The Face of Mental Illness

Judy Coady 4 Comments

MI

This is our daughter’s story.

All my life I have battled with severe depression, bipolar and anxiety. I just didn’t know they had names. I thought there was something wrong with me and it was all my fault. Why couldn’t I be happy? Why couldn’t I pull myself together? These questions were not answered till my late 30s. I have a past with drug and alcohol abuse to try and self medicate my feelings. Yeah, I was happy for those moments of under the influence but after the drugs and alcohol wore off, I was right back to where I was before.
A few years ago I hit my bottom with my depression. I couldn’t see any way of getting out of that dark pit. I was crying almost every day for no reason. I didn’t want to kill myself but I wanted the bad feelings to go away. I was admitted to the hospital for attempted suicide. It was then that I got the help I needed. I was diagnosed with severe depression, bipolar two and anxiety.
So here is where your education comes in about my diagnoses. These are the true facts. Having a mental diagnosis is not a choice. Mental diagnoses are diseases just like diabetes and cancer. There is no cure for a mental diagnoses only medication to try and help to lead a “normal life”. Bipolar and depression are sometimes hereditary. Both are chemical imbalances. What does that mean? It means our bodies produce actual chemicals to make us happy and sad. My body doesn’t produce the right amount for either. So, medication tries to balance and produce the right amounts of chemicals to be stable. For now, my medication is keeping me stable. Medication has to be adjusted all the time because our bodies are forever changing.

By me telling you my story, I hope that you will put a face with bipolar and depression. You all know me well. So the next time someone says ” oh that one is crazy ” or ” that one has got to be bipolar ” remember it’s not their fault. Please have some sympathy for them. It is a daily struggle. we just want to be understood.
MI_2I can’t say my diagnosis has been a total negative thing in my life. It actually brought out my passion and introduced me to my life’s work. This comes from being discharged from the hospital, feeling so alone and knowing what to do. I had no tools to stay balanced with my recovery. Having been labeled with mental diagnosis and nowhere to turn had me feeling like no one knew what I was going through. I’ve come so far from that point. I was determined to educate myself as much as I could. I came across a program called WRAP Program and CORE Training. WRAP stands for Wellness Recovery Action Plan and CORE stands for Consumer Oriented Recovery Education. Both of these programs have changed and saved my life.

Fast forward to present time. I am now working towards my state certification to be a Recovery Support Practitioner. Living Proof Recovery Center in Voorhees, NJ. is making it possible for me to volunteer time to help others in drug, alcohol and mental health recovery. To top off my day on Tuesday, I was informed by the the center, I have been selected along with another person to be trained as a facilitator the very program that saved my life……… The WRAP Program. How ’bout them apples??

I am the face of Mental Illness and have a name.

It’s Megan Yacona

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Sea Turtle Season!

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For a number of years, I was a volunteer sea turtle volunteer. I traipsed the beach, here in Florida, every Wednesday morning, looking for sea turtle tracks. I loved it. To see the sunrise, smell the ocean air, beach comb at a rather quick pace and look for tracks. Since 80% of Loggerhead sea turtles nest on Florida beaches, that’s what we usually found. Sea turtle season begins in May and ends sometime in October..whenever the last nest emerges, or hatches.

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Sea turtles are amazing creatures and even though I’m not a volunteer any longer. I still love them and their stories. They are amazing reptiles and have existed for over one hundred million years! They live their entire lives in the ocean and only the female comes ashore to lay her eggs. It can take approximately 20 years before a female is old enough to reproduce and will usually come back to her birthplace to lay her nest after migrating thousands of miles. Once she lays her nest, she crawls back out to sea, leaving her it on its own. That nest will “cook” for about 63 days, before the little ones begin stirring. When she drops her eggs into her egg chamber she dug, they are not sexed. All that stuff depends on the temperature of the sand. Warm sand makes girls and cool sand makes boys and only 1 in a 1,000 hatchlings will survive to adulthood.

