Addressing Mental Health Issues

by Summer D Clemenson | Feb 23, 2023 | About Summer, Chronic Illness, Education, Life

Years ago I was at my friend’s house. My friend and their spouse had only begun addressing mental health issues with their spouse which had the potential to be a danger to them. I don’t remember if they had begun trying to find the right meds yet or not. Just because you start the process of finding medications, doesn’t mean that things get better. It took me several years to find the right blend and we still adjust my medications every once and a while and every person is different. My friend’s spouse has very different diagnosis’ than I do and a very different body. They had broken out in a terrible fight while I was there. The kind where the police might have been needed to bring peace back to the neighborhood because my friend’s spouse didn’t always keep the fights indoors.

One thing that I always respected about my friend’s spouse is that they tried to keep the fights away from their child. In response to the fight, I chose to check on their child, who was wide awake in their bed. They were scared. I sat on the side of the child’s bed and held their hand. I answered their questions. Their parents loved them and each other they just weren’t feeling well right now. We sat quietly and let our tears run down our cheeks until my friend came to let us know that everything was ok now.

Before Jesus came to find me, when I was 5, I never had anyone to hold my hand when the fighting started on the other side of the wall. The characters in my past were not that different than my friend and their spouse. One had the same diagnosis as my friend’s spouse and the other was raised trying to keep the peace and needing to be the provider. We all are Emotional Neglect Survivors and I have been in survival mode all my life.

I was born overly sensitive. I see, hear, taste, and feel things that go unnoticed by many; I always have. I am uncommon. Because I am overly sensitive I was perfect to be the scapegoat and I didn’t get my needs met because I naturally had an overly developed sense of responsibility for others…but not myself. Being a child of divorce, I had two camps and 3 parental figures and they were all, at one time, the scapegoat — at least that is what I can observe. If I keep peeling back the layers, I see that my great-grandparents were immigrants on both sides of my family. If that isn’t a test tube for dysfunction, I don’t what is. Every generation of my family is hard-working, strong, generous, creative, intelligent but there are cracks, as in any family. Some dysfunctional behaviors can be made to look so pretty you don’t realize they are a culture you pass down. I was told by a character in my past that if I am the only one bothered by something, it is my problem.

The truth is I am too sensitive for the petri dish I was raised in. I am not angry about it. I really have forgiven what I believe the characters in my past didn’t know what they were doing, in fact they had no intention of doing. The one dynamic of my past I don’t miss at all is gossip. Rarely did someone talk to me until a small situation was so morphed it was no longer true. Of course I would become enraged. I was only called to do something for someone. I can’t pretend it never hurt to be shown all the pictures of events I didn’t know about, while I showed them pictures of their dog I was watching so they could go…and they would be shocked to learn how much their dog enjoyed the fresh slices of sweet potatoes I gave them.

Why wouldn’t I want to go to the beach? To the park? To dance competitions? The kids’ school performances? Their birthday parties?

Off and on for 42 years I have been in different kinds of therapy…yes even as a small child. As a young adult, I became even more diligent for the last 27 years. I have been labeled lots of things in the last 9 years. Mental and physical. Some labels that were not available when I was a child when many of my issues were showing up. How can I be angry at parents that didn’t know that children could have chronic migraines? Neurodivergent wasn’t coined until 1998…(Social anxiety, Sensory processing issues, OCD are just a few I have always had). For whatever reason the people raising me did not hear me when I tried to tell them things. They didn’t listen to me enough that I quit telling them and so I did not get the help I needed. Honestly, I don’t think they had the ability to hear me. They had their own traumas that were never dealt with, their own physical and mental pains that were never healed because no one knew the term Emotional Neglect until recently. They were taught to work and that is what they did.

In the last 9 years, I have had numerous therapists. All of them told me to separate myself from the characters of my past. I didn’t want to. But I have. There are so many holes in my memory but I have a part of me I call Anna. She remembers my emotions. I am missing a lot of memories. I was in such intense survival mode, I hardly remember high school. I am sure it was great and that the people I went to school with were wonderful, but there are very few I remember. It is hard to have whole parts of my life gone. What is worse — walking into a room of people, you hardly see, and be flooded with emotions you can’t pinpoint. In the last year or so, I have begun having memories return as my brain has been able to heal. The meds and having a peaceful life is helping.

But I realize that there are nights I don’t sleep because I am tormented by conversations that never happened or situations that I am not sure happened because Anna wants to be justified for all these feelings she holds for characters that live in my head because I don’t hold space for them in my real life. I didn’t let the love go away but I had to let room for healing happen. I have to let them go if I am going to have quiet in my mind or any chance and reconciliation of any kind. I can’t get rid of Anna but I can parent her. She needs me to hold her hand and let the tears run down our cheeks sometimes. She needs to be told that I love her and we are choosing peace because the characters of our past didn’t know how to teach us that, but Jesus does.

So I have been thinking about how to let in more air and light. I can’t change anyone but me. I must change how I think because my thoughts are stealing my peace. I wouldn’t let my friend’s child continue to imagine negative things about their friends at school without suggesting some wisdom. I would tell them what my preschool teacher, Teacher Lou said: “If someone is mean to you, play with someone else.” This philosophy has worked for me in many situations. Anna doesn’t need to play with imagined characters and neither do I. If what I am feeling is a real memory that needs to be forgiven or sat with, we can do that, but if it is imagined then I am going to let them go. Either way we will ask Jesus to bless them and give us all good night’s sleep.

Just like any mental health issue the path continues; it never just gets better. Chronic is what chronic does so we learn to dance and move the best we can. Be kind. Be smart.

The Lingering Harm of Childhood Emotional Neglect by Jonice Webb Ph.D. for Psychology Today
Neurodivergent by Cleveland Clinic
Book Review that isn’t a Book Review: Running on Empty Overcome Your Childhood Emotional Neglect by Jonice Webb, PhD with Christine Mussello, PsyD

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

For anyone reading this that isn’t a Christian, unapologetically, I am a Christian, but I believe there is room for lots of beliefs and religions in the world. It is not my intent to offend people with different beliefs than I have and I would be open to open-minded conversations with no goals of changing anyone’s mind, but sharing information.

If you are interested in becoming a Christian…Do you know Jesus? Do want the Holy Spirit to fill you and give you understanding and salvation? Ask Him. Want someone to pray with you? Contact me.

Cancer Update February 6, 2023: D&C under anesthesia

by Summer D Clemenson | Feb 14, 2023 | About Summer, Cancer, Life, Opinions

I had my 4th procedure on Monday February 6, 2023. When I say procedure I am speaking of a D&C under anesthesia. My oncologist removed the IUD, filled my body with gas and made my uterus dilate. She inserted a camera to see what there was to see and took biopsies of the tissue in the lining of my uterus and removed any obvious cancer cells. Although it is a common procedure and I have had it 3 other times besides this time, I still was very anxious and very thankful that Karen could be with me until it was time to go to the operating room.

When I am very anxious I twitch in my torso and legs, sometimes in my arms. The anesthesiologist noticed when she came to see me before the procedure and I let her know about my random and involuntary twitching. She told me she had some medicine for that that she would give to me before she put me to sleep.

I hate the ride to the operating room. It makes me feel out of control and a little nauseous, even with the patch they put behind my ear to avoid that. So I keep my eyes closed. The operating room is very intimidating. It seems extremely large when you are on a gurney. Almost bulbous. There are people on all sides of the rooms getting things ready, just for you. You hear all kinds of sounds, music, tools being prepared that sound much like setting a large family dining room table. Everyone has those little booties over their shoes so their feet make that faint shuffle sound with every step. But as they asked me to move from the gurney to the cold, metal operating table all I could hear was the blood pumping in my ears as, what seemed like 5 nurses, all trying to offer their help with my gown and getting my arms in the right spot and getting me centered on the table.

I have skinny and deep veins. It is always a challenge to get an IV in my arms. I know this, so I made sure to drink a gallon of water the 2 days before my procedure and a liter of water before I was cut off from any fluids. It is the only thing I can do to help; making sure I am not dehydrated is all I can control. This day was no different. They brought in the hot packs, they beat on my arms, they had the tourniquets on and finally brought in the special light to be able to see where my veins were. They chose a spot that is hard for the technicians in the operating room, my wrist. If my hand is not perfect the medicine doesn’t go in so someone has to hold my hand during the procedure to make sure I don’t wake up. Usually I am asleep a lot faster but on this day, it took us a minute to realize the arrangement we were stuck with by the phlebotomist. My oncologist came in and flipped my blanket and gown over my face. The nurses quickly said hello to the doctor but obviously more with their eyes, because my gown was pulled down and my doctor said hello to me. I was able to say, “Hello Dr Westhoff,” before I fell asleep…this the fourth time we have met like this, at some point modesty is not on the top of the list.

When I woke up I was being returned to my room. I felt like my vagina had been scrubbed by a pine cone and that pine cone had been shoved in my uterus and was quietly on fire. I don’t remember it feeling this bad after other procedures. I kept telling people how bad it hurt. Unlike other times where I was ready to jump off the bed, get dressed and leave, this time I was not in a hurry, although I wanted Karen to be found as quickly as possible. The nurse told me I had been brought directly from the OR to my room, instead of going to recovery first so this must be the difference. At some point Karen showed up. No one offered me any of the nice intravenous meds I had been offered in the past and if I could just stop the world from spinning, I was ready to go home and be miserable there. I was offered one dose of oxy but I turned it down. I don’t like that stuff.

The next day it was obvious that just as the other times, I had needed to be put under more so I would stop moving. I know this because my throat was burning from the tube that had been put down my throat. I have had a terrible cough since as my throat has healed. I move all the time. I rarely stop, even if it is only small movements. I am sure this makes it hard to do what the doctor needs to do.

This week has been hard. More emotionally hard than anything else. I have been depressed for the last month and let me tell you, this procedure is not what you need to come out of it. I feel isolated and the after effects of surgery for me are not fun. My body does not like to be poked and prodded and there are ways it shows me, both mentally and physically that are unpleasant.

I have been watching for emails from my doctor about the biopsy. I got one a few days ago that said there was still cancer there. I wasn’t surprised because I had been ordered to begin the cancer meds again. We had stopped them after I had the blood clots in my lungs, back in October, so that my body could respond and get rid of them. Cancer meds aren’t fun. I keep telling myself I am lucky because other people have to fight harder with other methods that are more painful…but today I got an email from my oncologist that said we have to talk about radiation.

