…from 2020: The Lost Year

Is it just me, or does everyone feel like we somehow lost a year? I find myself looking back, thinking about different events, and thinking “this happened last year.” But it didn’t. Whatever Thing I’m trying to place in time happened in 2019, BP (Before Plague). The Plague and the political and social climate here in the US brought out the best–and worst–in people. What have we learned, as a society, as a country, during the Lost Year Called 2020?

Here’s what I learned:

I like working from home. My anxiety and stress levels plummet when working from home, because I don’t feel like I’m being pulled apart by Family and Work interests. I can work all day, taking breaks to do the dishes or start the wash, reviewing contracts from my porch couch, while listening to the sounds of bugs, birds, and the breeze. My brain can focus on work, then switch to home, then to work, almost seamlessly. Women CAN have it all, but it’s best Had working from home.

I have stronger convictions about the marginalized and working poor and how politics and society affect them. According to my family, I’m a liberal. Whatever. I call myself a Pragmatic Christian, though the Christian label is just to sum up the teachings of Christ from the Bible. It could just as well be Pragmatic Buddhism, or Pragmatic Islam, or Hindu, or (name a world religion that teaches love for all)–that’s what I am.

Reading the whole article matters. A lot. There have been so many inflammatory headlines flying around out there, on “news” websites, Facebook, Huffpost, you name it. I am best served if I research an issue, check out the sides of it worth checking out (and no, the lady who thinks Washington DC is full of lizard people, and that women’s health issues are caused by sex with demons, is NOT a source worth wasting my time on), and make up my own mind, without the yammering of conflicting opinions and biases.

Fact check. Fact check, fact check, fact check. And bring your documentation before you start telling me something that you saw that a friend of yours on Facebook posted from the friend of another friend, who is the cousin, of someone who Knows. I’m not interested. I’m gonna Google whatever you told me. And I’ll set you straight. Nobody likes being set straight by a middle-aged, greying, white woman lawyer. Save yourself the pain ;).

And I really DO want world peace. (view from my porch, moonrise June 5, 2020.)

It's the End of the World As We Know It…

*Updates to the courts procedure while we’re going through this COVID-19 thing can be found at this link, which is to the Utah Courts webpage for updates.

Ok, so not really. It IS the end of the world as we know it for at least a few weeks to months. I’m avoiding Facebook, etc., myself, because I had been before (depression + Facebook=kill me now, most of the time) but it’s even worse now. My family is basically prepared. When the store shelves cleared immediately of toilet paper and water, I had a dozen and a half or so rolls, and kept wondering who these weird people were who thought a pandemic was the equivalent of an earthquake, and that our city water would suddenly become contaminated and undrinkable.

That’s not how pandemics work, ya’ll. That’s how earthquakes work (which as a sidenote, actually happened this morning early in the Salt Lake Valley, so maybe those folks are glad they bought up all the water…more about THAT here.).

Anyway. The beauty of my job is that I really CAN do it anywhere there’s an internet connection, and on Monday, I dragged my desktop home from my day job, and got myself set up to work from home for the next few weeks. I love working from home. As an anxious depressive, getting out of bed in the morning is excruciating, especially knowing I’ll have to, like, put on pants and makeup and not look like a slob and stuff. These past couple of days, I have literally dragged myself out of bed, put on my bathrobe, and sat down at my computer at 8am. No makeup required. No pants required. That’s straight up perfection, my friends.

Feels like straight up Magic, actually...

It’s also really fantastic that most of us really DO have technology literally at our fingertips that allows for all kinds of communication without having to be WITH anyone. My smartphone has face to face calling (Facetime because it’s an Apple, but Skype and Facebook Messenger do the same thing). I can text if I don’t feel like talking. I can receive and send email from my phone as well. And so can 95% of the world’s population (that’s totally a guess. I have no data to support that percentage.)

The population that I’M speaking to now, though, you folks in Utah, you who are scared or confused about the legal system, who are afraid to leave your homes, but afraid to not be able to leave your homes, I’m still here for you. I’ve been doing a lot of family law legal consulting. For those who would qualify for CAPSA’s services, I do it for free. For those of you who actually CAN pay some legal fees, I charge $75/hr, which I can take through Venmo or Paypal or Square on a credit card. You CAN still talk to a lawyer–I can Facetime/etc with you. Or you can email.

