Midnight Musings

7/23/16     12:44AM

Trying to write something difficult… So I went shopping… and put stickers on my keyboard. I was sitting on the floor where I usually sit but the smell of dog urine on the rug and the drama of Cedar Cove on the tv have pushed me to the kitchen. I don’t know what to say…

(eat cereal and scan a drawing to distract)

My brother died last week. Well, almost 2 weeks ago. I found out last week I am the legal next of kin. I’ve been asked to sign over my rights but that’s not what I want. I’m very angry about some of the things that happened, and worried about the effect of my actions. “Family” can be such a nasty thing.

I also found out on Thursday (yesterday) that if I want to continue on in Phoenix Rising training I have to do it in Colorado or Vermont, that I can’t do Level 2 here. It’s what I’ve been looking forward to for months. I already didn’t know how I was going to pay for Levels 2 & 3. I didn’t anticipate adding travel in so soon or needing to be stable enough to travel on my own by November. I can’t keep up. I don’t know what to do.

My drawing this week said I’m not alone and that I’m not running. I feel myself not running. In fact, the world seems to be standing still. But I do feel alone. Very. I wish I could feel that moment of wisdom where I wasn’t.

Today I got an email from the management of a choir I sing with. They had talked about us singing at some event on the Midway but never sent out info. Now it turns out they’re giving us a month’s notice to commit to two days of rehearsal in a row followed by the show the third day. This would be great except I just bought concert tickets for a whole group on the first day and I have a support group event the next. Fuck. I don’t understand. It’s Comic-Con. Why can’t one of those superheroes come and rescue me?

(sigh)
I feel like I’m bitching about stupid problems no one needs to hear about anyway. Except for I need to hear about them and I’m eerily quiet. I’m doing the best that I can. I really am. I’m taking my meds, going to my appointments and therapy. I see myself stronger and more grounded than years ago. I know what I want and I’m not afraid to stand in the fire for what’s right, even if I get burned. I’m just learning what it feels like to rely on faith.

I ran over the large remnant of a blown-out tire on the freeway Wednesday evening. I didn’t notice a problem until last night when I stopped to pop the bumper back into place. I told my mom and she discovered it has torn that piece under the car that stops stuff on the road from flying up into the important parts of your car. Lovely. She duct taped it. I think it needs more than tape but she won’t let me file another insurance claim. Last month I scratched a car in a parking lot. For the trivial nature of it it was quite the trial.

I miss how life used to be. I know it sucked but I miss having friends. I miss hanging out and liking each other and staying up all night at a coffee house and having pancakes in the morning. Now most of us have gone our separate ways or are busy or crazy or, let’s face it, dead. When I needed someone to sit with me this week to figure out my brother’s arrangements I literally didn’t know who to call. I went through my phone and finally settled on getting resources from some people I’m on a board with. I cried almost the whole day. Then I sucked it up and helped a friend. I didn’t want to lead a group on Monday but I took one when needed. And when I needed to pass it off at the break because I couldn’t take anymore there was no one there to take the clipboard. The people who used to work crises with me are not there anymore. My transition committee didn’t even show up to the last meeting – not a single one of them. (pause)

Maybe my relationships are affected by my place in the group, but I know that’s not all of it. (fall asleep on the floor) I’m friendly but distant. I don’t share a lot with people, though they share so much with me. I don’t show up to social events I’m invited to, most of the time because I am legitimately tired. And somehow, thanks to -, everyone thinks I call PERT or force people to go to the hospital whenever there’s a crisis, which isn’t true. I miss having friends.

I really want to complete the Phoenix Rising training. And I want my family not to hate me when I have the guts to make my decision regarding my brother known (probably tomorrow). I don’t think doing my best is wrong. It’s just hard sometimes.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2016

I don’t understand

7/10/16     11:12pm

Friends” on the tv. Ellie asleep on the couch next to me. Phone dinging intermittently…

I don’t understand. I don’t understand.

Yesterday I was unable to move or get out of bed until after 5pm. Zoe laid with me. I tried to write. I did get up one time. When my mom came home I tried to keep it from her as best I could. All my energy I used to get to the bathroom and take a shower with my shower chair that I promptly dried off and hid since she hates that I have it. I wanted to catch up on work all day. I guess it’s not in the plan.

Today I woke up with energy and surrounded by the Holy Spirit. God put a grieving widow next to me in church to comfort as she melted down. I ate chicken with my mom and when I came home to start working on the computer I saw a Facebook post from Chuck. My brother died today. Everything stopped. I posted a few pics and the news, then broke down sobbing. I don’t understand. I wanted to leave but there was nowhere to go. I went to my room, curled up on the floor, tried to read “Stellaluna” unsuccessfully. I couldn’t breathe. I slept all afternoon on my bed.

I don’t understand. Everyone’s dying. Last week Fatima and Ron. This Wednesday is Ron’s funeral. Today it’s Courtney. He’s my brother.

The people on Facebook say they’re sorry for my loss. I’m not sure why that phrase is so prevalent around death. I met my brother twice, dreamed of him for years. He had HD like my dad – the only one of us that got it. Mark met him with me once. All he wanted was death. I couldn’t help him. He refused treatment. And he lived far away. For awhile he called a LOT in the middle of the night. I haven’t heard from him in awhile. He crosses my mind but I haven’t called.

