Self Worth

A well-known speaker started off his seminar by holding up a $20.00 bill. In the room of 200 he asked, "Who would like this $20 bill?"

Hands started going up. He said, "I am going to give this $20 to one of you but first, let me do this."

He proceeded to crumple up the $20 dollar bill. He then asked, "Who still wants it?"

Still the hands were up in the air. "Well," he replied, "What if I do this?"

And he dropped it on the ground and started to grind it into the floor with his shoe. He picked it up, now crumpled and dirty. "Now, who still wants it?"

Still the hands went into the air. "My friends, we have all learned a very valuable lesson. No matter what I did to the money, you still wanted it because it did not decrease in value. It was still worth $20. Many times in our lives, we are dropped, crumpled, and ground into the dirt by the decisions we make and the circumstances that come our way. We feel as though we are worthless. But no matter what has happened or what will happen, you will never lose your value. Dirty or clean, crumpled or finely creased, you are still priceless to those who do love you. The worth of our lives comes not in what we do or who we know, but by who we are. You are special, don't ever forget it."

One parent of many

My Beloved Katie
by Linda P. Stauffer

Each day I wake up from a terrible dream,
Only to find the world has changed.
I go to your room; your things are still there
Your dolls, your medals and your favorite bear.
The scent of you lingers, the smell of your hair
Memories of you, I find, are everywhere
Your precious books are stacked by the bed
And tissues that captured your tears as you read
Your paintings and drawings still hang on the wall
Collections of seashells and rocks from the beach
Bring back the memories of the times well spent
How do I go on without you by my side?
To love you to hold you, with smiles and pride.
My heart, it is broken, my dear beloved child
I miss your laughter, your music and your smiles,
All of our dreams of the future will never come true
The 'whys 'and 'if onlys 'endlessly swirl in my head
Please tell me, oh God, I wish I were dead
I want to be with you every second of the day
But Dad and your sister, they need me to stay
Your friends and your family will never forget,
Your friendship, your love and your gentle kindness
You will live on forever in their hearts and their minds,
I will love you forever my darling, my child.

This poem made me cry. I pray that I never have to bury a child. But I am grieving a different kind of loss. This morning, as I was unpacking and sorting through my things, I found dozens of little hairclips which I lovingly picked out for my preschooler a while back. Butterflies, flowers, sparkly blue pastic clips, which would nestle so cheerfully in her curly blonde hair. I put them in a plastic bag, by the door.

Tomorrow

The days drag on and on. I woke up today, knowing I will only have to do it again tomorrow.
What's it all for?

I think it is human nature to feel that life is an endurance test sometimes, to wonder if it's worthwhile, when all is said and done, and the candle finally burns out:

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.


This was written some 400 years ago, and yet still a very familiar sentiment.
I wonder, how many actors have uttered this soliloquey. Are they remembered?
How many times has Macbeth been staged since the early 1600s... signifying nothing?

Retail Therapy and the Borderline

Impulsivity in at least two areas that are potentially self-damaging (e.g., promiscuous sex, eating disorders, binge eating, substance abuse, reckless driving).

Bored and empty, the familiar void of my existence. I sit at my computer and daydream of a life like those I see on family sitcoms: attractive, patient wife... quirky, comical husband... entertaining antics of the kids.

I sign in to my account with the Shopping Channel. Today's Showstopper: A water-based air purifier that humidifies the air and emits a pleasant fragrance. Today only, buy two and get an extra supply of the aromatherapy solution FREE!

Curious, I watch the web video of the product in action. Removes allergens and odour-causing bacteria. This would be great for the kids! Sarah picks up so many germs from daycare. Add to cart.

Bundle you purchases and save on shipping.

I browse through the latest gadgets, fashions and face creams. A tummy-control skirt that hides your flaws and accentuates your assets. Julian would love this on me! Add to cart.

A specially-formulated foot balm that banishes cracked heels for good. Those pesky dry feet. Add to cart.

