Mother's Day Memorial: A Mental Health Check In

My mom's senior portrait; she was
only 17 years old.  To me, she looked
like a movie star.

This is a special Mother's Day. I am going to turn 56 at the end of this month. The same age my mother was when she took her own life. The last time I saw her in person was Mother's Day 1990.

We gathered with all her siblings and their children as we always did for big holidays at my grandparents' home. This was always a joyous and boisterous occasion with round-robin conversations catching up with everyone. I don't remember much of this visit. Our 6-month old son and two and a half-year-old daughter kept our focus, I'm sure. What I do know is my mom and I didn't take any time to talk just us two.

FORESEEING

Mom made that jacket for me out of
a high-end remnant she bought at the fabric store.
(Notice the wall of photos in the background.)

Looking at her senior photo, the one hanging on the wall of my grandmother's home among the five other framed photos of her siblings, my mom looked to me like a movie star. She was the second oldest. Her parents' first daughter. To look at her portrait, no one could not have ever foreseen the turbulent, frenetic future she would have.

Just when her mental illness began, I'm not sure. Looking back on stories she told me as a kid, I'm thinking it began during her college years. However, she always had a bit of an edge to her from what I've been told. She was always headstrong and very independent which led her to work at some job or other from the age of 14 years on and to travel to England to study nursing.

Mom and her friends from her time
in England.  She told me that
the man on her right was suppose
to come to America soon after so that
they would be wed, but he never did.

UPBRINGING

While my kidhood was unpredictable with many highs and lows, I have come to cherish all she strived to give my sister and me. She was a single parent who was dealing with undiagnosed mental illness. She worked hard to provide a home for us. We were very poor, but she never took any public assistance. Now and then, she'd ask for financial help from her parents, but that was always as a last resort.

She had me out of wedlock. My father, whom I never came to know, paid her $16,000 to leave him and his family alone. She put that money into buying our home which had three other apartments for her to rent out. I've come to understand that in 1964 that her decision to have and keep me was an act of bravery. With the support of her parents (we lived with them for the first six months of my life), she forged a life for us. She got a job at working for a doctor as office staff and soon met a man who offered to make us a part of his family. Cal and she were married (no photos that I know of), and I had my first birthday living with him and his daughter (his first wife had died from cancer).


As her mental illness began to show more and more intensely with the apex being an episode when she, in anger, punched her fist through the front plate-glass window requiring many stitches in her palm and up the inside of her wrist, he asked for a divorce citing he couldn't put his daughter through more instability and trauma (understandable). The sad thing is no one (her husband, doctor, or family) thought to look into this event to see what was the cause. Mental illness was not talked about.

My first birthday. 
My mom made the cake.

But, she did not give up. She found a little log cabin on the side of a lake that she rented for just the two of us. I believe we lived there for a year. And from the photos I have of that time, it looks like it was wonderful. She continued to work for the doctor while I stayed with an older woman down the road who loved taking care of the two of us.

My mom made many of my outfits
in my first few years of life including
this cute bunny costume.

My mom certainly took care of me. She made my clothes and even my Halloween costume. When we were snowed in during the Great Snowstorm of 1967, she built a snowman as tall as herself. She threw a 3rd birthday party for me. It was then that she introduced a man she had met at a singles group gathering. He was to become my step-dad the next year and soon after, my baby sister was born.

Snowstorm of 1967. Mom built
a snowman for the two of us.

Joe, my step-dad, was a kind but wounded soul. He had six children of his own from his first marriage. He'd been through AA (and I don't recall any drinking issues while he lived with us). What I do know is he wasn't really thrilled to add two more children to his roster, especially one that wasn't a blood relation. However, he was kind and funny, and I have warm memories of his presence. During the two years that they were married, I do remember major fights. Mostly, my mom screaming and dishes breaking. This led to their divorce-still no one (that I know of) pushed for looking into what was going on.

SOOTHING

I have heartwarming memories of my mom. She loved to scratch my back and play with my hair. On long car rides, as we listened to music or a radio drama, I'd lay my head on her gas-pedal leg (in the 70's there wasn't mention of seatbelt-safety), and she'd run her fingers gently through my hair. This is still an ingrained, self-soothing automatic action I do. If ever you see me sitting, my arm up in the air as I bring strands of silky, cool hair through my middle and pointer fingers, you know that I'm stressed or thinking hard on something.

She allowed us to have pets. This was always a special comfort to my sister. She still loves her dog like a best friend and each of her three children have grown into animal lovers.