I called his step-dad Chuck to see what happened. “He wasted away,” he said. “The disease took it’s toll.” I don’t believe that. He said, “I’m glad he’s gone. He was miserable… He knew it was pretty close.” I guess Courtney hadn’t eaten in 2-3 weeks and refused care or hospice. He even stopped smoking, which was his thing, and going to the corner store. He laid on the floor by the door of his 5th wheel. He was constantly cold, died in a hoodie and snow jacket in the middle of summer. Chuck said he was, “gettin’ a little bit fantasy,” meaning he was talking about things that never happened like fires and earthquakes. Courtney was against medical treatment, IVs, feeding tubes, etc. There will be no service. He said, “Cremate me and throw me away.”

I don’t know what to do. My body barely moves. I really needed to work today, was looking forward to having time to catch up on life. But instead I slept, and when I think not a whole lot is there. I stare, stop moving. My world is cold.

Last week there were group crises. My level of functioning was such that I spent many hours staring. I even cried a few times. (staring…) I don’t understand.

Mom: Are you okay?
Me: No
Mom: Why are you not okay?
Me: Well, people are dying all around me, I can’t keep up with my work, my body’s trying to kill me and, consequently, I can’t think.
Mom: Well, people usually die in threes so no one else will die for awhile.

What the fuck? There is no magic voodoo number on crises. They are not limited to sets of 3.

I can’t do this. I see Dr. H in the morning. I don’t even know what to tell her. Why does it bother me so much that my brother is dead? I couldn’t help him. (stare)

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Courtney & Michelle 1/2016

© Michelle Routhieaux 2016

God is So Good

6/23/16     7:23pm

Today I woke up with a migraine – 5th day. I went to F-‘s and tried to be productive. I wouldn’t call it a success. I cancelled S-‘s. I knew I wouldn’t make it. I’d already had one sobbing meltdown (or was that yesterday?) and the pain was too high. I planned to rest before choir but made myself a hair appt too – gentle to self. I sat outside in the breeze for an hour while they rotated my tires. Choir got cancelled, which I’m glad about, and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to go home.

My mom and I have been fighting a lot. I can barely stand being around her. I’m fragile and didn’t know what to do. I cried and cried after getting a warning from a cop for apparently cutting someone off. I’m close to max. Then Mom texted that it’s baby day and she’ll be staying the night there. Praise the Lord. We need some time apart. A thousand things I want or need to do. I hope the one I accomplish is rest.

I really wanted the new baby to be a part of my life. I miss the girls terribly. I trust God has a plan for me. I’ve been using my body a lot to ground me, making friends with the present. We don’t speak the same language but it makes me laugh and I’m curious to learn its story.

I can’t wait to sing at the fair this weekend, to welcome God and spread His news. I give up control. I’m doing the best I can. That’s all I can do. And I sing “Hallelujah Anyhow.”

God, please bless whoever’s reading this. Guide me, move my pen, hold me tight and don’t let go. Show me Your will.

God is so good. Praise Him with me.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2016

A Vessel

5/22/16     11:40am

Love and Compassion and Understanding flow through me.

Breathe… (smile, listen to sermon)
The air burns my throat as I take it in. My feet press against the pew and there is pressure on the bridge of my nose. I’m thinking slowly, bandwidth consumed. My eyes and temples hurt.

Pain flows through me, shakes every cell in my body. But it’s not mine. Hands open, arms wide, I breathe it out. The negative energy crashes over and through. It exhausts but doesn’t take me down. I’M STILL STANDING. God holds me up.

Love and compassion and understanding flow through me. When filled with anger and hurt I don’t lash out. I am quiet, listening, processing, able to make a choice. I speak slowly and what comes out is truth and compassion. It’s not mine either. I watch.

I’ve prayed for years for God to speak through me and to me, to make me a vessel only for Him. I pray for Him to speak through others and I listen. I couldn’t comprehend how much that would hurt or how much it would bless me. I am not who I was. She haunts me. He holds me. And I breathe…

The Devil attacks me. He WILL not bring me down.

I need to move my body, change more energy at home, allow myself to let go. Take back the breath.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2016

Dusty Light Bulbs

5/21/16     4:13pm

2016-07-03 16.01.42

I sit in Target. My insides tremble. My face wants to scream. I just left the DBSA event. A fair amount of people showed up and were happy. No one asked me about M-. A few people asked how I am in general, never touched the subject. It shouldn’t be a secret.

Yesterday M- broke up with me. After several months of escalating issues he had reached the borderline of verbal abuse. Constant fights, arguments & insults, passive-aggressive and manipulative behavior. He continuously reminded me I have “no relationship skills” and even stated multiple times that no other boyfriend would put up with the shit I give him. I’m not a “normal” girlfriend. This isn’t a “normal” relationship. I know. He makes so many assumptions and believes them to be truth. Ego flies high between crashes. “Walking on Eggshells” for Borderline doesn’t begin to describe it.

He posted on FB that we broke up both on my wall and in DBSA. In the DBSA post he also said he didn’t want comments and requested that people let us both grieve, said we’re too good of friends and plan on remaining so. Bullshit. BULL-SHIT.

