Treatment Resistant, but Resilient

Just something more lighthearted than I tend to post. Because this is just as much my life as the trauma, anxiety, depression, and other craziness. These kids, and their older siblings, are my universe. I fight the darkness for them. I push through the hardest days for them. I live for them. Emily, 2nd grade DLI                                                                                      TJ, 4th grade DLI TJ just wanted to show off his backpack, and Emily wanted to show of her lunch bag. TJ is really into Snoopy right now, Emily loves all things girly like unicorns, ponies, rainbows, glitter, and sparkly things. I love these kiddos.  

 I think there is some trauma from the night I lost my mom, which I will need to work through. I keep telling myself I have dealt with it, and maybe the so-called trauma is just grief. Anyway, here is a short "story" I wrote about that night. It keeps getting misplaced and had some soda spilled on it so I figured this is a more permanent place to keep it.     Friday, April 14, 2023, is a date etched in my mind. Exactly one month before my 43rd birthday. My sister called "hey, sis. I'm at Mom and Dad's. Are you ready to go?"     "Be right over" I reply.     We're riding together with our parents to Aunt Jeneal's viewing. Jeneal was Mom's oldest sister. Most of her kids were old enough to be my parents, so I never felt close to her. But she is my Aunt and I do love her.     Only a few months before, her son and daughter died just days apart due to complications from Covid. Mom mentions how she's sure they are together. Mom is also env...

 Recently, I started doing Ketamine assisted psychotherapy. I go into the office, dissolve a ketamine troche in my mouth, and lay down for an hour, then talk to my therapist for an hour. Every other treatment I do it at home and write down or record my thoughts.  The first one was kind of interesting but uneventful. My psychiatrist suggested I set goals for what I hope to accomplish or work through before I put the troche in my mouth. I did another one at home, and it wasn't helpful at all. The 3rd one, my psychiatrist raised the dose and it did seem to help a little. The 4th one was in-office, and I cried about my ECT past, how nobody seems to want to hear it or show any empathy after all this time. But it is still painful for me. It still challenges me and shakes me to the core some days. I talked about how I thought I could work on forgiving the doctors and nurses and other staff at the clinic. I've done several more since then. Once, I cried because I wanted my mom with me...