Through our growing up years, my mom made a living by owning two apartment buildings.  The one on the lake that she purchased when I was a baby and one that she and Joe purchased in the first year of their marriage.  We would live in one of the apartments, and then the three of us would do the upkeep.  My mom taught us what it meant to work.  At an early age, we learned to weed, mow, paint window sills, etc. And then after a few hours of work, she'd tell us to stop and go for a swim or go play while she kept on working.  One of my favorite memories was once her workday was done, she'd often treat us all to get an ice cream at the little shop on our drive home. Both my sister and I are still hard workers, not afraid to tackle pretty much any task on our own.  We learned that from her.

MY VERY CORE

The core of who I am comes from her.  As I've indicated, we were poor.  However, most who saw us wouldn't know that there was minimal food in the house or bills that were overdue.  She kept us looking pretty middle class. I came to love the hand-me-downs she'd get from the "rich" side of town's churches more than new clothes because they were soft and worn in.  

One time, she got a used bike for me.  It was WAY too big. So, she put two-by-fours chunks of wood on each side of the pedals, and I learned quickly how to balance and ride it without falling.  It wasn't the banana seated beauty I had wanted, but it allowed me to get around the neighborhood with the other kids.

This isn't the actual bike, but
it looked very much like this one
(except blocks of wood on both
sides of the pedals)😂

She taught me how to drive, how to be an independent thinker, to love learning, reading, and story.  She gave me opportunities like attending multiple VBS programs in the summer, going to camp, being involved in band, and taking extracurricular classes like macrame and painting. I was able to be on my school's swim team and volleyball teams. She made homemade popcorn balls for me to bring to school. (Oh the 70's, when homemade treats were still allowed!)  I was really popular that day in 4th grade.

My mom showed me how to be determined, honest, and caring.  She encouraged me to help others. She made me face the consequences when I lied. She didn't allow me to feel like I couldn't do.  She talked to me about college and traveling to England. She filled me with goals to one day do the same.

My mom made me feel special. When I was sixteen and kind of an outsider in my high school because we had moved to this small town only two years prior, she threw a big birthday party for me.  We were dirt poor. I mean the type of poor where neighbors send over donations because they know you're hungry. She arranged for the teenage neighbor boy to be a DJ, and we had homemade snacks and punch.  That night, I felt like I had broken through the stranger-wall with the kids from my high school.  I still remember feeling pretty darn cool, dancing with a boy who became my boyfriend for the next few weeks. 

PANICKING

One funny but could have been a horrendous story that I look back on with awe is the time my mom took an auto repair course at the local community college.  I believe she got to attend free through some sort of program.  We couldn't afford a new car, so her plan was to replace the engine in our car herself for very little money.  She aced the class (did I tell you she was tested at 145 IQ) and began the project in our back yard.  The part I remember is the day when the engine was ready to start.  She had gas in it and all was primed to ignite. 

I was in fourth or fifth grade at the time, so even though I tried to start the car, I couldn't.  So, she had me get out and look under the hood while she turned the key.  We were elated when it turned over and purred. That was when I noticed water coming from a loose hose.  I called out to her but was too late! 

The engine caught on fire. I had some singed hair but mom without too much panic turned off the engine, got the water hose, and quickly extinguished the fire.  Unfortunately, the car was a total loss. Looking back at this event as an adult, I'm amazed that none of us panicked. 

ACCESSING

It was soon after my 16th birthday party when she really began to let her mental illness show more and more through the cracks.  Looking back, as I was making friends and groups outside of our home more and more, I think she knew she'd done all she could do to grow me. 

We had begun to fight more.  She was upset that I was choosing my friends and school over her.  She was also sinking more and more into bizarre behavior.  She'd go on frenetic shopping sprees using store credit that she couldn't pay off.  She'd only buy things that were bargain-basement deals, but she'd buy so many things (all for her dream of running a home for wayward boys). She'd spend days upon days on the couch.  My sister and I would make "meals" and try to keep up with the housework.  But being we didn't have a washing machine that worked, dirty clothes piled up. By the end, dirty dishes covered the counters and filled the sinks. She'd ask me to rub her feet or play with her hair. I would do it dutifully for what seemed like hours. Boy, I was so angry at her not taking care of us.  I didn't know anything about anything back then.

One Sunday after church, we were invited to my youth group leaders' home for lunch.  During the adult talk, my mom went into a psychotic episode. (My sister and I had known of these times but didn't know that we should seek help for her.) Due to her threatening to hurt herself, the police came.  She was taken to live at the state hospital (now defunct) in Kalamazoo.

1980-My sister and I visit my mom at Kalamazoo Psychiatric  Hospital.
She was pretty vacant and zombie-like
due to all the medication that they had her take.