I’m not grieving. I’m not sad. I’m angry. I have taken so much shit from him recently. It’s not okay but I let some of it slide due to fear of a spike in suicidality, which I was correct about as indicated by his new FB photo. I’m angry that he’s not working on his issues. And I’m angry that he needed me to let him go, asked how much longer I was going to make him lie in bed all day alone. I can’t do it. I have managed his money, been involved in his healthcare, answered his calls and texts and put up with some very hurtful things he’s chosen to say. The recent severe symptoms are difficult to handle but I won’t be mistreated or berated or used.

Each interaction begins and/or ends in a fight. He tells me over and over how I have to sacrifice for him, that I’m not a “normal” girlfriend, that he loves me IF I change. He’s putting in the time waiting because I’m supposed to change into what he wants. I stand my ground. It wears me down.

I’m proud of myself for staying assertive and setting boundaries, for not changing who I am just for him. I’m proud of myself for not responding with anger or harsh words. I used my skills. I’m not perfect but I did a damn good job. (tingles) Now the pain is inside of me.

After his FB breakup message I replied asking what the boundaries are he wants for our intertwined lives. He called several times with more insults and asking about my previous relationship. I kept redirecting to the issue at hand. He insisted on coming over right then to give me my stuff back. I was not happy, said it wasn’t a good time. He came anyway. It was an awkward goodbye, however short-lived, since the texts and FB messages resumed arriving late telling me he knew I was up demanding that we talk. Messages too that he still loves me. Today he asked me to come over because he needs to go shopping and asked for food help from -. I replied that he has his debit card now, why does he need me?

I was clear from the beginning about my boundaries. This is the first time I’ve actually stood up for me. I’ve just been taking it, afraid he couldn’t tolerate a loss, but slowly it kills me. I don’t need to be with someone who sees me as a template for what could be. I am already me. Far from perfect, many issues, but I’m proud to be me.

I’m not caught up on the end of my relationship. What keeps running through my head are the biting hurtful things that he said. I feel sad that a man I love has such poor insight and ability to care for himself. I feel sad that I can’t change him, glad I’m not trying. I feel angry that he paints himself the victim, that no matter the issue somehow it’s always my fault. All I asked for was respect and for him to listen. He’s just not able. I feel sad to watch him spiraling when there’s nothing I can do. It’s out of my hands. I am not sad or hurting because he broke up with me.

I thought there would be pause. No such luck. He expects me to come by today. I want to scream and text back, “I’m not your girlfriend anymore. Remember? That’s not my job.” I think I would be so much more angry if I didn’t understand the root of the behavior. But knowing why makes me feel somewhat helpless. I have to remind myself that illness is not a pass for bad behavior. Boundaries are for EVERYONE.

Mom and D- are at a street fair. Neither of them responded to my note but I’m glad they’re getting to spend time together. He’s leaving tonight. That sucks. There’s a withdrawal effect that takes time to dissipate.

When I woke up this morning I slowly moved through my room, freezing at different spots. Last night I completely shut down. I changed my sheets (huge task for me) alone. Mom said she would help but was with D-. I started putting things away. I have a long way to go. I need simplicity. I need me. My gospel choir concert is tomorrow. Yellow pillow. (close my eyes)

It felt good to learn that I’m lovable. Now I have to keep loving me. Dusty light bulbs, show tunes and all. I need to gift myself some rest, set the pain free.

Oh, by the way, my ECT is on hold for now. I miss how it reset me.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2016

No Batteries

5/2/16     9:53am

I want to write but I’m SO scared.
Curled up in a ball on the floor,
Scenes flash through my head.
TERROR, Horror, Guilt, No control.
I don’t move.
I can’t do what they want me to.
They don’t know who I am.
Do you?

Tick, tock, tweet, meow, the sound of cars.
My mind has passed by.
Why did you leave me?
Radical acceptance. No batteries.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2016

Feral Girl

5/1/16     9pm

PRYT Class
Little girl – I’M STILL HERE
Feral girl

–>

I don’t matter.
-not a core belief, a truth
-embrace it, let everything go
-it’s a lesson, not intrusion, that keeps coming back
It’s what will set me free.

“It’s a loving anger.” -Bill

Urges during class – SH, run away, die

The cat behaviorist on “My Cat from Hell” said last night there’s a very small window during which a feral cat can be socialized. Am I past that time? If so, what will happen to me? I feel like I’m going to die, very close to the wisdom of the Lord, letting me feel Him close to me, letting myself be here with Him. I feel like I may pass out. But in this moment I’m okay. The pain is okay.

Is there anything other than pain?
Why don’t they tell us pain is okay?
Why didn’t they tell me pain was a gift?
Cog teaches the benefit but not the requirement of its presence for life.

“I can’t wait to do this again because I want to hear your next insight.” -B

(walk to 7-11, car)

Look up. Look at me.
Open your eyes. -Rhonda

Jane has cancer. (breathe…)
(still hear “Thy Will“)
So much pain. No tears to cry. I lock her in a closet. She is me – the truth not the lie, not the disease.
I don’t want to lose this feeling, this access to being. How can I learn to stay me?
(still very dizzy)
How much of me can I withstand right now and be able to come back to functioning?
(feel the strong pull of shutdown)
Lord, please don’t let me forget.

