Rampant Idealistic Oversimplification

This is an example of the rampant idealistic oversimplification that is the new norm in the mental health sphere. It is the equivalent of victim blaming.

Many things cause stress, anxiety and depression. LIFE is just stressful for a lot of people depending on MANY factors. Coffee can cause anxiety all by itself and how many people choose to drink coffee everyday and then wonder why they’re anxious? Depression can be caused by behaviors like this – yes. But it can also be caused by a myriad of other things, including hormones, chemical imbalances, foods we eat (and don’t eat), things we drink (alcohol is a huge one), drugs we take (prescription and illegal, alike), situations we are facing, the list goes on and on.

For some, not even meds can change their brain chemistry. Even though there are coping tools and meds, some people have depression that is literally found to be untreatable even with extensive treatment measures. This is one of those new age bullshit statements made by someone who has no idea what clinical depression is. Statements just like this are the ones that cause many people the most hopelessness because the only solution offered is “it’s your fault, get over it.”

This is a judgement of depression, not a valid statement made based on the understanding of the clinical diagnosis of it. It is the makeup of people who want to come across as enlightened humans, but are really more devolved than evolved. Stop trying to simplify something and tell people basically that it’s their own fault they have these struggles and this is how to fix it.

Stuff like this pisses me off as both a highly educated and qualified mental health professional and as a person who has struggled with depression and anxiety all my life – even as a child as young as 6 years old. If anything outside of the physiological caused it and it was shaped and conditioned into me, it was my mother and religion – point blank period, that’s the only reason. And that’s just simply untrue. Conditioning by our environment may be a part of it but for most people who struggle with anxiety and depression it’s not just environmental and it’s not related to stress alone – stress is a part of EVERYTHING that is wrong with us.

Conditioning may be a major issue for some but what about people who grow up with super amazing childhoods having all their needs met, who are successful and don’t want or need anyone else, who are secure in themselves…and yet still are found dead one day from suicide? What about them? These issues have no limits. They touch people of all circumstances, ethnicities, religions, lifestyles, etc. These conditions don’t care – you can literally have the perfect life and still struggle with these issues.

This type of new age “I know what I’m talking about” expression is the kind of thing can cause someone to truly believe that it’s “their fault” they’re the way they are and if/when they try to address it and it doesn’t work because memes and quotes like this – while true for some situational events – are spreading misinformation (because – let me reiterate in case you didn’t understand the first time – these things are over-simplifying a MAJOR ISSUE that requires a MUCH deeper understanding and often professional help) that may make people just feel like they’ve failed. Then maybe they go kill themselves. Who knows.

Please do not assume you have to conform to generalized thinking. If you are struggling with depression, please please seek help that is useful. I’m not sure the resources in the UK and other countries but here are some US resources. They’re always available and always free, for a start. Please, utilize them. You matter and are cared for, despite feeling that you may not be.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline – 1-800-273-8255

Crisis Text Line, if you don’t want to speak – text HOME to 741741 for free, 24/7 crisis counseling.

SAMHSA (Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration): 1-800-662-4357

The Mighty Oak Will Kill You

I mediated this morning on something that I told my child last night when he asked for advice about why someone in his life did what they did and about why it hurt him. I told him that this the person who had hurst him was not yet coursgeous enough to heal himself before he broke someone else, and that it hurt him because he cared about this person.

He depended on this person to not hurt him. He believed in this person. And for a child, that’s really scary and difficult because as a child you’re still learning to process emotions and understand what emotions are. It takes maturity at multiple levels to remain calm and to not hurt a child with you words. I suppose the same is true for adults – especially the way we treat and speak to ourselves.

So, I went on this very deep, very enlightening almost hour long soul journey with my own meditative backing track (coming soon, shameless plug) and it was one of those meditative experiences where you’re doing your meditative thing (eyes closed, body relaxed, going within your deeper, inner being and connecting with it) and it hurts.

It burns. It stings. It aches. Tears roll down your cheeks even though your eyes are closed. You feel every needle the porcupine of life has shot into you. But you keep going and you find yourself at the edge of your inner self and inner peace and you step into it, and you bathe in it’s light. While you’re there, you see things about yourself for what they are.

What did I see within myself? That being strong doesn’t require being fearless – it’s facing the fears that create the strength in the first place. That protecting yourself doesn’t require meanness, it requires patience and love. And, that being guarded and angry doesn’t deflect the things you don’t want to see as much as it blocks your blessings and wastes valuable energy and time.

