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Leaning In

This is the year of me Leaning In.

Leaning into that which scares me, leaning into my fears and accepting them at face value, and having the courage to step outside of my comfort zones and into the unknown. Being scared, and doing it anyway. This year, so far has felt like a 3 years wrapped up into one: I am undergoing multiple major dental surgeries because of horrible teeth - it is extremely exhausting and painful. I had a major Ulcerative Colitis flare-up recently where I had to be hospitalized and put on some heavy duty steroids, while battling excruciating stomach pain.

I have had to quit smoking cigarettes - I have been a smoker for 16 years…

I have three more major dental surgeries to go through this year, coming up soon. I am anxious and tired and running on fumes.

But this is the time for me to face it and Lean In - to not let fear belittle me and strike me down. No matter how exhausted or depressed I am - I must Lean In. #MentalHealth #Depression #UlcerativeColitis #Anxiety #overcomingfear

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My girlfriend is sneaky

She ordered me a bag of adaptogenic chai mix. I just got it today. She wants to help me quit smoking and so far nothing has helped. But yesterday my cravings were very mild. I only smoked 2 cigarettes. She's trying to be supportive and encouraging. She's amazing. I'm gonna send her a bunny plush.

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#DepersonalizationDisorder #DerealizationDisorder #SubstanceUseDisorders #Bipolar1 #Bipolar2 #Insomnia

I learned two things about myself today. Apparently, I have been experiencing Depersonalization / Derealization for a very long time but I didn’t know what it was. I knew I dissociated, but I suddenly started having some strange experiences lately that I have concluded are depersonalization. This has led to discovering that I have experienced many symptoms of both Depersonalization / Derealization for decades. The second thing I learned today, is that, my issues with sleep may not be solely bipolar disorder, but a trauma response. My brain speeds up after a certain point at night, and I think it is hyper vigilant to protect me from the unpredictable behavior of my parents. They threw wild parties and I heard lots of loud yelling, laughing, fighting, music and violence. I never knew what was going to happen. I would lock myself in my bedroom by pushing my dresser up to the door and put a butter knife in the door frame as a makeshift lock. I was afraid of their friends. I needed stuff, but was too afraid to leave my room to get it, lest I draw too much attention to myself. So, I went without, or listened and waited trying to discern a time that I might fly under the radar. The noise was so loud, I couldn’t sleep even if I wanted to. Often, I just ended up putting a pillow over my head, tuning them out, so I could fall asleep and eventually did from exhaustion. My parents both suffered from substance use disorder. I do too, or did anyway. I quit using 6 years ago and quit smoking 2 years ago. Trauma often causes us to ignore its’ symptoms, because we are used to them, don’t think they are symptoms, or that those symptoms aren’t important enough to talk about, or seek treatment for.

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Struggling with feeling abandoned by my wife for using small doses of THC to help my BPD.

I’m new to my understanding what impact BPD has had on my life. Growing up I did well in school and sports and I didn’t realize until my later teenage year’s and into my 20’s that I struggled with social anxiety. I served a mission for my church in Guatemala for 2 years and I met my wife 2 years later in a Spanish class in college and we got married less than a year later. I was 22 and she was 18.

We had children within the first few years of getting married and I was stressed to find a place we could afford and a job that I enjoyed. We moved from California to Texas to follow our dream of owning a home and raising a family.

A few years later was diagnosed with depression and ADHD on top of my anxiety. I was still trying to please everyone, pretend I was ok, and take care of my family but I was stressed out about not having enough and taking care of our growing family.

My older boys got involved in smoking weed and taking mushrooms/acid as a unhealthy coping mechanism to their own depression after the death of a close friend in Highschool. I didn’t know how to handle their lying and destructive behavior toward my wife and I so I would lose my temper and say and do things that were abusive in my effort to control and push them into compliance. That obviously didn’t work out too well and the two older boys failed out of Highschool and had issues with the law.

This failure of being able to handle these tough situations well put my wife and I into an accelerated journey to figure out what went wrong and what we needed to do to fix things.

A big part of the entire drama is that I was very thin skinned and angry at my sons when I should have been more calm. I was also doubling down in using pornography as an escape from my painful and very unhappy life. I wasn’t honest with my wife and I was using her as well to fill my insatiable desire for sex.

I finally came clean and told her about my problems and joined a 12 Step program and had individual therapy on top of our couples therapy and coaching for better parenting skills.

Jump ahead 5 years and my wife and I are still stuck in our past traumas which for me is still my childhood false core beliefs and for her mostly betrayal trauma and still feeling like she should have been more boundaried with me and our boys when we would get into fight or flight situations which was ultimately damaging our attachment.