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Because of those odds, Loggerhead turtles are considered to be “protected”, which is where the sea turtle patrols come in. Some protective measures are in place to help those babies survive. If you live on the beach, you must have specialized lighting outdoors because if you don’t, bright lights can frighten off the Mamas who want to lay eggs and can confuse the emerging hatchlings and keep them from going to the ocean. Sea turtles cannot crawl backwards, so if you leave something on the beach, such as a chair and they crawl into it, they cannot escape. They will turn and go back out to sea, drowning in that chair, because they breathe air and can hold their breath for a long time, but not long enough if choked by a chair. Helium air balloons? Deadly. Please don’t release them to celebrate anything, because when they deflate, some can fall into the ocean, resembling jellyfish to a turtle which is a yummy delicacy and will choke them to death.

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If you’re walking on the beach at night, which is usually when all the nesting and emerging action takes place..please don’t use a flashlight, for the same reason specialized porch lights are required. If you see a Mama nesting, leave her alone. If you see hatchlings moving to the sea..watch, but don’t interfere. No flashes on your camera or phone. None. Lights can be deadly.

I could go on and on about these mystical, magical creatures I’m so in love with, but I think you have most of the information you need to help protect these magnificent beings.

 

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Next week, I’ll share with you more information about this passion. Oh..and the reason I don’t patrol any longer, is that I have a trashed knee and cannot climb dunes or walk 4 miles in sand any longer. However, I can educate.

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Happy Earth Day!

The Gardens of Weeden

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Me & Him on the porch with coffee. Dan and I were chatting in the car on the way to his gig last night about family memories. One in particular stood out in my mind and after talking about it, thought I’d share.

I love gardening. Just love it. I love the smell of the soil, the plants, the fresh air and the birds singing. I love when my hands get dirty along with my feet, even though I try gloves and shoes, it’s just not the same as bare hands and flip flops. I passed on a tradition from my Mom to our kids. She was very fond of gardening in the rain. Unfortunately, she knew she had a landscaping “crew’ which was made up of her four children. When she had bushes or plants to install, she’d gather us all and out we traipsed. In the rain. Whining, rolling eyes, complaining, hauling soil, rain streaming down our faces, in our eyes, hair soaked along with our clothing. It didn’t matter how hard it rained, that was our gardening day. As we vocalized our displeasure, she’d cheerfully tell us that rain was the best weather to plant in.

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“You don’t have to water anything, because the water’s available! Our plants LOVE being planted in the rain! It feels clean and refreshing! Now stop complaining and get to it! The more you slack, the longer this will take and you just may as well enjoy yourself, because no one and I mean NO ONE’s getting away!”

Fast forward to our kids’ younger years. It’s raining out and I have plants to install. I’d gather up Larry & Megan and in spite of their almost to the letter whining..out we went. In the rain. To plant. I swear I was channeling Mom, because out of my mouth came the same exact..to the letter admonishments.
“You don’t have to water anything, because the water’s available. Our plants LOVE being planted in the rain! It feels clean and refreshing! Now stop complaining and get to it! The more you slack, the longer this will take and you just may as well enjoy yourself, because no one and I mean NO ONE’s getting away!”

Mom and I must have done something right as my syblings,  Carol, Louie and Dennis loved gardening. Megan always, when her sprouts start sprouting early in the Spring, sends me pictures of what she’s discovered in her yard or calls me to tell me what she’s seeing as she walks around her beds. Larry found us this great little apartment, complete with my little slice of heaven, knowing full well that I’d miss planting.

So now, I’ve made two discoveries about myself. My love of rain and gardening..straight from Mom. Today is a planting day even thought it’s not raining, I’ll plant and remember when I love it so.
Happy Sunday!

A Crowning Glory

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Me & Him on the porch with coffee. I had a question from a new client yesterday and that was “What made you choose cosmetology for your occupation”. My first answer was “My father” and that was because I hadn’t thought I’d do anything after graduation, except marry my high school sweetheart and have children. Dad told me I must go to some sort of school, “Because a woman should always be able to take care of herself.” When he asked me what I wanted to do, I immediately answered “I want to be a hairdresser”. And so I am.

