Tag: anxiety

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From a Curse to a Life Saver

On Sunday it was 21 years since my first heart surgery. I remember the day I was diagnosed. My wife was 8+ months pregnant with our first child. As we walked from exam room to exam room at the incredible Mayo Clinic in Rochester all eyes were on my wife’s belly as everyone assumed something must be wrong with the baby because we were so young and seemingly healthy. That is the way I felt. I was 26, in great shape. I didn’t smoke or drink; I felt invincible. However, deep down inside I was terrified because I knew there was a hidden killer in my genetics.

My father had died ten years earlier from Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy at age 43. It was after his sudden death that I learned that this genetic defect (MYBPC3) could be passed down genetically. But this is like when you hear eating foods high in cholesterol will kill you (you believe this but the possibility is so far away you don’t care) and like many young people I had no fears until my initial cardiologist in Mankato urgently sent me to the Mayo.

After many tests it was confirmed that I have Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy just like my father and needed surgery. I would need a defibrillator implanted to prevent ventricular tachycardia from causing sudden cardiac death. They wanted to do this immediately and scheduled it a few days later on May 9, 2000. My head was spinning. I was supposed to graduate from college that day. Now my life was changing before my eyes… I remember feeling what a curse? I had overcome so many obstacles to get where I was in life. Given my history, graduating college was a major feat; I was looking forward to the milestone of walking across the stage to receive my Bachelor’s Degree diploma but instead of a graduation ceremony I laid on a table for surgery.

Although I hardly remember the immediate recovery my family wasn’t sure I would survive. What I do remember was a lot of pain in my chest… Eventually I started feeling better and the nurses educated me on what my life would be like living with a defibrillator and again I didn’t think it would effect me too much…

A month after surgery I was shocked by my defibrillator (set at 1,400 watts) it knocked me to the ground. I remember this like it was yesterday. My first thought was someone hit me in the back with a 2×4. Then another shock happened and I noticed I was near the power box going into my house and wondered if there was an exposed line. It was after the third shock that I realized it was my defibrillator… This happened from doing yard work. That incident was so traumatic that as a result I stopped ALL physical activity. I grew depressed and my pre-existing anxiety disorder grew much worse. Eventually I started to drink to escape reality and try to numb the fears I lived with daily…

I became an alcoholic and gained massive amounts of weight. I was going in the opposite direction of healthy. My outlook was not good.

Then one day I realized that I was not living the life I was meant to. I found recovery from addiction and with recovery I slowly got back into fitness to help with my recovery. Years later, I shed the unhealthy weight and found whole-body wellness. Today, a month from turning 48 I am the healthiest I have ever been. I lift weights 4 times a week, run twice a week and am training for a full marathon this fall…

This life change didn’t happen overnight and I wouldn’t be here without my cardiology team. HOWEVER, if I can do this ANYONE can find true health regardless of their diagnosis… You just have to focus on one day at a time and working at your pace.

I no longer look at this as a curse. My Father who I loved and miss immensely died from this deadly disease because he didn’t know about it. However, thanks to medical technology I GET TO LIVE…

I will love my best life as payment.

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Lost.

I was as lost as I could be with no idea how I got where I was. This is not how my life was supposed to go. I had overcome so much, accomplished many things and yet I was here on the floor of my apartment, hallucinating after a night of alcohol and drug use… Where did I go wrong? When did it start?