The point here is this: Don’t feel like you’re stuck in a situation that you don’t want to be in because you don’t have access to any legal counsel. I’m available virtually by appointment (which you can make by emailing me–see my About tab at the top of this page). Or you can just email if you have a specific question. A lot of your FAQ’s are already answered on my blog here…just go to the “search” box at the top right of the page, and type in a keyword you need info on, and everything I’ve written about that topic will come up. Hell, if push came to shove, the courts are still open, and I can e-file any case documents for a legal case I’m working on, without having to leave my home office. (I actually HAVE completed entire cases without ever traveling to a courthouse.)

So keep that in mind. Don’t panic. It may be the End of the World as We Know It, but You Can Still Feel Fine ;).

For your listening pleasure…Never lose your sense of humor, folks 😉

Mental Illness and Working on a “Broken” Brain.

I haven’t posted for a very long time. And it’s not for lack of ideas for blog posts. I’ve actually got a sticky note attached to my computer with a couple of awesome ideas…I just haven’t had the capacity to put words together. Or maybe I just couldn’t muster the massive amount of energy it takes to put words together.

I’ve written before about my anxiety and depression. The last few months it’s gotten really bad–worse than it was when I closed my law practice just about 5 years ago now. But a lawyer can’t just drop out of life and crawl into a hole and sleep, even when that feels like the best possible solution (I’ve got BILLS, ya’ll). Especially when that lawyer has a regular 9-5 corporate gig. So I decided I needed to be proactive and get on top of it. Back in October I went to my primary medical care provider and discussed options, but had also looked into TMS therapy. At my appointment with my primary care, we decided I’d bump up the dosage on my anti anxiety maintenance medication, and bump up the dosage on the benzo I was taking as needed when I’m in a bad place, but hold off on trying another antidepressant. I wanted to wait and see what happened with TMS.

TMS stands for Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation. You can read more about it here: https://www.mayoclinic.org/tests-procedures/transcranial-magnetic-stimulation/about/pac-20384625. It’s not necessarily covered by insurance. There was some hoop jumping to get my insurance to cover it, but they did end up doing so on a one-off basis. My treatment protocol is 20-30 minutes at a time; I’ve been going during my lunch hour at work, every weekday less holidays, since the beginning of December. The clinic I’ve been doing it through shows excellent results in most people. Like, 86% respond favorably, 66% go into complete remission of their depressive symptoms.

Hell on Earth, actually.

Sadly, my depression is really secondary to my anxiety and panic disorders…and TMS is less effective for people like me. In my case, I’m in that 14% that it’s not been effective for at all, and I only have 5 treatments left out of 36. However, going through TMS DID put me under the care of an awesome psychiatrist I wouldn’t have gotten into otherwise. I started new medications (there actually ARE meds I hadn’t tried before!!) just over a week ago. And thankfully, the new anxiety med has completely knocked my anxiety down. Which means that my depression is now manifesting more than the anxiety, because it takes at least a month for antidepressants to reach therapeutic levels in the brain.

So now I feel like Nothing. Flat. I have little to no interest in anything, and I’m exhausted. But after being in a state of near constant panic for the past 4 months, it’s kind of a relief to have my brain not revved in fear 24 hours a day. Because that’s what anxiety feels like to me–my brain is in a continuous state of dread, worry, panic, and stress, like I’m hanging on by my fingernails, and constantly on the verge of tears. I don’t sleep well, and when I do sleep, I wake up in the middle of the night for no reason at all and can’t go back to sleep, or because I’m having horribly graphic violent nightmares that have scared me awake and then I can’t go back to sleep. To say it’s exhausting and distressing is an understatement similar to those warning signs that say “Warning: 900 degrees Fahrenheit is Hot. It will burn you.” Duh.

I was thinking about this this morning and remembered an incident from way back in the day, when my Grandpa Tanner was still alive, but was in a nursing home with Alzheimer’s disease. He’d fallen and broken his hip, but kept trying to get out of bed. Alzheimer’s causes its sufferers to “time travel,” if you will, and hallucinate that they are living at some time in their past. My grandpa regressed to his younger years when he was a cowboy in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, and had to go feed and herd cows. He kept trying to get out of bed because, in his mind, he needed to go to work. The nurses didn’t know what to do with him, so they called my folks to help. My dad was talking to him, trying to convince him he needed to stay in bed with his broken hip. Finally, Daddy said to Grandpa, “Dad, you wouldn’t make a horse work on a broken leg, wouldja?” And Grandpa thought about it for a beat and said, “No. I wouldn’t.” And he calmed down, and quit trying to get out of bed.

