Visiting Las Vegas

I have a Facebook success story.  The main reason that I joined the social network site,  Facebook  in 2007, was that  I wanted to make contact with friends and family that I had lost track of.  I have been able to find about 50 high school classmates, some I hear from daily.  It seems each year it gets easier to find someone because new people are logging on to Facebook everyday.  I have also been fortunate enough to find a lot of family members on line.  My father was from a big family which means I have a lot of cousins out there that I've never met.  I have managed to locate several on Facebook and have become good friends with them.  We share photos and stories often.  It's funny that even though I've never met some of them, we are a lot alike.  I look like some of them, I talk and think like some of them and we all have something in common.  I would have never known this if it wasn't for Facebook.  It's the big family reunion that I never had. 

Me enjoying Las Vegas

The problem with today's technology such as Facebook, email and texting is that the person reading your status, remarks, text is not sitting there with you and your remarks etc. may be taken wrong.  When you are actually having a conversation with someone, you can tell if they are angry because their voice gets louder and their facial expression changes, but if you are just reading something that person wrote, you have no way of knowing how they felt when they wrote it.  That's the one downfall that I have about today's communication. Now, for my success story:

 Last year my mother and her first cousin, Helen turned 85.  Momma's birthday is in March, Helen's is in May.  Their mother's were sisters.  They grew up together and stayed close all their lives.  Helen lived in Dayton, Ohio with her husband, Ray and their three daughters.  Momma and Daddy lived their lives here in Rockcastle Co.  Every summer Helen's family visited us or we visited them.  I can barely remember playing with my cousins, Anita, Cathie and Connie, but what I do remember about them was that I loved them a lot and was always so excited to have their company.  After we all were married with families of our own, we didn't see each other as much.  The sisters, my Granny and my Aunt Lois, talked all the time on the phone and made plans to visit.  A lot of times Helen and Ray would stop and spend a day or two while on their way home from a vacation in Tennessee or Florida.  When Granny died in 1982, it seemed like we just gradually stopped visiting.  Then Aunt Lois passed away and the times together almost stopped completely.  Momma and Helen always sent each other birthday cards and called ever so often to catch up, but I didn't see the cousins.  We were married, raising children, working jobs all the things people do in this life.  After Ray died, Helen traveled a lot.  She moved to Florida then back to Dayton.  Anita and her family scattered out all over the world.  She lived in Portugal for a time when her husband Walter's work took them there.  Cathie and her husband, Steve travel a lot to Arizona where they have a home.  Seems like there was just a lot going on there for awhile.  Momma kept track of where everybody was, but I didn't.  I would ask Momma about them often just so I'd know what they were up too.  I missed Granny, I missed Aunt Lois, I missed Helen and I missed my growing up years with my Ohio family, so when Momma got an invitation to Helen's birthday celebration last May, I was excited that Cathie had included her email address.  Now maybe I could re-connect with them.  

The Eiffel Tower

I emailed Cathie right away, first to tell them that we wouldn't be able to come to the birthday party because Momma couldn't make the trip and I stressed how glad I was to have contact with them.  I found all three of them and their extended families on Facebook.  I was so excited to look at their photos.  I saw their grandchildren and made sure they saw mine.  I kept up with Helen's health and they kept up with Mom's.  This whole last year we spent on Facebook playing catch up.  Then we started talking on the phone a few times until the next thing you knew was that I had invited myself to Dayton to visit them.  

Last August, Mike and I, armed with a map quest print out of how to get to Cathie's house, took off on a Friday afternoon to visit my Ohio cousins.  They were expecting us and between the three of them, they had planned a fun reunion for us.  We had never met Cathie's husband, Steve and hadn't saw Connie's daughter, Angel since she was a baby and she was now a mother to a beautiful daughter, Miranda.  We met Angel's husband, Dwayne.  We visited Helen and I was so glad to see how good she looked. We just barely scratched the surface on getting caught up.  It may take years before that happens.  

