Category Archives: Mental Health

Scrambled Eggs

Posted in Mental Health, Personal by

In light of recent conversations on mental health, I thought it might be appropriate to reflect on a period of my life when I questioned that life. Even though I had everything going for me, I, like so many others, struggled with the mental and physical realities of my worth. What difference could I make? What impact could I have? Whether I lived or not, the Earth would keep revolving. I didn’t think things could get better. I also didn’t think they could get worse. This was two years before I met diabetes.

June 16, 2007

The most recent typed edition of my second working novel is scattered across the blue carpet of my bedroom floor. I write today’s date on a folded piece of looseleaf paper and set it aside. I just took eight over-the-counter IB Profen pills. They’re the most potent pills I could find in the medicine cabinet. Unfortunately, my parents do not take prescription sleeping pills (that I’m aware of).

I have no idea what overdosing on anti-inflammatory medication will do to me, but I can’t imagine it’s good. I think I’m playing with my life. But I am determined to finish my second working novel before the medicine kicks in. I only have two more chapters to write.

I look at myself in the shattered mirror of my closet door. My parents are in their bedroom across from mine. I’ve locked my door. They know about my depression, and they’ve supported me in the past two years as I made the transition from home to college and old and new friends. They know that I started taking anti-depressants. They know I was seeing a therapist at the university health center. They know I’ve run out of anti-depressants. Continue reading →

Always Wear a Helmet?

Posted in Mental Health, Personal by

I am sitting on the metro on orange plastic leather, trying to ignore the sticky residue to my right. I am taking the Red line to work and re-reading book one of six about werewolves and vampires in Victorian London (yes, I’m one of those; when you read health policy every day, you can’t blame me).

At the next stop, a boy with a head full of blond curls climbs up on the seat next to me to look out the window. He looks to be about three or four. His dad isn’t too far behind with backpack in tow. The boy looks at me and then his dad and holds on to the adjacent railing as the train starts moving. I smile and offer up my seat and the dad thanks me.

I watch for the next 10 minutes as the boy’s fascination with underground trains and speed grows. Before they depart for what I assume to be the National Zoo at the Woodley Park stop, his dad unveils a small football helmet. He fastens it onto his kid, which he must be used to because he doesn’t struggle or resist. The boy then grabs his dad’s hand and walks with him out the door. Continue reading →

The Lone Dove

Posted in Animals, Mental Health by

I am sitting on my rooftop deck, talking on the phone with my mom. I’m in one of those weird emotional states where I feel mesmerized by everything and feel I should contemplate the meaning to my life, even the littlest details like what am I making of this warm Sunday afternoon.

With my feet propped onto the deck chair, I am being burned by the sun, but there is no shade to escape within. We have not acquired an umbrella for this Craigslist patio set, but since I am moving in a few weeks, there is no point. I watch my skin turn red, but I do not move inside. I want to feel the heat.

A pigeon joins me on the deck. It squats on the wooden railing, picking at scraps shaken off by the nearby trees. My boyfriend calls these birds the “rats of the sky,” but when I stop squinting and take a closer look, I realize it’s not a pigeon at all, but a light brown dove. Where is its mate, I wonder? Continue reading →

Diabetes Coverage: The Never Ending Battle

Posted in Cost, Diabetes, Mental Health, Type 1 by

Just when I think I’ve overcome one hurdle (in this case, the elimination of the pre-existing condition clause with the Affordable Care Act), 10 more appear. I don’t know if I would have experienced the health insurance hang-ups that make me want to bite my nails off and tuck my head underneath my desk at the end of the day, had I not been diagnosed with diabetes at 22.

But in those five years, fighting for diabetes coverage, even something as benign as a 90-day supply for supplies I use every day, has only added to my mental and emotional stress, and in a sense, depleted my overall health and quality of life. I’ve won battles and lost others. But at the end of the day, I still feel beaten.

No matter what I say, no matter how hard I push, no one will see my condition the way I do. They see me as a price tag – an expensive one at that. It doesn’t matter that these supplies or that amount of insulin or that sensor help me live. What matters is that in their predetermined rulebook, it says they do not cover it, and that’s that. Continue reading →

Peanut Butter Bait

Posted in Animals, Mental Health, Personal by

Briston set up the traps months ago, baiting the mice with pinches of peanut butter.

“It’s best to leave the peanut butter on before setting the trap,” he said, “that way the mouse gets use to it and doesn’t expect the snap.”

We had just moved into a two-bedroom apartment on the second floor of a rowhouse in downtown Baltimore. Even though we’d been dating for two and a half years, more than half of that was long distance. Once I graduated with my MFA, Briston made the move from Orlando to Baltimore to give the relationship a real shot.

“That’s fine,” I told him, referring to the mouse trap, “as long as I don’t have to clean it up.”

Two years prior when I lived in a basement apartment north of the city, I had my first encounter with a mouse. He scared me when I turned on my bedroom light, and he ran out from under my bed.

A few days later I was sitting in the living area on the flower-printed couch, donated by a previous tenant, reading a book. I had set a similar peanut butter trap, at the suggestion of my roommate.

It was 9pm, and he scurried out from behind my bookcase against the wall across from me. He sniffed around my TV stand and ignored the peanut butter. Then disappeared down the hall. I didn’t scream or fret. As much as I don’t like living with other things, I live under the philosophy, “if you don’t bother me, I won’t bother you.” Continue reading →

Diabetes Breakdown

Posted in Diabetes, Mental Health, Type 1 by

Not every day is easy with diabetes. Not that it should be. My pancreas doesn’t work so technically I can’t properly digest food so technically, five years after my diagnosis, I shouldn’t be alive.

I should be thankful for technology, thankful that even though these medical supplies cost me a ridiculous copay, they keep me alive – they help me maintain an overall good quality of life.

