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Knocked Over By A Feather

IT WAS A BIG FUCKING FEATHER…

Electroconvulsive Therapy

Electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) is a procedure, done under general anesthesia, in which small electric currents are passed through the brain, intentionally triggering a brief seizure. ECT seems to cause changes in brain chemistry that can quickly reverse symptoms of certain mental illnesses. – The Mayo Clinic

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One of my closest friends, who is struggling with depression and extreme anxiety, is currently preparing to undergo ECT treatments. She asked me if I could write a post about it and I told her that I would be pleased to do so.

Whenever a loved one is experiencing a health problem, I do research on it so that I can try to fully empathize with him/her. I like to know what’s going on and how I can help in any way possible.

I especially understand depression and anxiety, two soul-crushing bastards. Although I was lucky enough to finally find the proper medications to alleviate my symptoms, my friend hasn’t been as blessed to find that elusive chemical cocktail. Her therapist and psych doctor recommended ECT as an alternative option.

Like most people would react, she was obviously hesitant and scared shitless. She wanted to know my opinion off the top of my head and I told her that I would do it if nothing else worked, because living with depression/anxiety is like hell on earth.

To me, the pros outweigh the cons. As we like to joke, zap me doc.

She’s had to take numerous tests to make sure that she’s healthy enough otherwise, wean herself from anxiety meds for her safety during treatments and take an extended leave from work. She also lives 400 miles away from a hospital that performs the procedure, so she’ll have to stay in a hotel nearby for patients during the course of her ECT, which at this point is 3 days a week. She has a husband and two children, who just want her back as healthy and happy as humanly possible.

If I had the money, I would go stay with her. But I can’t, so I am backing her up from afar.

ECT has a bad rep from decades of horror stories, which is why she is so afraid to tell people she’s going for it. Personally, I think that’s she’s one of the bravest people that I know. All she wants is to finally feel like herself again, to eradicate this fucking albatross that is depression/anxiety. If she needs to let a doctor shock her brain to do so, she is willing to take the chance of memory loss and a myriad of other possible side effects.

Antidepressants also have side effects. I learned that firsthand many years ago when I had a manic episode while taking Wellbutrin and just two years ago on a newer med called Brintellix, which made me take action on my suicidal thoughts.

We all react differently, so what’s right for one person can be devastating to another.

My friend really needs some support right now and I know that I can count on you guys to give her some.

And babe? I love you, girl. I’m here, always.

Bada Bing, Bada Boom

Some of you may have noticed that I changed my gravatar/profile picture. If you haven’t, kindly disregard this post and find something better to do with 3 minutes of your day. I totally understand.

My therapist has been on me to make myself look nicer lately, which I wrote about a few weeks ago. It could have been only a couple of weeks ago, time flows as fluidly as a waterfall in my world lately.

She asked me to take a selfie of myself this week with my hair done and makeup on. I rolled my eyes a little, although I did agree to the idea. I have to show her the photo the next time that I see her, which is this Saturday.

So the other evening, I went upstairs and did my hair first, using some of my daughter’s hair spray. After I was satisfied enough with the results, I put on a little makeup.

Eh, I looked okay, I thought. Not too heinous.

Then I put my glasses back on.

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How can a 42-year-old have a zit on her forehead?

 

I went to my bedroom, turned the lamp on and started the torturous selfie taking process, which lasted about 15 minutes total. I gave each the thumbs down and quickly deleted them. I’m seriously self-conscious about what I look like, especially nowadays. I haven’t given a rats pa-toot about my appearance in ages.

A long ass fucking time, you guys. Like, longer than Pinocchio’s nose.

Then finally, like some sort of miracle from heaven above, one of my selfies didn’t make me want to puke in my mouth.

I made it black and white (it hides imperfections), put a lipstick filter on it and…lo and behold, bada bing, bada boom.

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I had to crop my cleavage.

 

So there. I hope you’re happy, J.

I’ve shared it here and on Facebook, albeit temporarily. Tomorrow, I will go back to my regular cartoon face on my blog and go back to my tripped out hippie photo on the book of faces.

I’m not comfortable with this selfie, it makes me feel pretentious, like I’m looking for compliments to stroke my nonexistent vanity.

This is really just an exercise that shows how far I’ve come in rediscovering myself again after 6 years of living in my own personal Twilight Zone, with a quite insidious Rod Sterling hosting.

Now that I take a better look, I actually do like my hair. Go figure.

Give Me One Reason

I listen to music almost everyday. This song popped up first on my playlist this morning and since I am actually planning on taking up the monumental task of really cleaning my kitchen floor, I figured it’s a perfect day to just throw a random song here for your listening pleasure.

I’ve loved Tracy Chapman ever since the 80’s when she came on the scene with “Fast Car” in 1988. I was a freshman in high school, holy shitballs.

This tune was released in 1995. I remember blasting it in my car, singing along with it. Her voice is bluesy and unique, I think. No auto-tune for her.

Yes, I was alone in the car. My singing sucks big time. Not one of my talents.

Wish me luck that I don’t injure myself too badly giving my filthy kitchen floor a real deep clean today. I can’t put it off any longer.

Afterwards, I might have a margarita to celebrate. It’s 5 o’clock somewhere and I’ve been a good girl lately.



Give Me One Reason by Tracy Chapman … 1995

Give me one reason to stay here
And I’ll turn right back around
Give me one reason to stay here
And I’ll turn right back around
Said I don’t want leave you lonely
You got to make me change my mind

Baby I got your number and I know that you got mine
But you know that I called you, I called too many times
You can call me baby, you can call me anytime
You got to call me

Give me one reason to stay here
And I’ll turn right back around
Give me one reason to stay here
And I’ll turn right back around
Because I don’t want leave you lonely
You got to make me change my mind

I don’t want no one to squeeze me, they might take away my life
I don’t want no one to squeeze me, they might take away my life
I just want someone to hold me and rock me through the night

This youthful heart can love you and give you what you need
This youthful heart can love you and give you what you need
But I’m too old to go chasing you around
Wasting my precious energy

Give me one reason to stay here
And I’ll turn right back around
Give me one reason to stay here
And I’ll turn right back around
Because I don’t want leave you lonely
You got to make me change my mind

Baby just give me one reason, give me just one reason why
Baby just give me one reason, give me just one reason why I should stay
Said I told you that I loved you
And there ain’t no more to say

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