Awhile back, while I was suffering through the winter that would not end, Connie called me to invite me to go to Las Vegas with all of them.  I haven't been any farther west than Memphis, TN so I really appreciated my cousins giving me the chance to see Las Vegas.  Connie's birthday was April 28, mine was May 3 so that's when we went to Vegas.  I drove to Dayton by myself to meet up with Connie and Anita on Monday afternoon. Cathie and Steve were going to met us in Los Vegas on their way back from Arizona.  Connie and myself spent that night with Anita so we could all get up early on Tuesday morning because our flight was at 6:30 a.m.  I have flown several times and I love it, but I never know what I'm doing.  It's like I go into an "anti-plane" mode or something.  Airports are usually very crowded and everyone is moving really fast, especially Atlanta's airport.  If you survive that airport, you can survive anything.  It didn't take Connie and Anita very long to figure out that I needed a care taker.  It was too early in the morning for me to be very self-efficient.  Those two had to help me with everything, especially with my huge suitcase that I had dubbed my "Smart Car", because it was almost the size of one.  I had one carry on bag just for my shoes.  To say I over packed would be a an understatement.  We got our seats and settled in for the ride.  The time came for the snack cart to make it's rounds so I ordered a Sprite.  I had only taken a few sips when I spilled the whole thing in my lap.  The cousins tried to help by getting napkins and speaking words or encouragement like, "It's okay.  Don't worry about it. and I've done that before."  My pants were still wet when we disembarked in Denver, CO.   Besides having all my paperwork mixed up at the airport and poking along with my stuff, I also left my carry on bag in a restaurant at the airport in Denver.  I remembered it just in time.  It was still there when I went back for it.  The final leg of the trip, I started speaking a foreign language that even I didn't know.  My words were jumbled and I transposed them.  I know this sounds like I was on drugs or drank more than Sprite, but I promise that wasn't the case.  I'll just say what everyone else says when they act like an idiot, it's stress.

When we got to Las Vegas I thought I was going to die just on the way to the taxi.  Pulling that "Smart Car" along with my purse and carry on bag had me breathless.  I warned the cab driver that my suitcase was heavy.  He acted all macho and said, "I'll get it." but I couldn't help but laugh when he first picked it up.  Anita swore that she was repacking my stuff before the return trip and she did.  She will have the job of packing for me from now on. 

We were staying at the Bellagio, the hotel with the "dancing" fountains out front.  I have been to casinos in Atlantic City, Ontario, and Indiana so I thought I knew what to expect, but the Bellagio was beautiful.  It was decorated for spring with flowers and butterflies everywhere.  There was marble that was so shiny it looked wet.  I caught myself tip-toeing over it like walking on my momma's just- mopped floors.  Our room looked out over several pools and courtyards.  After resting for a minute, Anita and Connie took me to the casino.  They knew what they were doing, but it took me awhile to catch on.  I didn't have money to loose so I told myself I would only play $20.00 a day.  My goal was just to win enough to buy myself a real Coach purse.  One that didn't look like it came from the flea market.  I was on my own for awhile so I used that time to get my bearings.  The place was huge.  There were restaurants, shops, and lounges everywhere.  I watched the hi-rollers playing Black Jack, Poker etc. for awhile.  I sat down at a slot machine that I thought I could stumble my way through and didn't waste no time in losing my $20.00.  Somewhere in the massive room people were winning though.  You could hear their squeals of delight every now and then.  

The meals we ate were great.  I probably gained 10 pounds in the 4 days I was there.  People used to say meals were cheap in Las Vegas.  I don't know what part of Vegas they were in, but it wasn't the part I was in.  Cathie had rented a car, so one day we rode around so my cousins could show me the sights.  The weather was perfect, 82 degrees and sunny.  Happy people were everywhere.  Strange looking people were everywhere too.  I saw Elvis so many times that I hardly paid him any attention. I had been warned by my nephew not to take any of the brochures that were handed out on every corner, so I avoided them. One lady, about 75 years old, was walking around with a pink wig cut in a mullet style.  She danced all over Vegas.  One man with a beard was dressed up like a bride including a sign around his neck that read, "Bride to Be."  These characters were mostly in the "old" part of Vegas.

