Message from Leah
To Leah’s readers, friends, family, from Leah and via Joe (her husband):
I won’t have a computer or my phone (so no twitter) at the inpatient facility I’m going into, but know that I’m getting help.
Thank you to all of you for all your kind comments, twitters, direct messages and texts.
I’ll have visiting hours with Leah in the late evenings and will be able to pass messages to and from her. Thank you all for your kind support. It really means a lot to Leah, and to me.
UPDATE Saturday August, 2010: I went and visited her at the hospital yesterday evening. It’s about an hour away from where we live now — and it’s a great facility, fairly new and also clean. She’s writing, journaling, and engaging with treatment. Visiting hours are limited to an hour a day weekdays (2 hours on weekends), but it was wonderful to get to see her. I printed out your comments and tweets and some of her email for her and passed them along. I think this decision, to go into the hospital, while very hard, and not necessarily cheap, was 100% the right one. I am relieved, and I think Leah is relieved too. I’m overwhelmed at the outpouring of support. There’s hope out there, for Leah and for all who are struggling.
Slip Slidin’ Away
I know in writing this out in the open, I will lose readers. And that is alright, readers that want to leave. I totally understand. I’ll also turn potential employers away. And that is alright, potential employers. I totally understand. No one wants to read about someone else’s misery. It sounds pathetic, self centered, whiny and stupid. But, write I will, because today I still can.
The thing about slipping away, slipping under, the light getting smaller and smaller, is that you don’t realize it’s happening until it’s too late.
You’re going along, not thinking about how things are getting incrementally harder because you’ve always had days that are harder. And then get better. And then harder again and then better again ad nauseum until you are pretty much used to the ride. You don’t consider it remarkable anymore because it’s your “normal” life.
But the black hole is sneakier. The days get harder and harder. You’re waiting it out. You know if you just get through another day, things will get better again. So another day passes where you’re holding on with both hands. Then one hand. Then a few fingers. Then you notice your fingernails are torn and bloody stumps and finally, FINALLY, you realize you’re not going to be able to get back up. You are losing your grip completely and it’s too late to take precautionary measures. Way to late for that.
It becomes a life of lying under the water, looking at the world through goggles and trying not to think about all the ways you could die. Accidentally, of course.
And then it becomes a life of trying not to think of how to die on purpose. And you can’t even see out of the water anymore. Someone turned out the lights. You can’t hear or see or feel anything but extreme sad and bad and guilt.
“I’m trapped!” I yelled at the psychiatrist yesterday, “I can’t stay here and worry everyone while my mother-in-law has stage4 cancer and I should be taking care of her! I can’t go see family because they would worry the whole time I’m there! I can’t stay alive because this is how things will be the rest of my life – up, down, up, down – I can’t do it anymore! And I can’t kill myself because my kids would never get over it!”
It feels like I’m trapped in hell.
A med change is underway. I don’t feel better, I feel weird. Even more distant from my surroundings and I care even less.
I can write this because I’m a writer and this is what I do. I can’t change anything in my brain because this is how I am. I haven’t stopped crying for over 2 weeks and I shake all the time. I don’t want food. I only want to drink and fall asleep. But I don’t. I just think about it. Because maybe I won’t wake up. That would be nice.
My husband says, “There are lots of people who want you around, and alive. I love you Leah. You are valuable and precious.” I hear it but I can’t hear it because it feels like a lie. I didn’t think I would get married again after my divorce in 2002. I figured no one should be married to the mess that is me. But, I did marry. And he’s wonderful. And I fill his life with stress and drama and worry. In loving him I’ve ruined his life. If I really loved him, I would leave him.
This is the black hole talking. In this flash of sanity, I know it. But, sometimes the black hole just takes over everything and reason and sanity are nowhere.
I should enter a title here.
Here’s another look at the mushrooms. I’m in a weird mood today. You’ll have to forgive me for all these posts with photos and like, 2 lines of drivel. Well, I guess you don’t HAVE to. But, it’d be nice if you did. Someday I’ll get back to writing actual stuff on this here site.
