Coma

Hey everyone, I’m Chris.

In 2015, my life changed forever. I suffered a massive anoxic brain injury with diffuse cerebral edema. I was found barely breathing, slipped into a coma, and flatlined with a Glasgow Coma Score of 3 — clinical death territory. I wasn’t supposed to survive. Every odd was against me.

But I did.

And the hardest part wasn’t waking up. It was everything after. Years of being misdiagnosed. Treated like I was crazy instead of brain-injured. Living with constant headaches, pain, anxiety, and confusion. Carrying trauma in silence because no one knew how deep it really went.

I’ve lived in a body that’s functioning and a world that keeps moving — but my mind has often felt stuck between dimensions. Like I crossed over and somehow came back with scars no one can see.

But through it all, I never let go of faith.

Not in a religious sense — though you could call it spiritual. I held on to a deeper knowing… that my life wasn’t spared for nothing. That everything I went through could be used to wake people up, to bring light where others only see darkness.

So here I am. Alive. Battle-worn. Still healing. But unshakable in spirit.

If you're fighting silent battles too, you’re not alone. Let’s connect. Let’s talk about what it really means to survive.

Thanks for letting me share.

–Chris

The label that I gained from the psychiatrist regarding the anorexia diagnosis is what pretty much led me to where I am now; it’s like a self-fulfilling prophecy. And now that I’ve left the eating disorders team, I have no one to prove that I’m losing weight, therefore no satisfaction. In a way, that helped the voices, and I was able to control Ana; as I said earlier, I am also able to fully let go of her if I truly want to. And so I began releasing the thoughts regarding eating and simply eating however and whenever I wanted, but little did I know that it would lead me to lose more weight. When I was restricting, food was on my mind a lot, which would make me feel more hungry. It led me to this realisation that if I simply continued with the new routine, then it would be a more effective method of losing weight? It was not much about body dysmorphia either; I was pretty satisfied with how my body looked. Rather, it was more about being able to control the numbers on the weight scale. The progress and the results from your actions are shown in a numbered form.

It was when I had an appointment with Kathy, my dietitian, that I decided to make a change; it was rather upsetting for her to see the stage I had arrived at after having monitored my eating habits for the last 3 years. Instead of seeing the numbers go down, what if I made them go up? Technically speaking, for my brain, that should be the same system, no? Both are methods of control, and a part of me knows that due to my fast metabolism, even if I do eat four meals a day, my weight will not change. You could then say it’s a win-win situation. I get to be the ‘thinnest girl in the room’ and continue to eat as much as I could. And even if I resort back to starving myself, my weight would not decline much either.

I am glad to say that I may have let go of Ana and will be on the road to recovery. I feel as though this journey must be taken alone, almost like meditating; directions from others can break the focus, which defeats its purpose.

Now, while I have my anorexia under control, it is time to look and care for my depression. The hard thing about depression is the inability to free yourself from it; it is similar to Stockholm Syndrome. Depression is the captor, and while victims are supposed to attempt to free themselves or at least form some type of resentment, instead, they form an emotional bond with the abuser.

During the days where I do feel hopeful or content, I find myself attempting to bring back the dark stormy cloud because it is the only feeling that I have become familiar with. It provides a level of comfort which I am unable to place into words.

Almost like sitting on a soft couch with fluffy blankets in front of the fireplace, while it is stormy and rainy outside. You feel safe, protected and most importantly you feel warm. Now compare this with being outside on a really sunny day and being really sweaty, while it could provide satisfaction for some, however, most often individuals would prefer the colder and cozier season.

I suppose this may link to how seasonal depression works in some way; the comfort of isolation grows and thrives like bacteria during the cold dark months as we spend more time at home, and as I said earlier, sometimes we invite depression in voluntarily and sometimes we crave it.

The topic of death lingers in the back of my mind like those radios that continue to play the same song over and over again. What if I simply just allowed this van to run me over? Would that kill me, or worse, would that leave me alive but disabled? The idea of not needing to continue with this game of survival is sometimes a desperate feeling. Could I maybe get placed into a coma and remain asleep forever? That way, it doesn’t count as suicide, does it? Because suicide is a sin, and unless I want to go to hell, I can’t commit even though it feels desperate sometimes. I often find myself hoping that someone else could kill me instead, that I get into a terrible accident or that cancer comes back and finishes its job. All of this just to get peace from this dreadful game and go to sleep. Because even sleep nowadays does not provide me with peace whatsoever, the anti-depressants have been overworking my brain with all these tiring dreams, and I’m talking about dreams that reflect exactly what goes on in my brain; they can be extremely triggering, sometimes leaving me awake and speechless.

I am always told to be grateful for the life that I am living with the number of opportunities in front of me, and others have it much worse than I do. I wish I could allow myself to appreciate this life given to me; I really do, because I am held at gunpoint by this demon in my head, and it feels suffocating, hence why the only way out would be to accept defeat and commit suicide.