This is hard. This process is one we are faced with numerous times in our lives. My son was faced with it for the first time last night, and I shared some of my experiences with him and it helped me to remember things that current shadows have been hiding: We learn as we go, but we don’t learn unless we put in the effort to do so.

We all know it takes more strength to be kind and to love anyway than to run. But if I didn’t run from my demented mother who randomly beat me with a cane because of her disease, if I handled that and still did my job as a daughter and in the role I was thrust into as her death doula…and I did it mostly on my own (because I was dealing with absent people and also still blocking spirit and blessings for so long), I can handle just about anything, right?

((Please note, there is a difference between running from yourself because of self-doubt and walking away from toxicity because of self-confidence. There’s always two sides to these memes. There’s always two sides to everything – and often a lot of gray.))

Personally, I am really struggling with a lot of negative and toxic emotions toward my body right now – and with a lot of negative and toxic energy surrounding me. The things my body and I have faced in the past two years have been unforgiving at times, almost suffocating at others. They’ve been so difficult, and continue to be in some moments. But that’s the thing. It’s moments. You learn to rest in the moments that you have to – especially in the moments that you NEED to – but not give up completely.

You learn to be ok with the fact that venting your fears and anger and concerns about things is NOT always “just complaining” and it’s not being ungrateful. It’s COPING. It’s figuring things out. It’s keeping your own balance. Because you can’t thrive in ANY way without balance. You learn that a response of kindness and empathy and gentleness is more powerful than a response of coldness and lack of depth.

After all, look at nature – what’s more beautiful and pleasant? The colors, the beauty, and the warmth of spring and summer and fall or the harshness and bone chilling cold of winter? Can winter be beautiful? Sure. But is it as pleasant and comfortable and conducive to joy? No – that’s why so many people struggle with seasonal affective disorder.

You very literally see that the people who told you throughout your life that you have to be good with yourself before you can be good with anyone else, and that you won’t have true peace until you do the work to heal yourself, was telling you the truth. You won’t ever find peace of mind and true and lasting joy in your soul until you learn to sit in the darkness and kill it with your own inner light and magic. And you have that. You ARE that. You are magic. You are made of literal “stardust,” for Christ’s sake.

Shine like you’re supposed to. Don’t let your circumstances and your old wounds or should have could have would haves or even the opinions and actions of others put out your light and stop you from sparkling like the diamond you’re supposed to become under pressure. If my mom’s stuff taught me anything, it was the harsh reality of that. Pressure and pain can grow you into a brilliant diamond or petrify you into a bland and plain stone.

Don’t let it be the latter. Don’t let your heart become petrified and your mind become stagnant. You aren’t here to be a rock, or you’d have been created as a rock that just lays there on the ground and does nothing. You’re here to LIVE. Not just survive, LIVE. In order to do that, you have to mind the diamonds – you HAVE TO DO THE WORK.

As I find myself struggling with my body, and with random triggers of mom grief (that’s a whole other blog) I’m not making the same mistakes I’ve made in the past and choosing to hide away or beat myself up (and thus, others). I’m going to continue to grow and one day I’m going to bloom, and y’all are all going to watch me do it. Actions speak louder than words, even as loud as words can be screamed.

I’ve been here before but I’ve learned and grown. After my last episode with my health, with depression and the thoughts that ran through my head, I’m terrified of only one thing: dying knowing I haven’t given all I could give or done the work I needed to do to live well and in peace and thus bring peace and joy to others. But, that work I can only do that for myself, with my own choices and actions. It’s a conscious choice we have to make over and over in our lives.

It was a conscious choice with a lot of conscious effort behind it to fight my body’s BS before, to fight depression, to fight my self doubt, to heal traumas and wrongs inside myself – especially around my mom so that I could care for her when there was no one else to do so. The shadow work had to be done. I took my little soul chainsaw and cleaned out the vines and the poison ivy and the dead trees of my past and my experiences and do you know what I find, over and over again? Baby trees. New growth that needs room to become.

There are stumps and scars in the garden of my soul that still feel tender sometimes but they remind me that I CAN heal and I have many times. The more times you go through this process, the more you learn to listen to spirit and see the signs and open up the natural spiritual gifts that we all have, the more you realize that nothing is ever in your control and that most of the time, when you stand like the oak, you’re standing in your own way.

You realize that when you break, that oak is gonna fall hard and it’s gonna crush anything in its way, and you’re going to be the one who has destroyed all the good you couldn’t see while you were fighting for more more more and fighting to look strong and hide your truth and avoid other people rather than to be your authentic self and to SHOW UP, for yourself AND for those you care about.

