That is What They Know

by Summer D Clemenson | Feb 6, 2024 | About Summer, Chronic Illness, Opinions

I have a person from the past that emails me. I always respond but I don’t tell them too much. Just enough. I know they love me but our relationship has always been toxic. It isn’t their fault. They are a good person they just need some help and I can’t give it to them. I have asked them to go to therapy, take the meds that a medical professional suggests, get better. They know that I have chosen to keep them out of my daily life, they always elude to that at the beginning of their email. It is part of how they communicate. If they tell me anything about themselves, it is how overwhelmed they are, a complaint about something they won’t get help with, but could. It is a pattern they are following because that is what they know. They never answer any questions I ask. They never ask any questions about me. These two statements tell me they still don’t know how to have an equal relationship, where I won’t be expected or needed to be the servant. I am afraid to let them closer to me partially because my blunt and honest communications style hurts their feelings and also their need to be served fits into my old patterns that triggers all my mental illnesses: Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and Major Depressive Disorder.

When they first emailed me yesterday, I told them about a few things that have changed and things that were coming up. They never respond to my emails. I was surprised to get a response on the same day. In their second email they were telling me they were surprised that I responded. But I don’t understand that because I always answer their emails.

They wanted to walk with me. I told them no. I can’t do more than email right now. I said this for many reasons. First, I can’t go back to the old relationship we had. I need proof that they are different and they haven’t shown me that they have done anything to get better. Second, the actual type of biological relationship we had is not going to work for me and I don’t think they can just be my friend; because they haven’t proven they are doing anything to get better. Three, when I am walking I don’t talk; I am in pain. Every step is excruciating and I am just trying to get through the walk. I don’t want to hurt their feelings but my walks are all about me getting through it and I am not social at all.

In the past when I have tried to take care of myself and set boundaries I have been told I was selfish; this person suggested that I always have to have things my way. I am a neurodivergent person and a chronically ill person. They are right. I do have to have things my way sometimes, but not because I am selfish. I have a sick body and mind and many times I am not in control of what she is going to do, but also I wasn’t made to be a servant to my family; I was made to be a servant of God and He doesn’t ask me to give until I am sick like my extended family has.

I am not without compassion and empathy for this person. I pray for them and love them but I can’t save them; I have tried many times but I know now that it is not my job to do that. I also know how strong and capable they are to do this for themselves. If this person wants me in their life they are able to get the help they need to overcome the things that overwhelm them for their sake and mine. I know because I have done it and continue to do it. It doesn’t happen over night. Wellness is a path that we walk for the rest of our lives but it takes us choosing to make the necessary changes. I have seen this person make many positive changes in their life. If they want me in their life they will go to therapy, learn how to set and respect boundaries, learn how to have a balanced relationship and see me for who I actually am and not for who they want me to be. Until I can see those changes, our relationship will have to be email only.

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.

A Perfect Time for Growth and Reflection

by Summer D Clemenson | Nov 17, 2023 | About Summer, Chronic Illness, Life, Opinions, Thanksgiving

I have been sick for about 3 weeks now which is a perfect time for growth and reflection. The first 4 days I am sure it was the flu but it changed and now I am thinking it is either a Fibromyalgia flare or maybe a reaction to the increase in Mounjaro. Being in a chronic body is exhausting. During those 4 days when I know it was the flu I had a dream of teachers I had in middle school and high school. Specific teachers that took a greater interest in me. They would spend more time with me, give me special treatment and tasks. In the dream I knew they knew, home was not always safe. They were waiting for me tell them that I needed help. My high school math teacher blatantly asked me once. My high school German teacher once told me it was wrong that I missed school when my siblings were sick. But I chose to keep the secrets.

I chose to protect the secrets so that my siblings would be safe. I didn’t know what would happen if I told the truth that no one said hello to me but yelled at me for whatever they thought I did wrong, or my siblings did wrong. I was called names. Every ache and pain I had was because I was fat. When my custodial parent, who did not have health insurance and no way to get help with their mental health issue, was having a hard time, I was pulled out of bed or away from my homework at any time of the night to help them. My parent had no one else. I am not mad at them. Sometimes I was asked to do ridiculous things, nothing blatantly abusive but not necessarily normal either. I was not hit. I was not molested but I was not emotionally supported and sometimes I didn’t have what I needed. My other parent would scream at me over the phone or for the entire 4 hour drive to their house about how much they hated their ex-spouse and then tell me not to say anything when we got to their house; then I was given a hard time when I was depressed during our visit.

There are more details but this is enough. After I woke up from that dream, it occurred to me for the first time that there had been people that wanted to help me. I had never really thought about that before. It really made me feel good. I chose to stay quiet and that was my choice. I chose to keep what stability I could for my siblings. They were told I was so much older and bigger than they were. They were taught to treat me badly. Not on purpose but by example. But in reality I was taller than they were. I took after one part of our family, and they took after another. But I was also only 3 1/2 years older than my younger sibling and 5 1/2 years older than my youngest sibling. I wasn’t that much older then they were. I was angry and depressed and I had chronic conditions that there probably were words for in the 80’s and I should never have been their caregiver. They got the worst of me, even though I loved them and wanted to protect them. I was angry that I had to protect them. I was angry that they would abuse me and didn’t have the responsibilities I had and never had consequences. I was angry that they got to be children and I didn’t.