Acknowledge Shutdown is important
It shields & protects me.
Even possums play dead.

But I want to matter.

I know.

(hear “Please Don’t Let Me Go”)
I wish I had therapy tomorrow. I don’t know where to go.
(music is slower, falling asleep)

Urge – go to sleep, avoid work, stop helping Kelli, walk away

In my body – pain level 7, dizzy & lightheaded, hard to keep eyes open, can’t focus eyes – dart all over or roll back, jaw clenched, very still, shallow obstructed nose breathing, only feel a few parts, head tilted to the left.

I want to feel, to be the lessons. I need someone to integrate them with. And I need to do this every day. How can that happen? Am I willing or able to care for the feral me? Putting her down isn’t an option right now.
(hug yellow pillow)

© Michelle Routhieaux 2016

Dancing a Prayer

2/19/16     9:17pm

I feel so much better after ECT today. I had a good conversation with Dr. M and an 86 second seizure. He said I can stop the Wellbutrin to hopefully lower the anxiety. There were no students today and the IV guy, D, waited to knock me out until I was done talking. Dr. M held my hand and left me a note. I just have to change the day of my next ECT. I feel safe. I can breathe.

I was so anxious before. I practiced willing hands, straightening my arms and breathing deeply. I reached to the sky and twisted and stretched. I meditated on the chorus of our gospel song “I Love You, Lord.” It’s slow and soothing. And I prayed, A LOT.

I walked into the treatment room praying I’d die on the table. I woke up feeling happy and free. I have a slight headache and I’m tired but I’m like a totally different person. I’m so grateful.

I danced a prayer in the back yard and drew two pictures. I was too tired to color. I ignored my phone most of the day and tried to limit my computer time. I didn’t eat but I put on classical music and lit a candle. I took care of me. I even had a great conversation with my mom tonight. She pointed out that I’m actually talking. Yeah, I guess I am. :) Praise God.

I’ve really been struggling the past few weeks. Every day I have fought back the urge to self-harm or die. My anxiety has been so high that I’ve literally been afraid of everything. I’ve gone back to bingeing, purging and restricting. And the most meaningful activity of my life has been taken from me. I’m no longer a nanny. I miss the girls so much. They’re family.

I’ve also been really scared that the ECT stopped working and nothing else could help pull me out. But today God proved me wrong, reminded me not to doubt Him. I need rest but feel joy and am grateful to be alive.

Thank you for believing in me and reading. I’m going to my aunt’s tomorrow. I love her so much. Maybe we can do our nails together. And I can walk. Yard sales first. Captain’s orders.

Love, Michelle

© Michelle Routhieaux 2016

The Importance of a Fingernail

2/11/2016         4:27pm

It’s been a long time since I wrote. I’m sorry. I’m a bit distracted. My brain is trying to kill me. I’ve been doing maintenance ECT every week since December and it was h2016-02-09 16.33.54-1elpful until about two weeks ago. I’m not sure what happened.

I’m sitting on a bench at Fashion Valley outside L’Occitane. I just got a free facial and arm massage. I’m soaking in a moment to myself. The world weighs heavy on my soul.

I have a really hard time with grounding. I work on it with Soleil and David – and being present, feeling safe and here. I have safe objects or places or people that help me with that. Like a kid with a security blanket.

Some people would call it petty but one of my safe things is my fingernails. I take pride in their length and shape and strength. I play with them all day. Like the floor, they’re always there for me. They’re important but, unlike the floor, they’re fragile. I take caution, pay close attention to them. Then something like Tuesday happens.

I wasn’t feeling well and didn’t want to do physical labor, but S asked and I really need the money. I was sick and irritable and tired. I didn’t want to be there and was trying very hard to do what she asked and protect my nails. Somehow, while moving heavy boxes and sorting things, I incurred black and blue bruises on both feet and broke 3 nails. I was devastated. Bruises I can tolerate but the nails were for me. My heart sank and I stopped in my tracks. My breathing stopped for a moment before it returned angry and incredibly hurt. Core belief: I don’t matter. Her needs are more important than mine. Everyone’s are really. And I’m angry.

Soleil posted this quote on FB that keeps popping up in my head:

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I don’t know how to do that. Everyone’s needs come before mine. It’s an important skill to have but only on a limited basis. I hate people for a reason. I’m ANGRY.

The importance of a fingernail is more than you might think. That fingernail is me. Now I’m broken. No one stops to see.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2016

 

On ECT…

12/26/2015     1:56pm

I’ve been wanting to write on ECT for awhile now. It seems everyone has their own opinion about it, even if they haven’t experienced it. I say, unless you’ve tried it shut your face. This is my experience with it.

In case you didn’t know, ECT stands for Electroconvulsive Therapy (shock treatment.) Right, like in “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” only not. ECT is used for severe depression when medications and other treatments haven’t worked, suicidal depression, psychosis, severe mania or catatonia. It may seem barbaric but it’s actually quite effective. Antidepressants have about a 30% effectiveness whereas ECT is about 70%.