However, there is also another way out of this dark, soggy cave, and it is to physically pick yourself off the floor and climb the broken ladder to the exit; those who are able to do so, I want to give them a hug because it seems impossible at times. Almost like when you need to get up to go to school or to work, but you are so warm under the covers and getting up would mean being exposed to the cold, so staying in bed often feels like the best option. But staying in bed will have its consequences. Therefore, the most reasonable option is to wake up and pull yourself out of the situation.

At the very moment, I could say I am managing things slightly better; I am able to go and take showers, maybe not as often as I should, but little steps make progress, you know. Sometimes, we do need to give our bodies a bit of a break; it tolerate so much, and it can get exhausted over time, just like an overworked engine, until it is unable to do so and break down. If we think about it, humans are similar to small little bugs; we’re fragile and prone to the dangers of the world. Therefore, giving yourself some time and slowly building good habits can be very beneficial in the long run. It was when I had a hatha yoga class and was lying down during an exercise; my yoga instructor began softly reminding us of the great life Mother Nature has given us, and we could attempt to appreciate everything we have on earth. We are blessed with the ability to, see, hear and feel great things in life, and even if we are struggling with something, everything does eventually come to an end. We can customise our individual characters, from the way we dress and look to how we act and where we live. If you’re unhappy with your current character, then alter it, move to a different country and bring out a new version of yourself, change your name, your hair, and take on a different job. It is, of course, easier said than done, but attempting to view the world from a different perspective helps sometimes; maybe consider the glass half full? And if your glass is empty, then maybe fill it up slowly with different achievements every day, they don’t need to be big; simply getting out of bed can create a large pour into the glass.

To put it in a different perspective, we are all going to die at some point, whether it be today or in 80 years, because everything comes to an end, including negative things. So why not spend the remainder of your life, while you are on earth, to try and discover new things: gain a pet, or make a family? Of course, it is easier said than done, even for me at the moment, but life and your actions won’t matter once you’re dead, so use this life as a free trial before your soul decides on its final destination. Who knows when we will die? Might as well live your life to the fullest; climb that ladder and escape to see what lies within the ground above? It may provide you even more comfort than the dark, soggy cave that you convinced yourself was a safe space.

Run out of characters, part 4 out :)#Depression

#Loneliness #EatingDisorder

So I can really try and make sure you know that I have been diagnosed with so many different things that all have no cure and I have been under the knife at least 15 plus times total and with each diagnosis things seemingly just get worse and harder to find in my body. For me it's just a day in and day out struggle and as for the rest of the world around me I am literally just a pain in their behinds. I've been denied 7 times since the age of 23 for disability and I am now 43 applying for disability again with an attorney. With everything from a rare lung disorder that has caused a total of 11 intubations into a coma because it causes complete lung failure in both of my lungs at the same time to endometriosis and different auto immune diseases to simple conditions as well. Then on top of all those things even including a broken back in 3 spots after a fall, I have multiple mental health issues as well. At the younger ages I was diagnosed with panic attacks, depression and anxiety disorders. I now have ptsd due to all the hospitalizations, bipolar disorder 2 meaning I mostly suffer from depression or depressive moods at least it was that way for almost 30 years to date. As of around the age of 41 that is always how it went. I prayed and asked for God to take the depression away and he did thank heavens. But I don't want my worst enemy to suffer from any of the other problems so it's been hard to say a genuine prayer for those so I am suffering terribly from pain issues and anxiety along side of one more mental health issue not just generalized anxiety but social anxiety on top of that I haven't had this much anxiety and or pain ever in my life. And I can't understand why nobody is doing anything for me as far as doctors are concerned and I am still waiting for disability to be approved. I just need to know what really is the reason why I have so many issues I know that there is something that these doctors aren't telling me about what I need to know and what the disability offices need to know. I will keep pushing and pleading for what I need to know and for what I deserve which is a genuine breakthrough #MentalHealthAwareness #mentalhealthmatters #properdiagnosis #physicalpain #disabilitydoctors #disabilityawareness #iminrealpain

Bonus Post🙌🤗 Because when one of my Mighty Friends lets me know something they could use more help with handling, I have got your back.

Not just his or her back, but all of your backs!

Again I put hours into drafting this “Powerhouse of Inspiration and Support” (words from a Mighty friend that keeps me going big for you), so I request that as many people as possible start and keep continuing a conversation thread in the comments 👇 below letting me and you know - what did you take away from this Hugely Impactful post that can help You on Your mental health and healing journey?

So, over breakfast this morning, my mind is going to work for this Mighty friend of mine who smartly brought this up in a convo thread here in one of my 2 groups I lead solely for all of you to benefit from.

Ok, so this one is pretty cool, because my mind is sifting through my many, many exactly what we all need to know notes, and I am remembering tools and a theory ('let them' theory) about this that a famous motivational speaker (Mel Robbins / Talks Powerfully About How To Live Your Best Life: YouTube Channel, podcast host, author ) wrote an entire bestselling book on, and then I had one of those very clear “Aha”moments of pride and accomplishment because I remembered that before I read about this theory and other relative articles, I CONQUERED this finally in a Huge way that was a Game-Changer in my mental health journey, in my relationships— in my relationship with my husband, in my relationship with friends and the ones that get quotation marks because I now know whose iffy, and just as importantly, a game-changer in my relationship with Myself.