Back in March I wrote in an article Memories Are Bigger Than the Thing We are Responding To that I hated my father’s wife. It is amazing what confession can do. When God says that when we are honest we can let the light in so He can heal us, He is describing repentance. He knows that I don’t want to hate anyone. He also knows that I have tried to love this person and there are shreds of love in my heart for this person. But I needed to be honest about a few things so He could shine His light on the darkness. So I could hear myself and give Him the stuff I don’t need to hold onto. I have done this on so many things and forgiveness is very freeing. It isn’t even about the other person. It is all about me being able to clear out the mess and make new decisions. I can say I don’t hate my father’s wife anymore. I don’t trust her. I don’t want her in my life. I get to make those decisions. But I don’t want bad things for her. I don’t hold hatred for her anymore. I can look at a picture of her and not want to throw it and I can have a memory and not feel evil or negative thoughts. She is actually attached to some very good memories and those I can hold onto and appreciate now.

I have had a lot of other dreams this month about memories with my extended family that are no longer in my life. I mentioned it to my wife, Karen G Clemenson. She is used to this. We have been married for over 9 years now and she has seen a lot. She quietly reminded me that our bodies remember things. I suddenly remembered that my custodial parent’s birthday was almost a month ago. This triggered their hard time of the year. Mid-October to February is always hard for them…so it is hard on me. Lot of memories and stressful times make the holidays difficult for me. The difference this time is that I seem to be watching from afar. I am not really part of the memories this time, but analyzing the memories. My therapist says this is a good change.

Because I have tried hard to find balance and positivity in my life where possible it is natural for me to think differently than I used to. I am thankful for this. I will always have OCD but I can change how I let myself think by making sure I have something meaningful to do everyday. I read something every day so I can control what I am thinking about. I listen to music that makes me feel happy. I try hard to keep the thoughts in my head constructive and useful. This has also helped me to stop and think about something else. My parents didn’t completely fail me. My parents were not perfect and they had their own scars and traumas but they tried hard to give me things they didn’t have. My custodial parent moved a lot as a child and lived in big cities. But I lived in one home from the time I was 3 until I was 17 years old in a smaller city that was easier to raise children in and when we did move I got to stay in the same school. Although my other parent left when I was 9, they gave me good memories before then that helped me through the years to follow. My parents worked hard to give me things they didn’t have growing up. My siblings and I did have things that some of our friends didn’t have. Although I was emotionally neglected, I always had books to read and music to listen to because they could buy those things for me and they knew I loved those things. My parents weren’t always absent. I have good memories of great days. They tried and they loved us as best they could.

They are human. Just like me.

I was accused by one of my nieces that I was ruining myself by writing about my past. I appreciate her 20-something viewpoint. Meaning she hasn’t lived enough to know what I know and she is probably repeating what she has been taught, which I also appreciate.

I tried to make the break from my parents, which I never intended to be from the entire extended family, be temporary. But my siblings followed suit. I was so shocked. Their actions showed me how deep that unhealthiness went in our family. If they knew what I went through to make that initial choice, they would have never left me. But no one has ever asked me why. No one. Everyone just assumed I hated them and I was evil. The last time I came around it was because another niece asked me to and although I did something that was wrong, it was blown completely out of proportion and still no one has ever asked me why. I know that my younger siblings got the worst of me, growing up but I am not that person anymore. I have worked hard to grow up, learn healthy communication and how to make healthy boundaries so that others see a mentally healthy Summer and not the broken one I was for so long. When it comes down to it I can’t make people forgive me or offer me a clean slate; I can’t make anyone choose good mental health. I can choose who I allow into my life. I know that it may very well be that I trigger the same survival mode in my family that they trigger in me. So I will love them in my prayers and leave the rest in God’s hands because He loves them more than I ever could.

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.

Where We Are Now

by Summer D Clemenson | Sep 19, 2023 | About Summer, Chronic Illness, Life, Opinions

I have always noticed patterns to help me know where we are now. I look for them often, I think because I don’t always trust what people tell me or I might not trust what I am experiencing. When I was about 14 years old, I recognized that there was a pattern in my family that all the first born daughters were divorced or had marriage difficulties at least back to my great-great grandmother. Because I was the first born daughter, I didn’t think I would marry. My parent’s divorce was brutal and the relationship between my parents, including my step-mother, was very unfortunate. Being the go-between was very painful and stressful. Every important day and holiday was ruined by their behaviors, even after we were adults. I wish they could have just followed the parenting plan; I don’t even think they knew what the parenting plan said.

I did get married, but I was much older. I had gone through a lot of therapy and I married my best friend of 10 years. She had shown me a type of love I had never experienced before. Yes, marriage is hard sometimes and Karen and I have gone through a lot together. I think many couples would not have been able to go through what we have gone through and been able to continue, but we knew we were both broken in some ways before we married, and we knew I was chronically ill too, so it wasn’t a surprise that had to be adjusted to later in life. Our histories are very similar and we work very hard to forgive each other’s brokenness. We are lucky because we truly know God is the head of our household. I don’t make promises because too many have been made to me only to be broken so I wasn’t willing to make any of the traditional wedding vows. My main statement to my wife was that I wanted to be with her for the rest of my life and when I didn’t love her or want to anymore, I would talk to God about it first. I have broken that one time and had to repent. But God is gracious and He has helped me come back to love. I am sure glad we were such good friends before we were married because sometimes we have to coast there for a bit but God always brings us back to love. It helps that we are both willing to be coached.

