Thursday, January 21, 2016

Thinking Yourself Well

Depression is a bad thing.



The worst thing about clinical depression is not the effect it has on you, but the effect it has on your children. I'm not talking about all the crying and lack of energy and hopelessness you may feel and how your children can be warped from having to experience all that goes with it. I'm fully aware of what that's like. One of my parents had clinical depression, although it was never diagnosed as such. It just wasn't done in those days.

I'm talking about the genetic propensity toward depression in your children.

Did you know there is upwards of a 50% chance you will develop clinical depression if one or both of your parents suffered from it?

I'm all the proof you need. Two of my children (not saying which two) have gone through the cycle several times. One of them got help. The other resisted it as long as possible.

The reasons listed were:
  1. I'm just SAD.  I'll get happy again.
  2. I don't want to take medication for the rest of my life.
  3. I am NOT like YOU, Mom.
Finally, this wayward child found the way and followed it. The way to Google, that is.

And Google and WebMD and all the other places stated what I already knew and had tried to tell Wayward Child. And then, because the INTERNET SAID SO, the child finally believed.

And the child is getting help.

Thank you, God.



Family members who don't understand tend to think of depression as something you can overcome by yourself.  "Just pull up your bootstraps and get happy!" they say. "Think positive thoughts! List everything you are thankful to have!" And when the depressed person tries to tell them they don't know what it's like and things like "thinking" themselves better just don't work, the advice-givers get angry.

They are truly clueless. Not clueless in a stupid or ignorant way, but clueless in a very, very dangerous way. Since they have never suffered from the disease, they believe it should be easy to "fix" it. 

To them, I say this:  If you had high blood pressure, would you be able to "think" your blood pressure low? If you had diabetes, would you be able to "think" your pancreas into making more or less insulin? 

No? Then why on earth do you believe depression can be cured by "thinking" yourself better?

Depression is a chemical imbalance in the brain. Doesn't it make sense that you would want to put the chemicals back into balance to overcome it?

And here's the dangerous part:



"While nearly all mental disorders have the potential to increase the risk for suicide, studies show that the most common disorders among people who die by suicide are major depression and other mood disorders, and substance use disorders, schizophrenia and personality disorders (Bertolote & Fleischmann, 2002)."

If a family member, friend, or even someone you barely know has this disease, please encourage them to find help. If you have it, don't hesitate to get help yourself.

People are too precious to waste. And that includes YOU.

Wednesday, January 20, 2016

I Gave In



I had reasons, people.  Bonafide REASONS. But yes, I gave in.

I am again a card-carrying member of Facebook. Only without the card.

As with any adventure, there were several things I learned during my hiatus. They are, in no particular order:

  1. The world can get along without me just fine, thank you.
  2. I can't keep in touch with family or friends if I don't have their email addresses or telephone numbers. Go figure.
  3. I can't find out the news from old high school friends any easier than on FB. One of them had an almost-fatal heart attack, and the only way I had of finding out about his condition was through friends who were, coincidentally, on FB.
  4. I can block the dog, cat, Trump, Cruz, Clinton, and all other animals I want without actually leaving the planet.
  5. I can take vacations from FB. It is what one of my friends calls "going dark." And I will. The next time I get fed up with all the hate, I'll just take a break. 
  6. All the Writing I was going to do without FB to waste my time didn't, in fact, happen. I can tell from the look on your face you're shocked. I know.
  7. The words "I told you so" are never far from the lips of those who did, in fact, tell you so.
  8. I do not like television, with the exceptions of The Big Bang Theory and Grace & Frankie. I particularly abhor sports where people try to kill each other. Those include, but are not limited to; football, boxing, and beating one another with a pointy stick.
I am determined to keep FB from taking over the greater part of my day, the way it did before. I will try to do something else instead of refreshing the page every five seconds to see what someone believes Obama did that will ruin our country. I will try to practice patience.  I will put the phone away for meals and to have meaningful conversation with my family and others.

Cross my heart and hope to never give up.

Thursday, January 14, 2016

A Day Which Shall Live in Infamy



Today, dear friends, I deleted my Facebook account.

