My Journey

I am not going to use my family's real names. They deserve some privacy. But, I am also not going to hide from the past. In order for me to heal myself and them, or at least as much as I am able, I am going to have to be brutally honest. I need this blog to get some of my thoughts out of my head. I need this blog to deal with my feelings.

This is not a fairy tale story. It is a nightmare. This is not about me. It's about how mental illness has killed a family, ruined people's lives, and hopefully, how I can turn some of the evil around.

I owe my family a lot. Not my mom, not my dad....but my ex-husband and my two children.

I have lied, cheated, abused and killed my relationships. In the past. I have re-gained the love of one of my children, Tex. I have his wife and daughter in my life. I have reconnected with my youngest son, Lone Wolf.

I am not writing this blog to curry favor, ask for forgiveness or to "air my dirty laundry", or to ask for pity.  I am doing this as a way of exorcising demons, of dealing with the pain of loneliness and the pain and stigma of mental illness.

Tomorrow would be 31 years that the senior Lone Wolf and I would have been married. Papaw, I miss you.  We had some very hard years, but some of the best years of my life. I wish I could turn the clock back and do it all over, unfortunately, there aren't always "do overs."

You may, or may not, be wondering how did I get to the point of writing a blog. 

Since I don't have medical insurance, I can't afford my psyche meds. I don't qualify for the low income programs in Davis County. So, can't afford meds, usually means you go nuts. I am determined i am not going nuts. 

I am using a book "When Panic Attacks" by David D. Burns, M.D. In it, it discusses the fact that thoughts create certain feelings. I have lived inside of my head for so long. I have to get the thoughts out, or they are going to drive me crazy, literally. So this is going to be my therapy.

I learned that the brain is a "literal machine." The brain can only do what you tell it; ex: "I hate exercise." So, whether or not you really hate exercise your brain has no choice but to believe you really hate exercise. I did an experiment with this when I was in my Criminal Justice Program at Provo College. So, every night before I went to bed, I would tell myself ten times, "I love my exercise, I love my exercise." After a while, not overnight by any means, I finally got to where I looked forward to my exercise everyday.

Now, I tell myself "I am happy and mentally stable." Thanks Ethan for that! I still have ups and downs, but I am managing them. Now, let's see how this journey is going to progress, shall we?