Another pattern I saw in my family is that there is always a golden child in every generation, as well as a scapegoat. There is also a black sheep, but not in every generation. The golden child is not usually the oldest child, but they could be. They are the strongest one. The scapegoat is the most sensitive one. The black sheep can’t fit in at all. They just don’t like to live like the rest of the family. The rules are too much for them for any number of reasons. The rest of the family can always shine and look good at everything they do but the black sheep just doesn’t know how to measure up. To be able to remain in the family there is a pecking order and emotional abuse, enough to keep everyone in line. The scapegoat will never really measure up but they will have enough success as long as they remember to follow the rules and never talk about their abuse. The golden child will lie to protect everyone else and make the scapegoat feel like a fool if they try to express their feelings about their abuse. The golden child will also use their position to hurt the scapegoat when necessary to remind them of their position. The black sheep will rarely come around. They know they aren’t welcome.

When I was a young adult I had a great-aunt. I had always known of her and yet I didn’t remember her because she didn’t come around. There wasn’t a lot said about her. But the feelings in the room when she was being referred to her were cold. I know she had some unhealthy habits and she had had a hard life. I know she had made some bad mistakes. I knew she had had to start over a lot. When she finally came for a visit and I got to meet her I thought she was great. She wasn’t polished like the rest of the family. She smoked a lot. But she was spunky and full of life. She was an authentic people person and I thought she was very brave. She didn’t need to have success to keep trying. I don’t know what she did to become the black sheep. I truly don’t know the whole story but, I believe we rarely know anyone’s whole story. I did know that I became afraid that I was going to be the next black sheep after I met her.

I haven’t written in a few weeks. I don’t write anymore when I am very upset. I used to write when I was hurting, but over the years I have made the rule to never write when I am angry. My words should never be out of vengeance anymore. I have to admit that I have written in anger and spite before, but I don’t do that now. My words are meant to help people, including me, understand what I have learned while I try to understand my life. I was contacted by a niece who told me that I lost my right to refer to her as my niece when I left the family and that she would seek legal action against me if I wrote about her again. There were other things she said that were very hurtful but I wasn’t angry with her. I have to admit, I don’t know how to refer to her, but I wont be using her name anymore.

When I was talking to my sister, Jamie Holloway, about it she asked me why I wasn’t angry with her and I said, her words were verbatim copies of those a sibling has used toward me several times. A sibling she spends a lot of time with. My niece is only saying what she had been taught to say. My niece doesn’t know anything other than what she has been taught because I have never been specific about my abuse and I never will be. As I told my niece, if I were to write down the specific abuses that plague me when my sibling triggers me, it would be in a notebook that no one would see, instead my wife, Karen G Clemenson, is the only one I have told about some of the really bad stuff. I am vague on purpose because I don’t think my parents intended to do what they did and allowed to happen to me.

I left after years of trying to convey to my parents that I needed change from them and my siblings, one in particular. This sibling was given free reign to abuse me. I was literally told I could never defend myself against my younger siblings because I was bigger than them, growing up. Yet, when I complained of abuse, there were no consequences. Of course, this sibling, the golden child, would think it was acceptable to abuse me. When I was tired of it and asked for protection. It was not there for me so I left. At first it was a break, but as this sibling would find people to provoke me and found ways to infiltrate every part of the family, I was no longer needed. I had always felt unwanted, since my parent’s divorce, so it was better that I just stayed away. It was a boundary I had to make. My parents could not respect my need for protection and anonymity so I had to make my own life without them.

Reading my niece’s message, that she felt that she could sue me for my writing did feel like a slap in the face but I didn’t feel like it was coming from her. I know it can’t. She is by herself, with no spouse or children to protect. She can’t sue me. I have never said anything bad about her. Why would I? I still see her as one of my greatest blessings.

One of my favorite stories about this person, when they were a child, happened when they were about 6 years old. We were living together at the time. I always wore skirts over pants. I still do. At first it was that I liked the more European look, especially with my Birkenstocks, but I had also grown to appreciate that pants are more comfortable and easy to work with than tights or pantyhose, but also if you get your skirt tucked up in your waistband, which happens, or the waistband gives out on you, you are not naked (both situations have happened to me). Anyway on this particular morning I was heading out to my car with my arms full and I heard a ruckus at the front door and a high pitched, “Auntie Summer stop!” That red-haired girl had so much energy and passion and her movements always reminded me of her great-grandmother, my Nana. She was all elbows. She ran straight at me and somehow managed to turn me around so she could fix the back of my skirt. I am sure I was more thankful for the opportunity for another hug than my skirt being fixed but I was also thankful for her “protecting me.” Of course, I can’t be angry with my niece. she had always been a protector and now she is trying to protect someone else. I understand.

If I could have one conversation with my niece, I would tell her that I am very proud of her. She has let me watch a small part of her life on Facebook. I know she has worked hard and followed her heart to travel and see the world. She has made decisions for herself. She is young and still learning. I am very proud of her. I know that being able to watch anything is over now but I am glad I had a small window for a time.

When I told my therapist about this situation, he agreed that my family cannot sue me. I have the right to write about my life. I have been vague and left out names on purpose. If anyone is offended by my writing, they shouldn’t read it. By seeking legal recourse they will only draw attention to themselves, thus telling on themselves, which I haven’t done.