I didn’t need this today. I am so tired. I am so sick of pills. I am so angry to be stuck in this body. There is always a barrier standing in front of me and I just want a bit of freedom…

…and yet God is faithful and He will bring me through this too.

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

Nana’s House

by Summer D Clemenson | Feb 3, 2023 | About Summer, Life

Before my youngest sibling was born and my grandparents returned from their wedding in Hawaii, Nana lived in her own little house in Seattle. My mother took us there often. I loved Nana’s house. I was younger than 5 when she lived there. I don’t have a lot of full memories that can be just one great story because I was so young but I have little tidbits of memories, of a little girl, that are worth writing down and sharing.

When we first got to Nana’s house, she was always prepared for our visit. I am sure my parents were ready for a break too. Nana always had a little gift, like a book or a little toy. That was always a fun surprise. Nana was into health and wellness well before it was a buzz word. But she did keep a jar with marshmallows in the kitchen and if I was good, I got one for each hand. I don’t really like marshmallows anymore, but when I eat them I feel like I am with Nana and she is happy, that I am happy.

Nana’s bedroom was blue and so was the ensuite. I thought that was the coolest thing ever! The other bathroom was yellow. For some reason I had it in my mind that I wanted to pee standing up. I don’t know why I felt this was important, but I do remember standing on the toilet seat of that yellow bathroom facing the door and squatting over the toilet. I am not sure if I was successful, but I also don’t remember feeling the need to do that again.

Nana loved her coffee. She would sit at her kitchen table next to the window and enjoy her coffee while she read or did some of her toiletries. I remember she had this little glass bird that was actually an Avon fragrance. I loved it because it fit right in my little hands and it was pretty. I thought it should be mine and I told Nana that. She didn’t agree with me but she let me hold it while we were at the table. That is where I had my first experience with coffee. When she stepped away I took a sip of her’s. It had grown cold and it had nothing in it. Yuck! I was in no hurry to try coffee again. I love it now, but I do take cream in my Americanos.

Nana had the perfect backyard for a little one. You could sit on the back porch and see the entire backyard, so my pre-5-year-old wanderings were perfectly fine. She had a fenced in yard so I couldn’t wander too far, with beautiful shrubs, at least to me, I think there was either a tree in her backyard or directly next to the fence and I enjoyed it. I love trees. I remember Nana had a garden and we would dig in the dirt and make the vegetables grow. Alongside the back yard was the long driveway that stopped in front of the garage. I remember once we were getting out of the car. I always got out of the car after Nana, we were on the passenger side of the car. As she almost stepped out of the car, but she saw a snake and gracefully brought her foot back into the car and shut the door and slid over to the other side of the car. I heard her say, “Nope,” as she exited and helped me out of the car.

On the back porch was a swing that had been my great-grandmother’s; I had called her Grammy. Next to Nana, she was the only other better person in the world. She died of lung cancer when I was 5 and I have almost no memories of her but I do remember telling Nana: “Grammy is my favorite person in the world, but you are my next favorite person, Nana.” I was the first born great-grandchild to Grammy and the first-born grandchild to my Nana and I was probably their favorite person too, at least long enough for another grandchild to be born.

Nana has always amazed me. She was a Boeing executive and a dance teacher. She was graceful and beautiful every time I saw her. She always dressed elegantly and had something interesting to say. She is the original writer in the family and taught me to write letters and thank you notes, to love quotes, expressive words and good books, including the bible. At breakfast she would break out Miss Manners and read to us proper etiquette. She doesn’t answer my letters anymore but I still write them.

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

Her Needs Were Often Greater Than Mine

by Summer D Clemenson | Jan 23, 2023 | About Summer, Life, Opinions

I don’t remember ever trusting my mother. It wasn’t that she didn’t love me. It was that she was more than one person. My friend Jeff knows the kind, creative and generous woman that most people know and I am so glad he knows that woman, but I know many different women and I never knew which one would show up. I knew a woman that was also a child that I needed to parent. Her needs were often greater than mine, in more than one way.

Mental illness comes in many forms. The paperwork I found in her desk said Borderline Personality Disorder. BPD is a real monster. It tells the person who has it they are nothing and deserve to die; that everyone hates them. People with BPD often lead productive lives because they can throw themselves into work but that is where they spend all their energy and home is where they are exhausted. They tend to have insomnia, obsessive behaviors and a particular person they release their frustrations on. I am my mother’s person.

When I was little, before my parent’s divorce, my father was my only stability. He protected me from my mother and my younger sibling’s behaviors. He taught me to find things to do to stay constructive. He taught the androgynous mind in my head how to find answers. I didn’t think like my mother and siblings. I was more direct and assertive. But when he left, I had no one.

My mother was scared of so many things. She had to look good and right in front of everyone, even when it was impossible to do so. That put a huge toll on me because she relied on me to make sure I helped her do this. It was implied while my parents were married, but it was obvious when she pulled me into her bedroom when I was 9 to tell me that my Dad was leaving and they were getting a divorce. That was the day I became her actual therapist, housekeeper and babysitter. That was the day my childhood was over, although I found moments to play even through high school.

I skipped being a teenager.

I should never have been left with my younger siblings. I was only 3 1/2 years older than my younger sibling and 5 1/2 years older than my baby sibling. I was angry. I was probably already having migraines and showing signs of Anxiety Disorder…but we didn’t know about that until I was well into my 30s and 40’s. My siblings did not respect me and neither did my mother.

Although I was not respected, I loved my family and I wanted my siblings to be safe. I took the abuse in place of my siblings. I thought I was doing them good. Now I know I may have only been making things worse because I really don’t know their stories. They certainly have stories of an angry and abusive sister. As the one that always felt responsible for everyone, it is hard to place the responsibility where it belongs and leave it there.

While I grew up, I was told I hated my mother, but I loved her with everything I had, while I often felt unloved. I was told I didn’t respect my mother, but I was never respected for keeping decent grades, helping with the house, my siblings and later with bills. I was called terrible names and told I would never succeed in life and every ache and pain was because I was fat…even my doctors don’t say that. Hugs were unheard of unless I was falling apart. I never told anything to my mother because she always called everyone she knew to tell them, sickness, success, bad behaviors, nothing was sacred or not needed for her to get the attention she needed. Even being sick…I didn’t let her take me to the doctor when I needed to go because that would turn into a something about her while I nursed myself and then when anyone else was sick and I didn’t think to take care of them, I was told I was not compassionate.

My therapist says it is amazing that I can see the many sides of my mother and appreciate the complexity of her. It isn’t that I don’t love her or respect her because I have great love and respect for her. I think she is amazingly talented and intelligent. She has built a life for herself on her own that I hope makes her happy. But I am also terrified of her.

Terrified because the sound of her at the door makes me feel like I need to jump up and find something to be doing when she comes in so she wont yell as much. Terrified because she will find several things to criticize me about and she doesn’t have to follow any of the rules I have to follow. Terrified because I know she will tell everyone she knows about our visit, even if I ask that not do that, and not only that but she will bring her stories to tell, that I don’t want to hear and she will expect me to be the therapist I have asked her to get for years.

Terrified because she is going to make me guard the boundaries I have to set, like a well-trained guard dog and I really just want to be a daughter. I disconnected from my family several years ago, not because I didn’t love them but because I was tired of being “othered”. I don’t deserve to be left out, cancelled on and given a separate set of rules.

Note: Anna is very agitated lately. My mother has been emailing me and Anna is running amuck. She has decided I have to start telling my stories. To be honest, I don’t remember a lot of details, but Anna is keeping me awake at night. The Last Time I Saw Him bought me 2 nights of rest. I am hoping this will bring me a few nights of sleep…

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

The Last Time I Saw Him

by Summer D Clemenson | Jan 21, 2023 | About Summer, Chronic Illness, Life, Opinions

The last time I saw him on purpose was because my niece had invited me to her graduation from high school. I will do anything I am able to do for my nieces and nephews and they know it. They were my reason for showing up; they had been for years. Each of them hold a piece of my heart.

It had been a hard and expensive week. We were living with friends because we didn’t make enough money to rent our own place. My niece had also invited us to her last ballet, which we had gone to a few nights earlier and then come home. Traveling is very hard with my disabilities so this night we had booked a room at a hotel in Marysville, Washington.

This day we had come to town in time to meet for lunch. I was excited to see my oldest nephew, since he does not answer my attempts to communicate. I threw my arms around my 6 foot tall, purple haired, adult nephew, that I haven’t seen in a few years, who announced he is bisexual…I totally don’t care…so I told him to hug me, and then I met his boyfriend. My youngest nephew was also there, I also hadn’t seen him in a few years and I was so excited to see him and hug him too. I was eager to place myself in the middle of the tables to face them and my niece, who was sitting close to her grandmother, to hear what they had to say about life.

I could feel opposing energies from either end of the table where my parents and one of my siblings sat and my another sibling and her spouse sat. We were still adjusting meds for me and I was trying to not crawl out of my skin. The stress from my step-mother and younger sibling was so large it almost needed its own room. I didn’t have words for them. I hadn’t had words for them for some time. I was still friendly with my older sibling.

When we left we had planned to check into our hotel and then go over to my older sibling’s house to visit but when you are chronic you don’t always have full control of what your body is going to do. I sat on the bed and passed out. I woke up, barely in time to go to the graduation.

My older sibling has lived in Marysville for several years but I have only learned the areas she has lived in, the houses she had lived in and the grocery stores and shopping centers we go to. We tended to stay at her house when I have come to visit. I did not know the arena we were going to for my niece’s graduation or the busy area around it. The parking was hard. There were lots of family members that came for the event and lots of businesses around the building. We ended up parking about 4 or 5 blocks away from the event center.

I was so tired already and by the time we reached the graduation, people were moving out of the way and offering me disabled seating. I looked a bit rough. I don’t do well in the sun or the heat, let alone being exhausted before a walk. Thank God I remembered my cane. While we waited I could see my family, a few rows beneath us. They looked up at us and waved. I read faces, but I could be wrong, so I will leave it at that.

The ceremony was wonderful. The school did a great job celebrating each student. Afterward we were speed walking towards the end of the building (I didn’t know this would be part of the event) to reach my niece. She was leaving shortly for a trip with her graduating class. It was a big building. I wake up in pain so you can imagine how the pain had continued to get worse throughout the day; Fibromyalgia, Lymphedema and Psoriatic and Osteoarthritis are not friendly…Generalized Anxiety Disorder can be quite a bear too, luckily so far, PTSD had decided to stay home.

I was so thankful I was able to hug my niece and tell her how proud I was of her. That was the point of all of that day.