I had my first drink and drunk at the age of 11. For me alcohol was an immediate love. I didn’t know it at the time but I was empty inside and alcohol filled that void. This was not my parents fault. Perhaps I was born with a genetic predisposition to alcohol and mental illness but I came from two of the greatest parents possible. I had a great childhood. My parents were very active in my life and I genuinely enjoyed being with them. They provided me with stable, secure and a happy household. We went on vacations, went camping, and had great family get-togethers. They bought us nice school clothes, nice gifts for birthdays and Christmas. I was blessed with an upbringing many kids only dream of… Then I met alcohol. Soon after my first drink I was drinking alcohol at least weekly with friends and the stages of addiction were in full gear. At first it was just a few beers, stolen from my best friend’s dad’s fridge. Then we increased the amount we drank and the frequency. We then found a “buyer” to purchase our own beer so that we could drink more without getting caught. By the time I was a sophomore I was no longer “socially drinking” I was abusing alcohol and experiencing frequent blackouts and well on my way to being chemically dependent. During my junior year my drinking climbed to embarrassing and dangerous levels with blackouts happening nearly every weekend while my tolerance was similar to a 40 year-old alcoholic. That memorial weekend in 1990 my life changed in a way that I would never recover from. My father, a firefighter collapsed and died while fighting a fire. I cannot even begin to say how devastated I was. My father meant everything to me. He was adamantly against ANY underage drinking and was unaware of my use and never knew I wouldn’t always have him in my life. I had always taken for granted that they would always be there. To say he was a pillar in our community is an understatement. He was a volunteer firefighter, a youth football, basketball and baseball coach, Cub Scout cub master, and active with many other organizations. The population of Deer River in 1990 was 907. There were over 1,000 at his funeral. I was in such deep mourning I didn’t drink for almost 6 months. However, when I returned to drinking I did so to make up for lost time. I drank every night and all weekend and had more than one ride in the back of a police car…

It is safe to say that school was not easy for me and alcohol made it harder. I was the one who always got the lowest grades, was least likely to succeed and was often the butt of many jokes by teachers and classmates in my high school. I once overheard a teacher telling a classmate of mine at a senior class meeting that someday they will come back to town and I would be pumping their gas. I believed them. I can’t blame them. I didn’t give them any reason to think otherwise. Nearing high school graduation I fully believed my classmates and teachers and didn’t have much hope for my life. Plus, I had learned that my dad had an unknown genetic heart defect and it was very likely genetic. So I quite honestly didn’t think I would live that long anyways. However, one day I decided that I was going to go to a local community college and prove everyone wrong. In college I fought two uphill battles at the same time. Being under-educated and unprepared for college and being drunk 90% of the time. College was NOT easy for me. Since I drank alcohol and neglected school throughout my junior and senior high years I was substantially behind the majority of college students. After my first year of college I had more tragedy in my life; my life long best friend and drinking buddy died. The night it happened we had a great evening of drinking planned. I had to work while Brad and Barry were going to get our alcohol for the evening. They had started drinking and were headed to town when Brad lost control of his car and went in the ditch. This would not have been a bad collision. However, Brad was not wearing his seat belt. He was thrown from his car and it landed on him. He died shortly later while being airlifted to a trauma center.
I was devastated. He and I were supposed to grow old together. We had a whole life already planned out. This also happened two years after my dad’s passing which reopened that grief. My life had changed again. I now lived scared. I went most of my young life living carefree. Now within those two years, two of the most important people in my life were removed from me.

Unlike my dad’s passing, after Brad died I drank more; substantially more. My grades in college plummeted and I was nearly kicked out permanently due to bad grades. I was at a cross roads… Then I got a DUI one evening with BAC of .37. When I woke up the next morning in detox I realized I could be dead and would be if I didn’t stop. This incident scared me straight (for a while). After I stopped drinking college became much easier. Graduation actually seemed plausible! I also met the woman I would marry and have my daughter with. We got married the summer before my senior year. We got pregnant soon after and were expecting our baby the next summer. During my senior year I was doing my student teaching when I noticed some strange palpitations in my heart. Due to my family history I went to the doctor. After many tests I learned that I had a genetic heart condition; the same heart defect that killed my father. There was some urgency, I was quickly admitted to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester. The day I was supposed to receive my Bachelor’s degree from Mankato State I was on a hospital bed having surgery on my heart. I had a defibrillator implanted in my chest to help prevent the sudden cardiac death that killed my father. I was grateful for this but scared to death.

However, I did it! I received a Bachelor’s Degree! I did what most said couldn’t be done. I attained a 4 year degree in education. As hard as it was, as much as much as alcohol tried to kill me, I persevered; I accomplished a huge milestone… Then like it does so often alcohol came calling again…

After graduating college, getting married, having a daughter, buying a house and starting a career my life crumbled. It didn’t happen right away, my career was flourishing, I was a respected member of my community, served on boards and committees, coached youth sports was active with my daughter and her school. This is what I expected my life to look like; but then my marriage fell apart and I found myself going through the process of divorce. This was devastating. Not so much because of my separation from my wife (our life had become toxic) but the separation from my daughter. My daughter was my life and being away from her was the most painful thing I went through. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, was always in a state of anxiety, so I went back to what I always did when I felt empty; alcohol. A mixture of alcohol and prescription drugs (both opioids and benzodiazepines) consumed my life. I wasn’t feeling hurt, because I couldn’t feel. I was in a state of constant blackouts.