That’s my Grandpa Tanner, second from the right, back in the day.

And so it is with those of us with broken minds–because mental illness IS all in my head, just like asthma is all is the lungs, and scoliosis is all in the spine. I have a chemical imbalance. I likely always will. I’m going to be realistic about what I can do, and do all that I can, but not beat myself up over what I can’t do but think I “should” (terrible word, that “Should”). I’m going to treat my mental illnesses, and stay on top of them, but stop expecting myself to “work on a broken leg”…because even an old cowboy will tell you that you don’t work anyone on a broken leg. You gotta get that thing healed.

I can be taught.

Scars

Barely visible now, but it sure hurt when I got it at 12…

**I owe the idea for this blog post to another “quintessential mom” I had the privilege of talking to this past week. Thanks for giving me new things to think about ;).

I got thinking about scars a few days ago. I have a few…There’s one on my right shin that I got sticking up for my little sister–the boys who had thrown her bike into the ditch pushed me in on top of it when I went in after it, cutting my shin on the fender. Another one on my right thigh is from a dog bite when I was 7 or 8. I have the faintest ever scar on my left arm, up high, from a smallpox vaccine I got when I was a baby, before my family moved to the Philippines where my dad was stationed in the Air Force. Smallpox is a live vaccine; I got one pock as a result of that. I always thought it looked kind of like a flower.

This one, from a mandolin slicer, is just a faint line with stitch marks now.

I have scars from bug bites that I had bad allergic reactions to, and a scar on my face from a staph infection that developed in what I thought was just a monster zit. It ended up having to be cut open and drained repeatedly for over a week. My hands are a map of scars, from things like cat scratches, or scrapes you get in the course of living life. And my stomach is a ridiculous mess of stretch marks–scars I got from having my first pregnancy be with twins at 22.

My twins ended up with permanent scars themselves–the older one had surgery on his skull at 6 months to open up the prematurely fused growth plate on the back right side of his head. That’s quite the scar, going from ear to ear, in a bit of an S-shape. His younger twin brother had surgery on his spine at 17; that’s a helluva scar, running from the base of his neck, almost to his waist.

Scars from surgery, as well as horizontal scars/stretchmarks that evidence the underlying issue surgery corrected.

My twins’ scars will NEVER go away, unlike some of mine. I was in a car accident at 15, and split my forehead open in a couple of places. You’d never tell by looking at me at this point, though, because as I grew, those scars grew with me, and are now somewhere up above my hairline. The passage of time Healed me of those scars, like it’s faded some of my other scars.

But these that I’ve mentioned are just physical scars. There are other types of scars that last a lot longer–emotional scars. The loss of dear ones can permanently scar those left behind. Anything that cuts into our souls and hearts can, and often does, leave a scar that may never fade.

The beanie and all this hippy hair hides my son’s ear to ear skull scar.

It’s September again. I hate September, and it’s because of the emotional scars I’ve incurred through about 15 years worth of Septembers. Hard, painful, life-changing things seem to happen in September for me, scarring me physically AND emotionally.

Saturday morning I opened up Instagram, and the first post on my feed was about the LOTOJA race. LOTOJA is a 3 state, 206 mile, one day bike race, that starts in Logan, Utah, runs through Idaho, and ends in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Fifteen years ago, in September, I rode that ride with 4 of my best friends. It was the culmination of a year’s worth of training, and it was one of the best days of my life, even while it was crazy hard. And the next day, my biking was over, and my sanity went into a tailspin. It was the beginning of the end of my marriage; I was divorced by the end of March 2005.

You can read other of my blog posts to find out how my divorce went for me. Suffice it to say, the emotional scars are still with me. Even after all these years, those pains are still very real, very raw–hardly healed at all, it seems. Every year when the LOTOJA comes around again, I am reminded of that scar. The bruise is still there; it still hurts to touch. That was one of the really crucial things I learned in law school working with victims of domestic abuse–the physical pains, the physical scars, they healed faster than the mental and emotional ones. Those ones linger; they stick with the victims. The hurts are deep, and the scars are permanent.

I participate in a free legal clinic at CAPSA, our local domestic violence shelter. I consulted with a woman at my last clinic who reminded me how little so much of my emotional scarring has healed. Her divorce is scarcely final; mine was final 14 years, 5 months ago. Mine still hurts like hell. So I cried with her. Big, ugly painful tears. Maybe someday those emotional scars will have grown up, out of sight, like some of my physical scars have.

