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I understand, I am tired of it too.

It started yesterday afternoon. It wasn’t a bad day. I thought if I just lie down I might have the energy to go to the shop and clean before we got on the ferry at 3am.  I even bought our ferry tickets the day before knowing I wouldn’t want to deal with it early in the morning; the idea of being up at 3am was weighing on me. The shop not being cleaned up and everything I hadn’t completed was all settling on me.

The house was quiet at 5pm.  And at 6pm.  I set my alarm for 8pm.  “I can wake up and go to the shop at 8, clean and head to the ferry,” I told myself.  My body said, “NO”.  My body, which I hadn’t asked much of the past two days, began to feel like lead.  I sent the message to my mom, “too sick to make the ferry,” in a few more words.  I can’t look back at the message because a fight with Yancey then escalated.

    

I screamed at him, the primal scream that leaves your throat raw.  I threw my phone at the timber wall of my room.  It bounced off, unbroken.  I stormed out of the house, down the steps, to the edge of the property and threw my phone as hard as I could towards the beach.  It landed 8 feet from me just below the tree line of the beach.  I stood still for a moment, disgusted, I couldn’t even throw it to the beach.  It was raining, that would do the job. 

Crying, yelling, feeling like a failure for not being able to control this, to get through it and get the kids to the ferry. I hadn’t thrown a phone since 2012. The pressure in my head caused me to rock and beg, “please, just break.” An aneurysm, anything, the pressure built further.  Lying down sent shooting stabbing jolts from above my ears to my crown. Sitting up felt like I was trying to get to the bottom at the deep end of the pool. The pain was unrelenting. I thought, "I should go to the ER."  When I did sleep for a few minutes I woke up crying.  Around 4am the ferry passed by the house, the familiar humming of the engines as it passed sent me into another round of quiet choking sobs.

Around 5am I thought I should let Yancey know about the phone. I went upstairs to Miranda’s room, “what’s your code,” I whispered to her. I put the code in. Five minutes later I couldn’t recall the code, I asked her 3 more times this morning before saying, “please write it down.” I also had to write down a phone number because I couldn’t remember the seven numbers from looking at a text it was sent in to typing it back into the phone, though I tried several times.

With another phone lying by my head the texts and phone calls began again.  We fought again. For hours. It doesn’t matter what we said, as always we are both at fault. I screamed again. I set Miranda’s phone on the bed, and kept screaming. I hit my bed with my fists, I stood up on the bed and swept all books, magazines and glasses off the shelf at the head of our bed. A vase with paper flowers from mothers day hit the wall and shattered.

Glass was all over the carpet and sprayed into the hall. I stopped screaming. I picked up Miranda’s phone and walked to the living room. Merrick met me at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes ringed with red splotches from crying. He had come in my room when he woke up and wrapped himself around me. Tears fell on my cheek, his tears, mixing with mine.

“I am sorry,” I said, “it wasn’t about you guys, I just got sick and it’s hard for me to travel.”

“I know,” he said. I wrapped my fingers around his and felt ill for his disappointment. “I love you,” he said again leaving my room.  He was likely red eyed over missing the trip, not because I was screaming or breaking things, but part of my wanting out is because of what the kids have to witness and experience with me.

“Here,” I said to Merrick, handing him Miranda’s phone, “please take this or I will break it,” I turned away grabbing the broom to start cleaning my room.

There isn’t a feeling I despise more than losing control, more than breaking things. It snaps me out of the anger for a moment, the anger having snapped me out of despair as well.

“You feel better when you are angry,” Yancey has said many times. Meaning, I get mean and angry and fight to avoid feeling bad. He is right. Today I understood something new. Despair, stress, suicidal tendencies all rob energy from me. Anger must have a chemical reaction that pushes adrenaline through me because I do often believe I can do anything at the same time I am threatening to leave him or just being cruel. For a very short time there is actually relief from the pain, while I am causing more for someone else.

And so the cycle runs.  The house phone rang again.  Lying in bed, alone in the house I knew if I didn't get up and answer it he would send someone here.  His parents had already picked the kids up.

"Yes," I said.

"I just want to know you are okay."