After she was gone, we all filtered outside, but I was disoriented and I didn’t have it in me to act as though I were well as usual. I was trying to hold myself together and Karen and I tried to remember what direction our car was. No one was talking to us so we had walked away from the group and began looking at the streets and trying to remember the way we came.

My father came up to me and thanked me for coming. He hugged me. Unlike usual I didn’t try to be strong. I didn’t have it in me. I said, “I hurt.” I heard the little girl voice come out that shows itself when I am super tired. My father didn’t hold on like you see fathers on TV. He jumped back. He did ask where our car was. When we told him we didn’t know. He said he had to go get his and ran away.

I always hoped my dad would be like Charles Ingalls on Little House on the Prairie. In some ways he is. He has the work ethic. But he is not the nurturer.

My father has spent his life running from me. At least that is the way I feel. For my birthday this year, my step-mother filled out a card that said they loved me with the obligatory check. Yet they have never sent a get well card, email, or letter. I suppose they are angry that I wont let them call me but I have a phobia of the phone. Our phone calls are always stressful anyway, no matter who called.

I mailed the check back. I wrote a note saying that I had never wanted any of his things or his money, I wanted relationship. I wanted him to show that he was interested in me. But I was tired of waiting and I asked him to please let me go.

I don’t believe that all my parents tried to fail me. I think they did the best they could. But they left me alone a lot. Too much. Thankfully God never left me alone. It is because of God that I can forgive them and be thankful for what each of them has taught me, but I don’t have to continue to be feel rejected or left alone. And that is why I want to be left alone.

God is my true Father. He has always been with me and kept every promise.

I am thankful for my real Father that has known me before He made me and has helped me and continues to help me as I heal from being an emotional neglect and abuse survivor.

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

I am Allergic to Live Christmas Trees

by Summer D Clemenson | Dec 23, 2022 | About Summer, Life, Opinions, Thanksgiving

When I was little we always had an artificial tree. I am sure part of the reason was because I was a very easily sick child. We started with a very small tree, maybe because my parents were afraid I would pull it over onto myself and then for a short while we lived in an apartment before we found our house on Oak Street when we moved to Longview. Then we got the big artificial tree. I don’t think my parents knew I am allergic to live Christmas trees; it was probably more of an economic choice on my father’s behalf.

The year after their divorce, my mother wanted to try things differently so she got a live tree and new ornaments. I struggled to get the tree into the stand and the lights just so. This job had always been Dad’s job and now it was mine. Yeah! (Not really) Somehow we lived through getting the tree up. I didn’t like the smell and the vacuuming was never ending. And the congestion and coughing was getting worse and worse every minute.

For the entire Christmas season I had to listen to my mother blame my unexpected sickness on a sudden allergy to my cat…Maxine had slept with me every night since she’d moved in and I never had a problem, but suddenly I was allergic to her. I didn’t see the logic in my 10-year-old mind.

Another difference was that we suddenly had to be afraid of the lights. On the artificial tree we could leave the lights plugged in and we never had to water it and the shedding was minimal. My vacuuming time had increased substantially…

Minutes after the tree had been thrown out the back door and the last needle vacuumed up, my congestion had almost completely cleared up…and by the next Christmas a new artificial tree had been purchased.

I have had employees that put up live trees that noticed that I was fine at the top of my shift and my eyes are red and swollen and I was coughing and sneezing by the end of my shift; not optimal when you work at an answering service…We learned to keep some of the doors shut for my benefit and I always keep cough drops on hand. Man was I happy when I saw new employers drag out artificial trees!

So many times people seem so sad for me when I tell them this little truth of mine, but I am not. Since I am allergic to them, the smell does not bring happy memories to me. If you take care of your artificial tree, you can use it indefinitely. I have used the same 6 ft tree, bought at Walmart, for over 25+ years at my home and at many other homes. If you are good at decorating, you can’t tell it is not real and although my tree has never been able to take Xavier’s weight, my mother’s 8 foot tree was able to hold him for a nap or two before he decided that he preferred the lit up sparkly fabric I used to put around the foot of her tree. If she had not run the stand over with her truck, while it was in the garage, it would still be standing. Heck with the help with some fishing line I got it to stand for one more Christmas anyway…

What I miss about Christmas is security and traditions. It seems like Karen and I haven’t been able to have those at the same time for a long time. I wouldn’t trade these years where we have grown and learned so much for anything, while we fixed our credit and Karen has had to make hard choices about her dream business or working and both. Where I have had to be honest with myself about my mental illness and chronic illness and learn to take care of myself and make hard choices about what I need and what I don’t need. We have some security but we still don’t have a lease so it isn’t solid and we don’t have many comforts that so many take for granted and some of the people we know don’t even have what we have and this breaks my heart. I haven’t figured out how to have Christmas traditions where we live, other than music and a few movies.

We are very blessed and I know this. I thank God for this always. This is my biggest prayer all the time! And I know we are very close to some of those things like a kitchen and laundry room that I always took for granted before, but never will again. When this happens, I imagine we will often have someone sleeping on our couch for a few days, or if we have a guest room, in the guest room. It is a good thing I can’t just make 1 quart of soup but always make 6 quarts of stew because I am sure we will have people over and I look forward to board games and maybe getting a dog. I don’t think Xavier will like that idea, but he has surprised me a lot this last year…so maybe that wont be as bad as I think. I look forward to foster kids or just kids…they will find us because we have a lot of love to share.

Cookies and lights can be part of every day. Movies and music can be enjoyed every day and good books and stories are important always. Karen always says we celebrate every day. We say, “I love you,” constantly. We think about each other and try to make each others burdens lighter, however we can. I guess that is Christmas all year. Although I miss having room for a Christmas tree, we have found ways to keep Christmas and maybe next year will be the best year yet! It’s OK if I am allergic to live Christmas trees…at least I am not allergic to Christmas.

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

Xavier Rock’On

by Summer D Clemenson | Dec 22, 2022 | About Summer, Life, Opinions

Merry Christmas Everyone! I hope you have everything your heart desires. To be honest I am struggling and with several triggers that I can’t really talk about so I thought I would talk about my cat Xavier (pronounced Javier) Rock’On. He is such a special animal. I am sure that your pets are special to you too. Animals are very special.

Before Xavier came to me I had a dream about a cat that looked like him and in the dream his name was Javier…I like the X better. When my, then, 7-year-old nephew came into the church sanctuary where we were with him cradled in his arms, I was sold. His mother couldn’t have him but I could. The deal was he would be mine but he would be my nephew’s too. When my, then, 4-year-old nephew came over he was sad that he did get to name the cat so I let him give him a middle name and that is where Rock’On came into the picture and it seems to fit.

Xavier has been a handful since day one. He taught me that he was a very sensitive cat and he needed peace, even when his behavior was bad. No yelling or any form of discipline really worked to train him, it only made his behavior worse. He is a biter and he has to rub is paws, either with or without his claws on walls, carpet and furniture…which helped me to have a little peace after I had his claws removed. What did work? Positive reinforcement when he was doing what I wanted and guiding the acceptable behavior.

Luckily he is terrified of heights so he only climbed the drapes a couple times and brought the Christmas tree down once…until he learned it was much better to nap under the tree when we left a space under it for him. He quit jumping on the dining room table as long as I gave him a chair next to me. He stopped climbing on the kitchen cabinets once we gave up the fight on sitting water and let the bathtub slowly drip…he will not drink sitting water…it just isn’t going to happen. He doesn’t eat stale food so I feed him 4 times a day but that also gives me time to spend with him…

In return, because most of his feeding times are times I need to take meds, so he nags me until he sees me take them. He knows when I am having a nightmare and when I am going to be sick so he wakes me up so I can take care of myself. He also knows when Karen has overslept her alarm and gets her out of bed to go to work. He knows when we should go to bed and rallies for bedtime like a Drill Sargent.

I love that he has a personal relationship with me and with Karen. I get to hold him and do all the nurturing things. Karen gets kisses and she is the fun mom that gives treats and plays with him. He doesn’t let us switch places very often. But I have been struggling a lot the last few days. He climbed into my arms and kissed me three times on the cheek. I thought, “Wow! I must be a queen today!”

I have known Xavier since he was taken from his mother and I got to box train him and been there for all his phases. He had never been an overly cuddly cat and he has a lot of boundaries. But he does like to be brushed. As he has gotten older I try really hard to brush him at least every other day because I know it is getting harder for him to reach everything. When I brush him, he tries to keep his left rear leg away from me. I think that joint hurts the most, so I am gentle when I reach around and over to try to brush it anyway, blindly. I am surprised with how cold it is, how much hair I have been removing off of him every day this week, but yesterday was his day for his flea treatment. I always brush him for as long as he will let me on that day because when he licks the solution he shows signs of an allergy to it. I have tried lots of other methods but nothing works like the topical treatment I use, and he is allergic to fleas so we soldier on and if I can brush him for 30 minutes it absorbs into his skin enough that it doesn’t bother him as much.

Yesterday he purposely stood with his left back leg faced to me and I thought that was odd. I began brushing and I noticed that all the things he usually fights me on, he wasn’t fighting me on. Until I found a mat in his fur. If he has ever, had one, I don’t remember it. I tried to brush it out but it would not budge. Eventually I grabbed some scissors and cut it out. He looked worried. He has the most expressive eyes. When I told him everything was ok and I was happy to help him, he waited and the minute it was removed, he looked to relieved.

Xavier has taught me a lot about myself. I am a sensory person too. Lights and sounds are hard for me. Too many people overwhelm me. People that take too much make me flare up and get sick. I go out of my way to protect him from stress so he doesn’t get sick..I am learning to do the same for myself. We thrive in a peaceful place with good music, thoughtful people, good books and lots of love. And it is nice to know that when we need help there is someone there to help us, whether it is to remind me to take me meds or someone to cut the mats out of our fur…

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

I Hate Getting Gifts

by Summer D Clemenson | Dec 17, 2022 | About Summer, Life, Opinions

Most people love getting gifts but I am not most people; I hate getting gifts. It isn’t because I don’t like people showing their love but gifts often meant something else for me growing up. Gifts were maybe the only show of affection I might get for months. It might be the only kindness I might get that day. It also might be a useless box of something I hated that I had to pretend I loved or I was a rude girl who didn’t deserve any gifts at all.