However, it goes deeper than that quick answer. I started thinking after that question from my client and here’s what I came up with.
Mom always, always did her own hair, until I got my license. I remember setting her hair on pin curls as a 4 yr. old. After her hair dried, she’d brush it out and no matter how bad it looked, she thanked me and said it was most beautiful. Then she’d go to work with that “do”. I asked her in later years why she didn’t change it and she said when she looked into the mirror at Dad’s (who would be our father) store, she’d think of me. First lesson in not redoing something not to YOUR liking. After she and Dad married, she still did her own hair. I’d sit on a closed toilet seat and watch her with an old coffee cup and toothbrush coloring her own hair. Lady Clairol’s Flame Red Red and Golden Apricot. She must have been a pioneer in hair color, as we are now using bowls and brushes, just as she did. She taught me how to tease hair, explaining as she went. “Hold the section like this and then start from the bottom, honey. Never let it look tangled, always smooth gently”.

When I became licensed, she immediately started coming to me every Saturday morning at 9:00. I’d roller set, brush and tease her hair, spraying it within an inch of it’s life. We had some good chats, some heated arguments and some wonderful giggles in that chair.
After we moved to Florida, she continued going to a friend of mine for a number of years and when she visited, she’d have that Saturday 9am appointment with me in the salon I worked in.

Years later, when she became ill, weaker and unable to travel. I’d go up to visit, color her hair and cut it. It was me she trusted to cut it short..wash and wear, giving her lessons on how to do it herself. Next visit, she said she loved it, but maybe she should let her color grow out, which she did.
Each time I went, I’d give her a haircut, until she found someone to come to her. I kinda missed that time with her, but it was more free time to spend with her..giggling.

When she went into assisted care, no longer able to spend even short periods of time alone, Meg and I took her to the little shop on premises. I brought my own tools and found that we’d come full circle. Instead of that young redhead sitting in my chair, I found myself gazing into the beautiful, shimmery eyes of a wonderful, giving soul. Instead of cutting and teasing red hair, I was styling and brushing white. She once asked me to turn her away from the mirror because “I’m old and ugly”. I turned her to me, looked directly at her and said “Mom, you have more soul and beauty than anyone I’ve ever met. Your eyes are so amazing and beautiful and your smile just warms my heart. I can’t change how you feel about yourself, but I can tell you that not one person who looks at you, thinks you’re not an amazing woman.”

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With that, I turned her back to the mirror and we chatted just like old times..my heart full of Mom.
Happy Sunday!

The Helpers

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Me & Him on the porch with coffee. What would our world be like without volunteers? You know…those people who work without monetary payment, but for the simple pleasure and enjoyment of giving? I’ll tell you what would happen. Foundations would collapse, people in need would go hungry and cold. The grieving would be be without the help they need and children would be without some direction. The list goes on and on.

There’s another facet of volunteering you may not have thought of. There’s an article in the media  of Mr. Rogers talking about “helpers”. In any sad or tragic situation, there’s the “helpers”, working silently caring in the background, wanting no accolades, just results. Not everyone is able to give a few hours a week, working somewhere to help, but we all have a few minutes to hold a door, carry groceries for someone, drop a dollar in a collection bucket or share some leftovers with a friend. If you do these things without thought..guess what? You’ve joined the ranks of volunteers. Happy Sunday!

Originally posted March 23, 2014

Photo taken by Megan Yacona of her and her grandmother, my mother, holding hands.

Blessings Abound!

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Me & Him on the porch with coffee. Mundane, boring little jobs. To those of us who are able, that’s what they are. To those who are disabled, they’re blessings they’d give just about anything to perform. Cleaning out unused clothing to donate? Ho hum to most of us, who’d rather be doing something else. Try it in a wheelchair..if you can even get it through the door. Reaching for stuff needing disposal? A full time chore. Grocery shopping? (I happen to love it, but I digress….) Try it when suffering from anxiety and/or depression. It’s a monumental obstacle that becomes a triumph for those who manage to get inside the store for milk. Imagine trying a whole weeks’ shopping done..heart pounding, sweating, nausea and the urge to just run.