I had never used drugs or alcohol in my entire life previous to taking a THC gummy with my wife and another couple a few years ago. It helped me to unlock a lot of very deep rigid perspectives that I had about myself, others and about God and life in general. I was able to have a lot more love and empathy and compassion for my sons and for my wife. I was able to finally just feel my anxiousness and anger subside and really go internal and see things for how they truly are versus how my distorted anxious and BPD lens was making things out to be. My wife had a very different experience and she threw up and swore to never do that again. She was very concerned that since my experience was different that I would want to do it again. She was right but I am a grown man and not a teenage boy looking to just get high. I saw that taking small doses like half a 5mg gummy would still provide a relief from the emotional fire and sensitivity to so many daily interactions that I was normally not able to handle.

I have taken anxiety, depression, and ADHD medication on and off for the last 20 years and I’ve never felt as good and normal as I have had with just taking small CBD/THC doses daily or as needed with my medical cannabis prescription.

For my wife however this was a big deal and she is asking that I stop taking any THC or she will divorce me. I’ve been dishonest in the past year about taking it without letting her know, but part of the reason I’ve been dishonest is she can’t listen to my big feelings without getting stressed out of feeling overwhelmed and feeling I’m trying to blame her for things unfairly when I actually just trying to express facts as I see them.

Anyway this is my first post on any type of forum and I just wanted to see if anyone else can relate to anything in my story.

I’m just trying to do the best that I can and I still feel that it’s not good enough. I’m meeting with a psychiatrist later this week and hopefully I can get some additional help support from him.

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I'm new here!

Hi, my name is Jellybelly32340. I'm here because
I developed prostate cancer. I immersed myself in the study of health and nutrition. FFiber is the secret Dr. Denis Burkitt 20 years in Uganda, a country of 10 million people 150 rural hospitals. 1971 Interview. Far more fiber, far more starch, far less fat, far less sugar, far less salt, abolish fried foods. Eat more brown bread. Top two. More fiber. Less fat. Western countries diet has too much fat sugar and salt cause sickness/ diseases. Western countries diet 15 grams of fiber, 80-100 grams of stool increase risk for chronic diseases. In India/ sub Sahara countries diet 100 grams of fiber 300-500 grams of stool exempt from Western diseases.

Americans eat 240lbs to 300lbs of animal products each year. Meat Consumption in the U.S. Is Growing at an Alarming Rate

Dietary fiber pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/31696832/Dr. Denis Burkitt youtu.be/GA1fkVLqhmE Pritikin youtu.be/1jXejcIIxYs ClinicNutrition and healthy eating How to add more fiber to your diet factorsTobacco Diet lifestyle physical inactivity Smoking High blood pressure High cholesterol Obesity Diabetes AgeFamily history More Plants fruits veggies Salads Whole grains Beans Peas Lentils Exercise is critical Less Junk food Artificial sweetners Pizza Cheese Cookies CakeChickens Dairy products Burgers Red meat Sausages bacon egg yoke Fried foods Processed foods

On diet/ disease
Burkitt youtu.be/GA1fkVLqhmE Pritikin youtu.be/qOj4rzSkqok Attia youtu.be/v8VFTQ74bqoBreakey youtu.be/cpgcBe5JF1oPritikin The Lost Lectures from Nathan Pritikin - Dr. McDougall Kempner,https://www.drmcdougall.com/2013/12/31/walter-kempner-md-founder-of-the-rice-diet/ Pritikin youtu.be/1jXejcIIxYsCampbell youtu.be/hMO7QmFhxWg Breakey, youtu.be/cpgcBe5JF1o Esselstyn youtu.be/ZC3wRx4vV7g Osfield youtu.be/FsWsVInCplY Klaper youtu.be/_TokqrtFfi8 McDougall youtu.be/E58pqWHxAjIVeggies from A-Z - Half Your Platehttps://www.halfyourplate.ca/fruits-and-veggies/veggies-a-z/Vegan Diet: A Complete Guide www.wellandgood.com/vegan-diet/Pritikin youtu.be/BcHHDmuyPv4 Pritikin youtu.be/MC2Eg1fVHeA Baptise youtu.be/LTW5_Le2jOsBreakey, youtu.be/cpgcBe5JF1oEsselstyn youtu.be/ZC3wRx4vV7g Pritikin youtu.be/CT8K6NcAigo McDougall youtu.be/E58phttps://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC32... youtu.be/f_G4KgRN4S4Mackey youtu.be/jQK0IJZEbJMMcDougall youtu.be/E58pqWHxAjI Hasini youtu.be/xlesTNhZk5QHyman youtu.be/3dppG0JwPag Attia youtu.be/X_Jij_Yso_c
American doesn't catchHeart disease