It isn’t that I wasn’t loved growing up, I just process love differently than my parents did. There were so many rules after my parents divorced. There were rules when they were married but so many more afterwards. Mom was pretty easy because she knew us. But since they didn’t follow the parenting plan and they fought and always through me I was so stressed out. Christmas wasn’t fun. Dad wanted Christmas lists and you had to have gifts of all different price ranges so he could surprise you and fill your stocking…very practical…Most of the time the stocking stuffers I got were the freebees that my dad’s wife got for buying other things and I gave them away.

You would think things would have changed when we became grown ups and to some extent they did. One of my younger siblings became the planner and I wasn’t invited until the last minute or when I called my older sibling…Somewhere in there I got in trouble for bringing gifts for people because I had ignored the no gifts for adults theme they had decided on because my father and his wife had decided to pay for dinner instead of buying gifts…yet they didn’t care that I couldn’t eat that food because of my food sensitivities and I didn’t care about their rule and laughed as they opened the gifts I either made or bought for them anyway. But I wasn’t ignored…

I have always wanted to be a mom. I still ache to be a mom. God brings me to scriptures about Abraham and Sarah so I don’t know what He has up His sleeve but I have faith in Him…but as my siblings became mothers I found it was so much more fun and easy to be an auntie then worry about trying to be part of their group. I adored my kiddos, my greatest gifts, up to that point. I listened to them and played with them. I tried to encourage them and we always talked about Jesus. I bought all of them their first bibles and was there for most of them when they asked Jesus into their hearts. My greatest joy! I wasn’t trying to be their mom, I always encouraged them to honor their parents and I had to bite my tongue or apologize at times. I am sure with the competition platform we were raised on, my siblings didn’t understand that I was on their side and I wasn’t trying to compete. Our goals were the same to see their kids grow up healthy, safe and strong.

At some point I was completely cut off. I was told by my siblings to not contact their children anymore. I had already been blocked on social media sites so I wasn’t able to see pictures anymore so this wasn’t a surprise.

I deserved some of the rebuttal I got but not the shunning I lived in.

Today I received a birthday card from my father and his wife. I wasn’t going to open it but Karen seemed expectant. All the pink. The I love you…the bullshit. The obligatory check. They love me, but they never email or send a note or a get well card. I know I told them not to call me but that is because when they call me, they yell at me, and I can’t talk on the phone anymore without an anxiety attack, unless it is to the doctor’s office or pharmacy. I loved pink when, I was little girl, but it turns my stomach now, and has since 8th grade, and if they knew anything about me, they would know that…but they don’t know me.

I mailed it back. The check. I don’t want it. I never wanted their money or their things. I just wanted someone to want to know me. I wanted someone to want to see me or talk to me. For years that is the present I wanted. That is still the gift I want.

I like relationship. It is always the right size and color. It is never out of fashion and if it is cared for it doesn’t go bad…but if you don’t care for it….

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

Happy Dysfunctional Holidays

by Summer D Clemenson | Dec 16, 2022 | About Summer, Life, Opinions, Prayers, Thanksgiving

We are accustomed to hearing Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzah…and many other holidays this time of year but I would like to wish many of you a Happy Dysfunctional Holidays! Let’s be real, this time of year is far from perfect for many of us. I am not saying I have never had a beautiful memory…like this time I was staying at my aunt and uncle’s house, when I was in high school and everyone was happy, there was no stress and we got a VCR! To top it off it began to snow just as we finished opening presents…

Generally for me the holidays were filled with more than less than perfect moments with divorced parents who never followed the parenting plan and fought constantly, before, during and after the event, through me…I am going to stop there because my stomach is starting to churn.

I had a dream the other night about an old relationship that was not healthy. My friend was a roommate and I loved him a lot but he was a drug addict and he couldn’t keep a job and he was emotionally manipulative. Towards the end of our friendship, I had given everything I had, even our rent money, which instead of giving to the manager, he spent on partying and we were being evicted. These were not the best parts of our relationship; the parts that kept me around. You don’t love someone for a person’s worst parts. Children and animals loved him. He could walk into any group and have a great conversation. He was very intelligent and he taught me a lot of important things. But he was an addict. In the dream I was very aware of this but I had found this one pair of socks that were very beautiful and I wanted to keep them to remember the parts I loved. The rest could go.

I am currently reading a book that I am glad that I didn’t buy and that the library had on hand: Nigger: The Strange Career of a Troublesome Word by Randall Kennedy. It is an emotionally draining book about a word that is considered a fighting word. I bet by the end I will have the same feeling that I have had on every page I have had as I read the first half of the book…I didn’t need to read this book to know that Nigger is life-sucking word.

You know what word can also be a life-sucking word: Family. To let me be more clear it is the two letter phrase: Dysfunctional Family that is life-sucking because the word family can be life-giving, affirming and foundational in so many wonderful ways. My current family which includes, my wife, Karen G Clemenson, our cat, Xavier, and my sister, Jamie Holloway, is amazing. We are honest with each other. We care for each other and share what we have. We are not afraid to talk about anything and even though at times we may have lied, betrayed and hurt each other, we have been able to work through those times and become stronger and more gentle with each other. That is the life-giving part; the brave part.

But in a dysfunctional family secrets, gossip, abuse and running away is what runs the show. This is why when we grow up we seek out abusive relationships, because that is what we know.

I had a dream about a life-long friend last night that kept interrupting me and was trying to needle their way into my life again, after they had dumped me, again. They had been done this many times through our life. The last time they told me they didn’t want to know me. This time I was going to remember this because I had moved beyond the need to be rejected. So in my dream I told them to please move on because I knew they didn’t want to know me and the dream was over.

What if it was that easy with family?

My quiet moments when I am not filling my time, are filled with memories I haven’t thought about in years. Sad times. Angry times. Confusing times. I know that at least one of my family members wants to reconnect. When I get sick of the memories I pray to God and ask Him to bless these people and me, where we are, and please let us all have a good night’s sleep. It has been working for me. But then they start when I am awake…until this morning, I had a memory over another breakup. When I had realized that this relationship was also abusive, I had said I would rather be alone than be emotionally abused.

So that is the answer.

The plus side is that I am not alone. I have Karen, Xavier and Jamie. There are some other casual friends and the ones I haven’t met yet…and God has always been my real parents. He taught me lots of things when I was alone….and I was alone a lot.

I know this may seem cold but it is actually really brave. There are people I didn’t want to lose that I have lost. Sometimes I feel like part of me is gone but then maybe she wasn’t the best part of me. It is brave to say, “Here and no further,” to someone that has had many opportunities to know you and yet doesn’t want to. They have been invited and didn’t show up. They have been called and didn’t answer or call back. They have made plans only to cancel. It is ok to finally realize who is your real family.

Once you do that you might be stuck with some memories that are painful but just keep giving them back to God and thank Him for the “socks”. Merry Christmas.

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

Her Name is Anna

by Summer D Clemenson | Dec 8, 2022 | About Summer, Life, Opinions

I met her in my twenties, when I began really digging to try to find freedom from what was wrong with me mentally and spiritually. I had read somewhere about asking this part of yourself that seemed to be its own personality, questions and having it answer with your non-dominate writing hand. She told me her name is Anna. She was very angry and scared and she wasn’t going anywhere. She told me she was 5-years-old.

A lot happened when I was 5-years-old: I met Jesus, my grammy (great-grandmother and favorite person) died, I started first grade, and my mother became pregnant with my youngest sibling. There is probably more but that is the big stuff and those are just the main details; each of those events having their own events to go with them.

I don’t think that Anna is only 5. I think she ranges in age from 5 through teenage years. I think this because of what she seems to do. I have spent a lot of time trying to get rid of her, trying to understand her and now trying to learn to live with her because she wont leave, she wont grow up and she wont give up her job. Anna’s job is to hold my emotions and my most painful and scary memories from growing up.

Unlike Veda, which I named, hoping I could control and seem to see leave more quickly. Veda is mainly depression and she doesn’t live here. She visits. Anna lives here and she waits quietly until she is reminded of a situation that is too similar to ones she has lived through before. She screams and cries in my head when she is upset, which is very distracting. She invites Veda. She also brings nightmares since she lives in my subconscious.

Often I am able to parent Anna, reminding her that we are here now. That we are safe, I can create boundaries and that the people that have hurt us or misunderstood us are no longer in our life, are not here, and they wont be able to hurt us anymore. She usually calms down in a few days but the time she is active is very blue for me.

This is the hard part of the year for me and Anna is more active and I had a family member reach out to me. They were kind and hopeful. I asked them to pray for me. They are hopeful for a relationship. I did not promise anything because I can’t. But Anna is terrified of them and 3 other people they are connected to either directly or indirectly. It has been an emotionally painful few days which leads to more physical pain…

I always try to find something positive in my situations so I decided to look up the meanings of the names that came to me for these parts of myself. Veda means wisdom in Sanskrit and is popular among followers of Hinduism. Anna is widely used among many countries but is found in the Latin meaning grace. I don’t feel as though I purposely chose these names because I remember when they came to me and it was very impromptu. But what I find fascinating is that wisdom and grace are the things I am always asking God for.

Depression often comes when we have been trying to carry something on our own, so it would make sense that I would need to rest and realign where my strength is found and this takes wisdom. Although Anna makes my life frustrating she does cause me to ask God for more grace because it isn’t her fault that she was emotionally neglected and abused.

When I think of relationship with family members I really don’t know what that looks like. For years I tried to engage but I am very different. I am very sensitive in every way: lights, sounds, foods, emotions, manners. I don’t care for current pop culture, and really never have. I hate gossip and prefer to hear about people from themselves and never from anyone else. I don’t care for TV. Because of all these other things I don’t do small talk well. I like to dive into deep conversations and debates. I am not a surface person. Groups are stressful to me because I like to give my attention to 1-3 people exclusively. Because I was often left to myself growing up and I love children because they have no agenda other than to be loved and heard, I find myself getting in trouble with parents because I listen to their children and then tell them things they missed.

I have been told I am hard to please but actually I am super easy. I don’t care about fancy things and money is useful but I don’t care about it either. I like time and conversation. I like people showing up or returning my cards and letters or calls. I love authenticity and honesty. I have been criticized and left behind (rejected) so much by all of them that I don’t see any reason to try to add them into my life. I am not going to stop being fat any time soon, or opinionated and Anna is not going to change, she has made this abundantly clear. So even though all the children have grown up, the advice I gave is still being held against me, according to the last conversation I put myself through. Right now I am parenting Anna. She needs to know that I hear her. She needs to know that I have her back and we will proceed with caution in whatever direction we go in.