I have several large bumps on my head, that are very painful, that I need to have removed. While going through my diagnosis list online today for e-check in for my consultation, I saw a diagnosis that I have ignored a few times. Not all of my doctors have it on my chart. It is kind of new. I already know about PTSD, Panic Disorder, OCD and Generalized Anxiety Disorder but now someone has added Major Depressive Disorder to my mental illnesses. I have ignored it because I didn’t want to think about another diagnosis, but when I read about it I know it is real and it fits. There are times I have trouble thinking, concentrating, making decisions and remembering things. I can spend countless minutes staring at the diffuser as the colors change and the mist floats through in the air. Loss of interest of anything I enjoy doing, even eating and self care wains for me at times. Memories of abuse and stressful times can keep me awake most of the night. Keeping myself isolated is normal too. This can happen because life has thrown a stressor at me. It can also happen because my sibling has found someone to try to reach me. They have done this twice in the last few months. Life can be stressful, so normal stress might come with a day or two of being “blue” but when I feel attacked it is more than a day or two and it is more than just being “blue.”

The words, “you are in your late 40’s and are still complaining about things that happened when you were a kid,” are not uncommon to me. I have thought them to myself throughout my life, even before I was in my late 40’s. I didn’t understand that these memories might not go away and in fact would torment me sometimes. For someone that doesn’t have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or is willing to deal with theirs, it might be easy to not have compassion, especially when secret keeping was my superpower. But when I got sick in 2014 and was hospitalized for 8 days, something in me broke. Something that had allowed me to play all the games and stay the scapegoat. I knew at some point I would not be able to come back to the old Summer, but would have to be the authentic Summer, and here I am. I am not trying to hurt anyone but I have to be honest with myself.

My therapist agrees, I can’t do anything to protect myself. I can’t prove that my sibling is hurting me. But I wont be silenced. I am building my own life. I told my niece that most of what I write about has nothing to do with my extended family anymore because they are no longer part of my life. I write about my life because there are people that read about it and are inspired. This article is for you. Don’t let anyone silence you. You may have had to keep secrets, when you were younger, to get through the hard times, but you don’t have to be quiet anymore. Its ok to get to know your truth and be proud of where we are now.

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.

There Were A Lot of Decisions That Got Me Here

by Summer D Clemenson | Aug 14, 2023 | About Summer, Chronic Illness, Life, Opinions

I know I don’t have to explain myself to anyone but I often feel the need to describe myself to me. I am not trying to compete with anyone, I really want us all to win at being the best individual we can be and I know that includes our own paths and purposes. What works for me might not work for you but maybe my efforts might inspire you, and since I believe I was put here to be an encourager, I often share my experiences here. There were a lot of decisions that got me here.

The situation that I was talking about in I Don’t Know Everything has bothered me a lot more than I expected. I have spent many more hours being tormented in my mind by the conversation and why it happened and why it concerned me so much. I do have OCD and so obsessive thoughts are part of my world but it took me a few days to understand that this person was part of pattern for me that I am trying to learn and stop.

I have a pattern that I tend to carry relationships. I am the one to initiate contact, make the first call, encourage get togethers, sometimes I even buy things they need, pay for meals and our outings. I am drawn to people that need me. Part of that is that I know what it feels like to need but I also am used to taking care of people that can take care of themselves because that is a dynamic I was raised with. I am aware of this and so in the last year or so, I have stopped contacting people who never contact me first. It isn’t malicious. I still love them and pray for them, but I want a more equality in my relationship. If all they can do is send me a message, that is what I want them to do for me.

When you are chronically ill there is a lot to overcome to create your wellness plan, especially if you have had a lot of unhealthiness in the past. Because I have both mental illness and learned bad habits to overcome, as well as physical illness, I have had to make a lot decisions and fight a lot of demons. I understand that everyone has them. Mine are my own and might look very different from yours. I have learned to create several rules for my day, many you might not see as important to your life and this is what you need to decide.

The fact that my day includes exercise, lots of water, 3 sets of medications, lots of reading, regulated chores because, I only have so many spoons, and little habits that keep me grounded, as my wellness plan, might not be what you need. I fight with food because that is a learned habit that sometimes still kicks my butt in either direction. I probably have specialists that you might not need, or maybe you do and you don’t know it. I have a Primary doctor, a Neurologist, Rheumatologist, Gynecological oncologist, Psychiatric RN, Therapist and I will be seeing a Dietician at the end of August and a Dermatologist in September. I probably need to see an Ear, Nose and Throat Specialist too but I can only afford to pay so many co-pays and right now I am tapped out.

Relationships are super important to me. I don’t take them lightly and I am not good at casual relationships. I have had to really coach myself to not be too much for new relationships because as I try to make relationships with healthier people, who are busy and have their own lives and don’t need my help, I have to remind myself, they are engrossed in their own responsibilities. Needy people tend to be able to respond to me faster because they have more free time. Also most people are not my sister, Jamie Holloway, who is just more thoughtful than most people. She always answers letters, cards, messages. She always shares what she has. I don’t see the things I do for her as carrying her, I see us sharing our lives with each other. I am not looking for another sister. But other friends are always nice.

I had already seen the end of the relationship coming mentioned in I Don’t Know Everything. They were not thoughtful. They didn’t realize how some of the things I shared with them, was me really trying to trust them and they didn’t appreciate it. They never initiated contact and they didn’t always acknowledge when I reached out to them. They made promises and didn’t keep them so I was slowly letting go. When I disagreed with their knowledge, it wasn’t me picking a fight or hating on them, and it wasn’t me trying to show off my big old brain, it was me sharing information I had learned about the topic. When I tried to tell them that, they got really abusive in a way that was not appropriate to the situation. After days of thinking about it I finally realized that this response was so much like abuse I used to live with and that was the real reason I was so upset. It was just too close to home. I wasn’t even that angry with them. I was just reminded of something that I haven’t had to deal with in a long time.