We went back to the casino where I got out my allotted $20.00.  I stumbled upon a machine that gave you two ways to win.  One was by matching sevens, bars, like the usual slot machines, and then you could win a chance to spin a wheel where you could land on 20, 40, 100, 200 and 1000.  I sat beside a really nice lady named Betty.  We shared life stories while my money was going down the drain.  Betty had several chances to spin the wheel, but she never got anything higher than 200.  I also had several spins and just won enough to stay ahead.  I was busy talking and never even noticed that my spin had landed me on 1000.  Betty was more excited than me.  Bells were ringing all over the place.  I had spent $40.00 in two days and won 279.00.  I cashed out, found Connie and Anita to tell them about my good luck and went to the room.  I made arrangements with Cathie for her to take me to the Coach store the next day and she did.  She even stopped at the famous "Welcome to Las Vegas" sign and took my picture.  That night, we took a taxi to Fremont Street, which is the older part of Vegas.  I loved the atmosphere there.  Connie and I zip-lined over the street.  That was so much fun, but didn't last long enough.  I reminded myself of Momma riding the Beast at Kings Island.  She loved to ride it with me, but she said she was afraid to scream because she was afraid she might loose her false teeth.  I don't have false teeth and they made me take my glasses off, but I didn't see any reason to scream so I didn't.  We paid as much for a picture of us on the zip line as we paid to ride the zip line, but I knew no one would believe me if I didn't have a picture. 

We hated to leave Las Vegas, but the time had come.  I still needed my care takers on the flights home.  There was just too much stuff for me to keep up with.  Our plane that was to take us from Denver to Dayton, had a flat tire so we had to sit about 30 minutes while it was being fixed, but other than that, things went fine.  It was 12:30 a.m. when we got back to Dayton.  I spent the night with Connie and headed back home the next day, which was my 56th. birthday and also Derby Day.  It was cold and rainy on the drive home.  I kept remembering the place I had just left the day before.  The memory of the sunshine, the warm breeze, the sound of the fountains, and the happy people stayed in my mind all the way home.  

Cathie, Connie, Me and Anita

Me and my sister/cousins as we had started to call each other, made plans to get together again soon.  They also said they were willing to go back to Vegas with me next year.  Never once did they complain or even laugh at me when I acted like an uneducated redneck.  I felt like they really enjoyed being with me as much as I enjoyed being with them.  It was like we just picked up where we left off sometime in the 1960's.  I am now looking forward to my sister/cousins visiting me soon.  Since this Facebook encounter has turned out so good,  I'm going to re-connect with 3 more cousins that I was close too.  They live in Ohio also, but I am the older one this time.  So Kelly Bell, Teresa Sparks and little sister, Amy, look out because Myrna is going to re-enter your lives like never before. 

Company's Coming

Daddy and his sister Myrtle Lambert Webb

When I was a little girl growing up, I would get so excited when I found out one of my great aunts and uncles were coming for a visit.  Even though I was an only child, I had plenty of people around me.  My grandparents ran a country store which was always buzzing with activity.  I knew every farmer for miles around, his wife and children's names, what he liked on his bologna sandwich and whether he was a democrat of republican, but my family was small.  My father was the youngest of a family of 11 children, but unfortunately, most of them had died at an early age and my mom was an only child. I never knew any of my true aunts, but was close to my great aunts.  My Aunt Hazel and Aunt Mildred were my grandfather's sisters.  They had married brothers and lived just a half mile from me. Aunt Hazel was a petite woman who took great pride in her cooking and her outward appearance.  I loved her shoes. She had really small feet so her shoes fit me.  She let my cousins and me play with all her shoes, sometimes even her brand new ones. She lived in a two story farm house and just like the characters on the television show, The Waltons, she and her husband, Uncle Albert,  lived with their son and his family in the big house. She raised turkeys and chickens.  If a chicken pecked her when she gathered eggs, it would only peck her once because she could wring it's neck faster than you can say oops. My Aunt Mildred was Grandpa's youngest sister.  She loved life and was always smiling. Her husband, Uncle Jack and her daughter, Kaye were her life. She had a good time where ever she went.  On a visit to the peditrician in Somerset, Aunt Mildred declared that her girdle was killing her so she proceeded to pull it off in the car.  This proved to be a tougher job than she had anticipated.  Now that I have worn those constricting garments from time to time, I do not see how she ever accomplished that task, but she did, much to the amusement of my cousins and me. When I think back on my childhood, I realize those two great aunts played a huge roll in making me what I am today.  They each taught me so much.  The good thing was that  I could visit them anytime I wanted unlike those aunts and uncles that lived in Dayton, Ohio. I guess that was the reason it was so special to me to learn that my family from Ohio would be visiting.

