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Supporting the Colitis, Crohn's, ostomy and J-Pouch community one butt joke at a time

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depression

A month of uncomfortable.

I’ve been going to therapy lately, and my therapist gave me a task for the next month. Be uncomfortable.

I’m uncomfortable with the idea of being uncomfortable. When she said it, my skin started to crawl, and I was all “yea, I don’t think that’s gonna be a thing”.

Continue reading “A month of uncomfortable.”

Now Its Raining Cats and Depression

A few months ago I wrote about how it felt like it was raining cats and bowel problems. It felt like everyone I knew was having some issues with their IBD/jpouch/Ostomy. Like for whatever reason, the IBD gods were smiting us all. It sucked.

Well now its raining cats and depression. I have countless friends that are going through deep and severe bouts of depression right now. Myself included. I’ve found that when I get depressed, like this, there are very few things that I want to do. Most of them involve self medicating and sleeping. Wallowing on my couch has been a favorite activity for the last month. And then talking to my other friends about why they are depressed and if/how we can help each other.

What I’ve learned about having depressed friends is that it is a blessing and a curse. Its just like having other chronically ill friends. Sometimes you can relate to each other so well, that its incredibly comforting know that at least someone out there kind of understands why you haven’t showered in 5 days and are ok living on a box of cheeze its for an extended period of time.

But other times, you tend to bring each other down and its a slippery slope. My friends and I try to check in on each other daily and if I’m having a good day and they are having a bad day, I’ve noticed my feelings can change. And the same vice versa. Sometimes I have to tell certain friends that I can’t be their support network right now because I am not strong enough in my own life. Being depressed almost always revolves around some level of being selfish. Maybe you’re ignoring your friends calls. Maybe you cancel plans. Maybe you’re not a listening ear when someone else needs it. I think all of that is fine as long as you just give people a heads up on why you’re doing it. I have told people lately, that I’m have a really difficult time in my life right now, so I find myself retracting and isolating, so please don’t take it personally. And that’s all I have to say.

Some days are ok. Some days I wake up already hyper focusing on negative issues and things that I can’t change. Those days I take a lot of Xanax and when I get home I have a glass of wine. Is this the “right” way to deal with it? Nope. But right now sometimes I have to just shut my brain off, and that is how I choose to do it. Depression is a weird thing that is unique for everyone. All that I really know is that its very difficult to crawl out from it and that a lot of people I care about are down in this hole with me.  But I am doing what I can to crawl out, step by step, day by day. I take my anti depressants. I take my Xanax. I go to therapy. I talk to my friends and I try to set small daily goals so I can feel like I accomplished something. Sometimes that goal is just getting the mail but at least I did it.

Just know that many of us who are chronically ill deal with depression in varying degrees. Mild to severe. Frequent to periodically. I know that it does get better, even though it feels awful right now. It does. It will. In time.

 

 

 

 

 

The Silent Killer

I know my first post was fun and sarcastic, but I write this post with a heavy-heart; so I apologize in advance if I kill the mood. This post is not male specific, nor is it IBD specific; but I know it is going to apply to many of you anyways.

Let’s just get to it, shall we?

Suicide. It’s one of those things no one wants to talk about, but everyone seems to know someone who has either thought about it, tried it, or God forbid, succeeded. Last night I watched as someone I love dearly battled with the thoughts of ending her life (not IBD related); and I was hours away and could do nothing about it. I battled whether to call the police, to call her family, or to just try and talk her out of it. I chose the latter, and while I was ultimately successful in talking her down, I’ve sat here all day wondering if I made the right choice; and if ever presented with that again, if I should choose differently.

As people with IBD (or the after effects), I think many of us at one time or another have had those thoughts, whether or not we like to admit it. Why am I battling this? It would be so much easier to give up. I am such a burden to my family and friends. They don’t deserve this. I’m worthless. I’m a waste. I’m messed up. I’ll never be normal. No one will ever love me. This is too hard. It’s not worth the fight anymore. These are all thing I’VE personally thought and felt. And I know others have as well. It’s a natural reaction to everything we go through. All the surgeries, all the medications. All the complications, missed activities, life passing us by.

We come out of surgery thinking our life will be magically changed and we will be completely normal; and to an extent they are instantly improved. But recovery is a LONG and painful process. You will have, good days and bad days, just like when you had the disease. But eventually the good days outweigh the bad days, and life improves. There is no magic surgery. There is no magic drug. There is no magic cure. Surgery is not a cure, you’re simply replacing one major problem with what we hope is a lesser problem. Most of the time it works, sometimes it doesn’t. But we continue to fight on. However…

Suicide is not a solution. It is not a cure. It does not end the pain, it only spreads it to everyone around you.

There is always light at the end of the tunnel. And that’s what we hold onto. So I urge you, if you are battling with these thoughts, talk to someone; a friend, a family member, your nurses and doctors, someone, anyone. If you are seriously motivated, dial 911. If you know someone who is in imminent danger, dial 911 for them. Find a support group. Call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline. Just please do something.

In an emergency: DIAL 911

Suicide Prevention Lifeline: (800) 273-TALK (8255)

No one has to fight this battle alone. Things do get better. Scars heal. Life continues. The sun rises, and with it a new opportunity to make life beautiful.

As stated in one of my all-time favorite movies, “The Shawshank Redemption”, “…hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.”

 

GJP

 

(I would like to add (This is Jackie), that GJP was one of the people who was very supportive of me while I was going through this very struggle. He was understanding, yet forceful in his concerns for me. One of the few people I know in real life who knew what was going on, and actively did something to help me. He was also one of the few people to really take me seriously….in fact threatening a call to the police if I didn’t do XYZ things. A true friend. Many thanks to GJP for this.)

 

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