Vulnerability bends. Vulnerability can move with the moment – it can handle the pressure without breaking. It gives, it sways with the energy. And when the hurricanes and tornadoes and even the weight of the winter ice come, it can withstand them, because in reality? Softness is stronger than hardness when it comes to humanity and the soul.

It’s a metaphor we’ve been presented with eleventy hundred times in eleventy hundred ways in our lives: The oak is the ego. The willow is the soul. Don’t let your ego break you and those you care for. Don’t let your ego block your blessings and destroy your soul. Your peace and your heart (and the peace and hearts of others) are worth way more than that. Keep it open.

The more you give, the more you receive – even if it doesn’t come from where you are directing it. Life will surprise you. Let it surprise you with gifts, not problems. And remember, you create so much of both in the tiniest actions and choices you make.

The End of the Road (Last Blog Before My Mother Died)

TW: the dying experience. Do not read further if you can’t deal with that kind of reality, or if you’ve had a recent loss that this will gnaw at…







Seriously, I’m going to share this reality so don’t keep reading if you’re not comfortable with this type of thing. This is my coping mechanism. To write. To share with those who can handle and understand it. To feel like my support system is with me…







This morning around 3:30am my mom’s oxygen started dropping. First it was 92. Then it was 90. Then it was 88. Then it was 85. She kept yanking the oxygen away. I stuck it in her mouth until the higher dose of morphine kicked in and she relaxed. Then, I put it back in her nose.

I called the after hours line. I was told I was doing everything I needed to be. I mean, it’s kind of common sense at this point, after the others, for me – but that doesn’t mean adrenaline and norepinephrine don’t fly and dopamine and seratonin don’t plummet…and you need that reassurance because you second guess. You feel responsible for more than comfort. You feel responsible for the pain, too. You can’t help it.

I cranked the oxygen up to 3. I started giving half doses of morphine every 30 minutes. Her chest would rise when she gasped, then cave in. Then the fluid rattle started again with her shallow breaths.

She would draw up in a fetal position, moaning and gasping, still with oxygen in her nose but oxygen levels still rising and falling at will because of the mouth breathing and the breath holding and the inability to get enough oxygen with the fluid.

She has not eaten in 12 days. She has not drank in 3 days. She is in the final phase of the dying process. I knew that. I know that. But nothing prepares you for that. I am grateful that she is home, and that I moved here. I am grateful that it is not the nursing home I fought for, or the hospital, where I likely couldn’t be with her…where she would be alone.

I have laid with her – some would say a gift, and I agree…though in the moment it doesn’t feel like one. I suppose it will one day, just like with both my grandmothers, my Daddy, and Dorie, and pets… I held her hand. I cried silent tears, watching her face grimace and her eyes open with the moans only to reveal cloudy, lifeless eyes. I waited patiently for the nurse.

The nurse came at 8:30. Upon assessment, the things are happening. The limbs are cooling. The bp is dropping. The heart rate is rising. The temperature is rising as her core fights to hang on. All the things.

It could be today, it could be three days. It could be a week – probably not longer than that, because of the lack of food and fluid. I have chosen to make her comfort the priority, with oxygen, and liquid morphine and Ativan. Myself and the doctor have chosen to forego the feeding tube, and IV fluids. There is no point in drawing it out, and a DNR is a DNR – all those things are at this point are life support. She doesn’t want that. It’s documented. I will not allow myself to feel guilty for those choices. She made them long ago – not me.

But it’s not easy. It’s not a happy choice. It’s not a good choice, in many’s eyes, I’m sure – but for her it is the right choice. And I will live with having to make it for the rest of my life. But I will also live for the rest of my life, however long or short that may be, knowing I’ve done all I could and what we felt was best for her. She has fought me tooth and nail, even changing the locks to keep me out of the house and away from her business, and now she groans when I’m not there. My, how things change. How they heal. How they induce growth. How they make you a different person.

I have been many different people the past year and a half, through the worst of all of this – some not always graceful, some quite angry, some extremely depressed…and now, regardless of the amount of time left, I feel nothing but…strength. Courage. And love.

I will see you all on the flip side… Love one another. Be kind. And live with an open heart. 🙏❤️

Dementia, a Mother, and an Adopted Child

**Edit: my mother passed away 26 hours after I posted this.**

About five months ago, my mother was mentally bad and had wandered and broken her arm. Three and a half months ago I brought her home from the hospital. For years before this, from about six months after my dad died, I had struggled and fought for her and tried to care for her but she didn’t want to let me. I heard, “I am FINE,” at least 72,000,000 times. We had all made jokes about her condition – jokes about “NaNa” – jokes about how bad she was getting, “but there was nothing we could do…” Yet, I still fought…and I know those battles, and they’re why I’m here tonight.

