Month: September 2017

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A Hard Day

This day has been a real challenge.  I knew it would come, and I thought I had prepared by making sure I had many goals and projects to fill in the hole that would be created.  I suffer from what is known as a “soft” addiction (“hard” addictions are alcohol and drugs).  Soft addictions don’t get much press, and it’s often difficult to get help for them.  People tend to tell you to “stop it”.  What they don’t realize is “stop it” was the first idea that came to your mind when you realized you were in trouble.  My soft addiction is compulsive shopping, and it got the better of me this past week.  I went crazy, for example, in Target on Wednesday.  I had a new credit card, and although I went in for cat litter, I tossed anything that jumped out at me in the cart.  It made me feel wonderful and free.  And out of control.  I walked out with over $600 worth of stuff and a nauseous feeling.  But I kept walking and took my stuff home.

I did the same every day until Saturday.  I went to Michael’s for a memory box frame and I also wanted a videography how-to book.  I came out of the store with Halloween masks, various items to create the memory box, and went to the bookstore.  I did not find anything on how to shoot video, but emerged with several how-to books on other things (blogging, WordPress, and Photoshop CC, and a bunch of book markers). $200 to that point.  Then I crossed the street in search for a computer table.  I found a glass art computer C table at Pier One Imports that was too much (should have just gone back to Target).  Pier One also had a fancy witch hat to complete my costume, glass art pumpkins, and a lovely fall themed wreath for the door.  Then I went to the music store for new strings for my 12 string guitar.  I managed to stick to that one item, but all the way home I thought “This is ridiculous and needs to stop”.  I immediately went online and began SMART Recovery…again.

I think what is wrong is that the Goo Goo Dolls’ tour is ending tonight, and it served as a wonderful and much needed distraction for me.  I had grown close to the fan community, chatting online with them nearly every day since tickets went on sale in February.  There was the anticipation of the tour, the meet and greet in Boston, and the release that comes with a good night out.  And of course I got to indulge my “Johnny and Korel” crushes.  It was a pleasure to see those two so often.

The experience of the tour made me enthusiastic about life and increased my positivity and mental energy, despite being diagnosed with a new–and also incurable–condition as it was all happening.

Then the fan activity on social media began to slow down.  I knew this would happen.  Last December, when their tour ended, everything Goo Goo Dolls related went painfully silent.  As a new fan, I found myself scrambling to keep the feeling going.  And I failed.  And the dark feelings I have to fight every normal day returned with a vengeance.  Maybe they only seemed darker after getting a glimpse of joy.  And maybe my shopping binge went out of control because of the anxiety of knowing my distraction will once again be gone after tonight.

I not only suffer from pulmonary hypertension, fibromuscular dysplasia (the newly discovered one, which I may have had for “a decade” according to doctors), and chronic pain due to neuropathy; I live alone and feel invisible and have to self-motivate all the time.  That gets exhausting, and there are days when I am not up to the task.  The negatives of life come barging into my mind, often driving me to tears or leading me to stay in bed for days.  The thought of no more Goo Goo Dolls shows (perhaps ever, because I don’t know when my illnesses will take me down or disable me) creates a sense of desperation and panic.

Shopping won’t help.  Neither will the bottle of wine in my fridge, or the games on my Kindle, or any other thing I might get hooked on to make the miserable feelings go away.  All of those things will make a barren life worse.  The Goo Goo Dolls tour was also a crutch.  And you know what happens to a cripple if you take the crutch away.

The key is to find another way of dealing with the barrenness, to fill the gaping holes with something productive, something that will help other people in some way.  That’s one of the reasons I started this website.  Maybe there is someone out there who will read this and understand how loss of something you focused on for months can serve as a trigger for unhealthy behavior.  I have read about this phenomenon in books on negative thought patterns and addiction.  But going through it is never easy.  The next few weeks/months will be rough until I can latch onto something else to occupy my mind and put me in touch with people.  I’ve done it before.  I’ll make it this time too.

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Grateful

Long before I developed the chronic medical conditions I have now, I was consumed with other concerns. It doesn’t take a bad diagnosis to make you go into a tailspin.  Anything can take you by surprise and send you reeling in a new direction, one you hadn’t planned to take.  One that throws you for a loop.  A road you avoided, but are now forced to explore.  Examples include–but are not limited to–losing your job, filing bankruptcy, losing a loved one, economic downturns, betrayals, and natural disasters.

I honestly don’t know why I had depression and anxiety most of my life, and why it led me to do some of the things I did.  Addictive/compulsive behavior got me into a lot of trouble, starting at around age 17.  At first, I drank a lot.  But when the partying stopped, other addictive behaviors took over.  Like binge eating, compulsive shopping (to the point where I landed in bankruptcy court and faced the humiliation of repossession.  I lost friends, boyfriends, etc., to this behavior).  For many years, it was the primary issue I had to deal with.  Even today, I battle many temptations and compulsions.  Whatever restraint I had before my pulmonary hypertension diagnosis evaporated in the face of my eventual death.  I stopped caring.  Just like you can stop caring when faced with any crisis.  Only now I have to deal with the PH, the FMD, and the consequences of my indulgences.

So what can be done in this situation?  Medical bills on top of consumer debt on top of anxiety meds on top of overeating?  Seems impossible.

I can be grateful.

Forcing myself to appreciate my life, to stand back and look at how good I have it compared to some people, and even at the time I’ve been given beyond what I thought I would have, takes my mind off my negative thoughts.

It’s hard to be grateful in the midst of a crisis, when you are scared to death or feeling like you aren’t in control.  But it’s a choice.  Find something to appreciate.  It may take some effort, but you will.  If you have a dog, for example, pet him.  Look at his eyes.  Notice how he comes to you, how happy he is to see you no matter how dark you feel or nasty you have been.  He doesn’t care.  He loves you as you are.

Or consider the homeless people.  When I went to Boston to see the Goo Goo Dolls a few weeks ago, I came upon a woman in the train station who was curled up in the corner with a sign saying “My name is Amy”.  I didn’t read beyond that.  She was emaciated, maybe 18 years old, pale, and quiet.  She had marks on her face you sometimes see with methamphetamine use.   I said hello to her, mostly to help her feel acknowledged and visible.  She probably feels pointless, ashamed, and dirty.  Regardless of Amy’s reason to be in the train station begging, she is worse off than me.  I felt great compassion for her, drug addict or not.  Though I was still floating and happy after meeting John Rzeznik, Robby Takac, and Korel Tunador (and several others who work for the band, and members of the opening band as they passed the line), I stopped for a minute to consider Amy.

Of course, I can easily spot people in need and am much more open-minded after a good experience.  When down, I have learned over the years that acting like I care makes me care.  Acting grateful makes me grateful.  And that changes my entire outlook.  So each day, no matter how I feel, I choose gratefulness.