If You’re Happy and You Know it
I’m allowing these darling mushroom caps to push Happy into my brain. I think they look like two breasts. Crusty areola breasts. Ok. Stopping.
In any case, I’m hanging in. To give you a sense of size, those tops measure about 7″ across. Yes. Wow.
Couch Potato
You can always count on a CSI or a Law & Order to be showing on one channel or another. Things like that help me feel like the world is as it should be. I mean, if you can’t grab a snack and immediately and mindlessly get involved in solving a murder, then I don’t know how to go on.
Someday, there will come a time when I search the channels unsuccessfully. I won’t be able to find people in dark dress clothes combing though someone’s lawn and using special flashlights to find blood residue. I won’t be able to watch as they process evidence using amazing equipment that doesn’t exist in the real world. I won’t hear the funky instrumental music as they turn dials and look closely at beakers filled with colored water. I won’t be able to watch people’s body language as they enter, fill in a blank piece of knowledge and then walk out. Are they going to hook up or what?
On that day, my friends, I will grieve. And then I’ll scan the channels for repeats of Mad Men.
Watermelon Chips
Ok. I know watermelon chips sound weird, but go take a look at the How To. They look delicious and are so unique!
Via Playing House
Cutie Patooties
These are three of my favorite people in the world – Joe, his mom and his sister. You can that beauty runs in the family.
The Slump
So, my friends, here I am, back with my ever lurking friend, The Slump. His good friends, Depression and Hopelessness are waiting in the wings, always knocking softly on the door, getting a bit louder as time passes and I sink a little further.
It’s so cliche and I hate even writing about it. I mean, how many times am I going to talk about being depressed? And then eventually, being amped up and slightly out of control? I think we’re on about 5,372 times up to today.
So, sighing, I tell you – I’m sad and getting sadder. I’m depressed and getting depressededer. I’m weepy and getting weepier. My iris’ are ratcheting ever smaller as I disappear on iota at a time, waiting for the inevitable moment when I vanish completely. That blessed moment of ceasing to exist and saying goodbye to this cruel, mean world etc., etc., etc.
Oh, look. Joe made cheese toast. I guess it’s not the end of the world if we still have cheese toast.
Fog
My mania is being tempered with back pain. I’m ready to conquer anything, but I actually can’t move very fast. Makes me feel a little crazy.
Radio Interview, Tara
You can find an interview I did with Lisa Davis here, focusing on DID/MPD and the show.
“Leah Peterson is the consultant on the Showtime series United States of Tara, starring Toni Collette, conceived and produced by Steven Spielberg and written by Diablo Cody.”
Tree
I took this out of the kitchen window here in Roanoke. I played with the color balance to make the yellow leaves pop. I realize it’s not the best photo ever taken, but I still love it the feeling in it.
Mellow
This shot is from last fall. Before all the giant oceans of snow came.
Fountain
I don’t remember when or where I took this shot. I really like the look of the water.
Leahpeah Party – The Unconference Social Conference
An unconference party is what people love from other conferences – all the social interaction. You grab some friends and go eat. Or grab some friends and go shop. Or stay in someone’s room and talk. Maybe go to the spa? Have drinks? Loiter in the lobby? And meet up at night to dance and party.
I’ll figure out where to stay and if we can get a discount. We’ll all choose by voting what, if anything, we want to plan on those days. People can come earlier and stay later.
I think it works like this – the more people we get to come, the more fun we can have. The less people we have come, the more we have to pay for stuff out of our own pocket.
Sign up tentatively in the comments.
Let me know your weekend preference for Oct. 1-3 or 15-17 in San Diego.
And it’s been proposed we have another one in D.C. on May 6-8, 2011.
If you know those dates are competing with another conference, please let me know.