It was there that they accessed her mental health. She was diagnosed with schizophrenia and bipolar with delusions of grandeur. She remained in the care of the state from then until 1989 when she was allowed to get her own apartment. Being I had gotten married in 1985 and was living on the other side of the state with babies and working as hard as a new teacher, we didn't see each other a lot. The last time we were together, just us, was soon after my son was born in December of 1990. My sister and her husband were able to pick her up and bring her to our house for a Christmas celebration. It was an uneventful, calm, normal family get-together. Everything I had always hoped for.

She called me on my birthday. I always got a tensed-up stomach whenever I heard her voice on the other end of the line, thinking something was wrong. All I remember from that conversation was that she sounded happy.

It was May 31st, nine days later, that my uncle called to let me know that my grandmother, who had driven over to my mom's apartment to pick her up for a pre-planned outing, had found her body lying in the shag carpet. While I never saw the scene, the image is ingrained in my mind based on the few details he provided. She left a simple, yet powerful note.

I Still Miss Her

Our relationship was turbulent, to say the least. But 29 years later, I still miss her deeply. I think I've lived my life trying to save those I care about through my roles as daughter, mom, friend, granddaughter, teacher, and ... I realize that my greatest fear is I am not enough to save those who need saving.

In Memorial to Joanne Kathryn Sherwood-My Mom

I ask that you talk openly with the ones around you. I ask that if you need help, you seek it.  That if you can give help to someone who isn't asking, do it. During this time of pandemic quarantine, especially, check-in with one another. There are so many who are hurting and not doing well.  There's more than just the virus that is deadly.

If you or someone you know needs help, here are a few resources (in the USA):

• Substance Abuse and Mental Health Service Administration
• National Institute of Mental Health
• The 9 Best Online Therapy Programs of 2020

The format for this post is thanks to A Chronic Voice link-up. This month, the topics were foreseeing, panicking, upbringing, accessing, and soothing. Each writer takes the given topics and gives them their own spin. Check out these wonderful writers at May 2020 Linkup (scroll past the prompts to find the linked up posts).

Thank you for visiting my blog today. 

I am committing to posting once a week on Fridays.  

However, as you know, my new normal means that sometimes 

I have to listen to my body and am not able to follow through 

as planned. 

Thank you for your understanding.

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Tentatively Ecstatic! My Experience With Low Dose Naltrexone Part 1

I was in a painful flare and starting to get desperate. Although mindfulness and meditation help, I felt like I couldn't continue to push through.  I cried. Hard.  Sobbing and shaking. Which isn't great when you're already in pain.  "This is too hard!"

My husband calmly said as he caressed my hair and massaged my temples, "You can do this.  You are strong."

The next day, I messaged my general practitioner. He's been very supportive, albeit not very familiar with Fibromyalgia (as are most doctors). I decided to finally ask if he would prescribe me Low Dose Naltrexone (LDN). After reviewing my request and the link to research on the topic, he tentatively agreed to give me a month's dose, stating that the research, while promising, was small.  When I responded (via messages through MyHealth.Spectrum.org) thank you, I would like to try 2.0mg dose.  He was a bit flabbergasted. "It's only sold commercially in 50mg tablets. Do you know how to get that low of a dosage?"

This is when my online Fibromyalgia support team has been essential.  Through my research and their input, I knew more about LDN than my doctor. I first learned of LDN from Donna, on her website Fedup With Fatigue.  She gave me a bit of guidance on the dosing and titration that she followed because I knew the 4.5mg was a general ending goal, not a starting point. She also gave me a wonderful resource of knowledgeable people all finding their own way with taking LDN via the Facebook group: Low Dose Naltrexone for Chronic Illness and Infections. Brian Haviland, the administrator of the group, and several members have given me good information on how to proceed. 

Starting Dosage

My general practitioner has no experience with LDN dosing (because this is off-label for Fibromyalgia and most other issues it's being used for-more on why below).  I sent him research reports on the topic and he then wrote a 30 pill prescription for 4.5mg. Being it has to be filled at a compounding pharmacy, I had them send it via fax to a compounding pharmacy in the city about an hour away from us.  As kismet would have it, the pharmacy technician that I spoke to, had been taking LDN herself for a while to help her manage Lyme disease.  She was very positive about her results. She was the one that suggested that I go with 1/4 the dose. So, I began at 1.125mg.

How to Adjust LDN Dosage Level

Due to LDN being commercially sold at 50mg tablets and even the low dose level many get compounded not being the level the individual can handle (like mine of 4.5mg), those who are in the know have developed an ingenious way to adjust dosage level.