Wellness is essentially a lot of decisions. You can’t keep making the same decisions and expect to change. You have to overcome the old knowledge and as you are able, to make new choices about how you will live your life and what you will allow into your life. It isn’t just about exercise and diet. Abuse towards yourself and others effects our morale and mental health and causes a plethora of negative responses in our bodies. Especially if you have a chronic body, you have to reduce the stress in your life and that includes relationships that take too much from you. Stress can cause an emotional episode, or a flare of physical illness or both for me. I don’t want to have more pain, mentally or physically, I don’t like psoriasis breakouts in new spots, I hate being dizzy or twitching more than normal, I hate it when it my face flares up and drinking water is excruciating…those are just a few of the things that might happen if I have too much stress, and they are the more pleasant ones…There were a lot of decisions that got me here and I imagine there will be many more.

Learning to love myself has been the one of the greatest challenges I have ever begun. But I also think that loving myself properly helps me to love more people better and I think that has been a huge blessing too. I still pray for all the people behind me and I am happy to place them in God’s hands because I know He loves them and wants them to be well 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.

Cancer Update May 2023: I Am Scared

by Summer D Clemenson | May 24, 2023 | About Summer, Cancer, Chronic Illness, Life

The last week or so has been a lot. I am tired and I am scared. These are the words to sum up how I feel and I hate that I have only these words to say. Last Monday, May 15, 2023 I had my final D&C. I didn’t realize it would be my last one, but now I know it is. It was the most painful. I don’t usually ask for pain meds, but I begged for some, at least 2 to get through the first day. After that I welcome pain to help me know my limits, but that first day, I felt like my lady parts were on fire and it was not something to be ignored. When I heard from the doctor again it was to inform me that I had to come into the hospital again for an MRI on Sunday May 21. There is nothing calming, sweet or non-traumatic about an MRI so I wont go into details, but my technician was really nice.

Today Karen and I met with my oncologist, online for my post-op. We were told that the hormone treatments have kept the endometrial cancer from growing or spreading but they have not done anything to get rid of the cancer. We have been working on this for over a year now. But since the treatment is keeping it at bay, my doctor is concerned about my breathing and my weight (it is allergy season and I am very congested and I have only recently begun taking Mounjaro) and my doctor is about to have a baby and going on leave from June to October, we are planning for my hysterectomy to be in October. This will give my body a chance to see if Mounjaro will help me with weight loss, get through allergy season, and my doctor will have a chance to have her baby and heal and bond with her little one.

I trust my doctor. She is a good doctor. She gave me many more details but beyond the fact that my surgery will be at Good Samaritan Hospital because they are set up for larger patients and she wants me to see a plastic surgeon about a tummy tuck if they can’t do a laparoscopic hysterectomy, I don’t remember anything else. It is weird how the word CANCER can create a vacuum in your mind, making it really hard to remember important 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 Am The Most Like Him

by Summer D Clemenson | Apr 7, 2023 | About Summer, Chronic Illness

I will always have a pain inside of me about my father. Out of all of his children I know I am the most like him. He protected me when I was a little girl. My mother loved me but I wasn’t the baby she wanted. She wanted children that wanted to be taken care of and for the most part, that wasn’t me. I was the first born and I was so much like my father. I looked more like him, I thought like him. When my first sibling was born, they were a failure to thrive child. They needed to be cared for. They needed to be doted on. They were born mean and they needed a lot of tending to. They got away with terrible things.

I was super sensitive. I was a kind child by nature, inquisitive, with lots of questions, who wanted to be taught how to learn. For the most part this worked best with my father. He knew how to give me tools to teach myself. He wasn’t perfect. He had a terrible temper with a violent streak that my mother was afraid of, but I could read him well. And I learned quickly to obey him or not get caught and I could avoid the rage, for the most part. My mother, on the other hand had a mental illness that was unknown and they did not have reliable treatments for. She was hard to read.

I know that my father was raised with horrible abuse. My grandfather was a practicing alcoholic for most of the years my father was in the house. My grandmother was a devout Catholic so there were lots of children. My father was the 3rd child. The way I have been told, my oldest uncle was my grandmother’s favorite child, my second oldest uncle was my grandfather’s favorite child, and my father, being the third oldest child was the perfect scapegoat. Not only did his sister, born right after him have mental illness, but she was manipulative and set him up for more beatings, but the older boys abused my father too. In a family with so many children in the 50’s-70’s, with parents with little education, I am sure this situation was normal. I have watched my father closely all my life. He is different, like me. I can feel it. I know he is sensitive and creative and very intelligent. He doesn’t really look like his siblings, but he does look like relatives. He stands out in family pictures.

I had breakfast with one of my aunts yesterday. I am thankful for her. Since I have had to cut myself off from most of my family, she has been the one that has sought me out and kept in touch. She is younger than my father. Her version of life is different because, essentially, she had better, older, wiser and healthier parents than my father had. My grandparents didn’t keep abusing alcohol and each other and their children. They got better and their youngest children are very different from their oldest children.

