Yesterday I contacted some alternative medical people regarding this persistent insomnia I have. I keep coming up with answers and new solutions. I know I have a long history of wishful thinking-type solutions, solutions that only appear to work for a very short time. Then, I realize the solution isn’t working at all and I am back to Square One (or worse) and exhausted as usual, sleeping very little or not at all, frustrated and angry that this problem has gone on and on and on, with no end in sight.
I keep telling myself that maybe I need to face the facts. Maybe there’s no solution. My friend says it’s permanent brain damage from the drugs and I need to face it. Great. So people are telling me I have to live like this for the rest of my life.
Drag drag drag drag. Barely awake. Non-functional. Can’t even think. Can’t remember from moment to moment.
No wonder people kill themselves. If I had no hope I surely would. Frankly, I cannot live like this. I cannot live with this constant dragging exhaustion without believing that there is light at the end of the tunnel. So each day I feel this way, I convince myself,
I convince myself that this insomnia will end very very soon. I convinced myself of this years ago, and as you can see, that was a total lie I told myself just to keep myself from doing myself in. This is why I have not killed myself.
Now I keep remembering Elizabeth Kenny’s TedTalk, called “Sick.” Actually, I think the TedTalk is a shortened version of a longer play she does. Here’s the TedTalk:
Please note: If you saw the whole talk, to untangle the awful mess she got herself into, she went back to the beginning and went step by step. How did it all happen?
I suddenly stopped sleeping in mid-2011. This was drastic for me. I went from sleeping fine to sleeping 3-1/2 hours, then sleeping barely at all. What else?
I was abused at MGH. I experienced bradycardia. I have toyed with the idea that my brain could have been oxygen-starved. However, if it was, I’d show other signs of brain damage, too. I’ve been tested for stroke many times. You’d think brain damage would show up in other ways besides just sleep. I was also dehydrated, and then, MGH deprived me further of water due to their own stupidity since they didn’t recognize that I had diabetes insipidus. Still, I don’t think that would cause insomnia. I stopped antipsychotics, but I think any resulting insomnia would improve over time. It hasn’t. Also, if this were a dopamine issue, then the dopamine antagnoist supplements I have tried would have had some effect. I have now tried two, and these have not helped. I have also tried NAC, which I also had great hopes for, but that, too, was another case of “wishful thinking.” I tried light therapy which helped at first but then I had to concede that this was also “wishful thinking.” Vitamins also had the “wishful thinking” effect. I worked on trauma and concluded that the insomnia following abuse would have resolved by now. Was I really back at Square One after all this time and effort? Yesterday I toyed with the thought of paying these alternative people a huge sum of money….but then I realized I’d lose the money (I don’t even have that much remaining on my credit card) and I don’t think they guarantee a thing.
But wait….What if I traced all this back. What happened way back in 2011? What about 2010? I remember late in 2010, I was really happy. My whole life was finally coming together. Then, I made the mistake of walking into Maria Mellano’s office, thinking I was doing the right thing. I had no clue that very soon, all that I had done to make my life better would end. Would anyone have suspected?
Oh, the nice office, those cushions on that couch, and the smell of that…whatever the hell it was. Stinky perfume or whatever she had in there. Ugh. It reeked. Was it some herb or flowers or something? Geez, don’t some patients have allergies? I’d feel like I was going to pass out from that flowery stink, but I didn’t say anything. Every time I sat on the couch, I felt like I sank into it and I’d get trapped into it. Like I’d never get out. She had so many pillows in there. You were supposed to punch them or cry into them or hug them. Yuck.
Oh, then the scarves hanging everywhere. This was for Psycho-drama. And two huge tubs of Stuffed Animals. This was to control and manipulate her patients. Maria Mellano was a rather unstable and fearful person herself, so her way of maintaining a feeling of control over her world was to impose a ridiculous amount of unnecessary power over those who came to her for “help.” Unfortunately, her patients ended up confused, angry, or even suicidal as a result of this “therapy.” At first, some of us resorted to Stockholm Syndrome as a natural coping mechanism to deal with the abuse, until we wised up and quit.
I started seeing Maria right around Thanksgiving 2010. Right at this time, I was very happy, sleeping well, getting my eating back together, and had two good friends that I had regular spoken contact with. Immediately after the very first session, Maria tried to disempower me. She demanded that I get force-weighed. She demanded that I stop running. She got very bossy about many other things as well. She said she was “different,” implying “better,” but of course I knew she was completely wrong. She insisted she “knew better,” knew better than I did. I began to realize that this was abuse, but this was a slow realization. Too slow.
Then what happened? The fiasco at McLean. I was put on Trileptal, which messed me up for months until I figured it out and got off of it. Then what? I finally got that tooth out after five wrong teeth were pulled. The right tooth was so infected by then that I had to take an antibiotic.
After that, I noticed I had very bad edema. This was due to kidney disease. The kidney disease was either ignored or they were so stupid they didn’t even know. How can you ignore a GFR of 40 or below? I didn’t know if the swelling in my feet and ankles was from the antibiotic or from something else, though. I was pissed either way. I knew information was being kept from me, and I knew I was getting terrible medical care either way.
I was so pissed off that to defy Maria and all of them, I overexercised. I should have known better. I was in a tizzy, really. I am generally not one to do things like that, but I was cornered and powerless. By then, I had lost so much, lost my friends, was bewildered by the effects of the Trileptal and deception afterward. I was just plain frustrated and had no outlet and no one was listening. I couldn’t run with edema, so I walked over 10 miles a day. My shoes didn’t even fit on my feet at that point. That is why my knee got injured. I think I overexercised for about a month before the joint gave in.
If I recall correctly, I was about three to five weeks on crutches, then I was okay. Maria was horrible to me. I heard no end of all that. I deserved it. Served me right. I finally got to an orthopedist. The verdict was that I would never walk nor run again.
After I saw Maria Mellano’s reaction to this verdict I really should never have gone back to her. I should have brought a video camera to my therapy session. I told her what the ortho had told me. Her whole face lit up. Power. Control. She said, “Yay.” I’m not kidding! She really did! She really said, “Yay.” She was happy to have me handicapped. Thrilled that I would not walk nor run again. Happy that my power was now gone, and her control was absolute.
If she had been a decent therapist, she would have recommended, perhaps, that I get a second opinion. Or perhaps alternative care, or alternative solutions of some kind. No, she told me I should accept my fate and do nothing for the rest of my life except be an invalid. Maybe watch TV. A proper mental patient. Actually, she was planning on committing me to State, but I didn’t know that yet.
Folks, in addition to stopping antipsychotic medication the next month, getting abused at MGH the following month, starving myself very badly at the same time, becoming dehydrated, having a dangerously slow heart beat….I also stopped running.
Have I resumed? No, not regularly. I had to stop entirely for a long time after the knee injury. I have indeed started again, but it never lasted long, or I’d only run once a week or so. Or less. I kept on ending up with practical problems, such as the Oven. That’s what stopped me last time.
Running is free. Those alternative medical people are going to cost me over $600. Whenever I have exercised vigorously, I have been happier in every way. I have slept better, I have eaten better, I have had a better social life, and I have been a more productive writer.
Screw you, Maria. I’m free of your psycho-abuse. I am running away from all that nonsense realizing that I am alive because I defied the doctors, defied the “recommendations” from other people and institutions who only thought they knew better, and instead, became who I am, and already was.