Here's what I've done (on guidance).  I put 4 ounces of distilled water (ml is fine, too, but I live in the USA, so...😉) into a jar like the one shown above.  I opened the 4.5mg capsule and poured the contents into the water.  I, then, stirred to dissolve it, letting it sit a bit, covered in the refrigerator before taking it the next morning.  

In the jar, at the bottom of the solution are white particles that don't dissolve.  These, I've found out, are the filler in the capsule.  I asked the compounding pharmacists what type of filler was used in my capsules.  He responded, "Avicel.  It's a filler with low allergy issues." I'll talk more about fillers in future posts in this series on LDN because this can be important.

To get the dosing amount you want, you have to do a bit of math.  With 4 oz of water added to 4.5mg of LDN, if I take 1oz of the solution, I am getting 1.125mg (4.5/4).  However, you could have 4 cups of water and drink 1 cup for the same 1.125mg.  Make sense? (Thanks, hubby/math-guy for the lesson.)

Click this link for a larger view of the

 chart created by Haviland 

LDN Facebook Group Administrator.

My Initial Reaction

Three days in and it became apparent that I had too high of a dose at 1.125mg.  This is definitely an individual thing, and one has to find their own path with the information given by others.  Some can start with 4.5mg and have no side-effects from the get-go.  Some, can start at 2mg and bump up every few days until they get to 4.5mg.  (I will be explaining that while 4.5mg has been the treatment level most researched; it's not the optimum level for all people.)

Feeling terrible, I stayed in bed
for 3 1/2 days straight.
Cold packs on my head and the back
of the neck helped some.

And so, I was not going to fit into the "normal reactions" group (surprise, surprise). I was so dizzy, weak, nauseated, and a contraction type of headache at my temples and forehead.  For 3 1/2 days, I was in bed.  I threw up several times (which is difficult for me to do because I had the Nissen procedure of GERD that created a knot at the top of my stomach) and didn't even want to drink water.  I was ready to give up.

Luckily, I had the FB LDN group.  They gave me encouragement and advice. I decided to press on. 

I really am appreciating
all the support and advice
I've gotten prior and during
this first couple of weeks.

One suggestion that I latched onto was to take a day off to "clear the receptors" and then, start back up on a MUCH lower dose of 0.25mg.  And this is what I did.

I still felt horrible all the next day (day 4) without taking any LDN.  The following morning (day 5), I wasn't nauseous anymore but was very weak and tired.  With the words of supports in my head and the knowledge that if I don't push through I will never know if it works for me, I took 0.25mg.  

To do this, I dissolved one 4.5mg capsule as described above, but this time, I added it to 9oz of distilled water.  I then took only 0.5oz of that solution, carefully drawing off from the top as to avoid getting any of the Avicil filler that was resting at the bottom of the glass jar.  The math for this is 4.5/9=0.5mg per ounce/2=0.25mg.  

It was a grey day outside, so I gave myself the grace to lie around one more day.  I meditated lying prone in bed and fell asleep on and off until 4pm in the afternoon. And then, it all passed.  I felt as if a switch had been turned on, I had recently watch Back to the Future and envisioned my reaction to being much like Marty Mcfly's coming back from nearly fading away into nothingness.

Much like Marty, I was not able to function,

and then, wham! I was back!

Who is This?

That night around 8pm, I got a burst of energy.  I cleaned up the kitchen which had a pile-up of dishes, folded the laundry that had been sitting in the dryer for a couple of days, and finished writing my first post in a series I'm planning to write on teachers and stress. My husband, who had been working hard all day putting up drywall, was winding down on the couch, reading.  He looked up as I was scampering around the house. Smiling, he said, "Who is this? You're feeling better, I see."  That night, I struggled to fall asleep but wasn't feeling bad about it.  I finally drifted off around 2am.  

I've come to appreciate the
utter love this guy gives even
when it means I get woken by
a wet nose every morning.

Around 6am, Scout, my tiger cat began his ritual of nuzzling my ear, then cheek, then hovering close enough to my lips that I can feel his breath on them.  My husband had already gotten up, so I was there alone for Scout to pester until I was fully awake.  This is early for me.  7:30am is my goal time for getting up and around, but Scout wasn't having any of that this morning.  And to my surprise, I woke up alert.  I was able to bound out of bed pretty quickly, feeling very little pain and stiffness that I normally have every day.

I was able to complete some blogging work, straighten up the house a bit, and when my husband asked if I wanted to go for a hike in the woods, I had the energy to say, "Yes!"  We went on a four-mile hike.  The sky was blue with white clouds and the forest world seemed as if it was awakening from the cold of winter, finally. It felt so wonderful to be outside, hiking, talking with my hubby, and having next to no pain.