I suppose what I’m saying is that if you can do these little things, you are indeed blessed. Sitting on your porch, watching the birds..trees leafing out? His blessed artistry at work, If you can do these mundane, little jobs..they become pleasures when you realize you can. It’s really the little things that matter. Looking at the small picture is sometimes more important than the bigger one.

Be blessed and have a Happy Sunday!

Originally posted April 13, 2013

The Tables of Plenty

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Me & Him on the porch with coffee. While I was sitting here reflecting on this past week, I thought of just how important our kitchen tables have been to me. My husband and I have been on the hunt to replace the one we brought with us to our new home. I remember becoming frustrated at not finding one and while leaving Good Will, expressed my feelings.

“Don’t worry, honey..we’ll find the perfect one for us”, Dan said. We have, but more about that later.

I remember my very first one. I sanded and stained that table to perfection. Lots of memories for that table, primarily of Larry and Megan sitting in high chairs, then regular seats..eating meals with us. That table went to my brother, Dennis and his family and has new memories. Family meals, making Carol’s flower arrangements and then Mom’s for their memorial services, adding to it’s soul. Dennis and I sat at that table, eating fresh tomato sandwiches..tomatoes out of their garden and chatted about memories of Mom.

The next was a really cool, square oak one with leaves to make it bigger. It matched a great, little vintage china cabinet, brother Louie gave me in exchange for his haircuts. It saw the kids through adolescence and hosted many family gatherings for Mom’s New Year’s Day birthday dinners. Megan took that set with her when she had her first apartment, here in Florida. When she moved, it went to live with a family who had very little. I hope it’s spirit soothed and helped them.

Next…a wonderful, round, wooden table I painted with faux marble effects when we moved into our house. Son, Larry gave us that one. That’s where I sat, looking out into our backyard, while writing “Loretta Caretta” . So many games of Monopoly with Tiffany and eating Dan’s world famous pizza together. We sold that table to a woman who was thrilled to get them. I believe they’re still residing in her new sun room.

Our oval glass table. Again, from Larry, which lived in our dining room. Not used much except when our friends and family would join us for our music parties. That thing actually groaned under the weight of all the food offerings. It was also the center table when daughter, Megan and her Meryl visited on their honeymoon,  celebrating their union with family and friends. That table came with us, but alas…was too large. The glass went to live with someone else and the Taylors will enjoy the lovely garden pillars that served as legs.

New we finally have our new/old table. We looked and looked, sure that the perfect one would come to us in this downsized life style. My dear, wonderful friend had it in her garage , preparing to repair the scratches and small damages on the pedestal, but then found she didn’t really need it. It’s now living in our kitchen. I think I’ll keep the scratches and marks as I prefer to look at them at memories. Wonder who’s kids scuffed up those feet? Which delicious dish made scratches as it slid across to serve someone. It has started it’s life with us with some fabulous memories already. The Taylors helped us pick it up from Dottie’s home. We ate pizza & wings, drank beer and wine, while playing cards, laughing and joking. The kids in the living room, sprawled on our couch and chair, watching movies. I look forward to adding our Dotson’s spirits with family dinners and painting gatherings. Friends to come for lunch and Dan and I having wonderful dinners together. I’ll complete my second book there and roll out dough for pasta & perogie. I’ll sit and watch the hummingbirds feed and our neighbors stroll by. This table will become an important part of our lives, just as it’s predecessors before it. Our memories will be infused with the existing ones, enriching it’s soul.

Thank your for bearing with me during this walk down memory lane. How ’bout your table memories

Happy Sunday!

Originally posted on Sunday, April 6, 2014

Giggles!