I started ECT mid-November after 15 years of med changes and 13 hospitalizations. I wish someone had offered it to me sooner. 5 of my doctors worked together to make it happen. Here’s how it happened. I was given the option and information that I could sign only after having it for 24 hours. My doctors made sure my labs were good and I passed my EKG. I was evaluated by 2 doctors and then scheduled for my first session. I opted not to view the ECT video. I’ve seen it before. I’ve had many friends who’ve had ECT so I knew a bit of what to expect and considering I’d rather have been dead the outcome really didn’t matter.

I started ECT inpatient 3 times a week. The night before they give you a red wristband that means you can’t eat or drink after midnight until they take the band off (because of the anesthesia.) I got lucky for my first ECT and had my favorite nurse assigned to me. She came to get me super early in the morning when the ECT dept was ready for me and walked me down there. The nurse there greeted me with a smile and took my vitals. The nurse from my unit stayed with me until it was my turn. Then they took me back to meet my doctor in the treatment room. As soon as I go in, I sit down on the gurney (which is ridiculously soft.) The nurse on my left starts an IV in my left arm, the nurse on my right covers me with a warm blanket, the anesthesiologist is above my head and my doctor is either sitting at a computer on my right or standing at my feet talking to me. Someone puts electrodes on my forehead and right temple. I try to stay conscious as long as possible but inevitably mid-sentence my doctor grabs my right hand, smiles at me and says I’m going to get sleepy. The world gets a bit blurry, shakes back and forth two or three times and all goes black. The next thing I know I wake up in the recovery area. I still have no idea how I get there. When I wake up I feel happy and healthy, they take my vitals and someone gives me apple juice.

While I’m asleep they shock me on the right side and top of my head (unilateral), causing a seizure. In the IV they give me meds to paralyze my body so I don’t shake. Because of this, they breathe for me. They tape my eyes shut and put a mouthpiece in so I don’t grind my teeth. I don’t suggest keeping contacts in if you wear them. I did the first time and somehow lost one when they pulled the tape off. Don’t worry. They do it before you wake up and it doesn’t hurt at all or leave a mark. I have longer seizures than most people. Last week I had my longest yet – 148 seconds. The length of the seizure doesn’t seem to matter as long as it’s at least 20 seconds. Some people have bilateral ECT, which means they get shocked on both sides. That kind of ECT has more memory loss and side effects. They don’t seem to know how or why ECT works. I read an article last year that said it slightly damages the part of the brain that’s overactive in depression. Other sources say it basically jumpstarts the brain or changes the chemistry. Either way, it works.

My first ECT was the worst. They didn’t give me any extra meds because they didn’t know what I’d need. I had no idea where I was or who the people on my unit were. I was crawling on the floor nauseous with a HORRIBLE headache. I did at least remember my nurse, who I’ve known for years. My legs hurt SO bad for several days, which they told me was because they were super muscular and adjusted the anesthesia. They “stacked” my first two treatments – two days in a row. After the first one they started giving me Toradol and Zofran in the IV and I’ve had much less difficulty with pain and nausea.  After the first treatment I felt joy, which confused but elated me. I didn’t know it was possible. I had 5 treatments inpatient and was doing so well that they discharged me without a plan for maintenance treatment. Then my therapist fired me and some other shit happened and I took a hard and fast dive towards death. So I decided to go back to ECT. Now I’m getting treatments once a week.

ECT has not been without side effects. After doing treatments three times a week I couldn’t drive for 2 weeks. Now that I’m doing it weekly I just can’t drive the day of or the day after treatment. About an hour after I wake up I get a headache and feel very nauseous. Sometimes I can stay up and work on the computer or write. Other days I just sleep. I have Tigan to take PO for the nausea. My memory is spotty and my cognition is definitely impaired. I have trouble remembering names, passwords, how to get places. My mind, which is usually chock full of thoughts and ideas, is often pretty blank. This is new for me but I don’t altogether hate it. There are certain things I don’t remember at all. I’ve gotten into arguments with people about things I apparently did but have no memory of. This is frustrating for me. Thankfully at least one of those people understands why. My mind is usually a steel trap. If I don’t remember it, it didn’t happen. But I guess now it might have. I’m learning. It’s like ECT as ERP. I’m learning to accept not knowing or remembering. I so often now hear myself saying, “I don’t know.” I also get very sore muscles for a few days after my treatment – sometimes my neck or shoulders, tongue, back. The soreness seems to travel but doesn’t show up until the second day.

I feel offended when people tell me I shouldn’t be doing ECT or when they hassle me about how many treatments I’m having. They say they’re concerned about my mind or the side effects. They fail to take into consideration that it’s saving my life. I KNOW I’m not the same. I’m aware that my mind is different. I’ve seen how it can ruin people’s minds. It’s not ruining mine. I trust my doctors and God has given me ECT. Maybe not for forever, but definitely for now. I finally found something that actually helps me. I do feel sad more often than usual, but I believe that’s because I’m actually feeling. I’m dissociating less, actually living in the moment. It’s new for me. I think it’s good. I intend to keep doing ECT until my doctors and I agree on stopping. Please don’t try to dissuade me.

If you’d like to talk about ECT, feel free to leave me a comment here or contact me personally if you know me. I’m not up for philosophical arguments but I’m willing to answer questions or help you out. It’s not as scary as it seems. I promise.