Getting out into nature
is my healing place,
especially now that we're
warming up and getting
some sunshine.

I had two more AMAZING days like this.  My mood was up, my energy abundant, very little pain (until evening, but not bad-level 4). I was able to get myself ready (shower and even a bit of make-up), practice yoga and meditation, straighten up the house, practice my guitar, socialize with Zooming and a bit with the neighbor (at safe distancing), rake up our shoreline of layered wet, oak leaves, and then still have the energy to sit in the hot tub with my husband. To top things off, we had a warm-up to 55o and sun which is a commodity that's fairly rare right now in Michigan. These were three AMAZING days for sure.  

Each of these three nights, though, I struggled to get to sleep.  I didn't feel agitation or racing heart or anything, but I felt clear-headed and alert.  I ended up taking THC oil (2 drops sublingual) and with meditation, I fell asleep decently at midnight (headed to bed at 10pm) and slept until 7:00 (when Scout begins to wake me up). Each of these awesome mornings, I woke up feeling clear and energetic.  My pain was noticeably more intense and in more areas than normal (Level 5+). However, not long after taking my 1/2 oz LDN solution, it diminished to a level 2+.  I was ecstatic at how I was doing and couldn't stop telling everyone. This, I feel, might bring me back to a level I didn't think would be achievable.

The end of my raking the
shoreline day,
it was sunny
 which made me
even more joy-filled.

When researching more about why and how this works, I found an explanation that made sense for all these improvements. "The major mechanism of action of LDN involves blocking the body’s opioid/narcotic receptors for just a very few hours (rather than the all-day blockade caused by the 50mg dosage). Those are the same receptors used by the body’s endorphins. The body responds to this by greatly increasing its endorphin production, and those higher levels last all day -- far after the blockade by LDN has ended. Endorphins turn out to be the major normalizer/upregulator of one’s immune system," states David M. Gluck, MD in My Experience with Low Dose Naltrexone.

Tentatively Ecstatic

After a three-day wonderful weekend, Monday morning came with more pain and a feeling of fatigue. Taking in that I had done a decent amount physically over the weekend, I chose not to be discouraged.  Besides, I know that at 0.25mg, I'm not yet at my personal "sweet spot" dosage level. So, I took it easy: blogging work, Yin Yoga with Bernie Clark via Gaia.com. Tuesday and Wednesday of this week were pretty much the same but less fatigue and more clear-headed. 

Today, I skipped my 0.25mg does as they suggest to clear the receptors. "It makes sense to skip a day of LDN every week to keep it working effectively. Otherwise, naltrexone and its active metabolite 6-β-naltrexol will slowly build up in the system to an ineffective level," states Richard Farr, a member of the LDN Facebook group. Then, tomorrow, I'm going to up my dose to 0.5mg. I'm planning on staying at this level for one to two weeks (deciding based on how I'm doing day 8 at this level). 

Why Isn't this prescribed more readily?

If this Low Dose Naltrexone drug is so effective for Fibromyalgia (among many other issues), then why isn't it approved by the FDA and paid for by health insurance?  Why aren't doctors more learned on the subject, and why aren't they prescribing it more readily?

The answer, unfortunately, is money.  Naltrexone has been around so long that it is considered generic.  Because of this, Drug companies can't make any money off of it. Dr. Gluck goes on to explain, "Because naltrexone has been a generic drug for many years now, no large pharmaceutical company will invest any money in the large research costs needed to gain FDA approval of these special new off-label uses of the medication. No one makes any significant money from sales of LDN! Nonetheless, there have been many small clinical studies of LDN performed at outstanding medical centers, all showing it to be safe and effective. Check my website for detailed information on the research [www.ldninfo.org/ldn_trials.htm]."

And so, I'm tentatively ecstatic to think that I may be able to get back my energy, clear-thinking, and have less pain.  That I might be able to actually count on mind and body on a regular basis instead of it feeling like every moment is a  roll of the dice. 

I will be keeping you updated on my progress.  I will not gloss it over.  If it doesn't work, I'll let you know.  Have you ever heard of LDN?  If you take or have taken it, what was your experience?  I'm especially wanting to hear from those who have taken it long-term, say 5 years+. I'd love to hear from you. I'm learning as I go.

Thank you for visiting my blog today. 

I am committing to posting once a week on Fridays.  

However, as you know, my new normal means that sometimes 

I have to listen to my body and am not able to follow through 

as planned. Thank you for your understanding.

Click link Subscribe to Pain FULLY Living Weekly Posts by Email