I can only hope.

Today.

Today I’m tired.  I’ve been tired all week.  My grandma died March 15th (The Ides!), and her funeral was last Saturday.  And it was really a wonderful thing.  I got to see family I haven’t seen in years; 24 of the 26 grandkids (my siblings and cousins) were there for the funeral, and it was so good to have all of them around again.  The stories about her…I had no idea what an awesome young person she had been!  Grandma loved flowers, and they were everywhere, and gorgeous, in her favorite colors.  She had a beautiful casket with pink rose cameos on the sides…truly lovely.  My grandma was 93.  She had lived a very long, very full, but often very difficult, life.  It was her turn to go.  She was ready.  And I’m happy for her.

But I’m tired.  The funeral sucked the life right out of me.  I cried more than I thought I had capacity to.  And I’m still crying…but now it might be because my depression has punched me right in the face this week.  I’m on the verge of tears constantly, for no reason.  Except that my brain is Not Right.  I keep doing all the things I have to do–going to work, doing my dishes, feeding my cats, making my bed, doing laundry–I even went to the gym last night–but I mostly just want to sleep this miserable Brain Fog off.

So forgive me my lack of enthusiasm and general malaise.  It’s nothing personal.  And I know it won’t last forever.  But this week, today….My God, it feels like it will never end.

September

It’s beautiful, really…

September has been my least favorite month for a lot of years now.  Bad things, hard things, miserable things, challenging things, depressing-life shifting-exhausting things happen in September. Every September.  For more than a decade.

This September, my middle child left home to serve a religious mission in the Farmington, New Mexico area.  He’ll be gone for the next 2 years.  When he returns, he’ll go straight to the university, out of town.  He’s gone, basically, and will not be Home with me again.

My oldest child, who had been living with me during the month of August, moved out of state–I drove the Yukon hauling the trailer with all (most) of his belongings myself to get him there.  He’s not planning on moving back to Utah any time soon, so this is effectively a permanent move.

My husband has been gone most of the month with work and then elk hunting, which meant these first weeks of going from 4 kids that drop in or live with me constantly to 1 child with me part of the time and the drop-ins dropping off sharply, I’ve been largely on my own.

A dear friend lost his father, quite unexpectedly, and has struggled personally through the month prior to his dad dying–and, obviously, since as well.

My anxiety and depression have been through the roof.

Basically, it’s been a September.

I am thrilled that we are putting this month to rest in a couple of days.  I’ve had enough of it.  I will breathe a sigh of relief when September is Done.

Green Day got it right….

It’s Not Just “Being Worried”: Anxiety

I’ve mentioned a few times that I’ve struggled with some mental health issues.  I’ve been diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder (GAD), panic disorder, major depressive disorder (MDD), and dysthymia (persistent long-term depression).  Mental disorders can be debilitating, especially when you ignore them, pretend they don’t exist, and refuse to address them as you would any other illness.  I closed my private law practice in large part because my anxiety had gotten so bad that I was absolutely terrified of checking my email, answering the phone, TALKING to anyone…Getting out of bed was a major accomplishment every day.  Was it all in my head?  Yeah, just like asthma is all in your lungs, and scoliosis is all in your spine.  

On my better days, I venture the thought of going back into private practice…until the panic hits, and I start getting short of breath just thinking about it.  And I AM medicated.

It’s not something that I can fully control, though I have learned to cope a little better.  My work now is considerably less stressful, and I’m getting paid regularly (!), something that wasn’t happening when I was in private practice, which alleviates a lot of general life stress.  I’m in a much better place.

I’m not the only one who has had their life hijacked by anxiety…Meet Jalen Moore.

 

I work with Jalen’s mom; my kids were wowed by Jalen’s basketball talent in high school.  He’s gonna be just fine, because he’s smart enough to face HIS anxiety head-on, and work toward responsible management of it.  And like any illness, any physical problem, accepting that it’s a REAL problem, and not a weakness that reflects badly on one’s character is where you start in getting healthy again.

The upshot is a panic attack can feel like you are dying…Nothing to worry about, right?

 

For a little musical insight, I give you the Black-Eyed Peas: Anxiety.  With the lyrics, so you can see and FEEL a little what this is like.

 

Resources

I was made aware tonight that I need to add some links to resources for those who find themselves on the “low income” end of life either during or after a divorce.  Divorces can be financially devastating, besides being an emotional beating, and there ARE some places you can turn to for help.