Helen (seated) Anita, Connie and Cathie

When those special aunts, uncles and cousins would visit, momma had to keep it a secret that they were coming because I would drive everybody crazy asking what time they were coming, how long were they going to stay and other questions that are very important to six year old excitable little girls.  When they visited it wasn't for an occasion it was just to be with each other and enjoy each others company.  As they say, "a good time was had by all."  Granny or Momma or both would cook all day and we would all eat together.  I can remember the sound of every one's laughter and I can still see the smiles on their faces and the twinkle in their eyes.  They didn't bring me gifts nor did I expect anything.  I just wanted to sit beside them or in their laps..  I felt so loved and so special just to be allowed to sit in the same room with everyone even though most of the time I had no idea who or what they were talking about.  When my grandmother's youngest sister Audrey Jean, Aunt Jeannie to me, and her husband, Uncle Ed visited, we sat up half the night talking.  When Uncle Lon and Aunt Molly were visiting, we went fishing or boat riding.  When Aunt Lois and Uncle Herbert came I sat and listened to Uncle Herbert's stories until I fell asleep.  Aunt Lois was only eighteen months older than my grandmother and looked like her twin.  Customers would come in granny's little country store and give Aunt Lois their order. They didn't know they were talking to the wrong person until Aunt Lois laughed then they would look a little closer because she didn't sound like my granny when she laughed.  Poor Granny ran her legs off running from the store and her trailer, which was behind the store, to my house when we had company.  She would try to spend time with her sisters and keep the store open all at the same time.  Momma helped her as much as she could.  All this was just too much excitement for me.
Sometimes Momma's cousin, Helen and her husband Ray Adkins, would visit.  They had three daughters about my age.  I would be so excited then that I'm sure I made Momma a nervous wreck.  I played with Anita, Cathie and Connie although they probably would say I followed them around more than played.  I idolized my older cousins my whole life.  Looking back it seems like one day we were little girls not yet teenagers and the next we were grandmothers.
It was during one of Aunt Lois's visits that I did probably the worst thing in my life.  Before she left, Aunt Lois would always say to me, "Don't you want to go home with me?" and would start telling me all the neat things we would do.  I was only about eight years old and would have been crying for momma before we got to Berea, but I was determined to go home with her.  Of course Momma and Daddy said no and tried to explain to me that I would have to stay away from them for a month because it would be that long before aunt Lois was coming back, but I had no understanding of time. Momma had a kitchen table with a green Formica top and green padded chairs and for some reason, I decided that if I cut those chairs then they would let me go home with Aunt Lois. I must have figured they wouldn't love me anymore and would just give up and give me to aunt Lois.  Well, it didn't work, but it did get momma a new table and chairs.  I should have been punished to the highest extent of the law, but I was only given a good talking to.  If my parents thought that living with the shame of defacing my momma's property would be punishment enough for what I had done, they were right.  To this day, I don't like to even think about being that mean and destructive.