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

Sometimes Trust Can’t be Fixed

by Summer D Clemenson | Dec 1, 2022 | About Summer, Life, Opinions

I told my therapist, yesterday, that I am sure I have forgiven several people in my life completely. The part I am struggling with is that you can forgive someone, let’s call them “Person A,” so many times and then it becomes apparent that they are not a safe person for you to be around because they keep hurting you so you are forced to create a boundary that says Person A can’t be in my life. The really hard part is that because of the dynamics of a particular group of people, you now have to remove yourself from the group of people because the relationship between Person A and you and everyone in the group doesn’t let you just remove one person.

I would love to try to have a relationship with Person B and Person C but they are too close to Person A and Person B is married to Person D and I don’t feel safe around them either. There are more variables but that is too many letters and we will both get confused. It is just easier to stay away but it does make me sad; sometimes it makes me angry.

People say: Oh well, it is the holidays! or Oh well, it is family, get over it!

My therapist said that trust is a hard thing to fix. I told her that I realized that I don’t trust women because the closest ones to me were manipulative towards me. She asked me how that manifests in my life. I said I have 2 close friends and I am married to one of them.

We agreed that it must take a lot for me to allow someone to really get close to me.

Am I writing this so I can whine and complain? No. I am writing this to encourage anyone that has been hurt that it is ok to look at your wounds and realize truths so you can work on them. I am talking to God and my therapist about my concerns. I am creating healthy boundaries for my mental health. I am continuing to affirm my value and maintain my self-care.

Some relationships can’t be fixed, but the relationship with myself can be.

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

What Was His Name?

by Summer D Clemenson | Nov 22, 2022 | About Summer, Life, Opinions, Prayers, Queer Community

I have been reading through Genesis lately and there is a ton of history in there but there are a lot of lists of names too. They are tedious. I usually read out loud and Karen, my wife, will be listening and every once in a while she will say: what was his name?

My answer is always, that was the best I can do. I have not been to seminary and I haven’t spent hours with people that are scholars that know how to pronounce the names in the bible so I do the best I can guess and I move on. I do the same with the names of the towns and the rivers and mountains.

I couldn’t sleep for a while last night and I was up thinking. I was considering some of the lists I had read the last few days. God does not tell every story about every person listed in the bible. He inspired the writers of the bible to a few choice people. But He did inspire the writers to put seeming endless lists of names in the Word. These lists don’t give hints to how to say these names. They don’t give anything away about the character of these people, their favorite things, if they walked with God or if they asked God questions.

But the beauty of God is that He knows everything about these people. Whether our names are in the bible or not, He knows our name. He knows where we came from. When we met Him. What our favorite things are. He knows if we tend to be happy all the time or can be a bit maudlin. He is not intimated by my endless questions…

I couldn’t help but be overjoyed while I lay in the dark that I was friends with a God that was so personal that He knew the most intimate things about everyone and it didn’t overwhelm Him because He is Spirit and He is like a cloud of infinite memory, love and relationship abilities.

I have a friend that has been really hurt in their life by everyone that said they loved them. It has taken years of therapy to help them come to a place where they feel they are healing. There is a lot of pain, anger and many other feelings and memories to heal from. They often post things about Christians that are hypocrites. Their posts make me sad. So sad.

I know my friend knows Jesus and Jesus is helping them. I know that God accepts them and all the judgements that have been made about my friend are wrong, ignorant, unloving and, as they say, hypocritical.

When I married, Karen G Clemenson, I was in denial. I couldn’t be queer. My mind was telling me that I couldn’t be gay. That was an abomination. I just married my best friend. We loved each other. But a year into my marriage, after seeing a therapist who helped me start to accept my truth, and talking to God, I realized, I was queer and I hadn’t lost God. He hadn’t stopped loving me, talking to me, or left me for one second. When I asked Him if He wanted me to divorce my wife, He said, “No.”

Yet when I considered membership to a church, I met with the pastor who told me that he did not agree with the law, but he did appreciate that read the bible. I was welcome to come to their church but I wouldn’t be allowed to be in a leadership position.. There were sincere people that cared about us, but there were other people that were scared of us and I just didn’t feel brave enough to handle their emotions on top of my chronic illnesses. In the end I left because I felt like the pastor was always planning his next missions trip and I had already grown up with a missing dad and it just felt too similar…

Why am I talking about this? Because we can’t know why people do what they do, but God does.He knows all our names. He knows everything about us. He even knows the people that might seem to be hypocrites or evil.

Yesterday I vented a little about Donald Trump. I hope that I didn’t offend too many people. I still feel the way I do about him but I do want him to find peace. I would hope that you could find a moment to pray for someone that makes you feel un-peaceful that they would find salvation and healing so that they would find peace and joy. I would love for heaven to have great joy because many came to repentance.

It feels better to pray for the people that makes us afraid than to hold onto the fear or hate. We were made to love. God is love and we were made in His image so it just makes sense that love is part of our DNA.

If you haven’t talked to God in a while, today is as good a day as any. He hasn’t forgotten your name.

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

It Is Time to Increase My Mood Stabilizers

by Summer D Clemenson | Nov 17, 2022 | About Summer, Chronic Illness, Life, Opinions, Wellness

I met with my psychiatrist last Friday and spoke with him about my concerns with things that were happening inside my head that were causing me stress. October through February were the hard months for my custodial parent, so I have a hard time in these months too. Plus the holidays are here and they had their own bag of not so fun goodies. We had kept me at the lowest dose I could stand because the Luvox was giving me headaches but that we before we found proof, via MRI, that I have had migraines for most of my life and began treating them. It is time to increase my mood stabilizers.

I don’t act on what happens in my head. I am in control of myself. Even my psychiatrist felt that that the screaming and crying I hear in my head is a part of myself that remembers the pain and not me wanting to hurt myself or anyone. I do have visions of inappropriate behavior but that is usually when I am angry. I try very hard to not get angry to a certain point. In the past I have blacked out and hurt people. I don’t ever want that to happen again. So when the visions start, which are a precursor to the black outs, I walk out of the room and calm down. Along with myself, I promised myself I would never hurt anyone on purpose a long time ago. Violence is not OK, ever.

As the holidays come closer I have more and more dreams about family members of the past. I think about moments and I feel old feelings. I don’t mean to. I don’t want to. I realized today that I don’t trust women because of the type of situations I was raised in. I don’t have much to say about men either. Most of the time the men in my life were working or doing their own thing, until they were needed. They just weren’t around much.

I was raised by a parent with Borderline Personality Disorder. I found the paperwork one day, by accident. I was looking for pictures for a photo album in their desk. BPD is a terrible mental illness to live with. From what I can remember, my parent put all their energy into working and they did that well. But when they came home, understandably they were exhausted and any self-control they had was spent. That self-hatred that comes with mental illness was there. I often didn’t know what parent would come home. I seemed to have several, of different ages. I don’t have a lot of memories because I have blocked most of them out, but I have lots of fears. That kind of fear doesn’t let you trust. I know my parent loves me and has always wanted the best for me, I also know that while I was growing up there were no reliable treatments for this mental illness. They gave me the best they had, and I know they were the best option available to me, but I still suffered.

My step-mother had her own issues. I am not going to go into a lot of details but she never earned my trust, but pushed it away. I know she had her own trauma experiences growing up. I am not a trained therapist or psychologist but I would not be surprised if she didn’t have her own diagnosis. My father loves her and I respect that but that keeps me away, especially since my siblings are so much like both my mothers. Both women have good and bad qualities but I find myself to be very defensive around them; I am not sure they are able to see the healthy, more balanced version of Summer that I have matured into.

I am hoping the increased meds will help quiet things in my head. I am going to talk to God about these new things I have noticed about myself. I want to get better. For my sake and the sake of people who I have yet to meet. Its ok to need to get help. I am thankful that I have a team that works well with me.

Borderline personality disorder by Mayo Clinic Staff

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

I Have Lost My Taste For Slapstick

by Summer D Clemenson | Nov 14, 2022 | About Summer, Life, Opinions, Prayers

When I was growing up slapstick comedy was really popular and my mom really loved it. John Candy and Chevy Chase were two of her favorite actors. I have to admit they had great timing. But as I have gotten older and really got to know myself I have lost my taste for slapstick because someone always has to get hurt for someone else to get a laugh. I don’t think it is funny when people get hurt, especially as someone who has been hurt a lot.

We still see a hunger for slapstick in smaller forms today. We call them memes. But I don’t think all memes are funny either. Today I saw one with Ivanka Trump wearing a dress that was similar to one that Grace Kelly wore in a movie with a name that made it easy to tease Ivanka. You know what? It made me sad. Ivanka looked beautiful. According to the meme she was at her sister’s wedding and we should have been happy for them. I don’t want to befriend the Trump family and I certainly don’t want them to continue in politics but why shouldn’t I want them to celebrate a happy moment in their family?

The reasons I don’t want to have them on the news, in my living room, or in positions to make decisions that affect my life are because of the chaos they brought the last time they were in that position. Donald Trump invites negativity because that is what he knows. But if I take a moment in their lives that should be joyful and twist it in the manner that I have seen them do, I am no better than they are and I want to be a person that invites peace and forgiveness in my midst.

I do admit that I was not as emotionally healthy when Trump won his election as I am now. I was unable to say President Trump for the first 2 years of his term and I was hateful and spiteful, at every chance I had to speak or think of him. But somewhere in there I had to find a way to forgive and have peace, for my sake. I needed to stop having an anxiety attack every time I heard his name or heard his voice. It was hard. Sometimes it still is. But as I read Running on Empty and began thinking about how we didn’t even know about fostering emotionally healthy children until now and I was able to see how this would cause me to be an emotional neglect survivor, but this would also make most people an emotional neglect survivor and I began seeing how I needed to forgive a lot of people, even Donald Trump.

This does not change my political views but this reminds me to not let my political views change who I am every day.

Jesus took a few minutes to share a parable when He was with us, I am sure a few of you have heard before: The Sower and the Seed:

Jesus is the Sower and the Seed is the Word of God and the garden is our hearts. Not all of our hearts are ready to accept the Word of the Lord, when we first hear it, or even ever, but when we are ready to choose Jesus, we can let the cares of the world get out of the way so that His teachings can become deep in us so that love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23) are easily found in us and become boiling out of us.

This is the beauty of the freedom of choice that God gives us. We don’t ever have to choose Him, but when we do, we find ourselves letting go of pain, judgement and anger more easily and picking up forgiveness. This doesn’t mean we don’t still need to create healthy boundaries in relationships for our mental, physical and spiritual health. We still need boundaries because we can’t make others make the same choices we have made or in the same time table as we have made them in.