This is the Mayo Clinic article about ECT. Mayo Clinic – ECT

© Michelle Routhieaux 2015

Sad

12/25/2015     10:49pm10553833_10154419045254307_1138106686227162752_o

It’s Christmas night 2015. I’m crouched on the floor. The tree is lit, as well as a vanilla candle. My mom and the pets are asleep. I feel sad. SO sad.

Today I woke up at 9am and opened presents with my mom. My brother, nephew and two friends came for dinner. Mom made green beans with bacon, spiral ham, mashed potatoes & gravy, fruit salad and a whole spread of appetizers. We even had a Hershey pie. I went to visit my friend in the hospital and got to see some of my favorite staff. That meant a lot.

I feel sad today. Part of me is disappointed that I don’t feel happy. The other part of me is just grateful to feel. I’m not dissociated. I’m feeling sad. I’m feeling…

There’s a Christmas movie on. I can hear my mom snore. I really hate the holidays. My providers are out of the office until the first week of January. What am I supposed to do?

X- texted asking to try again tonight on my terms, in God’s hands. I told him I’m not sure. He said he’s more sure than he’s ever been. He said some other wonderful things I have no great reply to. I don’t know what to say. Why is it so hard for people to understand that I’m terrified of people? I have strict boundaries and specific fears for reasons I don’t care to share. I’m a pretty private person. And why does he stick around for what little I have to offer? I can’t absorb what I need. I can’t have what I want. I don’t understand what I’m being given or what I’m supposed to do. I just know that, except for just after ECT and early in the morning, I feel sad and don’t want to be around people. Or I want to be held by S-. I feel calm mostly. I’m experiencing each moment. And each moment kinda sucks. But I’m okay with that. I’m here. I’m just sad. It feels good to be able to just be sad.

I’m so grateful for ECT & my team. Thank you, God. Thank you.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2015

I’m sorry

12/1/15     7:40pm

I did something that caused my best friend to explode. She called me tonight screaming at the top of her lungs about how she told me not to and she could sue me and I’m supposed to be her friend. There was nothing I could say. That level of distress requires time and sometimes drugs. It ruins friendships. It’s my fault. Whether or not I believed my action was okay I guess it wasn’t. I can’t undo it. I can’t make it better. She doesn’t remember what I remember about when we talked about it…

I feel very sad and I have goosebumps all over my body. My gut feels hollow, forehead burns. And I’m outwardly silent. There is nothing I can do. There are some serious needs of my own that I need to address tonight but in this moment all I can do is sit, furrowed brow, and wait. Makes me wish I’d never posted anything about the event. No good deed goes unpunished. No good friend unshamed. I really hurt her feelings and for that I’m sorry.  There’s nothing I can do to fix it. And there are thoughts I can’t post here. I broke her trust.

My mom is sleep-watching The Voice so I’m going to try to process my issues elsewhere, maybe with my penguin earmuffs. It hurts my heart to know I hurt her so much. I know the feeling of the crack in her voice and the inability to control the pain and the rage. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

Sound as Medicine

11/27/2015     8:45pm

I’m sitting at Dizzy’s with C-. I had forgotten the power of sound as medicine. I need to come back here. This is my home. Notes fill the air, float directly into my ears. Vibrations cut through my body leaving memories. I close my eyes and the healing is all around me. A broad bright smile comes over my face and I’m warm. I feel love.

I’ve missed it here. I used to come several days a week. I knew everyone. It was my getaway, what fed me, kept me going. But one day I just disappeared and 6 months passed before I realized there was something missing.  I’ve been hesitant, afraid to come back but it’s time. The music and its family are calling me. This place is full of healing and life, joy. Pain turns to sound & understanding. It’s okay just to be. It’s welcomed. Truth is okay. Truth is me. Welcome back to Dizzy’s.

When I came in I gave C- the biggest hug, then another. He sat down with me and got me a hot cocoa. I wish I had a dad. C- would be a great dad. Dr. H pointed out how much I really miss having a dad. I do.

A- just got here and Dr. C is schmoozing on a girl next to us. Weird. I’m thankful for Dizzy’s. Open-source healing, low copay, no limits. Amen.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2015

I want to be okay

11/23/2015     10:35pm

I just got home from DBSA and Ralphs. They were exhausting. I started the Wall of Hope. I sat in on Libby’s room, finished it off when she left. There were 2 nursing students there I invited from Point Loma Nazarene. On the way home M- had a panic attack on the 52 after asking me what ECT is like. A police officer asked us to switch and me drive. I told him I couldn’t. Thankfully M- improved with time and air.

Mom is on the phone with Don, who won’t answer when he’s coming back. Ellie is asleep next to me on the couch. NCIS LA is on the tv. I see Dr. H in the morning. I’m not sure what to tell her. M- is taking me. A- is driving me on Wednesday.

I don’t know what’s supposed to happen to me now. I feel like a different person. I’m not the same me. When I wake up in the morning I don’t know what to do, where to go, who to talk to. I don’t know what to eat, what to wear. I don’t know me. I think it’s harder coming home this time because my train of thought is different. My whole outlook has changed. I’m just not sure how to change with it. I want to be healthy. I want to be okay.