There was a brother born after my father, named Mark. He died when he was 5 years old from brain cancer. He would have been about 4 or 5 years younger than my father. I think with the 3 sisters that came before Mark, Mark would have been important to my father. My father has told me he has no memories of his brother. He remembers him as a pudgy toddler when he went into the hospital and then an 8 lb skeleton when he was dead. Grandma, being a devout Catholic, made sure the mass was an open casket affair and she made her children say goodbye to him this way. I can see why this would have been very traumatic to a very sensitive child. But my aunt, who was a year older than Mark, had other memories. She said that when Mark was in the hospital that she and my youngest 2 uncles were sent to other family members because Grandma would work graveyard and then spend every other waking moment with Mark at the hospital. The older children had to go to school and probably fended for themselves a lot. But there were times when Mark would come home. My aunt would help my Grandma watch him because she wasn’t in school. He loved to go outside. She would pull him around in the little red wagon or put him in the swing with the sides on it and push him. He only had enough energy for about an hour of play before he wanted to go back to sleep. She had to make sure to never let him bump his head. He was often having surgeries and there were always bandages on his head. He was wobbly on his feet so if he walked she would hold onto him to make sure he didn’t fall. This little information about an uncle that I was never allowed to talk about has me feeling so many emotions.

I have great compassion for my family members. I know they may have other thoughts on this but I had to cut them off to save myself. I can’t be the scapegoat anymore but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand them and love them and even miss them sometimes. My parents are good people but they were terrible married to each other. My mother needed help that wasn’t available to her and she was abusive to my father and to me. My father was the only one to protect me from my mother and my sibling and when he left, I was alone. He also didn’t understand the full responsibilities of being a parent which came out in a lot of painful ways.

Then he married a true narcissist. I have given a lot of thought to this and spoken to my therapist about it and she has affirmed what I knew in my spirit. My step-mother has used my father’s anger and violent streak to benefit herself. I have watched her rile him up against her own daughter and grandson. It is terrifying. She is the reason I can’t have a relationship with my father. She is broken, yes, but she has hurt so many people, and they don’t even know all of the evil things she has done.

I wish my father could see the benefit of therapy because I wish he could be set free from the terrors inside of himself. No one should have to carry what he has had to carry. He deserves peace. I wish the same for my mother too and I have told her the same.

My wife, Karen G Clemenson, asked me if I thought I should reach out to my father and tell him how I felt and I told her no. If I could reach out to him and know I was going to reach the little boy inside of him that needs support, it would be great. But most likely, I will be talking to the angry man that has been building and building the rage and it will just make things worse. She said she thought I knew him so well, and I said, “Of course. Out of all his children, I am the most like him.”

There is a rage and sadness that has been passed down through generations that is inside of me. It used to terrorize me. But I have learned to not feed it and try to focus on the things that lovely, pure and good, like the bible says. I meet people like me every now and then and I understand their inner fight. This is why compassion is so important. Some of us are born with things we didn’t earn but we have to learn to walk with.

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 Never Considered

by Summer D Clemenson | Mar 16, 2023 | About Summer, Chronic Illness, Life, Opinions

I never considered that there would come a time that I would end my therapy. I have had at least 2 mental breaks in my lifetime. I was smart enough to be able to fake enough balance that I didn’t end up confined. I know that would not have served me well. I am thankful that the people I kept close to me knew that too. My last one was the biggest and took me a long time to overcome because it happened at the same time that my body too was overwhelmed. Since 2014 I have been fighting for myself. Sometimes harder than others. I am not done. There is more to be done but my therapist told me yesterday that it may be time that I graduate out of therapy.

I am stunned.

I am overwhelmed and then I am not. I take my wellness seriously. I have made many changes. I make changes. I will keep making changes, gradually, because that is what works best for me.

When I began my session yesterday I mentioned that I had decided that I was done fighting with the voices in my head. That the voices of people that weren’t real because they were not in my life and they had to go. It had taken me a long time to realize it was all in my head and I had the power to tell them to go away. I had help. God helped me. When they snuck back in through dreams, I asked God to bless them and keep them away from me. I asked God to love them and give us all a good nights sleep. I trust that if God wants reconciliation between me and the real people, God will orchestrate this. I don’t have to make anything happen and I can trust that because God loves me and these characters more than I ever could, or they could. I believe that God will make the heart and mind changes happen so that we can see each other in all our humanness and forgive each other and have an authentic relationship without gossip and backbiting and other hateful habits that don’t show love.

My therapist told me it was time to update my treatment plan. But I couldn’t think of what that would be. She couldn’t suggest anything. She listened to what was on my mind and suggested that we give me the space of considering this until our next session. So I am talking about this with Karen G Clemenson. Who also seems surprised that I might be ready to graduate out. I don’t think either one of us considered there would be an end to therapy.

I asked my therapist about my medications. That scared me because I know when I don’t take them. They slow me down so I can remember my tools. The same tools that seem to be working so maybe I don’t need therapy anymore, or for at least this point in my life. She said that my psychiatrist would still meet with me and maintain that part of my treatment.

I know I should be happy for me. Part of me is starting to feel that. Part of me is also feeling a bit of satisfaction because I think I knew I was coming to this point. There is a quiet I am getting comfortable with that I have never had. I have learned that I can make boundaries. I can say no. I can say yes. I can say what I want. I can be me and not worry about if that offends because I know who I am. I like myself. I am not perfect at this but I am sure that this is what you practice as you live. Loving is not just for other people, it is for ourselves too.