"Yeah, if I was ABLE to kill myself I would have done it a long fucking time ago," I said and slammed the red receiver down.

It has been a good run of not feeling this bad.  It hasn't happened like this for a long time.  I can speculate why but the truth is it just happens.  It happens if I am drinking, sober, abusing medications, taking none or taking the one that has worked best for me, which I am and will continue to take.  

I don't have prescription medication at my house which could be used to O.D.  I am terrified of dying, of actually hurting myself.  But I am not scared of falling asleep forever.  I am a spiritual person and that thin thread of believing I don't have the right to take my life is always there, no matter how badly I want to end the pain forever.  I research things like, how much tea tree oil is lethal, but again, that's not an appealing way to go.  So you could easily say I live in the "Desire for Suicide" or suicidal ideation, when I feel desperate or extreme mental anguish.

http://arcsp.org/-image credit

Don't worry if you don't understand, I am sharing for people who do.  Since I have a fear of dying painfully I usually decide, "I will starve myself to death, slowly, without telling anyone."  But rather quickly I realize I am really very hungry.

 

I have been questioning if I am strong enough to keep the shop open, and truly hope I am.  It feels humiliating to be here.  I feel ashamed when I can't keep this from happening.  I do everything in my power to navigate around feeling this way, but since I went to the Doctor in April I have known that there are things in my life that I have to address.  I have been isolating, I have been feeling crushing failure as I work to be more present at home and things at work give out. 

It has been a rough day.  The worst kind of day.  Something must be changing or I wouldn't have the ability to write. I've learned riding out the storm is preferable to fighting it and although I wish for a permanent solution to severe temporary pain, I am not capable of it, it seems.  

It's easy to say "fall down seven times, get up eight."   I don't know what the answer is for anyone else.  Today I'm wondering, "what can I do differently to be well."  No one can answer that for me either.  It's not cancer.  It's not diabetes.  I don't actually know what it is and I am 100% sure no one in a white lab coat or title "Dr." does either. It's not logical someone who lives as healthy and clean as I do would have a brain which backfires so severely or a body which fails so easily (and this is with the benefit of LDN, I cannot imagine where I would be without it).  

Truth is its a problem I can't solve today.  It feels like a mean joke to be good at something, but not strong enough to maintain, which feels like the pattern and one I desperately want to break.  Right now though, I am like SUPER hungry... I suppose that is a good thing.

 

I laughed a little today at comics new to me on nedroidcomics/Tumblr, which I stumbled across and was thankful for while heading to www.123rf.com for the images in this post. 

Lisa Nilsen
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Products? What? Is that what this is for?

Of course there is a template for posting this blog, it begins:  

Title "Blog about your latest products or deals".  

I think it's a suggestion since this is a business website.  There may be a day I get all in your face about why you should buy something from me, why shopping with us is the best thing since poached eggs, but not this day.

Selling is a struggle for me.  It is apparently important in retail.  

A lady walks into the shop and says, "what kind of deal can you give me."  In no other American shop would this work, but here?  My daughter physically cringes as the customer asks, her fists tighten, she turns to me with her "Mooooommmmm!" face (it's one reason staff don't want me coming to the service counter, I'm likely to give everything away). Today I only gave the customer a  20% discount. Progress!

Now, here is me.  I go to a garage sale and there are two stunning glass terrariums, very filthy, but I can see their value.  

"How much?" I ask.  

"$3 each," says the owner.

"No way, they are worth much more than that!  I insist I pay $15 each," as I hand her 90% more than she was asking for (is that correct maths?).

If you like our shop it's not because I am a kick ass roller derby girl that knows everything, about everything about skating.  When someone comes in to look at a long board I can see if they know more than me and I think to myself, "they know that's a long board and now I should just listen to what they need."

Sometimes people walk into the shop, begin to spin a little, and then stumble towards the door saying, "O.V.E.R.whelmed!".  Not the effect we are going for.  Is it the disco ball?

Often customers suggest we change the name of the shop, to make it more clear what we do and what we have.  We won't be doing that, but would love to hear names which people believe wouldn't alienate any person.  Simply navigate to the "contact us" page, write us a name our shop should be called, and send. I love experiments!  