The Lost Lectures from Nathan Pritikin - Dr. McDougall

Read the latest on serious health-related issues and what you can do about them. Hear success stories from people who were helped by the McDougall Program.
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It aches so bad

It all aches so bad. I feel like I'm dying. Like I'm suffocating in my own emotions. I'm sick of everything. Grieving, pretending to be someone I'm not because my family doesn't accept me. I feel like none of my family even notices me half the time. I should be used to being useless. I'm sick mentally and physically and everyone just says I'm lazy...I'm alone....I'm even smoking again

#Depression #Selfharm #Anxiety #MentalHealth #sick

(edited)
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Rough day

Woke up with tummy pains and got sick. It's been a "50%in bed 50% in the bathroom" kinda day. I feel absolutely miserable. And now I'm nauseous so I gotta take a zofran. At least I don't have a migraine. Small wins still count.

I was gonna take a Lyft to the tobacco outlet today but I don't think I'd make it without getting sick. I want to stay close to the bathroom. It's days like this I really hate being sick. I've been smoking butts from my bazillion ashtrays. I'm just about out of them now. I'll try to bum a cigarette from my neighbor. Maybe tomorrow I'll feel better. I really hope so.

#CheckInWithMe

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Having a rough night

I took my sleep meds at 7pm and didn't get to sleep until after 10pm. And I woke up at 145am needing to pee. I had a nightmare about my ex girlfriend having sex with the girl she's going to the party with on Saturday. I woke up crying.

We're not together anymore. She can do whatever she wants with whoever she desires. It's just I've helped her with so much over the last year. I've paid hundreds of dollars to help her. She says I'm the only person helping her aside from her employer.

And how does she repay me? By cracking a joke about me having trauma bonds. She abused me before she came out of the closet as a trans woman. She used to be very cruel to me. But after starting estrogen, she became much nicer. She became the person who I originally fell in love with.

I guess part of me thought if I was good to her, if I was supportive and loving and there for her during tough times, she might see my value and want to get back together with me. I love her so much. I want to see her happy and thriving. And now I guess she is, just not with me. Maybe I should have been more specific when I asked the universe to help her get back on track.

I keep falling in love with people that don't want me. Or are monogamous. I have a crush on one of my friends that I talk to every day. I'm trying to push past my feelings and focus on the friendship but she's wonderful and cares about me. We are supportive of each other.

I guess I'm looking for emotional companionship since I'm asexual. It's really hard to find people who are interested in a relationship that doesn't involve physical intimacy. But there's so much stuff to do together. Sex doesn't define a relationship, at least it shouldn't.

I feel very sad. My heart hurts. I need to get back to sleep but instead I'm chain smoking and crying. This is so stupid. Feelings are stupid. I wish I could go numb.

#Relationships #Depression #traumabonds #CheckInWithMe

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My Story- Seeing a Therapist for the first time in eight years tomorrow *TW death/ grief*

Writing this as I’m going to my first therapy appointment in eight years. I know for sure I have undiagnosed PTSD, however mine stems from multiple experiences in childhood my parents could not control even if they wanted too. I almost drowned when I was 3 or 4, went to the ER and almost died from the blood sugar being so high (1000+) and dropping to 42.

My mom did this all on her own and was a great source of strength in my life. However my dad lived with schizophrenia, epilepsy, and several other health conditions due to him coping with drinking (before I was born) and smoking 2 packs of cigarettes a day. He almost died several times in childhood, but my mom never told me until I was older, an adult, and well after he passed away. He died when I was 19.

I went to psychiatrists because all I ate was complex carbs and refined sugars, peanut butter, and maybe a banana. I gagged on all other foods. I was assessed for tons of stuff, the only thing they found was a texture issue. Insurance only approved for a few visits and my family couldn’t pay out of pocket. My doctors fought with one another, one told me to eat less and I ended up eating 1000 ish calories per day. Mind you 1000 calories of carbs and sugars weren’t great. I didn’t loose weight to his standards anyway.

I struggled with anxiety and mild depression. I never self harmed in the textbook ways, but I would lie to cover up how I felt so people wouldn’t worry about me. I would essentially cyber bully myself (two occasions) and had a lot of superficial friendships that were where I poured more into them than the other way around.