Which of my credit cards has room for these purchases? None. But the Shopping Channel offers a three-month payment plan of manageable installments. Perfect. Checkout.

Two days a package arrives at the door. The painful void is filled with thrill. A present! Hooray. I carefully open the box and gently sort through my treasures. Item 1, air purifier. I place it delicately on the kitchen table. Item 2, skirt. I try it on, doesn't quite fit, but I'll put it in the closet. Item 3, heal balm. I put it with a pile on the stairs of items that need to be brought upstairs. Item 4... nothing. Disappointment. That's all? The thrill is over. I throw away the invoice, break down the box and put it outside before Julian sees that yet another package has come in the mail.

I'm bored. I feel empty. I sign in to Please Mum. My kids could use some new clothes for Fall. Sale! 30% off clearance items...

Don't leave me!

The borderline's telltale symptom:

Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment

I'm home alone, plopped on the couch, filling the void with home organization programming on HGTV. My husband, Nate, works long shifts, sometimes in the evenings, sometimes overnight.

The house is a mess  - dirty dishes piled in the sink and laundry strewn in random places throughout our rented townhome.

I'm lonely.

There's a twinge of discomfort deep in my gut. My bowels gurgle and a sharp painful cramp stabs into my belly. I hobble to the bath room. Anxiety floods my mind, my heart rate speeds up. Shaking, I sit on the toilet. Another gurgle, and a dull ache in my right lower abdomen. Could this be the onset of a life-threatening appendicitis? What if there's a cancer in my bowels and I'm ignoring the signs!

The anxiety swells into panic. I'm fighting off the need to hyperventilate as my heart pounds against my ribcage. I feel disoriented. Trembling, I rush for the phone.  I dial the number for the manufacturing plant where Nate works. A woman answers. "I need to speak with Nate," I beg, holding back tears. "He's busy." She replies flatly. You bitch! I need him! "It's an emergency!" I explained, stifling the panic in my voice. "Just a minute," she sighed.

After an eternity, a familiar voice comes through the phone. "What's up?" "There's something wrong!" I sob. "I need to go to the hospital!" He pauses. "What is it now?"  The annoyance in his voice stings. "I think I have appendicitis. It really hurts!" I wail. "Babe, we went to the hospital last week. The doctors checked you out. I can't keep leaving work like this." "Please! I'm scared. I'm telling you, something serious is going on!" ..."Alright, sit tight. I'll get there as soon as I can."

A tidal wave of relief sweeps over me as I hear the keys rustling at the door. I need him. Badly.

The hours at the emergency room inch by. The doctor politely examines my abdomen. The blood tests are normal. I'm sent home, disappointed and embarrassed.

It's very late when we get home. In bed, I cuddle up with Nate, soothed by the warmth of his body. I feel like a little girl, scared of the dark, clinging to her Daddy for comfort. Satisfied by his presence, the deep, haunting loneliness fades to a faint feeling of emptiness. Exhausted from the emotional strain of the day, I fall fast asleep in Nate's arms.

Panic Disorder

Panic Attacks are intense and traumatic. If left unchecked they can quickly take over your life, interfering with work, relationships and destroy overall quality of life.


The First Attack

I had my first full-blown attack when I was 23. I was in an abusive relationship, and engaged to be married.

I was at a friends house, sipping coffee. My fiance and I had been fighting all morning and my stress level was high.

The attack started with a tingling sensation in my mouth and face. My heart started to race and my breathing became quick and shallow. I was convinced I had eaten something weird and was having some sort of freak allergic reaction. I was trembling uncontrollably and thought I was going to die.

I went straight to the emergency room, expecting them to rush me inside, strap monitors on my chest and hook me to an IV. The triage nurse listened to my symptoms and remarked, "it sounds like anxiety."

I was floored. No, this was something much more serious than that. Anxiety is just from worrying a bit to much, right? I sat in the waiting room, snuggling under a blanket, still trembling a bit.