I should be thankful, but there are days when I come home from my two-hour commute from DC and I stand in my walk-in closet debating what outfit I should wear tomorrow and then I lose it. I just sink to the dilapidated hardwood floor and start sobbing.

Okay maybe there’s more to it than that? Maybe it’s been a rough day? Maybe I’ve been having highs all day for no apparent reason other than my hormones started going crazy? Or maybe I’ve spent half the day going back and forth from the insurance company to the pharmacy to the doctor’s office trying to get my 90-day supply of test strips covered? Continue reading →

Emotional Reasoning

Posted in Mental Health, Women's Health by

I haven’t always listened to my emotions. In fact, there was a time I suppressed them.

I grew up in a household of boys, my poor mother and I alone in the chaos of male destruction. But as much as I revere my mother, I was a daddy’s girl. Besides the whole Oedipus complex, I’m starting to understand why. My mom was rational, and my dad, like me, was emotional. But since he was a man’s man, he never showed it except when he became angry. My dad was the type of man to have teary eyes at the end of movies like It’s a Wonderful Life and Armageddon, but only if he was alone.

The first time I saw my dad cry was when I was ten. I followed him into the basement. We had just returned from vacation, and we came home to a dead dog. The Yorkshire Terrier was 12 years old and had gotten his collar stuck in the holes of our picnic table in the backyard and choked himself to death. His name was Tiger, and he had been my dad’s wedding gift to my mom. My mom had wanted to put the dog in a kennel while we went camping, but my dad decided to keep him at home and have a friend come by after work each day and take care of him. When we came home to a funeral (the dog was rather loved among our extended family), my dad felt responsible.

So when I went downstairs and saw Tiger’s motionless body in a cardboard box, I couldn’t make the connection. This wasn’t Tiger. It was just a stuffed animal that looked like Tiger. But when my dad saw the dog, his guilt overcame him, and he started choking on his own sobs. I ran back up the stairs then, terrified. I’d never seen my dad lose it like that, and I vowed I would never do the same. Continue reading →

Sister, Sister

Posted in Diabetes, Mental Health, Personal, Type 1 by

It seems to be staring at me, although I don’t see a face. I only see its black rectangular body and a few mechanical buttons that I suppose could be eyes – they are my life source. It’s buzzing at me, but I ignore its demand for attention.

There was a time I didn’t need you.

It doesn’t hear me. It doesn’t seem to respond, but it moves across my desk, as if inching closer to my exhausted body.

You are gray and ugly, and I don’t want you … but I need you.

I have a weird relationship with my insulin pump. If we were on Facebook, it would read, “It’s complicated with Gizmo.” Yes, I’ve named it Gizmo. I figure if it’s going to share my bed, it should have a name.

In approaching the holidays, I realize even though Gizmo has only been with me for two years, diabetes has been in my life for almost five. That’s not a lot considering most people with Type 1 were diagnosed when they were seven. What was I doing when I was seven? Oh yeah, playing beneath the Maple trees of Kentucky and going to church with my family every Sunday.

When I was in college and realized the brain doesn’t fully develop until we’re 20 or 25, I considered this might be why childhood seemed like the happiest years of my short life. I hadn’t met reason yet. I didn’t think about the horrible atrocities happening in the world or feel stressed about how quickly my next paycheck would disappear.

No, I lived in the present – my only concern was what fun things I could do with my day. My brother, two years younger than me, and I used to make lists during the summertime and then vote on the items on that list, planning out our free time and deducing what activities we would engage in that day.

We built Lego cities in the basement, played “house” in the church parking lot across the street, and pretended to be sisters. One time my father came home and found my brother dressed in a witch costume, answering to the name of “Susan.” I don’t know why he liked that name so much, but when we played “Sister, Sister,” I always let him choose his female name. To be fair, we also played “Brother, Brother,” but after my dad found my brother wearing a dress, we never played sisters again. Continue reading →

Falling Like Flies

Posted in Animals, Diabetes, Mental Health, Personal, Type 1 by

Sometimes, I look at everything I worry about, and I laugh.

Sometimes, I want to be happy for the sake of being happy so that if I died tomorrow, I would enjoy this one moment of life.

Sometimes, I wish people bothered me less. Why do you need to say “hello” every time I pass you on the street? Why do you feel the need to smile and call me “gorgeous” and when I don’t respond, keep talking like it’s my loss.

Sometimes, I wish people bothered me more.

Just yesterday, a friend of mine found out her landlord passed away from cancer. She was diagnosed a few months ago, complaining of stomach pains, but by then, the cancer was already at an advanced stage.

Just this past week, a colleague of mine doubled over in stomach pain and made it to the hospital. He’s been on bedrest ever since and has lost 10 pounds in the past week. He’s over 90 so the stakes aren’t looking good.

On this day, four and a half years ago, I was admitted to the hospital, having seen the doctor for a severe yeast infection. I came out with diabetes. Continue reading →

Over My Head

Posted in Diabetes, Mental Health, Personal by

“Maybe the only way to move up is to BE in over your head,” she says to me in a parking lot.

I followed a colleague of mine into the 60-degree sun to tell her about a recent job interview I was preparing for. She referred me to the job. I wanted the job, but I wondered if I would look like a fool, if my presentation to the VPs would somehow misrepresent my good work ethic and detailed organizational manner.

My colleague disagreed.

“Do you want to keep doing the menial tasks you do now? This is your way out.” It’s true. I am comfortable where I am now, but I’m not going anywhere. There is no room for growth, and in the year that I’ve continued to ask for a promotion, I’ve been denied.

They keep hiring on other employees, though. I’m still contractual. They say it’s because they don’t have the “funding.” I started a master’s program in industrial/organizational psychology. I know what “less than valued” means.  Continue reading →