I wish I could have more structure in the community. I would love to live in a unit like South Rotunda. I don’t know of any that exist.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2015

Building a Life on Happiness

11-16-15     4:47pm

Homework: Imagine a life built on happiness…

Imagine a life built on happiness…

I would have energy and motivation. I would take chances and try new things. I would take better care of myself and spend more time with friends. I would DANCE and maybe have the guts to try musical theater again. I could tolerate spending more time with the girls. I would spend less time in darkness crying.

(eat dinner)

I would probably do more fun things like bowling and Zumba. I would be stronger, more able to handle others’ crises without crashing myself. I would have more art parties and probably shower more often. I might even be able to start brushing my teeth regularly. What a concept.

If I had a life built on happiness I’d paint my nails more often. I’d probably answer my phone and my self-esteem would improve. I could move on to DBT Level 2 and spend less time in appointments and therapy. Maybe my health could improve and I could have less random physical and neuro symptoms. That would be nice.

A life built on happiness would probably be filled with hope and possibility, art and writing, LOTS of music and dancing and yoga and movement. And maybe I could learn how to do nothing. That would be nice. I could find peace. Learn boundaries. Set limits. Take risks. Breathe. Be.

I just asked my nurse how long my seizure was today – 79 seconds. I wonder why they’re getting shorter (105, 97, 79.) I hope it’s not a trend.

I almost lost my room today. I’m thankful I got to keep it. I wonder how my life would be different if I had discovered ECT works for me before now…  I’m glad I’m brave.

I was right. Something did die with ECT – the intense need to die, the voice telling me I need to die somewhat constantly. It is almost absent. I feel a sense of wonder and joy. I do get heavy waves of sadness but not deathly despair. I feel happy to be alive.

Dr. H is letting me go to DBT on Thursday. Armando is going to take me and bring me back. I’m so glad I’m not dead. It’s a new feeling. This is a chance to reinvent myself, build a “life worth living” like they say in DBT. I’ve never been healthy before. Life starts now.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2015

My Inaugural ECT

11-12-15     7:08pm

I had my first ECT this morning. Kicked my butt. I had one of my favorite nurses today and a doctor I super love and trust did the procedure for me. I gave him a huge hug. I’ve had friends who’ve had it before but I wasn’t sure what to expect. Today – uncontrollable crying, super dizzy, intense nausea and muscle pain, and the inability to remember where I was, why I’m doing ECT and almost everyone on the unit – even people I’ve known for years. It was somewhat of a curious brain teaser trying to remember what the unit looks like. I’ve had a hard time catching my breath today but it’s getting better. They said I had a 105 second seizure.

I feel pretty wretched but I’m glad I’m doing this. I have another treatment tomorrow and then I have the weekend off, more next week. I made myself a bracelet that says “PROUD” today when I was finally able to get out of bed. I don’t have anything brilliant or exciting to share. I just wanted to check in. My mom’s coming with some food soon. I can’t wait to hug her and I hope I can keep the food down.

Thanks for caring and reading.

Love, Michelle

© Michelle Routhieaux 2015

The Red Wristband

11-11-15     8:55pm

I was given a gift tonight. D- visited and we sang. I shared some of me with her. She doesn’t want to lose me. I enjoyed the singing, the truth connection, but I still want to die. The exhaustion of interacting used everything in me. I talked to H- in the hall. Then J- came with a gift – a red wristband.

I never thought I would be one of those people who took a million meds or had a rolodex of doctors. I’ve never planned to be a sick person. I didn’t look forward to struggling through days. Yet here I am with a red wristband. I feel defeated. I’ve turned into Janet, only I’m not dead.

What does it mean about me?

  • I have ECT at 9am
  • My doctors are very concerned about me
  • I am sick
  • I have failed
  • I can no longer tolerate living this life
  • I am… free.

I think I can let go now, stop fighting just for tonight. God is here and my family is around me. My insides are hollow and my outlook dark, but my soul rises up. This is the end. I want to die.

I trust my team. I don’t want to let them down. I will sleep safely and meet Dr. M in the morning for ECT. I’m scared but I trust him with the brain attached to this red wristband. I just don’t trust myself.

I thank God for my doctors and my friends & family.
I’ll let you know how it goes.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2015

One Breath at a Time

11-11-2015     4:30pm

Sorry for the last post. Didn’t mean to freak anyone out. I met with my doctor yesterday and today and he’s working with four of my other doctors. It feels good to have a family around me. I’m going to start ECT tomorrow. I’m nervous but not afraid. I just really hope it helps. I want to feel better. I want to enjoy my life.

Some people are still upset that I don’t want visitors unless we’ve talked about it. That request stands. I’m working hard here on getting healthy and I have a low tolerance for humans. Thank you for caring. I really appreciate it. I have cards and notes from people taped all over my room and a big sign on the window that shouts “YOU MATTER.” I check my email and voicemail often. I’m makin’ progress one breath at a time.

I really didn’t want to tell anyone about the ECT. I feel like I’ve failed and have shame about needing it. I keep most things secret in my life but I think this secret should be something I can use to help others, even if sharing it really bothers me.

I gotta get off the computer now. I’m typing myself to sleep and Chandler is about to propose to Monica on a rerun of Friends. Stay well, my dears.