Did I build up enough suspense for what it is that I am addressing here 🤩🤔

For your enjoyment, I am adding some lightness and fun and some great #throwbackthursday to this lengthy, but important personal example that also exemplifies that I talk the talk and walk the walk.

I am addressing the nasty thing we all have to get a handle on— “distress tolerance (like insults)”.

When I can first inspire you from my own experience, I guess that is a good place to start.

Then, I will give you other advice from the same most Notable Thought Leaders that I took notes from (I mentioned a major one already in this post.)

I also have notes on an impartial look at both the pro’s and con’s of her 'let them' theory.

But first what I finally did to get my power back when I am insulted and to get a handle on my distress tolerance associated with this and other distressing things.

The only place to start here from my experiences — lessons taught to me the hardest way, but that I worked on to learn and grow from-is from the beginning.

This long post will also include the example - intended to Also inspire you- of me proudly telling my story for the importance of owning my story instead of my story owning me (another big lesson I learned), and for the importance of the higher good - hard work and gifts I give free to help save others.

I will Try to keep it shorter because I am already going long, but if you do want to ask me Anything, just ask me. I am mostly an open book to genuine people.

(In rereading this draft, I could not go shorter, but I worked to make it absolutely Full of So Many Great, Helpful Stuff and Not 🥱 Boring.)

Since I was born, I had to endure constant insults from my very miserable 2 years older brother, and I learned much later on to see his jealousy of me, then I learned much later on of his own mental health problems that he kept wrongly choosing to deny and ignore.

And, within all of my most formative years and then into my early adulthood I endured heart-shattering insults - one worse than the next- stuff any parent should never utter, the level of insults to seriously f*ck up a good person like me and bring out the most severe form of inherited, disabling, chronic/recurring , at times catatonic inducing, major depressive disorder by both of my horrific parents- until I cut them off and the 1 passed away, these 2 definition of narcissistic, and seriously sick with life-long, crippling depression and anxiety that my father sought treatment for but my mother lived in stupid denial of not just her depression but also her crippling anxiety, no self-esteem…she would not help herself to be a good mother even…

Plus, on top of all of those joke of immediate “family” insulting me to the nth degree and even when they took me down entirely to where I became so physically and mentally extremely sick with major depression that for years until the past 2 years was Treatment-Resistant Depression (TRD), I also had to endure the honesty evil stepmother that they write about in books. Wow did that b*tch purely hate me and she happily showed it in every way unimaginable.

Funny thing though, I never once was I bullied or insulted by any kids or classmates at any point from Nursery school through College— I was liked by all groups and cliques of people. So, makes you go hmmmmm. Like from that throwback song by C+C Music Factory
“Things That Make You Go Hmmmm….” (Released in 1990)

Then, all grown up and married at 38- surprise- my husband quickly turned into my new biggest critic and my insulter with no bounds.

And he actually to this day can state simply to me “I don’t give compliments”.

I came to learn finally that my brother was actually known to be an *sshole, my parents were beyond help from professionals since they had never broken the visciuos cycle of generational trauma and generational depression that was so widespread all over both sides of my “family”, plus they just were not good people or genuine, but very good liars -to themselves and to me…
I came to learn that our town I grew up in all referred to my stepmother as “evil”—- my hairdresser back when I was in my early twenties told me of the many clients she had that told her about this widely known Evil woman in the town and neighboring towns.
And I finally even got my mother-in-law to explain to me that my husband learned this disrespectful way to insult and lash out at me, his love of his life (which is true) - every bit of it he watched and mimicked from the awful way his father treated his very sweet mom.

I hope you are seeing the trend and facts here —- and a bunch of you know me, the facts are I am Good and even Great, and they are all sh*t people and through and through with the exception of my husband as I will explain.

No excuses for my husband’s years of insulting me, hurting me, making me even more sick with the severest, recurring, extremely long-lasting episodes of major depressive disorder with multiple times in the hospital for attempting to you know.

I had my first onset of major depressive disorder at age 34.
A year before meeting my husband.
Remember, if you have been reading all of this, I was doomed to inherit the worst level of MDD.
I didn’t even honestly know what depression of any kind was went it hit me like a canon ball.

This illness, which is finally in the medical journals (yeah, I read these too when necessary), finally it is being called what it truly is A Medical Condition not just related to or a mental illness; this severe medical condition and the layers upon layers of traumas that started with these early years of insults and then even worse trauma, took my life over and took me away from myself and others until in later 2017 when I pulled myself out of a
3-year coma-like, completely homebound, completely bed-bound, major depressive episode and I made a commitment to myself to Love Myself Back To Life and Thrive. And I Rose like a Phoenix and I Took Back My Power.

I often use this famous title from the famous poem “And Still I Rise” by Maya Angelou.
With this famous quote:
“You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I'll rise.”

My Power is …(go to next post Part 2 of 2 with same image sign used)