Aunt Jeannie and Uncle Ed Coffey

As in every one's life, changes came with every passing year.  My daddy, grandparents, aunts and uncles have all passed away.  Helen's husband Ray as well as Anita's husband, Walter have also passed away.  I married Mike, had my own children and now grandchildren. The store closed in 1990, I gained a new father and met my best friend for life in that same year.   I've worked several jobs, cooked lots of meals and cleaned miles of floors to get where I am today and where I am today is addicted to social media.  I remember sending and receiving my first emails, talking on my first cell phone, sending my first text message and especially remember when I joined Facebook.  MySpace was more popular, but I had read that Facebook was geared more to the "baby boomers" so I joined Facebook because according to the talking heads, that is what I am, a "baby boomer."  Through email, I reconnected with my grandmother's brother, Uncle Bentley Parkerson.  Uncle Bentley made a career out of the Navy so I didn't see him much when I was growing up.  By the time computers and email came to be, Uncle Bentley had retired and settled in Jacksonville, FL. He gave me his email address and that started years worth of daily correspondence.  I even emailed some of mom's friends and some distant family members that I had never met just to get back in touch with those  Momma had lost contact with.  Last spring, Momma received an invitation to attend her first cousin Helen's 85th birthday celebration in Dayton.  Sadly, after the passing of Granny and her sisters, momma and myself hadn't kept up the visiting tradition.  We had been too busy working and mothering to travel.  We ran our own businesses, momma the grocery store and me a hair salon.  When you have your own business, you don't get any time off.  Helen had moved to FL for awhile and her three daughters, Anita, Cathie and Connie had married, had children and careers of their own, so we had lost touch.  I viewed the invitation to Helen's celebration with excitement because at the bottom of the card was the email address for Cathie.  Mom also turned 85 last year, she's two months older than Helen, and has arthritis which leaves her in almost constant pain.  There was no way she could make the trip to Ohio.  I emailed Cathie to tell her that we couldn't come up there and also to re-connect with her.  I was hoping that through Cathie I could also find out about Anita and Connie.  In my email I asked Cathie if she was on Facebook.  She sent me mail back saying yes, they were all on Facebook.  She gave me all their married names and asked that we start a Facebook "relationship."   Patience is a virtue that I don't have so I was determined to get in touch with those three cousins plus three younger cousins that are my aunt Jeannie's granddaughters.  My determination paid off  because I've become good friends again with Anita, Cathie and Connie.  Mike and I visited them and Helen last August. This past April they invited me to go to Las Vegas for Connie's birthday and last weekend Connie visited us. Momma and Helen are pleased that this generation has taken back up the visiting tradition and that we are making new memories together.  Momma says, "I don't know why we grew apart anyhow." We talk about how special our grandparents were and how close our mothers are.  We hope they will be able to get together soon.  It's sad that they aren't able to share the laughs with us.  Their minds are sharp, but their bodies are tired.  We are amazed at the similarities in our lives.  I know that twins separated at birth and later reunited find it amazing that they have chosen similar spouses, named their children the same names and other interesting tidbits, but I didn't know that cousins would do that too.  Connie and I are especially similar.  We like the same music, like to do the same things, i.e, zip lining over Fremont Street in Las Vegas, and some other crazy stuff that I better not mention. Every time we talk we notice something new that we've both experienced.  So far we've discovered one thing we don't agree on, I say a mouse is sooo cute and will not hurt you, Connie, on the other hand, swears it's a huge, hairy beast that will eat all women and children alive. Screaming is necessary also, according to Connie.
I still have cousins that I want to visit after having chatted with them on Facebook. Some are my cousins on momma's side of the family that I remember from when I was a child and others are from daddy's side of the family that I have never met.  They are the grandchildren and great grandchildren of daddy's sister, Lula Thomas.   Aunt Lulie died before I was born, but I know all about her through the stories momma has told me. After talking with her family, I realize that we all get our feisty streak from her.  I enjoy reading Facebook posts from her family, because they are so much like me.  As much as I treasure my family, it's sad that I have so many second cousins that I've never met.  I am thankful that God has allowed me to seek them out and enjoy learning all about them. I am going to be busy in the months and years to come planning a meet and greet with all those cousins that share so many family traits with me.  My generation dropped the ball when it came to visiting family, but we are making up for that misfortune by being friends on Facebook.  I think this will work out fine because the bottom line is to enjoy your family.