In the world before Facebook, I connected with people in a real way. I spoke to them. I listened when they spoke. I did other things with my time than perusing cat and dog pictures, things I had seen a million times, and hatred over politics, guns, religion, and race.

Facebook had turned into more of a way to waste time than anything else. I can't believe the hours upon hours I spent refreshing and reading. 90% of it was just JUNK. Only the remaining 10% was worthy of my time, and for 10%, I can leave it.

And I did.

Facebook didn't believe me when I said I wanted to break it off. It said I would be temporarily disconnected in case I'd made an unthinkable mistake. It even gave me two weeks to reconsider. If I log in during those two weeks, it will take me back with open arms and things will be just as they were before.

Only I don't want things the way they were before.

I want things to change. I want to draw closer to people, not posts. I want to do away with reading the hate that can spew from otherwise loving people. I want to tell people verbally how much they mean to me.  If I want to yell about something, I'll do it on a private blog or here, if it isn't too controversial. I might even do it out loud.  

In short, I need a break.

I need time to write, to reflect, to love and to show love.

I don't need another post about pets, flags, presidents, guns, religions, and a zillion people hating each other.

I need peace.

I you want to contact me privately, you can do so at ising4him@sbcglobal.net. If not, I wish you all the love God has for you, and the same peace I'm about to have.

Amen.

Tuesday, January 12, 2016

Nah Nah Nah Nah Nah Nah Nah Nah.....BATMAN!!!

Today marks the fiftieth anniversary of the debut of the television series "BATMAN." It first aired in 1966, when I was a mere nine years old.  



FIFTY YEARS.

Wow.

Or should I say 
It hurts even more to know Adam West is now 87 years of age.  I always thought he should stay the age he was in the sixties forever.


Haul out the dentures and wheelchair for me, kids. And reserve my room at the Old Folks Home.

Sheesh.

Thursday, January 07, 2016

A Royal Pain



It's time for another rant.  

If you've been reading this blog for any length of time, you know I suffer from rheumatoid arthritis and fibromyalgia. Most days I do just fine, thank you, but others (like today) can be a look into the great abyss. It's a barometer thing.

On days like these, there isn't really any help to be had. Oh, I can get a massage and take a hot bath, but relief lasts only as long as the massage or bath. After they're over, I'm back to the moaning and groaning, weeping and wailing, and gnashing of teeth.

One thing that does help on a consistent basis is the little white pill I take several times a day. It does a fine job of making whatever pain I feel bearable. It takes the edge off of it, and enables me to live a fairly normal life.

That was background.

Here's the rant.

Congress has gotten it into their heads that more and more regulations need to be added to the dispensing of my little pill. Recently it was upgraded to a different drug level, making it more difficult for those with chronic pain to fill legal prescriptions.  Whereas I used to be able to get a six-month prescription, I now have to settle for one month at a time. 

But that isn't all. Now I have to hand-carry the prescription to the pharmacist each month. Before the last set of regulations hit, my doctor could call the prescription in for me. No more. And to top it all off, my pharmacy will not fill my prescription even one day in advance of the thirty-day limit.

It became even more of a problem when we went out of town. I had three days' worth of pills left, but I couldn't get my refill done because it wasn't time yet. Instead, I had to go back to my doctor and have him write me a new prescription, which I promptly filled elsewhere. 

Look, I get it. Congress believes making drugs easier to get means more will be stolen and sold on the street. But think about it. What are honest people with chronic pain to do? WE bear the brunt of someone else's greed and stupidity. WE are the ones punished, not them. WE are the ones who have to jump through hoops in order to get medication we actually need.

How is this fair? 

At this rate it won't be long before we are unable to get any kind of pain reliever that actually works. When that happens, I will probably be forced back to aspirin.

That is, before it is also outlawed.

WAKE UP, CONGRESS. NOTICE THAT THOSE WITH CHRONIC PAIN ARE PART OF YOUR CONSTITUENCY.

And by the way, we can be mean when we hurt. 

Mean enough to cast votes another direction, if you get my drift.

End of rant.