Perpetual Suicidality [POTENTIAL TRIGGER]

Monday, August 11, 2014 will be one of those days that live on in infamy for me. I will never forget where and when I heard the news…

I was working at the library for the evening and a patron came in.

“Did you hear the news? So sad.”

All three of us looked at her like she had three heads. What are you talking about? we all wondered.

She caught on to our looks and replied, “Robin Williams died. Isn’t that sad?”

At first, we gave each other puzzled looks, wondering who in our community was named Robin Williams and then… oh, we realized it was the big-time actor.

THUD.

Continue reading “Perpetual Suicidality [POTENTIAL TRIGGER]”

A Place with No Name

Perhaps this is a blog post that belongs on my other blog, depression introspection, but this blog has been rather active so I prefer to post the following here.

Image from salon.com
Image from salon.com

My psychiatrist has added two more medications to my regimen. I was on Abilify and Prozac daily. I took Ativan as needed. Now, I’m on Abilify, Lamictal, and Prozac daily with Xanax as needed. Continue reading “A Place with No Name”

Mental Health Awareness Month 2014

May is Mental Health Awareness Month. I don’t really have anything special planned for this blog. Although I probably should.

In going through old posts written in May, I have never once blogged about mental health. I suppose I’ve been so consumed with my infertility struggle that mental health issues really fell to the wayside. It’s something I’d like to change, but when it comes to topics on mental health, my mind is blank now. What can I blog about on mental health that hasn’t already been covered in depression introspection?

I’ve dealt with depression and suicidal tendencies since 1994. I ended up in a behavioral hospital in Jamaica, Queens back in June 2000. In November 2006, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and wrote a post about it. I briefly suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) after a stay in a psych hospital. In May 2010, I wrote a post about trying to conceive with mental illness. Little did I know that was part of my path in my infertility journey. (And little did I know there would be many a “spell caster” ready and willing to help spam solve my infertility problem.) In September 2011, I dealt with severe anxiety. Now it’s May 2014 and I’m receiving treatment for postpartum depression after giving birth in the beginning of February 2014. Since 2004, I have taken the following medications (on and off) to help manage my mood and anxiety disorders:

  • Paxil
  • Lexapro
  • Lamictal
  • Prozac
  • Abilify
  • Effexor
  • Ativan

Not a whole lot of meds compared to some people but it’s a wide and varied history for me. For the most part, I’ve tried to maintain a consistent attitude that medication can have a proper place in treating someone who seriously needs it. Heck, I’m currently on an Abilify-Prozac cocktail currently. I take Ativan for anxiety when necessary. I am not anti-medication.

Another thing that I need to work on is being more positive. My postpartum therapist tells me to “be kinder to” myself and to “be patient with” myself. I am hard on myself, in every aspect of life possible: Jesus following, wifelihood, motherhood, daughterhood, livelihood. Nothing is ever good enough for me when it’s done by me. I guess the problem is that I don’t know what being kinder to myself looks like and what being patient with myself looks like. This is something I’ll have to muse on quite a bit.

Someone tell me: why is the official color for mental health month puke neon green? Hmm…

 

 

In search of an identity… motherhood.

I’m a mother now. After nearly 5 years of waiting, a dream has come true. But I’m afraid. So many women become moms and their identity is swallowed up in their children. They forget they are individuals with likes and dislikes and revolve their worlds around their kids.

I don’t want that to be me. I want to continue being the Kass I was before I got pregnant without the incessant melancholy over infertility. However, I do want to pursue my own interests and take time to care for myself and feed my soul. I want to expand my interests and seek new horizons.

  • I still want to be a part of the battle for others to overcome infertility.
  • I want to champion awareness of mental illness: PPD, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, ADHD, OCD, depression, anxiety, and many other mood disorders.
  • I want to expand my horizons professionally and attend conferences that will challenge me, engage me, and help me grow.
  • I want to expand my horizons personally by connection with supportive women online and offline.
  • I want to support non-profit organizations wholeheartedly, e.g., Postpartum Progress, Food for the Hungry, International Justice Mission, and Amnesty International.
  • I want to educate the wider Christian community about fertility options and treatments.
  • I want to enjoy my work as a library assistant.
  • I want to enjoy my work as a freelance editor.
  • I want to be a loving, supportive wife.
  • I want to be able to splurge (occasionally) on myself.

I don’t want my identity to revolve around my son (as cute as he is).

I know, I know, I’m a Christian so my identity should be based on Christ. Perhaps it’s better to say that I don’t want my personality to be swallowed up by motherhood. The following is a list of things I plan to do for me—to remind myself life isn’t just about my son:

  • I plan on treating a friend (and myself) to a massage for relaxation.
  • I plan on registering for the Warrior Mom conference that takes place in 2015.
  • I plan on being in a wedding in August.
  • I plan on attending another friend’s wedding in August
  • I plan on going to an editorial conference in September.
  • I plan on attending an editor’s conference in March 2015.

I hope to enjoy life more. I want to blog more. A lot of people would add travel to that list. Nope, not me; I’m a happy homebody. I’ll see the Eiffel Tower on the Internet and not deal with turbulence on an airplane over the ATLANTIC OCEAN, kthxbai.