This is where I found myself on the floor of my apartment after another night of alcohol and drug use. I was trying to kill myself. I didn’t want to die, but I could not stand the pain any longer. Death seemed like it would be easier than sobriety. As many addicts and alcoholics know, in active addiction sobriety can seem utterly impossible. I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, because instead of light I could only see my daughter living elsewhere. I felt empty, alone and destroyed. I lost my place in this world and felt I could not find my way home.

Then I heard it. “DARREN, this is not who you are supposed to be” This was my dad’s voice. I am as sure of it today as I was then. I have never had an encounter with a spirit previously and have not since, but I know this was his voice. I don’t know how, I am not a paranormal guy or have any concrete beliefs about the supernatural, but this happened. The interesting part is (other than conscious memories) this was the first time I heard my dad’s voice since he died. Every dream I have had with my dad since he passed away he has been silent. It’s like my brain knew he was gone.

I cried. Not from shame and not for sadness. It was a cry of surrender and acceptance of where I was and the spontaneous courage to face my demons. As low as I was, I felt serenity. The wisdom of what I need to do to change my life was there. It was there all along. I just didn’t know how to find it.

This is why the song The House That Built Me by Miranda Lambert is special to me. She sings “I thought if I could touch this place or feel it, this brokenness inside me might start healing…” For me instead of a place it was a voice. The healing did not happen overnight but it started that day on the floor.

I had already been to treatment, I had learned the 12 steps I just wasn’t ready to surrender and say I cannot do this alone. Through my program of recovery I finally started to learn gratitude. In the past I never felt grateful, I always felt like a victim. I did have a lot of adversity and tragedy, but I also failed to look at the beauty in my life… I leaned how lucky I am. Many, many alcoholics and addicts don’t get a second chance. None of us are guaranteed a second chance, let alone three or four chances. I could very easily be dead or permanently incarcerated due to my use. I started to look at life with gratitude and today I am very grateful; grateful for my life, health, sobriety, and my family.

Most of my life I ignored my mental and chemical health, and even after getting help, I got complacent and neglected my therapy. This could have been fatal, but luckily I got help. I am incredibly thankful for this second chance in life. It has given me a renewed energy to share my experiences, strength and hope. I know I still have a lifelong journey in recovery but I am happy where I am in my recovery. I also know from my past that I cannot get complacent in my ways. But if I practice everything I have learned from the recovery community I will be fine. For me, recovery is a process of change where I constantly try to improve my health and wellness, live a self-directed life, and strive to reach my full potential. It’s more than just meetings and/or abstaining; it’s living a life to its fullest. I am happy where I am in life and incredibly grateful for my program of recovery.

View Miranda Lambert’s The House That Built Me video here

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Mental Health Access Nightmares

Patience is not one of my virtues.

That is when I’m healthy. When I am not mentally healthy, patience might as well be a word that does not exist. I am a 42 year old man. I have depression and anxiety. It was being managed quite efficiently until a life event happened and my depression intensified. I needed help, I needed to address my mental health…

If you are a man, you know that we as men are not supposed to ask for help (its an unwritten rule)… We don’t ask for help for anything… We could be lost, bleeding, hungry or confused but we won’t ask for help… This is a stigma I have been trying to defeat my whole career, but I know it still exists. It is not just men though; many people are afraid to ask for help or too proud to ask for help but what scares me the most is when they do ask for help they don’t get it or the effort of getting help is too much.

Remember patience is not a virtue I possess and when my depression is controlling my mind I lose the ability to be motivated, to be patient, to be persistent. Instead, when encountering resistance or  set backs I want to put it off, do it later (never) or just quit. This is common among those of us with mental illness. Its not that we don’t want help; its that getting help is too much work for us in our mental state…

I am treated with a low dose of an antidepressant; I have been for years. It has been going so well that this summer I was in the process of tapering off completely and was at the lowest dose that was still therapeutic. However, this summer I moved to a new community which is when my family problems began. My whole world was rocked. Shortly after this unfortunate life situation I recognized the symptoms of depression creeping back into my life; irritability, difficulty enjoying things I once enjoyed, sleep problems, difficulty concentrating etc.. I knew the family situation was out of my control so I made an appointment with a psychotherapist. We scheduled weekly  appointments at first and they were very helpful. Then, I went to bi-monthly appointments and although they were still helpful I noticed the symptoms of depression (especially the irritability) getting worse. So since I was new to my community my therapist gave me the number to a psychiatrist in my new community to do a medication review.