The thought of not needing a therapist is new. I have had this therapist for a couple of years and I really like her. I like her because she doesn’t waste words or time. She is direct. She is what I needed. I trust her. When she told me that fighting with the voices in my head is a mental illness issue but the other things I worry about are normal things to worry about and not mental illness. I thought: I healed myself…I might be normal…whatever that means.

In the end I will miss my therapists’ affirmations of my choices but that is what I have God, Karen and Jamie Holloway for…it is the success I never considered. That is part of self-love 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.

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.

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.

Go to the Doctor

by Summer D Clemenson | Dec 29, 2022 | Chronic Illness, Community, Education, Life, Opinions, Prayers, Wellness

This morning I was having my morning scroll on Facebook and I saw a lovely lady that I used to work with was suffering with sinus pain and she was desperate. So desperate that she had asked people on Facebook what she should do to get relief. In frustration I typed what I type for every post I see that is similar to this one: Go to the doctor.

People have often asked me if I have Googled my symptoms…because I always have many. I don’t rely on the internet for knowledge because you don’t have to have a degree or any experience at all to write an article or to get the attention of others to validate you. If I were a celebrity, I could say anything and you might believe me. But since I am a normal person with chronic illness, my knowledge comes from personal experience and visits to my primary doctor and specialists and reading what they give me. Sometimes I back that up with articles on the Mayo Clinic site or other reputable sites, but I get most of my information from medical professionals because they know more than I do, I take a lot of prescriptions and I have a lot of sensitivities so over the counter medications are not always acceptable options for me. If I do ask a friend a question, it is my wife, Karen G Clemenson, or my sister, Jamie Holloway. Why? Because Karen goes to my appointments with me and she lives with me and she might remember something I don’t and Jamie has been chronic longer than me and she had experienced things I haven’t and I respect her input.

Even with all this experience we have, Karen and Jamie and I all ask each other: How long should you live with this before you see your doctor?

We didn’t used to say this to each other. We were raised by parents that were poor and didn’t see the doctor when they needed to and were proud to bear their pain. We learned to handle pain and sickness but even though Karen has the immune system straight from heaven, Jamie and I do not and we can’t ignore pain and sickness anymore. Neither do we encourage others to do so. I know sometimes it is hard to find a doctor that you trust but keep trying. Maybe you just need to go a few more times; they might be having a hard day or be a little shy. Doctors are human too.

Maybe you need more than your primary can offer. That is another conversation you need to have with your primary. If that headache is not going away or it is so severe you can function, maybe you need to see a neurologist or ear, nose and throat specialist (ENT). In these cases, you need to ask for a referral, if your primary isn’t offering one. The way the medical system is set up, especially in Longview, Washington, you must advocate for yourself. You have to come with questions and know the limitations of your primary. Seeing a specialist is more money and time but you are worth it. Your health is worth it.

So next time you’re not feeling well and it lasts longer than you can bear or longer than a week. Go to the doctor!

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.

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.

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.

Revive me, O Lord, for Your name’s sake!

by Summer D Clemenson | Jul 15, 2022 | About Summer, Cancer, Chronic Illness, Essential Oils, Opinions, Prayers, Thanksgiving

This has been a hard week.

I have thought about writing but decided to do my bible study before I wrote and each time decided I would put it off because I was not right and I didn’t want to write the wrong thing. Knowing when to not say anything is wisdom too.

Today I found the scripture that captured how I have felt and still feel a bit. I am so thankful that God is so faithful! He is so patient and helpful when we keep pushing into Him for guidance and healing.

I can see now that I set myself up for failure. I can blame no one but myself.

I chose to get my final COVID-19 booster on Saturday. I have been exhausted and my arm has been in more pain that I remember from most immunizations but Frankincense and Peppermint have proven to be the best helper.

I chose to visit a church that was an offshoot of a church I have been to before that I know has cult-like beliefs. I wanted to believe they would be different. They have amazing worship but their teachings are not entirely biblical. I know this. I was hurting a lot and I wanted to be healed even though God has told me that no one would ever be allowed to prophesy over me or heal me. I let them anyway and brought home someone’s spiritual junk.

My neurologist has been adjusting my anti-convulsants, hoping to address my Trigeminal Neuralgia with a medicine we are currently using to control my migraines. It seems to affect my moods until my body is used to the new dosage. I can see and feel this. I should stay off Facebook while we do this but I chose to become part of a conversation I should have stayed out of. Instead, a comment I made that was not fully thought about became a huge thing and one of my sibling’s adult children used a comment they used to use to hurt me. I am glad I showed restraint in my response because the next day when I looked at their comment again, I realized they were being 20 years old and not being malicious.

But PTSD had taken hold of me.

This comment had done its damage and they might as well have sliced me in two so I could have had Karen G Clemenson send pictures to my oncologist to see if my cancer was still there. I have been fighting with old feelings all week. Forgiving was painfully hard and didn’t seem to be working like usual. The pain would not go away. It has been very hard to function but I have succeeded to do my workouts on most days, do my bible studies, get laundry done and cook healthy meals…not much more.

I have worked though a lot of things and God reminded me that I don’t have to visit any churches this coming weekend so I can rest a bit more from the stress I caused myself and be able to enjoy some time with Karen on her days off. He never did say I had to join a church, that is something I crave. A family, but I have issues with family and He isn’t done working on me…

One thing that was a turning point for me this week, that really helped me stop focusing so much on my pain was the miracle that Jamie has found a doctor that will help her with her collapsed lung. You can learn more about what she is going through in her article called Update on June Goal! Jamie Holloway has been my best friend and sister for many years and I love her so much. When I need someone to listen or tell me the truth she is always there to listen and pray. She knows my heart, doesn’t feel the need to be defensive with me, and knows me better than most people so her struggle with getting enough oxygen hurts my heart. I pray every day that God heal her lungs and throat. I admire her strength and determination to have the best life she can even in the most scare circumstances.