I want to see Justin Timberlake in concert again but not by myself. Alas, some dreams aren’t meant to be realized.

Former IFB still in recovery…

I don’t talk much about my short stint in Independent Fundamental Baptist (IFB) Land but the scars are still there. So much that I feel compelled to write a book (fiction) about it. I don’t know if there’s a Christian publisher out there crazy enough to publish it but I see it as a story that needs to be told. (I like to think Matthew Paul Turner‘s publisher might be a good place to start…)

For the first 16 years of my life, I grew up Roman Catholic. I went to Catholic schools throughout my entire primary and secondary education. I was baptized into the Catholic Church, received communion, and was even confirmed. (My confirmation name was Kateri Tekawitha.)

My uncle and aunt on my dad’s side began attending a church on the border of Queens and Nassau County, Long Island and soon my father began to go to church with them. I later joined my father and was immediately introduced to born-again Christianity. The first time I heard of hellfire and brimstone was the very day that I raised my hand and went forward during the altar call hoping I could avoid eternal damnation. I don’t think I became a “believer” that very day but it was a turning point for me in my Christian spirituality.

As a Catholic, I found that the one thing keeping me from committing suicide was the teaching that if I killed myself, I’d be plunged into an eternal hell. As a born-again Christian, I found the one thing that kept me alive was the teaching that Jesus loved me so much and died in my place to keep me out of hell. Perhaps this is why I gladly left the Roman Catholic Church for a Protestant one. (Although IFB preachers shun the term “Protestant.”)

The main character and protagonist of my novel, Ms. Montez, is based off of me. I’m careful not to make her exactly like me but the similarities are evident and many of the events affecting her and surrounding her are based on my personal experiences.

Ms. Montez is a 16-year-old Hispanic female who suffers from depression and frequently sees suicide as a viable option after struggling with being teased at school, the abandonment of her older brother, and the absence of real-life friends. But just like most people who attempt suicide, Ms. Montez does not want to necessarily die—she wants to be freed from the pain of depression; Ms. Montez is on a quest for inner peace.

When Ms. Montez visits an IFB church that her aunt goes to, she expresses an interest in knowing more about Jesus. She is drawn in and “sold” on born-again Christianity when it sounds as though she is promised freedom from depression, loneliness, and suicide through the cross of Jesus Christ.

There is more to the story but the book goes on to address issues that are common not just in IFB churches but in many Christian churches today: mental health, hypocrisy, greed, gossip, adultery, and legalism. If taken the wrong way, I firmly believe the book could be read as a condemnation on Christian churches, but it is not meant to be so. The book is about a young girl’s struggle to find and maintain a relationship with God in the midst of this messy, broken-down world of sin—the church not excluded. Continue reading “Former IFB still in recovery…”

Still searching for an identity… part 3

Lack of consistency, discipline, and regularity.

My lack of discipline brings me full circle again though I’m not done venting. I look at others who have an incredible amount of discipline–eating, exercising, spending, sticking to routines–I envy them. People have told me I can do anything I put my mind to. That’s a lie. I’m never going to fly without sitting in an airplane and I’ll never be able to professionally fly an airplane.

I’ve tried time and time again to be disciplined and I’m simply not. I can only hope I have a child who is OCD about a schedule and can set Mama Kass straight. Otherwise, I’m doomed. I can hope I stick to a fitness schedule or a good diet but I haven’t been regular with much in 27 years. Well, perhaps brushing my teeth…

So when I desire consistency, especially with devotions, prayer, and reading God’s word, I feel defeated already because the last place that occurred was at a strict Christian college I attended–an artificial environment of sorts. I’ve never been able to maintain consistency of anything in the real world including church attendance. I’m not wired that way. (But we do pay our bills on time, thank God. Maybe inconsistent but not irresponsible.)

If God spoke to me before I was born and asked, “If you could have any talent or any gift, what would you choose?” I’d reply, “Music, Lord. I’d like to sing exceptionally well and play instruments remarkably well.” I probably would have been asking amiss (James 4:3) because I was born (overall) with the gift of writing well. Despite my many insecurities, I’ve accepted a general consensus that I can write a variety of prose fairly well.

When it comes to writing, I’m pretty certain that’s something I should do. In fact, I’m convinced it’s my calling. God gave me writing as my talent and I’m doing to do my best not to bury it. (Matthew 25:14-30) What kind of writing, though? Journalism? Novels? Copy writing? 140-character writing? I don’t know. But I know that I’m called to use the talents God gave me for His honor and His glory–not mine–in an effort to be a servant for Him.

Blogging.

I feel bad about not blogging regularly anymore. It was once a daily part of my life–now, I’ve given it up. What I blogged about daily, depression, is no longer something I dwell on daily. The journey began in an effort to discover whether I was more than my mental illness. I concluded that journey in about 2 years and discovered I am more than my mental illness. I am a Christian, a wife, a daughter, a writer, a Beatles fan, an avid Twitterer–so many more things than “depressed and bipolar.” It’s still a part of me but “in remission.” I’m a suicide survivor with several victories.

Yet here too, I suffer massive guilt because my cessation of regular blogging has also led to a cessation of regular blog reading. And remember my earlier rant about not being consistent or disciplined with anything? Well, that applies to blogging too…