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Me & Him on the porch with coffee. I love all of the emotions he’s gifted us with. One of them…laughing…is my favorite of all. Belly aching, jaw clenching, breath stealing, face hurting laughter. Reader’s Digest said it perfectly with “Laughter is the Best Medicine”. Laughter can heal all. It can alleviate pain. It can begin or end a day with a laughter snack snuck into the middle. So many sources can spark a fit of laughing. You can be by yourself, remembering a funny memory, or with a group of loved ones. Books & movies, can give us all we need..what we crave. A hearty shriek or a soft giggle. It all works, if we’d do it more often. All of these gifts, He’s supplied us with to make balance in our everyday lives.

So…just laugh! Look up at the sky and see the birds flying…mama ducks with their little ones…a baby learning something new..a squirrel trying to enter a bird feeder. Children grossed out by parents schmooching.  What makes YOU laugh? The list goes on, so observe, look and laugh.

Happy Sunday!

Originally posted on Sunday, January 12, 2014

Goddess Warriors

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Me & Him on the porch with coffee. I’ve been such a lucky woman to have been surrounded by strong, resilient, brave women, who were taken far too early by terrible diseases. Parkinson’s, cervical cancer, lung cancer & COPD, just to name a few. These were diagnosed with physical symptoms, confirmed by physical testing. What did we learn and why does this happen? Mom told me that she hoped people would learn from her illness…to help others. Carol…same thing. I know they’re in His hands now & grateful for the place they’re in.

Mental disabilities and illnesses are a horse of a different color. My long time friend, Joanie, who worked in the mental health field, told me that diagnosing Bi Polar Depression, Schizophrenia & others were more tricky. “Drop the doctor in the middle of a maze, Judy, and tell them to find their way out”.

I can’t even imagine being the victim of a mental illness (MI). I can’t imagine the battle, the stigma attached. Years ago, cancer was surrounded by secrecy and now an everyday word. Why should MI be any different? Those afflicted don’t choose these, as physically ill victims wouldn’t either. They’re not faking, not looking for a attention, not weak. They’re real, public and ohsovery strong.

This coffee talk is dedicated to our daughter, Megan…a warrior..a brave woman, who keeps working to save and help others. She’s not fearful of stigma and is a nurturer. She’s stood by Carol and Mom to the end, always knowing exactly what to say and do. I hope she continues her education and I can’t think of anything she could say better to someone than, “I know just how you feel. I’ve been in your shoes. You can do this.” To those of you who are naysayers, please remember that YOU, yourself may be ill some day and look to others for kindness and compassion.

I know this is a strong post, but today, I felt the need to be on a soapbox. Those of you who know me, know I have a hard time having patience for judgmental and non-compassionate people, but try very hard to understand. I believe that those less fortunate than YOU are here to teach us…placed here by Him, the best example of kindness and compassion, I can think of.

Happy joyous Sunday!

Originally written on January 29, 2014

Meanderings on Fitness and Grief

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“ANGELVERSARY”

Me & Him on the porch with coffee. My last Sunday at age 62 and also approaching Carol’s 3rd “Angelversary”. As I walked this morning, my emotions took over and I wanted to shake my fist, railing at Him for taking her from us so young.

“Don’t you know we had plans to grow old together like Mom and Aunt Rae???? We talked about it all the time…watching them and saying, “There we are, 20 years from now.” And then we’d laugh.

After I fought the sobbing and heartache down, I realized she’s in the perfect place, with Him and family gone before her, welcoming those after her. I raised my eyes to the beautiful, azure sky and thanked Him…like the toddler who had a temper tantrum and of course, I was forgiven. That’s how He rolls. I didn’t even have to sit in time out.

This last week of 62-itis, I’ll continue pursuing good health. I’m stronger, leaner and healthier than last birthday. I’m removing sugar, flour, additives and chemicals from my daily diet, enjoying the food I prepare and using it for fuel, instead of a drug to soothe my grief. I’m writing more  and will no longer beat on doors not opening and instead will look for the open ones…doors and windows of opportunity.

This week, is the first week of the rest of my life and I’m planning on honoring my mother and sister by experiencing the things they couldn’t. I’ll celebrate them both as well as myself.

They’d be so proud.

Happy Sunday!

Originally written on Sunday, February 8, 2015