Uncle Lon and Aunt Molly with Momma and Daddy

Uncle Bentley Parkerson

I Know Why They Call It The Blues

This story is not easy for me to write if you read on you'll know why.  I guess my battle with depression and sadness began when I was barely six years old.  That was the year that I began school.  I don't remember very much from that year except my teacher being told that President John F. Kennedy had been assassinated  and that I cried everyday.  I wanted to be happy and have fun like the rest of my class, but I could not stop crying.  I don't think I cried the whole school year, but when my second grade year began, so did another year of crying.  I didn't like riding the school bus.  I was the last one to board the bus and all the seats were taken. I can remember having to stand up the 3 miles to Brodhead Elementary and that sometimes I fell down when the bus turned a corner or stopped too quick.  All the big kids made fun of me and no one offered to help.  Momma tried driving me to school herself, but when I watched her drive off, I started crying again.  Finally Momma and Daddy worked it out so I could ride to school with my grandmothers uncle and his wife, who was a school teacher.  She didn't drive so her husband took her.  He drove a red Chevrolet pick up like you see in the Old Navy store.  By third grade, I started to enjoy school and did until I graduated in 1975. 

In 1988 I was working as a hairdresser.  I had my own shop in Mt. Vernon and had 2 ladies working with me.  I had grown up in a country store that my grandparents owned, so working with the public came easy for me.  I was married and had two sons in school.  I thanked God everyday that they liked school and neither had cried like I had when I started school.  I don't remember exactly when I started getting the "forever" blues, I guess that's another blessing from God. I think he takes away some of our bad memories because there is no use dwelling on them.  My father had suffered from depression.  He passed away from a heart attack when he was only 53.  I was 13.  My memory of him was that he was a very sad man that went to the Dr.s a lot.  He actually had Electroconvulsive Therapy, shock treatments, that were the Cadillac of treatment for depression. After a treatment he didn't know who we were or where he was for days.  Years later when a psychiatrist recommended ECT as a treatment for my depression, my mother was adamant that I not be given them and I choose not to have them.  She said she could not go through with them again and I didn't want her to have to.  I suppose that I inherited my incline for depression from him. 

When I realized that my sadness was hanging around too long, I made an appointment to see my doctor, who was the same family doctor that had taken care of my dad.  He didn't waste any time sending me to a doctor in Lexington.  He said, "I watched your father battle depression and couldn't help him, but I won't do that with you."  The psychiatrist I saw was supposed to be the best in Lexington.  He diagnosed me with Clinical Depression, a broad term for different kinds of depression and prescribed a new anti-depressant drug called Prozac.  I remember the first time I visited him how nervous I was.  I also felt very vulnerable sitting in the waiting room with other troubled souls.  When I was called back, I was amused that he actually had a couch in his office, but he didn't ask me to lie back on it.  Within 2 weeks I could tell the medicine was working.  The Dr. had me come to his office once a week for therapy.  I found out through this therapy that I was also suffering from anxiety.  I know that my whole life I had worried about something everyday, every minute actually.  I was prescribed something for anxiety, thus started my long road on the medication treadmill.  I've taken them all, but never really gotten anywhere, just like walking on a treadmill.  