My wife, Karen G Clemenson, and I were watching Christmas Vacation the other night and I was shocked at my mind’s response to the movie. I had put myself in the movie. Instead of enjoying a movie, I have watched hundreds of times, I was seeing myself as part of the family. I saw myself opening the front door as soon as the squirrel was seen in the tree, knowing the squirrel would prefer being outside. I never spoke. I saw myself moving from room to room making sure there was a path in every room so people could walk safely and then I saw myself coming back with a garbage bag to pick up what couldn’t be salvaged. After that I was just plan cleaning. I was just putting things back in their place because someone had to. I was not oblivious to the chaos but I was not part of it. I was not thanked, I was not spoken to. I was just there.

I am not saying I ever lived through a Christmas that was exactly like the one in this movie, but emotionally, I think we could top it, between all the households. I think this is why I don’t like slapstick. When you are invisible it is like being at the brunt of slapstick humor. If it is the day you are visible and you are the scapegoat, you definitely know some pain.

I have been reading a biography about Mr. Rogers and I am finding out that I have much in common with him. This shouldn’t surprise me. Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood was one of my favorite shows, even through high school. When he was a boy and people around him told him to not think too much about things that bothered him, he just couldn’t. He couldn’t stop caring. He cared too much. I appreciate this. I am a person that cares too much too, and I think about how children are affected by what the grown ups around them are doing. I love that I have this in common with Mr. Rogers. He also didn’t like slapstick…

Another thing I have in common with Mr. Rogers is my love for Jesus. I want to leave you with this scripture that is so powerful!

Be blessed!

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

Wellness Hurts Sometimes

by Summer D Clemenson | Nov 4, 2022 | About Summer, Chronic Illness, Life, Opinions, Prayers

I have come to believe, from my own experience, and not from any research, that there are many ways to harmony and balance and wellness hurts sometimes. There are more than one type of wellness and these include: physical, mental, and spiritual wellness and all require a certain amount of boundaries, affirmations and expectations of ourselves to protect the one thing we can control; ourself. If we don’t care for ourself then how will we care for others. Jesus told us to give out of abundance not out of want; He told us to rest and find joy in His peace. Those sound like the recipe for boundaries to me…

This week has been hard. Actually it started last week with PTSD flash backs. I didn’t even want to write because I was afraid of what would come out of me. I don’t like to relive things and I don’t like to feed the negativity either. Some of my stories might be told someday but they should be told by a Summer that is in control of herself and not by a Summer that is in torment. I was thankful when I finally had a funny memory, a few days ago about one of my abusers; I knew I was coming out of it. Not all of my life was stressful and terrible. There were good days too.

When one of my siblings was born there was a commercial for Budweiser Beer that had a frog that said,” Bud bud, bud, bud bud, bud, bud bud, Budweiser!” As the older sibling, I noticed that they enjoyed this sound and I often would say the bud part without Budweiser to them to make them laugh. No matter how old they were, or usually what mood they were in, I could get them to laugh if I did this. Even as an adult. When they became a parent, I tried it on their child. I don’t remember if their child cared…although their cousins love it! But I do remember my sibling sitting behind them with a smile on their face, trying not to laugh.

It made me laugh to think about it. I was glad to have that memory after a week of terrible memories that felt brand new. No matter how often I would try to remind myself that I was here now. I was 46 years old and not 9 or 12 or 16 years old. I would pet Xavier who wasn’t born yet and think about that fact. I would remind myself that those people are not in my life anymore because I chose to stay away from them. I would remind myself that I had Karen and she loved me like I always wanted to be loved. It is such a struggle when it feels brand new, but you know it isn’t.

I have a friend that has been going through this too. I was trying to comfort them on Facebook and in their angst they thought I was criticizing them. I had to remind them that I was trying to be supportive. They don’t have a Karen. Part of my strength is that I have a partner that can remind me that I am here now and not there anymore. The hardest part is when she is at work. My friend doesn’t have a partner.

I did contact my therapist last week. She was glad to set up 2 appointments a month for me. She knows between October to February are my hard times. We couldn’t do a second session in October but I have two appointments set up for November. I had hoped I was far enough along in my healing that I could stay at one session a month but real strength is knowing that I need help and asking for it.

This week is a Fibromyalgia flare from hell. I am not surprised. Fibro is connected to trauma and emotions. Fibro is caused by an prolonged psychological stress and genetics, I have both of these factors. After a week of being stressed to the max, I am not surprised that my normal dull roar is now an screaming banshee at times and walking or lifting my arms above my head is an exercise in emotional strength and a shower is a time to cry and pray and when it is over a time to cry and praise God that I made it through. Sleeping is torn between hot flashes, nightmares or stressful dreams where I am in terrible pain and waking in terrible pain. But I will gladly take this over PTSD flashbacks…

I told this to my friend when I was checking in with them on Messenger. I am glad they were ok when I reached out to them.

We all have our triggers. Campaign season is hard on my friend, understandably…Mine are the holidays. I am wondering if I should put a disclaimer out there that I have a weird sense of humor about holidays because until the last few years, I had never had a holiday without fighting involved. I hate fighting.

Karen and I were watching a rerun of Reba, last night and they were fighting over who’s house they would have Thanksgiving at and who would cook. As a child of divorced parents, I thought the answer was easy…have two Thanksgivings. I tell you what, if you are invited to a Thanksgiving at my house and a fight breaks out, I will pack up dinner quicker than a fork can hit the floor and we will reschedule for another day. Holidays are supposed to be peaceful and they don’t have to have anything to do with a day on a calendar, in my mind.

I have been thinking about making a sign to hang near the door that says: If you can’t keep the peace in this home, take a walk, take a nap or take a hike…and I totally mean it.

I have learned that wellness hurts sometimes. There are side effects from important medications and even from a stay in the hospital. My dear sister, Jamie Holloway, is suffering with some terrible wounds caused by water retention she had from her last stay in the hospital. She is exhausted and begging for a break. I wish I could do more than pray and congratulate her for being diligent in advocating for herself. Sometimes healthy boundaries for one person, hurts another person but must stay, for the first person’s mental health. There are times you might have to lose out on a promotion at work because you need to say no to the early morning meetings, so you can have some needed quiet time so you are balanced.

I encourage you to look at your life and see where you can create healthy boundaries and balance in your life even if it is painful at first. When you get used to it, it might be the best thing you did for yourself.

Fibromyalgia by Mayo Clinic Staff

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

This Is My Hard Time of Year

by Summer D Clemenson | Oct 28, 2022 | About Summer, Chronic Illness, Life

I know a lot of people that have a certain time of year that is more of a struggle for them than others and this is my hard time of the year; October to February were the months that my custodial parent struggled and so that is the time that my hardest memories live and I tend to relive them. I need to contact my therapist and increase my therapy sessions to twice a month, instead of once a month, I was hoping that I could stay with monthly but I am seeing that the cycles are repeating, as usual.

I was supposed to get up when my wife, Karen G Clemenson, went to work this morning, but I couldn’t. I fell back to sleep. When she came in for lunch today, she woke me from a dream where I was folding orange inmate jumpsuits. It was part of my duties because I was incarcerated for a short time. They didn’t have jumpsuits in my size so I had to purchase my own. I was being told to take good care of mine so that when I had to come back I could bring them with me. I figured as much. What a dream.

Stressful dreams and nightmares are normal for me but more common in this time of year. I sleep a lot more because I don’t get good rest when I having these dreams, plus with the cold weather I have a lot more pain and that is another reason for bad sleep. When I tried to wake up today Veda was here, that is what I call depression, it implies she is a visitor, instead of something I can’t overcome and maybe she will only be here for a short visit.

I know this visit from Veda was triggered by someone that asked my wife if she was the sister-in-law of my sibling. It shouldn’t bother me but it does. My siblings have made it abundantly clear that they want no part of my life. All those wonderful Hallmark cards that describe sisters are only describing, Jamie Holloway, and in no way will I call my siblings sisters and take away from Jamie who has been there for every fun event, diagnosis and growth moment in my life. I have invited my siblings, I have gone to theirs, when invited, I have loved their children with all my heart, until I was told to stop contacting them and then I loved them in my heart and prayers and hoped that when they were 18-years-old, they might choose to see me.

Longview, Washington is not as small as people think it is. But it is small enough. It has been big enough that I have never run into people I don’t want to run into but small enough that I can hear about people I don’t want to know about. I wish that the one sibling that lives here, that I have forgiven, but I can never trust, would just let me and my wife go. Just don’t talk about us. You don’t want us in person, why talk about us when we aren’t there? I promise you I don’t talk about you. Why would I? I realize I have aired my laundry a few times but I have grown beyond that, now I just want to try to heal and I don’t need any help being reminded of my past. PTSD does that for me.

I am so looking forward to spring when the crocuses and daffodils start blooming!

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

God, Meds and Self-Care

by Summer D Clemenson | Oct 26, 2022 | About Summer, Chronic Illness, Life, Opinions

There are three things I have to be attune to every day to be balanced: God, meds and self-care. Beyond these three things, my activities can vary within a given day, but I have to give a nod to these three things to remain in my best self. I think if I didn’t have mental and physical chronic illness these things might not be so profound but since I do, they are paramount.

I have a friend that lives with a lot with similar issues. They have been having a lot of struggles the last few years because they have different issues than I do and it is hard to find solutions and parameters that we can live with sometimes. They came to visit my wife, Karen G Clemenson, at work the other day. They let her know that they had dropped out of school. They needed more time to focus on their passion. They were so afraid I would be disappointed in them. I am not.

Today is a hard day for me. I pushed myself very hard yesterday AND the weather has changed, bringing more pain. I am anxious about blood clots. I am a little more anxious about a lot of things but that too is cyclical for me. I slept in. I did do my workout; it took a lot longer than usual and included tears in my eyes for most of it. I have taken my meds so far, until my night time meds are due. I have done my bible study and talked to God several times. I have put on my compression sock, done all my toiletries, got dressed, eaten appropriately, fed the cat and I am writing — I even went through the ads on Safeway’s and Fred Meyer’s websites…and worked on my budget for November…I have to make sure to remember to buy my mother-in-law some socks and Karen is out of ketchup…

Sometimes getting dressed means putting my nightgown back on but today I put clothes on. Sometimes writing is just the journaling I do while I do my bible study or notes I take while reading a book. Sometimes I don’t touch a book and I just lie in bed and talk to God. I understand having to change plans. If school is not part of the big picture for you and you feel like it is stealing time from your dream, don’t go. It doesn’t make sense to waste your time, money and energy on something that is not for you. What works for some people, might not be what will work for you.

