A beautiful image of the power of surrender, by Ron Hamad

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

House and Home

So I was watching HOUSE last night. And while we were waiting to solve the case of the sick teen girl (eclampsia! didn't see that coming!) said teen girl had a seizure and they ordered up 4 milligrams of Lorazepam for her. Stat.

And that got me thinking about the state of my own wellness 11 years ago, before I finally had the balls to walk into a 12-Step meeting and start my life over again.

Here's why. I had so confused and betrayed my body's natural ability to heal itself that it was on crazy-girl overload and succumbed to panic attacks on a regular basis. Like when I had to drive or go to the store or do anything out of the house. At night I was cool because I was all liquored up. But by day, since it seemed so, well, alcoholic to drink during the day, I would smoke cigarettes, drink coffee, not eat and obsess about mistakes past or drinks future. And I would panic.

In order to avoid and/or or override the panic attacks, I took Lorazepam. Sometimes up to 3 milligrams of it. Not like it was prescribed this way for me. But because I "needed" that many. I needed one less milligram than it takes, apparently, to stop a girl from seizing.

Here is what I remember from that time: misery. Misty water color misery. I don't have much detail but the despair is something I hope never to return to. I would spend days on end diagnosing my hypochondriacal self on the internet. If I ever got vanity tags on my car they would read "Web MD" for sure. But instead of leaning into the truth, I diagnosed myself with a million fatal and/or painful diseases. Because that is how I felt on the inside. Because that is how it feels to be addicted and out of control.

Every day you want to do it different and every day you repeat the same stupid cycle of behavior. Madness. In a bottle.

Today, I am grateful to report, I feel healthier than I have ever felt in my entire life. Stronger. More hopeful. Serene. These were things I used to pray for every day.

So if you find yourself being your own Web MD, searching for impressive illnesses to help explain your maladies, just consider leaving a few things out of your diet for awhile. And if you can't, if you need help, call me. There is a place we can go hang out that is all about wellness.

Stacy -


Anonymous said...

Wow. I too "had to take" Lorazepam on a daily basis. After coming to believe there was a better way to live my life, my doctor said "no more Pams in your life". Thank God! I love our places of wellness. Keep writing. It's very inspirational and real. This N. Ky. chick feels stronger, too...mind, body and soul... because of words and actions like yours.

Anonymous said...

Ms Sims,

I have gotten to know you over the past few months, but just recently, after looking on the Pendleton Pilates site, am learning a world and a half more about you. I don't know all the details of your past, but my heart embraces you because these past few months have been some of the hardest of my life. I was fortunate to never have to deal with any substance abuse, but I did put myself through a landslide of... well, self- mutilation of my soul and mind through a depression that had been increasingly spiraling for a few years.

A couple of months ago I went to a Therapist after an evening where after bawling uncontrollably, I somehow found a knife in my hand and a short fuse in my mind. Somehow moments later I had put down the knife and picked up a cell phone. I left a message at the Therapists office and was talking with him soundly the next day. I had reached a breaking point.

Reading your story, I get hints of the fact that we share a little more than I thought.

From the first moment I saw you, I was drawn to want to know you, your story, and your spirit better. I have been lucky enough in that respect, but afer reading a little more this evening, I would just like to thank you for all that you do, for all that you are, and for all that you have become.

Thank you for shining a light into so many people's shadowy places. You are an inspiration.

That is all I would like to leave you with, but once again...

Thank You.

Anonymous said...

Sometimes it seems we're all in the same soup, swimming around, afraid we're about to go under, secretly certain we deserve it anyhow. And there you are, up on the lip of the pot, pointing to a ladder stuck to the side, encouraging all of us to climb up and get out. Stay put, right where you are. We need you there.

Stacy Sims said...

Dear Everyone:

I am so moved by all of you. Thanks for sharing back. I like to think of that ladder in the soup pot and I hope you know that your honest responses and feedback is my ladder back out to where it is bright and hopeful.

Happy 2009!