I continued to work and drive up to Lexington. I thought I was doing some better.  One Saturday in November 1988, I was at work at the shop.  I had been in a bad place for a few weeks, but that particular day I got worse.  I didn't have a customer at the time so I was just sitting in my chair worrying.  I started crying and shaking uncontrollably. My work mates called Mike, he and momma came to the shop to check on me.  By then, I was in a total meltdown.  I don't remember much after that.  Someone called my doctors office and his answering service instructed someone to bring me to St. Joseph ER.  I spent one night in a regular room and was beginning to feel a little better.  The next day I was moved to the Behavioral Unit on the 6th floor.  Ordinary people who are not suffering with any mental illness usually find this floor very disturbing, but to someone who is barely hanging on, it seemed like heaven.  I was filled with the expectation that when I left this place all my worries and sadness would have gone away just like a case of the flu, I would be cured.  The door locked behind me.  Momma and Mike were briefed on what was going to happen next such as therapy, meds, visitations etc.  I was told to empty my purse.  When I did, the nurse took away my dental floss, compact, because of the mirror, tweezers, shoe strings and anything else I or anyone else could use as a weapon or a tool to harm myself.  All that stuff was given to Mike to bring home.  I was to wear my own clothes and shoes because it was a rule that I get dressed everyday.  I could call home at times, but I had to get special permission.  If I progressed enough I would be allowed to leave the floor, but not the hospital grounds.  I was to stand in line with the other patients and be given my medication, which now included the drug Lithium and higher doses of Prozac and an anxiety drug.  I had to attend group and individual therapy as well and was required to participate in all activities and meals.  Everything was very structured.  At first, I was the only one in my room, but during my stay roommates came and went.  We could only take a shower and the shower stall didn't have a shower curtain. This was to ensure no one used the curtain rod to try to hang themselves.  They also took my shoestrings to keep me and we weren't allowed razors.  The men could shave under supervision, but the ladies had to give up the luxury of having smooth legs.  I ended up staying 21 days there.  I did earn the privilege of being able to go to other floors, so once a day I went to the nursery to look at the new babies and then down to the snack bar for a candy bar.  Thanksgiving was during my stay and I was allowed a day pass to come home.  I remember that I was ready to go back to the hospital early because I felt safe there and being home made me feel very anxious.  After I was released in December, I had to do all my Christmas shopping.  This worried me to death.  No amount of therapy has ever helped my anxiety.  I learned a lot in group therapy, but I am just not able to apply what I've learned to help myself.  I've been to so many therapy classes in my adult life that I feel like I could teach a class. 

I had missed out on several events in my son's lives while I was gone.  Things like basketball games and school programs.  Mom filled in for me and Mike did the housework.  I had lost a lot of weight while I was gone because I couldn't eat in the dining room with the other patients.  Almost all of them were a lot worse off than me.  Some could barely feed themselves.  One lady cried the whole time I was there.  Some slept all the time only waking up to take more medication.  We had a big room called the "day room" where we were allowed to watch TV.  Sometimes there would be a battle over what station to watch.  We were also allowed to smoke in this room.  We weren't allowed a lighter so somebody had to keep a cigarette lit at all times.  That was our only way of assuring we could light our cigarettes.  I started chain smoking while I was there.  Thank goodness I quit smoking cold turkey in 1990.  The combative patients were isolated from the main floor, but we could hear their screams sometimes.  Even with this nightmare going on around me, I still felt I belonged there.  In my life thus far, I have spent a total of 37 days in 3 different hospitals for depression. The second time, both Momma and Mike were gone when I decided to exit this world by taking a large number of pills.  After I took them, I laid down on my bed and waited.  I fell asleep and dreamed of my boys.  I dreamed they were crying for me.  I woke up and came to the realization that I didn't want to die after all.  I had to call my cousins Glen and Anna Lee Rigsby to take me to the hospital.  I hadn't taken enough pills to do any permanent damage.  I know God was with me that day.  

Walking away and leaving me in a Behavior Unit has been very hard on my family, especially Momma.  She cried every time she came and again when she left.  The patients scared her and she was worried about me being there with them.  They were almost all a lot worse than me. I saw the movie, "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" when it first came out in 1975 at the drive-in and again last year on TV.  I can relate to a lot of that movie.  Sadly, it is a pretty good portrayal of a mental facility.  