I live in Lakeville but work in Owatonna. Initially I called the psychiatrist recommended by my therapist on a Monday. I got their voicemail… I left a detailed message according to their instructions. By Friday I had not received a call back so I called again; and again got their voicemail, so I left another message. On the next Monday I was feeling rather frustrated and a coworker suggested I call a local psychiatrist since I was not getting a response from the one in my hometown. I decided I would give the first psychiatrist the rest of that day to respond… Well, I didn’t hear back so I called a local clinic. Guess what? I got their voicemail as well… So I left another message and despondently hung up the phone to continue the wait… This is the part of my care and ACCESS TO CARE that scares me… I wanted to give up. Remember, my mind isn’t working efficiently. I don’t have the mental capacity to manage these situations. The patience that others have and that I normally have is nonexistent at this point… What I do have is excessive irritability… Waiting creates extreme irritability… This creates an atmosphere conducive to quitting.

Lucky for me, at this point I am still healthy enough to KNOW I need to keep trying for my health. I have been working in mental health and substance abuse for 15 years; I know better (at the moment) but if left untreated eventually I may not have the ability to think about my health. This is where the problem is. Many people end up with tunnel vision. They are no longer thinking rationally but cannot recognize this. How many others don’t have the background I do? This is where a lot of people would quit.

It didn’t get any easier.

After a second call and second voicemail at the clinic in Owatonna I finally received a call back from that clinic. She was very nice and started the intake process. However, there was a problem. They are contracted with a 3 county area and can only provide psychiatric services to RESIDENTS of those counties… I am not a resident in those counties. I work there but live in a County North of their service counties. She apologized and kindly referred me to the other facility in town that has a psychiatrist. I called there after hanging up the phone. While waiting, the first clinic (in my home town) called (perfect timing), I had to let it go to my voicemail… When the representative at the second clinic answered the phone and got my request she informed me that unfortunately they don’t currently have a psychiatrist and could put me on a list for a call back when they hire one…

This is the second time I wanted to quit and just see if it would get better on its own… However, I called the original clinic back and got to speak to someone. She got all of my information and then told me she would have to call me back after she spoke with the psychiatrist to see if she would accept me. Ok, I am assuming she meant to see if the Doctor had openings, however, what my depressed and anxiety filled mind heard was “we’ll decide if you are worthy of our time”…

Can I quit yet?

They called back the next day and told me I was approved to be seen by the doctor and her next available appointment was 6 weeks away. I thanked her and scheduled it.

By the time the December appointment arrives it will have been almost 9 weeks since my first call. This is very wrong. We need to do better. This was just a SCHEDULING problem. There are many that have problems on top of the logistics; the wrong insurance, can’t drive, cannot get out of work… I don’t have the answer on how we fix these problems but I do have a few suggestions for those reading this:

  1. If they are in a suicidal crisis STAY WITH THEM, get them to an E.R. or call the National Suicide Hotline 1-800-SUICIDE (784-2433). If you are not sure; ASK them if they are suicidal.
  2. Remember, Depression is a serious condition. Don’t underestimate the seriousness of depression. When left untreated depression can be fatal. Depression drains a person’s energy, optimism, and motivation. They cannot just “snap out of it”.
  3. Depression can cause tunnel vision. They may have a difficult time seeing the positives in life; they only see misery.
  4. You didn’t cause it and you can’t “fix” someone else’s depression. Ultimately, recovery is in the hands of the depressed person. BUT you can help…
  5. Be willing to help. Make the appointments, drive them, follow up, etc… However, remember there is a big difference between Help and Nagging. If you “nag” someone they will likely not ask for help again and will just hide their symptoms rather than get help. Keep in mind they may struggle and may not be cooperative. Be patient but persistent.

Depression is treatable and recovery is possible. Don’t give up on yourself or your loved ones. Be vigilant in your efforts to get help.

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