In general my life has been overtaken by my passion to spread the word about Low Dose Naltexone.  I don't draw cartoons yet have a few illustrations in the works, just to clarify when a Dr. says, "it's too new, it's too expensive, it's too risky, it's too side effect laden," what they mean is, "it would completely topple the entire medical system," which is generally working extremely well for everyone except the patients.

Follow me to my personal MOM-O-FIVE link where I share experiences sincerely hoping it will help one other person suffering from similar awesomeness.   The following occurred to me tonight, I will put anything personal about me right out there in writing, but don't like people in my house.  Is that weird?  

http://bentoforfive.tumblr.com/

 

We DO have a "Welcome Back bkr" contest happening now!  Go to our Instagram account, find the photo which says "Enter to Win", leave a comment and get entered to be a winner!  Contest ends July 15th.

https://instagram.com/skate.of.gear.ak/ 

Lisa Nilsen
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LDN, the too good to be true story of how I came to not feel suicidal for the past month.

Photo credit, Stephanie Stewart-Howard “12thandbroad.com” (see link at the bottom of this page).  

It is precisely the “Snake Oil Effect” that makes peoples eyes gloss over when I mention LDN.  It just sounds too good to be true.  

It is inexpensive and has little to no side effects, even at the higher FDA approved dosage of 50-300mg/day, which has been used to help wean addicts off opiates and alcohol since it’s 1994 FDA approval (see LDN factsheet link below).

LDN is literally “Low Dose Naltrexone,” using dosages of 1.5-5mg/day for healing vs. the approved FDA label “high” dose for helping relieve alcohol and opiate addiction.

“It’s even effective on cancer!” I have been heard saying enthusiastically, as the person I am speaking to turns and quickly exits the conversation.

Why does it seem too good to be true?  Because it doesn’t fight the disease itself, it heals your immune system so that your body can fight the disease. Is it a miracle drug, no.  Will it heal or cure everyone and anything?  No.  If you keep drinking diet coke and eating preservative laden food, smoking, drinking, and sitting on your bum, will you likely feel well even if you take LDN?  I seriously don’t have any idea, as I work to avoid those things.  

cannot think of a profession more frustrating than working as a doctor or health care professional in the modern western world:  

Dr., “How can I help you today?”

Patient, “I am hurting, sick and/or depressed.”

Dr., “We know that a healthy diet, exercise and hydration are key to wellness.”

Patent, “Sure, I do all that... but I am still very ill.”  The patient just went through the McDonald’s drive through and enjoyed a quarter pounder with cheese and a diet coke on the way to her appointment.  When she gets home she will have 2 double bloody-marys to relax.  She also drank 6 cups off coffee, including several vanilla latte’s today.  She never drinks water. To be fair, she did run 4 miles at the gym.

Dr., “Well, if you are doing everything we know will keep you well, I suppose I can prescribe a few of the miraculous medications our Pharmaceutical Reps have shared with us, out of the goodness of their heart and the desire for the healthiest population in the history of mankind.”

Patient, “Thank you for listening and caring.” And she leaves with a prescription for Ambien, to sleep better, Klonopin to feel less anxiety, and Lithium for her original diagnosis of bipolar.  She knows she can get any drug available, with less than a request for it, based on her diagnosis.  She also knows she will misuse or abuse any medication she is given.  She actually seeks out drugs that will be effective in an overdose.

Dr., “Next.”

I didn’t want to be that patient anymore.  No drinking, no diet coke, exercise as tolerated, eat organic and clean as much as possible, pray, meditate, sleep well... and guess what?  Since I am bipolar, and after 3 years of being medication free, I ended up back in the Dr.’s office.  I was sure there wasn’t an answer for me. That was on April 24th.

 On April 23rd, the day before my doctors appointment, I had emailed the Seattle Neuropsychiatric Treatment Center. The first question, and it’s a fair one, was who am I insured with.  I found out that Electric Convulsive Therapy, ECT, would run about $30,000.00 for 12 treatments and Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation, orTMS, about $9,000.00 for a 6 week course. During which I would need to be living in Seattle. 

