Don’t mind me if I do

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After a very emotional week, I am happy to report that today (last night, really) was the first nightmare-free night in what felt like the first time in forever.

I feel like breaking up in song like Anna of Arendelle.

I woke up and it was so weird that at first I couldn’t identify the feeling. It wasn’t until I got off the bed shortly after waking up when it hit me.

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My life as a Russian Roulette

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When you have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, life is one hell of a ride.

But that doesn’t say much, does it, now? There’s hell of a ride and then there’s hell of a ride. The one I’m talking about is the kind that feels like a Russian Roulette. By which I mean

To See A Light That Shines

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This little light of mine,
I’m gonna let it shine
This little light of mine,
I’m gonna let it shine
This little light of mine,
I’m gonna let it shine
Let it shine,
Let it shine,
Let it shine.

Did you sing this song as a child? I did.

Stigma Via Health Professionals

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I wasn’t expecting it from this source.  Actually I had seen this particular health professional about five times and had decided that she knew her stuff.  What’s more, I had decided that she was responding to what I was saying to the extent that I felt comfortable with her.  A big thing.

But I admit I had forgotten a brief moment in my first appointment with her when she responded to something I said with “you haven’t got a mental illness“.

World Suicide Prevention Day 2015

Trigger Warning:  As indicated by the title, this post discusses suicide.  Not graphically, and not in detail, but if the topic is especially triggering to you, you may want to make the choice not to read on.

Today is 10 September 2015, a day that has been designated World Suicide Prevention Day by the International Association for Suicide Prevention (IASP).  I know that this is a very frightening subject for so many people, with or without mental illness, to talk about.  But do you know what I think is even more frightening than discussing suicide?  Not discussing suicide.

It’s Not Okay

The past 10 or so days have proved enormously instructive for me.  They’ve provided the kind of instruction I hear tell of from my parents’ days in Catholic school in the 50s and 60s, when one of the nuns would slap a student or turn from a sweet, soft-spoken angel of a teacher into the fires of hell epitomized, without raising anything but her voice.

One Of These Things Is Not Like The Others

 This post contains discussion of chronic suicidal thinking. There are no actual suicides described or images.  Please read at your discretion.

 

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I was sitting in the office of my Pain Management Specialist.  Also in the office was a medical student.  I know most people don’t like medical students sitting in on appointments, but I don’t mind.  They have to learn about the patient’s perspective somehow, and because in New Zealand their exposure to mental health, as part of their training, is so small, I think it’s vital that they get all the exposure they can get.

Hello 2015

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Yeah, yeah, I know it’s March already. But I was basically incomunicada. For more reasons than one.

But! I finally have internet at home!

So, I’m back…

Barely.

WordPress looks completely different. It took me a few moments to find my way back to Canvas from my personal blog.

For those of you not familiar with my saga, I am just emerging like a cicada, after three months of the most unreal and not believable crap you can ever think of. In Windsor, Ontario.