Me and Kyle right after my first hospitalization

 

Today. after close to a hundred different medication changes and some therapy, I am getting by.  I can't say I am well though.  My life with depression is a chain reaction. My medication has side effects for which I have to take another medication.  I now have Fibromyalgia, arthritis, asthma, high cholesterol, stomach and thyroid problems, muscle spasms, hearing loss, sleep apnea, obesity, memory loss to name a few.  I deal with all these issues plus Obsessive Compulsive Disorder,  anxiety and depression.  I've been diagnosed with Clinical Depression, Major Depression, and Bi-Polar disorder, just according to what doctor I was seeing at the time.  I really don't know which one I have, I looked them up and I could have them all three I guess that's why I'm so hard to treat.  

In 1990, I had to sell my beauty shop.  I think because that was the place I was when I had my first breakdown and I couldn't deal with that memory.  I stopped working as a hairdresser in April 1990 and started work as an Instructional Assistant at RCHS in August 1990.  I was doing much better then.  I was finally on the right medication regimen.  I didn't and still don't attend any therapy sessions because they just make me worse.  I do better if I just bury my depression somewhere deep within myself and pretend it's not there.  I could win an academy award for acting, because if you didn't know me, you'd never guess just how sad and troubled I am.  I have had my feelings hurt so many times by well meaning people who say, "You don't have a reason to be depressed." or "You're not close enough to God.  He will heal you if you will let him."  I have been treated different by employers, co-workers and family members due to the stigma of mental illness.  Unless you suffer with depression, you have no idea what it's like.  No two people's depression is the same. It is a lifetime of hell for most.  The TV ads say try this, you will get better, but I have found that to not be untrue.  Some meds. do help the symptoms, but I know I will never be cured.  Since it seems to be an heredity issue in my family, I worry about my children and grandchildren.  I look for signs in them all the time.

This brings me to the present.  I have been on the same meds for over 10 years and unfortunately they are either not working or the side effects are worse than the depression.  My doctor is in the process of making some medicine changes, but I've tried everything out there and she says I don't have anywhere else to go.  I am hoping for a new anti-depressant that has less side effects.  I have no self confidence therefore I beat myself up all day long.  In my eyes I never do anything right.  I have cried for hours over something someone said that I took the wrong way. I dread everything even something as simple as going to the bank.  I have to make myself attend family functions or go shopping.  Mike does the grocery shopping and takes care of other things that I just can't bring myself to do.  Very few things make me happy.  The last thing I did that made me happy was years ago when me and several family members went canoing down the Rockcastle Co. River. Of course I have been excited when all four of my precious grandchildren came into this world, but activites that people do daily, I can't do. I always look forward to our yearly vacation at the beach, but when I actually get there, I keep waiting to start enjoying myself.  I'm always glad to get back home.  

Sadly after all these years, Mike and now the boys, have never really understood me or my depression.  I think Momma does because I make the third family member she has had to help with depression.  She had to quit school in the eighth grade to take care of the family because her mother was so depressed that she didn't get out of bed for over a year.  Then she watched my dad suffer and now me.  She says all of us have suffered differently. My grandmother did get well and with no medication.  It's hard for me to realize that the granny I knew was ever the way Momma describes her.  Daddy never got any better, even with the shock therapy.  He had to quit work and draw disability only then to die at a young age. I do have one rock to hold onto in this stormy life, my friend Janice.  When I started working at RCHS, she was the teacher I was hired to assist.  We've been best friends since 1990.  Having her is another gift from God.  I'm convinced that in his goodness he doesn't want me to suffer so he sent Janice to me.  It's ironic that I got out of the hospital in April 1990 and met Janice in August 1990.  She knows and understands me so well.  She's my own private therapist.  She knows exactly what to say and how to talk me through the bad times.  I don't always agree with what she tells me, but I always end up taking her advice. 

This story is different from the other stories I have written.  They were almost all happy and made us laugh.  But along with the sunshine we have a little rain.  To all things there is a season.  My season is sometimes a dark, sad place.  I try not to visit that place very much.  I'd rather enjoy the sunshine.