Utah Department of Workforce Services has resources for housing help, help paying utility bills, help buying groceries, help with medical expenses, and help finding work.  My experience with DWS has been quite positive (who knew a lawyer would ever need foodstamps??)  They were considerate, kind, and pointed me in the direction of the resources I qualified for.  And honestly, knowing that I wouldn’t have to worry about how I’d feed my kids when they were with me was a HUGE load off of my mind.  Swallow your pride.  Do what you need to do, and remember:  This is Temporary.

Utah Domestic Violence Coalition offers links/information regarding temporary housing for victims of domestic abuse in the state of Utah who need to LEAVE their current living circumstances immediately for their own safety.  But beyond just providing housing, local shelters also have information regarding resources for housing help, help getting money to pay for schooling to improve your job skills, and counseling, if you need it (and we DO need it sometimes to get our heads back on straight and give us confidence to move forward).  Abuse is not just physical (welcome to my world.)  And the emotional toll it takes can be devastating.  Use the resources that are there.  Put yourself in a position to help yourself.

If you don’t want to go into a shelter to get housing information, in Cache Valley/northern Utah check out Bear River Association of Governments housing assistance (BRAG) for help getting into more affordable housing.  There are waiting lists, but don’t be scared by that.  Be proactive; it can only help.

In the Cache Valley area, Bear River Health can provide immunizations and other health tests for a significantly reduced cost (or free, if you qualify).  Check them out if your kids need pre-K shots, or for basic wellness help.  Just about every area of the country offers health department aid to low income folks (I utilized Idaho’s District 7 Health Department for a significantly reduced rate well-woman check when I was living in southeast Idaho with my folks, was making very little money, and had no insurance.)

For assistance with food, contact the Cache County Food Pantry.  Or to donate.  Life is a lot easier to handle if your and your family’s basic needs are met.

This is not the End All, Be All of lists for finding help after/during a divorce.  If you have information regarding other agencies/organizations that assist people who are going through hard times please let me know.  Put links or names in the Comments section, and I’ll get them added.

And finally:  I don’t know how long it will take until your situation improves.  Mine has been so-so….It’s gotten much better recently :).  But we’re talking about a DECADE out from my divorce.  It’s still a struggle, in part because I’m still kind of emotionally bruised.  But remember this:  Once you’ve pulled yourself up, even if just a little, turn around and HELP another.  Even if it’s just by pointing them to this little blog posting with links to places help can be found.  Or just by providing a little emotional/moral support when another is feeling like she/he is being beaten to pieces.

YOU CAN DO THIS. YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

You Can Do It!!

Because All Things Come to an End (Good or Otherwise)

It’s been a long time since I’ve written a post.  It’s been a very busy year for me.  Much of my year has involved a fair amount of scrambling to keep myself financially afloat.  I’ve also been engrossed in my own divorce case modification (yes, I have a lawyer…Bless her.  She’s doing my case pro bono because I am BROKE.)  I’ve also been involved in some other personal changes that have been time consuming, AND have dealt with health issues that have been debilitating at times.

Yup, I’ve got nothin’…

So I come to this….My clients are as broke as I am, bless them.  Unfortunately for all of us, however, when they can’t pay me, I can’t pay my bills either.  At this point in my life I am finding that I can no longer afford to practice law–or at least, family law.  And since that’s all I know how to do law-wise right now, I’m leaving the practice of law.

Effective December 31, 2014, I am closing my law practice.  I still retain my law license, and have some cases I’ll stay on until they finish up (because they will conclude in January), but will otherwise cease to function as a full time attorney.  I’m looking for regular paycheck kind of paying work.  And I’m getting trained to be a private guardian ad litem, to work with kids in district court cases.

It’s really been a crazy run.  I’ve had some incredibly AWESOME clients….And some less awesome ones as well.  Divorces suck.  They’re sad, always, even if they’re the right thing to do.  I’m hoping taking a break from the practice of family law will help me lose some of the cynicism I have regarding marriage these days, and maybe help me regain some of my sanity.  To my AWESOME clients, I say Thank You.  You have made the practice of family law bearable for the time I have done it, and I will always appreciate the association with you and how you have enriched my life in intangible ways.

I’ll be keeping up the blog (probably better than I have been to date), and will still keep up with the law.  So if you have questions, or a suggestion for a blog article, please feel free to let me know.

Seriously. It’s come to this. 😦