I wish we hadn’t done that…made jokes, because it’s not funny. But I’m glad I never stopped fighting, even if we never had the mother/daughter relationship I always wished we’d had and even if I didn’t get her the help she needed WHEN she needed it because of a broken system that doesn’t correctly diagnose dementia/Alzheimer’s until it’s too late to really slow it down. It shouldn’t be this way – not with the research and the knowledge we have, medicine we have, and resources we have in this country.

I am at peace with the fact that I did my best – that I did everything I could. I don’t need to be externally validated for that…but it makes me feel and have almost a need to validate others who are or have been or will be in my shoes. All these years…they’ve culminated so quickly – in just a matter of weeks.

Three months ago, my mom looked like this (first photo) when I picked her up from the hospital. Tonight, she looks like this (second photo), grimacing and clenching in pain, almost choking on even oral liquid Ativan and Morphine, and her own phlegm and fluid, coughing like a weak squirrel, moaning and crying out in pain to the God that she believes in and still praying incessantly (again, quietly like a weak squirrel, but in pain all the same, barely able to verbalize it).

Dementia and Alzheimer’s are considered mental health issues and illnesses. Don’t tell me you can’t SEE IT because “it’s a mental disorder.” You CAN see it, right there on the MRI. Don’t tell me it’s not real or difficult or physically painful because it’s JUST a “mental disorder.” That’s what I was told for so many years – she’s just getting older. She’s just getting forgetful. She’s just having “mental problems” because of age. No – not just mental problems. A DISEASE – and a terminal one at that.

And you know what else? Especially if you’re a doctor? Don’t pretend to care when you don’t. When you belittle. When you get annoyed with children who are fighting for a better life and end for the parents. Don’t pretend to advocate because for the moment you feel sorry for someone. Don’t pretend like you’re Gucci just because you give to this or that charity or “buy your way” out of having to actually GIVE CARE.

You know what means even more than your charity checks and your “honest opinions” to families struggling with ANY illness or disease or end of life process when you follow up your explanations with the words, “we care?” When you SHOW THE FUCK UP for them.

I am showing up, mama, and even when you don’t want me here, here is where I will be. Too little too late to heal all the old wounds, but not too late to SEE that bygones can be bygones, and despite all of our bad times, all of the good you’ve done for me.

I’m so sorry for the hell, all the chaos I brought to you. I’m sorry for all the hurtful words and for all the times I fought you. I’m sorry I’m not the daughter you’d always hoped I’d be, playing the philharmonic or writing novels or preaching the gospel…but so many of the good things I am are things that you taught me.

“I didn’t carry you in my belly for nine months, but I carried you in my heart for a lifetime,” is what you’d often say to me…and that “to do your best and leave the rest,” was sometimes the only way to be. These words I’ve never forgotten and these words I’ll never forget.

I will soon, again, be an orphan, a fate you once saved me from…and with these fleeting last moments I am sorry. I know I was wrong. I’ll always be a daddy’s girl, and this always broke your heart…but the reality I thought you lived in was creating jealousy into art. But I always had a mom…

I understand your love tonight and what made you who you are…and that even though we aren’t the same we aren’t that far apart. I want to say, “it’s ok, let go,” though it truly breaks my heart…because I understand after all these years who you really are.

Rest now, precious woman, I know you did your best…and your best was really always enough, though I often put you to the test. I thought you didn’t love me, but you just loved me in your way…and, “rest now, precious woman,” is all I can seem to say…

You’re Gonna Miss This.

One day, you will sit alone and look through old photos that seem like they were taken just yesterday but really, those moments are so far away. They’ve become memories, and a life that you once lived… Treasure good and happy, joy and thrill filled moments…indulge in those moments – whether experienced with those you care for or experienced alone – while you’re taking the photos and living the experience. Make them count. When they become just a memory, never look back at them with regret, because in those moments you were alive. You were living – not just existing. And being alive and not just existing is what life is really all about about. It is always “the good old days,” in one way or another… Never forget that.

“You’re gonna miss this

You’re gonna want this back

You’re gonna wish these days hadn’t gone by so fast

These are some good times

So take a good look around

You may not know it now

But you’re gonna miss this

You’re gonna’ miss this

Yeah

You’re gonna’ miss this…”

To those of you who have commented on different posts, dm’d, texted, or even called and I haven’t been able to speak to you with everything going on, I’m sorry and I truly appreciate your kindness and your concern for my mom, for my son, for my family, and for me. It means so much – even if I can’t respond right away I see you and feel you there. Love y’all…so very much. It breaks my heart open to be able to receive, and thus continue to give, love…and have hope. ❤️

#memories #summer #goodtimes #wine #water #warmth #sunset #goodolddays #love #hope #gratitude #keepgoing #changeisinevitable #growthisnotlinear #growthisnecessary

I can’t – and that’s OK.