After waiting an hour, I felt perfectly fine. I left before I even saw a doctor.


The attacks continue

This was the first of a string of attacks, which increased in frequency and severity. Within a month, I was a complete wreck - frightened to go out of the house.

My attacks would come on suddenly, sometimes waking me out of sleep. My heart would pound, I would get pins and needles, I would hyperventilate, shake and cry. They passed quickly, but left me exhausted and terrified.


Recovery

I began to research as much as I could about panic disorder. Sometimes just reading about them would trigger an attack.

My doctor prescribed me a low dose of an antidepressant (Celexa). I was nervous about taking them, and the simple act of swallowing a pill would trigger an attack. My fiance was dead against me taking medication. He shamed me, called me a "pill-popper."

I took the medication for about 2 weeks, and gave up. I decided to fight this disorder on my own.

I had to learn about the physiological responses that happened just before and during an attack. Pupils dilate, adrenaline courses through your blood. Racing heart beat, spinning thoughts, feeling of suffocation, overwhelming sense of dread, abdominal cramping, pins and needles, tightness in the chest...


Emotional detachment

With practice, I learned to "observe" these physical responses as they happened to my body. I imagined that I was an onlooker of my own body, scientifically studying these symptoms.

By learning to control my emotional reaction to the attacks, they gradually started loosing power over me. I still had the physical symptoms, but I didn't let myself "panic." I patiently waited out the physiological responses, objectivally observed my physical reactions, and calmly, the symptoms passed.

Success

Eventually, the attacks were gone. I still felt panic creep up on me, at work or in a busy mall. But I relaxed, breathed and waited for the feeling to pass.

It takes patience and practice, but panic attacks can be conquered!

Fibromyalgia

Fibromyalgia is a pain syndrome characterized by chronic body aches ranging from mild to severe and unrelenting fatigue. Like rheumatoid arthritis, stress, fatigue, weather can all lead to a flare-up of symptoms.

Childhood Fibromalgia

For as long as I could remember, night time was accompanied by a terrible aching in my legs and arms. I would lie awake for hours, crying, wishing the pain would go away. My family doctor told my parents that I was suffering from growing pains and that it will go away on its own.

The years went by, and the pain never stopped. In high school, I was in a terrible amount of pain one day, and went to see a doctor at the school clinic. He prescribed me some muscle relaxants. These were, of course, ineffective.


Fatigue

In adulthood, fatigue took over my life. I could not seem to get enough rest, and would sit through my college courses bleary-eyed and foggy. My body ached, and I just wanted to curl up in bed with the lights off.

I complained to my doctor that I just couldn't shake of this awful tiredness. I was sent for an overnight sleep study, which looked for signs of sleep apnea or other sleep disorders. Nothing was found.


Diagnosis

At 22 years old, I had been working full time for about two months. I pushed myself through the day, drinking as much coffee as I could stomach. But eventually, by body said "no more." I was sitting at my desk, trying to type, my muscles screaming and my eyes burning. I broke down, and started sobbing.

The next day, I went to see a different doctor and begged her to figure out what was going on with me. For the first time ever, the doctor took my complaints seriously. She asked a long series of questions, did a physical exam, sent me for a few tests. "I think," she said, "you have fibromyalgia."

What is this strange word? After two decades of silent suffering, I finally had a name for this "friend" of mine.

Lifestyle overhaul

Being the researcher that I am, I read as much as I could about the disorder, or syndrome. I needed to learn to pace my self, be forgiving and gentle with myself. I had always been a bit of a perfectionist, pushing myself to the limit to succeed in whatever I did. 

I had to learn to tone it down, take it day by day, hour by hour. I took a part-time job, took naps during the day if I could. I went to bed early, giving ample time to sleep.

The pain and fatigue are present, and will never go away until a cure (or good treatment) is found. But it is much more manageable now. I have bad days, but the flare ups are less frequent.