What is important is that you find what does work for you. What are the three things you need every day to be balanced? Maybe it isn’t God, meds and self-care…maybe you don’t need medications…maybe you don’t believe in God…I hope you believe in some form of self-care…I also hope you do believe in a higher power but that is a different blog.

What are your three things?

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

I Don’t Accept

by Summer D Clemenson | Oct 19, 2022 | About Summer, Community, Life, Opinions, Prayers

Years ago I was trying to be part of a group of people, learning to use their prophetic gifts. I was very uncomfortable because I didn’t feel like I fit in but I wanted to learn from them so I kept going. As they took turns prophesying over each other, I wondered why no one spoke over me and I heard God tell me that He would be the only one that He would allow to speak over me. As someone trying to be part of a group this was a buzzkill but as a believer, this was a really cool word…that I didn’t feel I could share with anyone in the group and not hurt their feelings…

True to His word, no one has tried to speak over me and when I have volunteered myself for prayer, I have paid the price by bringing other people’s junk home to fight with until I figured out what to give to God so I would be free. Not fun.

I generally, take this in stride. I don’t read a lot of opinions of man. I stick to my bible. The Word is alive to me and I can read the same verse over and over again and get something new each time. My talks with God are informal. He made me. I don’t have to be fancy.

Yesterday a person sent me an article to read. I was surprised because I haven’t had a face to face talk with this person since The Red Rooster was open in Downtown Longview, WA…I really loved their baked peach fritters! If anyone knows where I can find baked peach fritters I would love to know!

I read the article. it was ok. The premise was good but there was a manipulative spirit on it. I stayed with the positive and thanked them for the article and asked them why they sent it to me since we rarely interact. I was surprised by their answer but took it quietly. They told me that I was overly critical of myself and I should read the free book on the site so that I could better understand my identity in Christ.

I know my identity in Christ very well. I assured them it was my identity on this earth I was having trouble with and then I went to talk to God. I also thought about their words a lot. I appreciate them thinking of me, they obviously thought this book was very good and might be of help to me, like it was to them. I asked God to bless them. I felt criticized by their words and I wondered if maybe they were too critical of their own self, so I asked God that if that were true, that He would free them. I even asked that if there was any truth to their words towards me that He heal me but that was just covering my bases.

I couldn’t get it out of my head so I decided to send them another message:

They answered that they could tell by the content of my posts.

To which I replied:

I don’t believe this person was trying to hurt me in any way. But I am thankful for this moment to look at their statement about where they think I am and say I don’t accept. This is important because so many times in my life, people who were well meaning, spoke negative things over me and I wasn’t able to say, “No,” and now I am.

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

Coming Home

by Summer D Clemenson | Oct 13, 2022 | About Summer, Chronic Illness, Life, Opinions, Wellness

I mentioned coming home in my blog, I Had to Paint my Toenails Today and said it was a process. I was talking about when you have been away from home for a period of time. If I were returning from military deployment, the Military Family Readiness System would available to me to help me re-engage with my family and life at home. But what I was really talking about was returning to myself.

As long as I can remember I have been trying to understand why I didn’t fit and why I wasn’t happy. I had moments of happy but they didn’t last. About 25 years ago I tried medication and therapy but had a very bad reaction because my doctors weren’t listening to me so I quit. 20 years ago I really jumped in and began digging in myself with God and a trusted pastor and we got a lot of things out of the way. This helped me through until about 8 years ago when I got physically sick and had a mental break down. I knew that this time, there were parts of me that were not going to come back. I was diligent, honest with myself and with the help of my wife, Karen G Clemenson, and my sister, Jamie Holloway, and a team of medical professionals I found an action plan that worked for me. Karen is my rock and soldier and Jamie taught me to be brave and speak for myself.

A couple of weeks ago I was reading a book and suddenly realized I was happy. It was a sudden realization. My expectations of happiness have changed a lot. I now understand that happiness is a state of mind. Nothing you can buy has anything to do with happiness. Happiness is more about having what you need and the freedom to dream. I have those things. I stopped everything and told Karen, who seemed just as surprised as I was. This is part of being home.

When I say coming home, I am not just talking about coming back to where I live but also to my action plan. There are things I do every day that keep me balanced and yesterday was the first day I did them all. It took me 6 days, where I did most or some of them, but not all of them, but on the 6th day I made it. These things are not so big, but they are vital to me and showing myself self-love.

This is my every day list:

My morning anaerobic workout
My toiletries and skin care
Get dressed
Make sure I have my steel cut oats for tomorrow and eat them for breakfast
Drink plenty of water or tea
Do my bible study and journal
Take meds when the 3 alarms go off (thank God for pill sorters)
Read and write something
Take 2 short walks – This one is new!

I do other things every day but these are the must do’s. When I do these things I know I am taking care of what I need to feel like I have cared for my physical, mental and spiritual needs. In this world we often get so busy that we neglect one or all of these things and we should not do this. Each of us is not just a body but a mind and a spirit and we have to foster health in all areas or we become unbalanced and we lose our feeling of home.

I always thought it was selfish to make time for myself until I got sick. When you get chronically ill you learn that if you don’t create as much balance in your life as you can, you will cause more flares. In a way, this is a gift because it forces you to learn to love yourself. God tells us to rest because He knows we are fragile and He knows we need time to recuperate from our hectic lives.

If you don’t have a routine of self-love for everyday, I encourage you to create one. Maybe you don’t have to do as many things as I do. I didn’t start with a list this long. It took years to get here. But maybe you could find one thing you could do for yourself and when you get used to doing that everyday, add another. You are important. You are your home. You wouldn’t let your roof keep leaking so don’t let your body, mind and spirit go without care.

Military Family Readiness System by Military One Source Staff on August 31, 2022

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

I Had to Paint my Toenails Today

by Summer D Clemenson | Oct 11, 2022 | About Summer, Cancer, Chronic Illness, Life, Opinions

Coming home is a process and sometimes each day has only enough spoons for that day and not enough for coming home. My last procedure for my endometrial cancer was in August and I was told to remove my toenail polish, all my jewelry and wash from head to toe with antibacterial soap twice and wash all my bedding and clothes I would wear to bed the night before and to the hospital. I have been home 5 days from my bout with deep vein thrombosis and pulmonary embolism but I am still not totally here…so I had to paint my toenails today.

If you aren’t chronically ill or aren’t close to someone who is, you might not know what I am talking about when I mention spoons, but basically, it is a way of talking about how much energy you have. If you are my wife, with untreated ADHD, you have many more spoons than I do. If you are a normal middle-aged woman you might have twice as many more spoons as I do…the number of spoons I have varies depending on how much pain I am in, what I did the day before, how much anxiety or depression is affecting me today and if there is something else happening that I don’t know about, like DVT or PE.

I never did repaint my toenails after my procedure in August. There have been lots of reasons why. Sometimes it is hard to come back home after being in the hospital and I just didn’t do it. But it is a vanity that makes me feel like myself and I should have done it as soon as I could sit up.

Having cancer has been not unlike any other diagnosis for me. I know it is there. I take my meds as prescribed. I drink my water. I have cut out some more of my favorite foods. (I should premise that my favorite foods have included tomatoes, pineapple, peppers, chilis, curries, and many other healthy foods). I do my exercises. I try to stay positive. I show up at the hospital when they tell me to. I planned it that way. In fact my diagnosis for arthritis bothered me more, it is not curable and it is debilitating. With cancer there is a chance it will be cured. The fact that I have cancer has made my body more susceptible to blood clots and the hormone treatments has also increased my chances at blood clots.

Enter DVT and PE…I was reading about them today. I am taking my blood thinners. Not the old, less expensive ones but the new and very expensive ones (donations can be sent via PayPal to karen@wellnessworksnw.com…I am not joking…these meds cost double what we usually spend on ALL my meds for an entire month, after insurance). We chose the new ones because the old ones have lots of side effects, I would have to come in for blood tests weekly and I would have to give up even more of my favorite foods and there aren’t many left.

My breathing has gotten much better the last two days but I am still tired really easily. The articles I read said it could take 3-6 months for my body to break down these blood clots.There is a chance my body will never break them down. That is not where my mind is going.

I had an appointment with my rheumatologist today. I like her but she is located inside PeaceHealth St John. I was very stressed while being there. I am thankful that I didn’t have a full blown anxiety attack and my blood pressure was only slightly high…I have lost 10 lbs since I was weighed on Friday…this place makes me crazy. When I checked in, the receptionist kindly asked me if I would like a wheelchair. I thanked her but told her I needed my exercise. I want these blood clots gone. I may move slow, but I am trying to get back to me.

I am glad I painted my toenails today…

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

I am Here Now

by Summer D Clemenson | Oct 10, 2022 | About Summer, Cancer, Chronic Illness, Life, Opinions

I keep reminding myself that I am here now because it is the truth but my mind keeps slipping back to the past. I keep feeling the cords on me holding me down. I keeping hearing the beeping of the machines. I sometimes feel their hands on me holding me down and telling me not to help them because it makes it worse while they ripped my clothes off of me. I tried to tell them that I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder and PTSD and I needed to be heard, but their rules were more important than me. My heart rate shooting up, sweating, and my hyperventilating were part of my new condition but they were probably part of mega anxiety attacks. Why couldn’t my wife be with me? She has seen all my parts. She is a trained CNA. She grounds me.

It has been hard to try to come back to my life. I keep slipping back into recent events and very old ones. I am always telling myself: I am here now. My emotional support animal, Xavier, is here. When she is not at work, my wife, Karen G Clemenson, is here. I have my diffuser going and air isn’t cold and dry, although I am still dealing with the after effects of 6 days of cold dry air. My sinuses are killing me and I my nose bleeds all the time. I would tell the nurses about the air and they would all say the same thing: Is it?

I told my friend about some of my experiences and she asked me why I had not changed into a gown when I was in ER and I had no answer. The ER department is very different from ICU. In ER, my wife could have helped me. I was well aware that I was very sick and in need of help, it would have taken me a long time to undress and dress myself but I trust Karen, in fact she is one of the only people I do trust.

I went to PeaceHealth St John with shortness of breath and chest pain on Sunday October 2, 2022. I had been having shortness of breath since the Wednesday before and thought maybe my asthma had been flaring up, although I haven’t had a flare in years; I have arthritis in my ribs so I am also used to some pain in my chest as well. Up until that day, taking a nap helped, and by the evening the pain was a strong 7 and I couldn’t fall asleep for the pain. I finally agreed that I am not Wonder Woman and since I had never had a heart attack before, what if this was what was happening?