Want to be a sponsor? leahATleahpeahDOTcom
Mo-bettah info soon.
xoxo
Not Morbid, I Swear
Yes, this is a photo of the remains of a dead bird. Yes, possibly something really sad happened to it. Him. Let’s call it a him. Let’s call him Norm. No, Jesse. Jesse is a cuter bird than Norm, I’m guessing. Anyway. Jesse came to a sad end here if all you do is look at the photo and see feathers and ground on remains.
However, I’m choosing to see Jesse as a triumphant bird. A bird among birds. A bird no other bird could compare to in his fleet. Or, flock. Or congregation, parcel, pod, volery or dissimulation. (Did you know a group of finches is called a charm? Larks an exaltation? A kettle of hawks? A murmuration of starlings? I could go on all day…) (But I won’t) (Murder of Crows?) (Ok, that was the last one.) (I mean it.)
What I’m trying to say is, I’d like to believe that Jesse was ready for his end. He had a good life. He was good to all the other birds. (An ostentation of peacocks?) (DONE. I SWEAR.) He had spent his days looking out for the younger and weaker birds in his, umm, social network?
I don’t think he was afraid. I think he was matter-of-fact and proud of his life. His placement on the brick makes me believe he was willing to move on and make room for the next set of Magpies. (Tidings!) Or Ravens. (Unkindness!) Or swans. (Wedge!) Or snipes! (WHISP! WHISP! WHISP!)
He didn’t mind if his remains stayed behind, showing how his life had ended. He had a big party that night and went out in style. (A party of Jays! PARTY!!)
Nothin’ but Blue Skies
This is my smart and beautiful daughter Alex. On one of our road trips, she took some photos and these are my favorites.
Mr. Bas
Back in 2003, I first wrote about Basilone and how much we loved him, how totally rad he was. Then in 2005, we had to say goodbye to him because our landlord was super-duper allergic. We sent him to live with Joe’s parents. It was a sad, sad day.
Bas has loved it at the Crawford’s in Virginia. He is happy and spoiled and gets treats a few times a day.
Here he is at the bar, waiting for someone to give him something chickeny. His front leg on the bar like that kills me. Like he’s about to say, Vodka on the rocks, and make it a double!
He loves Phyllis.
And not just because she gives him the most treats.
Casa Winters and Brown
This is a family portrait of our very good friends Matt, Margot, Sparky and Baxter. We stayed with them in La Mesa on our vacation. What you can barely see stage left is a tent where they slept every night, freeing up their bedroom for us. They claimed it was because they liked to sleep outside in the summer but I’m pretty sure it’s because they like to help the dogs hunt skunks at night.
Orange Bits
I love these orange bits on the post. I first noticed them about 2 days after we moved here and it’s one of those things where you tell yourself – Next time I’ll grab a shot of that…
Fun in the Sun
We went to San Diego for a vacation recently and it was maybe the best vacation we’ve had since we got married. We did exactly what we wanted to every day for 2 weeks. You can’t beat that.
In these shots, it’s about 900 degrees F in La Mesa. We were melting. We were melting but didn’t stop drinking beer and cracking jokes all day.
You can see in this last photo that Joe may be close to reaching his limit of stupid Leah jokes. His eyes plainly say, “And hows about we get some food in you, M’Dear.”
Podcast – Parts 1, 2, 3 and 4 – An Engagement Story
Joe and I get engaged over donuts. And then we get reengaged a few more times.
Download the mp3 listen right here or visit the Podcasts page for subscription options
Bandananana, The Musical Group
Never have bandannas had such a great weekend. Not only worn but used in a variety of ways including magic tricks, pretend tourniquets, fake band headgear and fashion statements when going out to lunch.
Making Room for New Things
Things I’m saying goodbye to (in no particular order) -
Worrying about when my kids get married and what kind of place I’ll have in the wedding party.
Picking at my cuticles until they bleed.
Worrying about when I will be bringing money into the house again.
Thinking that surely the next shoe will fall, and probably right around that corner.
Worrying about if/when people close to my heart will be passing on to a new reality.
Obsessing about if my belly is getting smaller or bigger.
Guessing that people in my life wish I weren’t.