 I spoke to my husband, who had stayed in from fishing more than twice this April to take care of me. That doesn’t happen.  He has missed children being born, holidays, birthdays, life.  Life goes on when you are married to a fisherman, unless he is so worried that life will not go on, and in those rare crisis he has stayed by my side.  In the past that meant he came in after I was hospitalized.  Recently it has been because he understood I did everything in my power to be safe and healthy, and still wasn’t.  So he stayed.

 When he was in town again, although the tides and fishery allowed him to be on the fishing grounds, I said, “I am going to have to go get help.”  And he said, “please go to the doctor here and ask him about your idea, but I support you no matter what.”

And that is how I found out about LDN.

 When I left the Dr.’s office that Friday the clinic was closed.  He had listened sincerely, he had given me feedback on ECT and that he didn’t know anything about TMS.  He gave me the option of Depakote or LDN, but I didn’t write down the name of the second one, and I knew I would refuse the first option.  He listened to me for so long that the clinic was closed when my appointment ended.  I walked out into the clinic corridor to a building only lit by daylight.

My best friend, who works there, led me to the door to unlock it for me.  I hugged her. I cried in defeat.  My anger and disbelief overtook me.  After all I had done, after all the changes, I would have to be medicated.  There seemed no other option. 

 I couldn’t find any information about LDN that weekend, having not written the name down.  

 “Can I have your doctors appointment Missy?” I asked my daughter. 

 “If you really need it,” she said.  I really did.

 When I went back on Monday morning I said, “tell me again, what is the name of the other medicine, not Depakote?  I couldn’t find it anywhere.”  

 After finding it wasn’t a bigPharma drug, my heart and mind opened a little more.  I didn’t believe there was anything that could help me either.  And for less than $75 per month with little to no side effects? Puuuuullllleeezeee.  And Mrs. Stewart-Howard may say, “who do you think you are filling people’s minds with unscientific garbage!”

 Except, it is science.  Why does it work on so many illnesses?  Because it isn’t attacking the illness, it is repairing the immune system.  It is helping your own body heal itself.  It’s that simple.  If you want to learn more, or know more, please “Google LDN,” as the author Joseph Wouk suggests in his like titled book.  He also drank diet coke, he suffered from MS and his symptoms were relieved with LDN.  

 I tentatively noticed the first morning, after my first night dose, that some veil, some cloud, something was gone.  I didn’t want to get my hopes up, yet I recognized it as something I had rarely felt in my life, an absence of wanting to die.  

On May 29th I will have been taking LDN for a month.  Did it take weeks to work, no.  Will it be the same story for everyone?  Of course not.  However, what has anyone got to lose?  Suppose you try it for your illness and it works. Hooray for you.  Suppose you try it and it isn’t the problem, your immune system doesn’t need support, your endorphin levels are normal, well, you can always work on your diet, hydration, exercise and meditation.

It reminds me of when my mom would say, “Lisa, why don’t you try saying a prayer.” 

Of course I would say, “that won’t automatically make things better.”

And she would say, “it can’t possibly make things worse.”

And that’s LDN.  It can’t possibly make things worse.

http://www.ldnresearchtrust.org/sites/default/files/UK%20LDN%20Fact%20Sheet%202015_0.pdf

http://www.12thandbroad.com/story/news/2015/05/06/broad-bits-snake-oil---why-are-we-so-easily-led-by-conspiracy-theory-over-science-when-it-comes-to-health/70905164

 Disclaimer:  the realization that there is a medicine that has relieved symptoms and increased my hope for health in no way reduces my prior blogs.  Many ailments can be remedied with diet, exercise, hydration and meditation.  My experience with LDN is in addition to the many changes I have made, and maintaining those choices give me the best chance at a healthy life.  Bipolar I is a devastating illness which I worked very hard to maintain without drugs.  In this case I feel BLESSED to have found a drug, a medicine, that has helped with symptoms I had to work extremely hard to manage, or couldn't manage.  Even if it felt, initially, like I was betraying my own self. In order for growth to be possible, flexibility must be present.  It took some major flexing for me to accept medication.

Lisa Nilsen
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