They took me back to a triage room right away and I was given an EKG and my stats were checked. My numbers were off and my heart rate was thready. I was taken back to a room in the ER and also given a test for COVID…which I don’t have. Eventually a doctor came in and told me he thought I was having a heart attack because my heart was creating a hormone that tells that. I was going to be given blood thinners and admitted to the ICU. Eventually a wonderful nurse was following me down the hall, which I couldn’t walk down without leaning against the wall, trying not to pass out. She was listening to what I was saying and running to get a chair. After that she talked the doctor into a CAT scan where they found that I had a large blood clot in each of my lungs. One was putting pressure on the right side of my heart and stressing it out. I wasn’t having a heart attack but that was why my heart was creating that stress hormone.

The CAT scan was terrifying. The ride to get the CAT scan was terrifying. All the lights and colors and people not talking to me, but about me. I couldn’t focus. I can’t handle being man handled. I have no doubt that this team could care for me but they weren’t talking to me or asking me questions. I had never been to this hospital for this service before. My experiences with Legacy were very different. They tell me everything and listen to me; it helps me stay calm and be part of my experience. I know the medical professionals were doing their job at PeaceHealth St John but they were only treating my body, they were not considering my mental status and they were causing me trauma after trauma.

I was trying so hard not to cry. I knew no one would care if I cried and it would only stress my lungs out more. By the time I was admitted to ICU I was a mess and that was the worst experience ever. The nurse that led my experience of moving me from one bed to the other and ripping my clothes off, while refusing to listen to me at all, brought in a fan and wanted to know if we were best friends now. I couldn’t speak. I was terrified of her. Even as she put oxygen on me, which I knew I didn’t need, I kept it on because I was afraid of her.

The next morning they brought in an ultrasound machine to look at my legs and found more blood clots in my left leg. The technician came back the next day to have a look at my heart. He could see my heart was still stressed out on the right side. That ultra sound was super uncomfortable. The skin under my breast is very soft and it got all torn up. It is still healing and very painful. He was a very nice man and that wasn’t his goal but it was another blow to my experiences…

I did have one nurse that I really loved in ICU and she was the main nurse I worked with. She helped me a lot and I really appreciated her.

Every doctor said the same thing…that my blood pressure was good and that they could find no reason for the blood clots other than a reaction to the hormone therapy I am going through to treat my endometrial cancer…that will be another adventure…all of them seemed surprised that even though I was stuck in bed I was doing exercises every day. What else was I supposed to do? I was bored and I have arthritis? Movement is the only thing that works for me. Even if I can only do the easy ones…(My oncologist did take me off the Megestrol and said we talk more on my pre-op appointment later this month).

I spent 2 days in ICU and then I was moved to a regular room. I was still confined to a bed. The doctors wanted me to have a certain amount of days with blood thinners in me before I started moving around. Just like in the ICU they insisted I try to use a bed pan. I told them my body does what she wants, but go ahead and try…and just like in the ICU I sat on that thing until I lost feeling in my rear end, with no luck. Unlike in ICU, they didn’t put a catheter in (Thank God!) but they did bring in an ultrasound to see how much fluid was in my bladder. It was fine until morning and by that time the doctor felt I could get up and walk to the toilet. Was I glad to hear that!

By Thursday I was so done. My anxiety levels were off the chart, regardless of the extra meds the doctors prescribed and my blood pressure was starting to rise to showcase that. I was starting to have bouts of deep depression that I couldn’t shake and fleeting thoughts of suicide. My blood sugars are normally right around 100-120 but they were high every time they checked and I was losing patience with anyone touching me. I actually told off a few of the people who were there to help me. I just don’t like being touched and I needed to go home. I was so happy on Friday morning when I was told the doctors finally were setting me free!

Overall most of my nurses and CNAs were amazing during my stay at the hospital. They were helpful and compassionate, for the most part, but I don’t understand some of the philosophy differences and I am frustrated that the medical profession still does not assess the whole person. I have decided that I wont be going to PeaceHealth St John for my hospital needs anymore.

I am still winded very easily but I guess my body still has not broken down the blood clots. My body doesn’t feel like my own. I am having trouble getting back into my routine. I suppose this is normal. I am still learning what to do with this condition…but I am here now…

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

The OTHER Side of Suicide

by Summer D Clemenson | Sep 28, 2022 | About Summer, Chronic Illness, Life, Opinions

I am reading a book called Madness A Bipolar Life by Marya Hornbacher right now. This book is her story about her life with Bipolar I Disorder and what she went through. I am about half way through the book and although I don’t have Bipolar Disorder I can relate to some of what she has gone through and I am thankful that I have moved beyond some of the worst parts. When I say the OTHER side of suicide, I am not talking about the side where it isn’t a concern anymore but the side where you are so depressed that you can hardly move and you just beg God to let you die.

I have never been institutionalized but I probably should have been. By the grace of God and a couple of friends that understood that I had been rejected enough in life, that that is how I would have taken them calling the hospital and it would have broken me more, I was able to fight my way back. Not everyone can say that. Not everyone can do that. I am a very blessed woman and I know that and believe it with all my heart.

If you don’t know this kind of pain, I am so grateful to God. No one should hurt like this. Some people have it done to them and some people have it inside of them. I had a little of both but not to the extremes of the woman in this book. Hornbacher’s seems to be all internal and what the fight she had, every day. I empathize with her and am so proud of the fight she put up, even though it looks like failure, I don’t see it that way. She was doing what she knew, until she knew better.

This is what people do. We do what we know until we know better. This is why I am so diligent to keep my head as clear as I can. Why I am very protective of my schedule, my habits, my boundaries and my family. I have three pill sorters I take pills from every day on timers. I am a little rebellious but never an hour or 2 beyond the alarm that reminds me to take my pills, that I have promised to take every day, because Karen does not deserve the wrath that she gets if I don’t take them. I haven’t had an alcoholic beverage since before COVID…I think it was on a birthday and when I do have one it will be one, and with food, and definitely after my body is clear of cancer. I have recently allowed myself 1 cup of Lady Gray tea this week with breakfast. That is my allotment of caffeine. I now drink decaf Americanos with extra cream at Red Leaf and even that is 1-2 per week. I drink lots of water or herb tea. I exercise. I see my therapist and psychiatrist as scheduled. I listen to music all day. I read a lot, books and online for news. The TV only comes on after 7 pm, when my wife, Karen G Clemenson thinks I can handle it and then we watch shows that don’t stress me out (definitely not the news). I go to bed between 11-12:30 every night.

I am boring because being on schedule helps me keep my balance. When I am off balance I become anxious, fearful, and easily set off and nobody likes that Summer, especially me. My diagnoses are PTSD, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, OCD and Depression. I have blue days and I have days where I need things just so (I think Karen really hates those day, they bug me too). I have trouble with yelling voices, people that remind me of certain people and small spaces, wet fabric, bugs, phones and conflict. I am terrified of earthquakes, Donald Trump (although I can finally say his name without hyperventilating) and small-minded people although I know I have a tendency to be one and if you give me a minute I will remember that and will come back to listen to you after I have shut you off because I hate that about myself and I don’t want to leave you feeling unheard.

Being on the OTHER side of suicide is complete emptiness. You aren’t hungry. You aren’t thirsty. You don’t want to sleep but you do to kill time and hope you wake up feeling better or maybe not at all. You don’t want anything except for God to bring you home. You hurt so bad that you are numb and you just want it to end and you see no end in sight. There is nothing anyone can do to fix it. No one needs to worry about hiding any weapons, you have no energy to cause yourself any harm. It lasts as long as it lasts until one day you decide to take a shower…

I can’t forget Karen’s eyes during an episode, about 6 years ago. I don’t really remember what she was saying to me but I remember her eyes. Her eyes were saying: Don’t leave me. I think her mouth was saying, “You can’t let them do this anymore.” It was before I had begun to agree with the therapists that I should separate from my parents. Any interaction with them, lost 2 weeks for me. I could barely get out of bed to wash my face. My personal hygiene is paramount to me so if I miss even a day, you know it is bad. Nothing could rouse me, no music, no favorite food, no visitor, nothing. I would just stare at a wall, being tormented by their words, over and over again. I could never understand why they didn’t ever care about how their words and actions hurt me. I could never fathom that they didn’t understand that I was their victim. I was always left last.

Now I know they have their own hurts and troubles. But I am responsible for me. It is not their fault that when I see them, I am reminded of a Summer that no longer exists, except for with them and she is not the best of me. She is broken, hurting and doesn’t know how to take care of herself. They have never seen the best of me. I have probably never seen the best of them either. This makes me sad because I know we are all amazing people, if we could get past our hurts.

I like being on the side of suicide that I reside on now. Suicide isn’t an issue for me most of the time and when it whispers through my mind I can talk to God, maybe mention it to Karen or my sister, Jamie Holloway and it goes away. But that is because I have chosen to live a wellness lifestyle and that includes being mindful and not afraid of my mental illness, which is chronic and will need to be cared for for the rest of my life. It isn’t like a cold. It is like fibromyalgia. It will always be here too. Sometimes it wont bother me much and other times it will flare up and sometimes it will flare bigger. Meaning I will have to be more mindful and let myself rest more to regain my balance.

Is there loss? Yes, sort of. The sense of normalcy I want is gone because I had to embrace my actual normalcy. My actual normalcy is that I live in a body that hurts and a mind that gets overwhelmed if I am not careful with her. She needs me to be diligent with how I feed her and water her, move her, how I stimulate her and grow her. She is a chronic body and mind and I am in charge of her and if I fail her, I will pay the price so I must embrace wellness with a smile and not worry about things I can’t change and work on what I can change which are only in the realm of my reach.

It is good to be reminded of how far I have come. Reading Madness A Bipolar Life by Marya Hornbacher is a good reminder. I don’t miss the manic moments and especially the moments on the OTHER side of suicide. I hope I am never get there again. But I understand people struggling and I think that is why I find people living with mental illness to be amazingly strong people. They have a burden only they can see and they are doing the best they can with something that is hard to describe and even harder to diagnose and properly treat. I think as we become more educated, we need to stop casually using some words. Like, Karen, when she feels overtaxed tells me she is crazy. I told her last night, that is untrue and she should probably stop saying that, when in fact she is overwhelmed and needs a nap. As a community, we should be more compassionate of people who have a battle that wont be fixed by a nap but also don’t want to be called crazy, they just need to find the person that can help them diagnose the real problem in their mind so they can begin the healing process.

What do you think?

Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven.

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