Love, Michelle

© Michelle Routhieaux 2015

Porta-potty on a Race Course

10/11/15     3:35pm

Yoga Therapy Art_0054

I asked B- how to stop running. There were a lot of words I don’t recall that boiled down in my head to “Porta-potty on a race course.” Find small moments, opportunities to be, and take them.

I want to stop running. At least I think I do. But I don’t know if I can tolerate it. I have a lot of shit in my life and my past always threatening to eat me. To survive, I run. Don’t stop moving. As long as I am distracted or busy the thoughts or memories can’t get to me. As soon as I stop I get flooded. It can be dangerous. I don’t know how to slow down, to moderate. When there’s too much stress I get sick or my body shuts down. Involuntary protection. But running isn’t living. I never even see my mom.

Porta-potty on a race course. Take small moments for self-care and being. Pause. Drop in to existence for the time it takes to pee, then run again. Use the space as a gift of rest, a moment with the freedom to feel. No one is watching. No one is judging. Allow release. No one’s stopping me from choosing to run. Not for that moment.

I want to stop running. I want to be able to tolerate the distress of being, of the voices, the memories, the loneliness. I don’t want to be a secret. In the porta-potty I can hide and just be me. A-‘s wiling to start work on my trauma soon. Who will I be without fear? Can I tolerate the emotional debridement? Will I find me? Will I like her?

I don’t want to run anymore. I’m tired. God, I’m tired. Last night I wept and cried out to God. Today I sobbed all the way down here on the freeway. I’m not me. I don’t know how to be. (Reminder – joy only lies in movement)

My head hurts.

How do I learn to process and be me in chunks? Who will me be without trauma and pain? Will I be more able to help others and feel joy? Will I want to be?

I’m tired of running. I’m tired of wanting to die, of hiding. Of shame and lies. I want to be real. I want to be openly real.

Start by practicing in a porta-potty when you stop to pee.

I don’t know what’s happening to me and I feel scared. I really want to make change in my life, to come to terms with what is and was, to be able to sit safely with the truth. I welcome times of brokenness. I want to accept that though I am broken, I am whole. I’m not there yet. I want to change. I’m not there yet either. Right now, today, I’m sitting in a porta-potty on the side of a race course, grateful. I have to get up again (I’m late) but for now there is peace. Thank you.

God, I love you. Thank you for this moment.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2015

How do you do it?

From:     8/24/15     1:32pm

M- said several times he and other people want to know “how she does it.” Well, how do YOU run from a dragon? In a methodical, complicated & somewhat randomized fashion. He smokes. I work. There’s no difference – except that I can breathe. I’m constantly running. It’s not to be admired. Yet it is.

I really don’t feel well.

How do you do it?

  • Don’t stop
  • Never stop running
  • Trust no one
  • Don’t share feelings
  • Better yet, don’t have them
  • Always watch, listen
  • Note any sign of danger
  • Network extensively
  • Tell only the required truths
  • Make allies, not friends
  • Schedule EVERYTHING
  • Learn the rules & the rules in play
  • Learn how to exploit the loopholes
  • Study systems
  • Hide out to spend time alone
  • Have an acute understanding you are NEVER safe.
  • Love from afar
  • Do not engage
  • Learn to walk away
  • Turn rage into ash inside your soul
  • Develop a network of safe support
  • Be whatever you need to be in the moment
  • Be specific
  • Focus on tasks
  • Never lose sight of the big picture
  • Ignore pain
  • Never admit weakness
  • Learn by doing
  • Do what works
  • Know God. Believe God.
  • Don’t make promises or keep secrets
  • Have at least one safe grounding person you trust who wants nothing from you
  • Try not to remember what you love, that this is not you
  • Avoid emotion-producing situations
  • Walk towards the fire
  • Cry out to God, “Why can’t I matter too?”
  • Distract from the fact you don’t feel love
  • Ignore painful personal facts
  • Avoid free time
  • Do projects
  • Don’t take no for an answer
  • Spend time alone
  • Scream
  • Pull your hair
  • Ask questions no one answers
  • Say important things no one understands
  • Spend time in psych hospitals
  • Take lots of drugs
  • Stop eating occasionally
  • Maintain control
  • Run from feeling trapped
  • Cry in private – public restrooms, parking lots, in the dark, behind dumpsters, silently
  • Get your love from hugs
  • Never think about this
  • Throw yourself into helping others
  • Hate almost everyone
  • Take your meds on time
  • Chart your progress – detailed & scientifically
  • NEVER STOP RUNNING
  • Choose measurable tasks over humans
  • Thrive on lists
  • When given the option, choose kids or animals or the disabled over adults
  • Learn to ignore
  • Swing
  • Twirl
  • Write
  • Run away every once in a while
  • Come back. Don’t talk about it.
  • Never let your guard down, even at home
  • When you fail, back away, shut people out, try again.
  • Sing
  • Rock
  • Pray
  • Never stop running
  • Then eventually die
  • But not without doing it all the right way

(stare)

That’s all for now.

PS –

  • Don’t forget to hate people, vehemently
  • Remember to eat
  • And always keep a hair clip, journal & cardigan on hand.

So if you want to know how I do it, my best answer is God.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2015