after 10 minutes with no avail, she called 911. I was admitted to the hospital without anyone understanding what was going on with me. I had test, after test, after test ran, but no answers. I had specialists, after specialists, with no answers. All they could was send in physical therapy and occupational therapy because I needed to be able to go home. For the first 2 ½ days I laid in the hospital bed in the fetal position, having to be turned, fed, put on bed pans, etc, because I was no longer able to do anything for myself. Finally, I slowly began to "unfreeze" but that just meant that I could somewhat straighten my legs and my arms. My hands were locked into a closed fist position, my feet were curved in, and my toes were in all different directions. I had to learn how to feed myself again, how to put make-up on again, and how to walk again. When physical therapy began working with me and got me to the point where I could stand up, I stood on the outside of my feet and the turned in. My hands were loose enough to slide things in so I could somewhat hold on to things and start doing for myself again. My hands were the first thing that I was able to truly get use of again, because I would spend from September 29, 2009 until January 1, 2010 in a wheelchair. Through working with my neurologist (thanks to the physical therapy team I was placed with in outpatient care figuring out I had a movement disorder of some time and knew who to refer me to) we have come to learn my dystonia is actually caused by stress. So, again we are going back to all of the psych issues I have had in the past, but now my stress is very physical for me. For whatever reasons I am unable to tell when I am under too much stress until my body acts out. The other physical things that happen are: tremors (though this may be early-onset-Parkinsons), severe twitching, and chronic pain. So, I am blessed with working at a university because I get to have a paid week off at Spring Break and I thought I was doing good, but apparently from having bronchitis and walking pneumonia for 2 ½ weeks my body was weak and dystonia started fighting again this week. Sunday night I had an emergency call put into my doctor because I could feel that I was starting to freeze, by Monday I was worst, went to the emergency room, they did nothing but send me home, Tuesday I followed up with my doctor, still got worst, and by Wednesday I had to be admitted to the hospital via emergency room. What I have come to learn about dystonia is the fact that every patient who has it, has to have different treatments because it is very individualized, and I was following what the doctor was telling me and now we think it was actually making it worst instead of better…so now I am off of that regiment and a new regiment has begun, meaning a new journey has begun!
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