I realized a lot when my dad died followed by my papa ( mom’s dad) within six months. My papa did wonders for me and understood me as I was, I spent much of my time with him and he was where my mom and I stayed when I was sick or my dad was unwell or had a fight with my mom. That was a big loss as he was my anchor ( along with my mom) throughout my whole life.

So I met more friends that the relationships became toxic. I could essentially do what they wanted and bend over backwards. When I began to standup for myself, I was met with pushback. I would say no if I couldn’t drive them or go somewhere and they would say sorry without changed behavior. Then I eventually cut ties with them gradually. Which is now where I’ve been focusing on myself, healthy friendships and myself.

I now feel ready to return to therapy. I’m also proud of how far I’ve come, and happy for all the progress. #Anxiety #Depression #PTSD

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10 Years of Grief

Part 1 of 2 Incredibly, it has been 10 years since I was last able to hug my son; it feels like the blink of an eye.  10 years ago, I visited him in hospital and as I was walking down a corridor to find him, he rushed towards me with his arms open wide, and gave me a massive hug.  I felt engulfed by that hug, he had been outside smoking so he had his puffa jacket on; it added bulk to his thin frame.  The jacket smelt of him, each person has such a unique smell, you know when you are wrapped up in their arms, that this is familiar, this is home.  Before I left him that night, I leaned over him, put a hand on either side of his head, kissed him on the top of his unruly curls, said goodbye and walked away thinking about dinner.  There was never any thought in my head that I would not see Harry conscious again, that this was the last conversation I would ever have with him.  I was just happy that I’d made it to the hospital before visiting hours ended, I was happy to have seen him, and now I had to get home.

Four hours later I got a call to say that Harry had been found unresponsive in his room and was in an ambulance on the way to hospital, because he had seriously injured himself, and the mental heath care facility he was in could not care for him.  I met him in the emergency room, he was so very still, and hooked up to so many monitors.  They had managed to start his heart again, it wasn’t looking good though, and he was transferred to ICU care.   I repeated over and over into Harrys shell-like pink ear, as he lay so still on that ICU bed, “you are loved, my beloved boy, you are loved, you are loved, you are loved”.

After 3 days in ICU, a decision was made to remove life support, my beautiful boy was not coming back.  It has been 10 years since I held my baby in my arms as life support was removed.  10 years since I physically felt the moment his soul left his body.  10 years since I washed that body for the very last time, before my beloved son was transported to the morgue. 10 years since I stumbled out of hospital clutching his teddy bear, supported by my sister and my friend.  10 years since we held a funeral for an 18 year old who should not have died.

I didn’t just lose an 18 year old son that day in ICU, I lost all the potential wrapped up in his skinny body, all of the future possibilities, everything that Harry could have, should have, would have become.  My first born should be a 28 year old man today, living his best life…would he be married…would he have children…would he still be living in Christchurch…what job would he have settled on…would he still be dancing…what would his art work be focusing on…so many questions!  The biggest one will always be, if he had survived that night, how long would he have had to fight the black dog, and what insights would he have had to share on the other side of that fight?

When a young person dies by suicide, life fractures completely.  There is no way for a parent or a loved one or a friend to comprehend (or prepare for) the loss of a fit, healthy, vibrant young person, who is taken out of time.  The jagged edges of the space they leave behind cause so much pain and grief, and such an overwhelming feeling of disbelief, of complete wrongness.  The knowledge of such a big loss does not sit easily in the souls of those left behind, the jagged edges of it catch on the fabric of life and unexpectedly pull on threads of it (like a song on the car radio…or a fleeting glimpse of a Harry-shaped boy in the supermarket…or the return of an unguarded memory…or in the faces of his friends growing older, when he himself will never age beyond his 18 years and 9 months).  Suicide not only steals away the life of one so precious to those left behind, it also steals away all of that persons potential, all that they could have been, all they should have been.

As I sit here and contemplate the last time I hugged my son, the passage of time means nothing.  The past 10 years have not changed the love I always felt for that wee boyo, from the moment I became aware that the bean-sized being growing inside me had a discernible heartbeat…through the angsty teenage years.  Time does not dull the relationship, time does not change the depth of  loss.  What it does, though, is add layers of life, of new experiences, of deeper understanding…and those layers temper my grief.  It is no longer that all consuming pain I felt in the early days.  It is no longer the painful sting that was ever present in my year of firsts (first meal I cooked myself, first day back at work, first Christmas, birthdays, Mothers Day, first day I managed to drive in the car without crying…)

I used to wear my grief like a massive cloak I wrapped around myself, it billowed, and swung around like it owned all the air around me.  With the passage of time my cloak has di

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