I can’t, and that’s ok to know and to accept and to feel and to express. That’s what this post is about. I know I haven’t really updated here and none of you will know what is going on in full but basically my mom has been living with me and… Well…

There comes a point where you have to accept what you can not do and stop letting people keep trying to convince you that you can do in their “motivational” ways. Sure, they’re trying to help.

But when I say I CAN NOT DO THIS BY MYSELF I need people to understand something: i am doing this BY MYSELF and it’s not working – and it’s not about not wanting to. It’s not about not believing in myself. It’s not about the inconvenience. It’s not even about my own mental health (though it should be). It’s about LITERALLY not being able to care for someone with these needs BY MYSELF, and raise my son and care properly for him. I’m not sorry that that will always come first. I AM legally responsible for him, he’s a minor. And he can’t help me with this. And…she’s not really even my mother. Never has been, by blood or otherwise.

It’s about debilitating migraines. It’s about health issues I had long before this ever started.

It’s about I PHYSICALLY am not strong enough to help someone who refuses to help me help them – lifting dead weight every five minutes to go to the bathroom? Nope. Can’t handle it. Especially with a migraine. Getting her in the tub? Impossible. So we improvise with bowls of water and a tub chair OUTSIDE the tub. Getting her to eat? Also impossible. Which doesn’t help with her strength issues. Getting her to get out of the bed and sit up without arguing and telling me how disappointed and ashamed of me my dad would be that I am trying to make her do something she doesn’t want to do – on his birthday yesterday, when she knew how upset I was – because she KNOWS what she’s doing and she just wants to hurt me.

This is not the dementia. This is just her being hateful and stubborn, naturally. Does she even have dementia? No. Not according to the doctors. She checks out fine. So this is just an angry, bitter, mean, frail and weak old woman who needs help with physical things 24/7 and is being verbally and emotionally abusive to the only person who can keep her out of the one place she doesn’t want to go – the nursing home.

Can I even get her in a nursing home? I don’t know. But I’ll tell you this much – I’m going forward with trying because the few people who have even dealt with her for a half hour at her home or dealt with her at church or even the beauty shop over the past few years have straight up told me that she is faking a lot of this and how she acts when I’m not around.

When my helping you hurts me to a point where I am literally sick all the time? I can’t help you anymore. And I will no longer try. This is my honest, heartbreaking statement: if she wants to do it her way, I will take her to the hospital and leave her there and refuse to care for her. They can’t put her on the street. I don’t know what they’ll do with her but it’s not my concern – I have NO binding, legal obligation to be responsible for her. Why? Because she won’t LET me – and maybe that’s been a blessing in disguise.

She’s already getting bedsores because she won’t move and wants to lay in piss diapers and fights me to change her. It absolutely ridiculous.

I don’t care about how it looks if I do take care of her or if I don’t. It’s not about that. I don’t want accolades for doing it, and I don’t give a damn if people think I’m horrible for not being able to do it. But I can’t do it. I can’t care for someone with these needs BY MYSELF, and raise my son and care properly for him. I’m not sorry that that will always come first. I AM legally responsible for him, he’s a minor. And he can’t help me with this.

It’s always going to be a never ending battle I’m never ever going to win. I have finally accepted that.

Now. To take more meds and pray my head quits and I can fucking breathe for five minutes without feeling nauseous and debilitated.

Upside Down

Everything feels so upside down. Today’s doctor’s visit with my mother didn’t go well. I’ve just about gone crazy, and I’m pretty sure that trend is going to continue until I do.

People will tell you not to worry and that things happen as they are meant to but when nearly your whole life is at risk, plus the literal life of someone else if you don’t risk your own situation (in my case, my little farm), it’s really hard to keep your sanity.

It’s really hard to keep your faith in a Creator that doesn’t seem to be paying attention and in a system that has proven over and over again it doesn’t give a single fuck.

It is becoming very clear to me just how emotionally draining caring for someone can be when you’re doing it on your own – and by that I mean not a finger of help from anyone else being lifted, including so called medical professionals.

Caregiver depression is a very real thing, made much more difficult by being invisible not only to those who know you but also by the one you are caring for. I truly don’t know how long I can continue on like this mentally…