So…I choose to forgive myself for putting too much on my plate and expecting too much out of myself and setting myself up for failure and I trust myself to the Holy Spirit that loves me and wants to see me whole by the grace of God. Amen

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.

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.

I Love My New Neurologist

by Summer D Clemenson | Jun 29, 2022 | About Summer, Chronic Illness, Opinions, Wellness

I can’t say I wasn’t just a little nervous yesterday about meeting my new neurologist but I can tell you after meeting Dr. Kathleen Parks at PeaceHealth in Vancouver, I love my new neurologist! You might recall from my posts: Medical Issues and I Believe in Miracles where I spoke about my terrible experiences with my first neurologist where I felt bullied and definitely not heard. That is not the case with Dr. Parks. She not only asked me questions, she let me answer them. She examined me, she touched me, watched me walk and gave great feedback.

She had read my chart and was prepared for me. She agreed that I have probably had migraines for most of my life. She heard me that I was seeing success with my current medications. She appreciated that I still have headaches but they are manageable. When she asked me about the Trigeminal Neuralgia symptoms I told her I was having a flair now, that flossing and brushing my teeth was very painful, sometimes eating and drinking was painful but most of my episodes were only 1-3 seconds since I had been on the medications for my migraines. She let me know that I would have to be medicated all the time for this and since one of the meds we are currently using to treat my migraines is an anti-convulsant and I am not taking the highest dose, she wanted to try to raise the dose a bit to see if that helps with my daily headaches and helps control the face pain too. I agreed that was a good idea.

Although my episodes are getting longer; I had one that as 5 seconds long while flossing my teeth today, I am going to wait to start adjusting my meds until Sunday because it is easier for me to remember when I made a change if I do it when I refill our pill sorters. Lucky for me, I am not driving right now and I don’t floss my teeth when I am driving anyway. LOL! That was my main concern because when the episodes are worse, I don’t see how I could drive because the pain is so excruciating I would not want to cause a car accident.

I am so thankful that my sister, Jamie Holloway, encouraged me to fight for me. I knew from my first meeting with my first neurologist that it wasn’t a good fit but I gave him the benefit of the doubt because people have bad days and maybe it would get better as we got to know each other, but it did not get better so I had to advocate for myself. Now I have a neurologist that I can tell cares about me and wants to help me have a better quality of life.

I am so thankful that I had a day with Karen too! Her new position as the Safety and Sanitation Officer at Safeway is really making her happy. It is the perfect job for her nervous energy and she gets to interact with every department which works well with her desire to be nosey and helpful too. Plus it is a job that can be done every day so it was helpful to us that she was able to get the day off yesterday and make it up on Saturday. We had a nice time driving to Vancouver and back and even got to take a family nap together which Xavier, our cat loved. I heard him purring as his Mama joined us.

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.

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.

Face the Illness so you can Enjoy the Healing

by Summer D Clemenson | May 10, 2022 | About Summer, Chronic Illness, Education, Fuel Your Wellness, Wellness

Note: The article was originally by Summer D Clemenson and posted on WellnessWorksNW.com

I am always amazed to hear of a person that is ashamed of their illness, especially mental illness. The stigma of chronic illness is almost as debilitating as the actual illness, in my opinion, but it doesn’t have to be. I am often told that I am amazingly transparent and for some people that is scary as hell and for others, that is refreshing. I come from people that are super private about medical histories and this is not good. We should not be afraid to talk about these things. In fact I would like to encourage you to face the illness so you can enjoy the healing. (more…)

Growing up

by Summer D Clemenson | Mar 14, 2022 | About Summer, Chronic Illness, Life

I hear a child having a meltdown in the hallway and I want to cry with her. Children should never have to live in a hotel. It is not fun living in a hotel. At all… As thankful as I am that we have survived here over 2 years, spending every penny we have to get by, and try to establish credit, and fix our credit, and wait on programs that promised to help us, and did but had barriers that stopped us from our goal of normalcy, of freedom, of doing more than surviving, but having space to move and create, and be able to invite people over…I guess that was the upside of this pandemic. We weren’t supposed to do invite people over so we learned how to Zoom…

I look forward to playing a board game with someone. Karen doesn’t have the attention span for that…I look forward to having a kitchen that isn’t also my desk or the bathroom counter. I look forward to having my yarn at my fingertips to make whatever… I want a patio or yard to grow tomatoes for Karen and strawberries for me. I would love a workspace that doubled as a guest room but I could work at a dining room table…I miss having a table! I miss my balance ball!!! I miss a couch to cuddle with My Love while we watch movies and eat popcorn I made not in the microwave….

I have an amazing blessed life. There are people that have so much less than I do and even people with so much more who are miserable. I know God has carried us and taught us much during our almost 8 years of marriage. I know we are getting closer. Today we got a number we have been waiting a few years for…this number should be a huge blessing and this time we are ready for it. We have grown so much that this time we know we won’t blow it. We have blown it a few times before. Bad habits and bad mental health can really take you bad places but we are prepared and have an action plan.

The big picture seems like it is coming into focus and for that I am thankful. You can’t even imagine!!!!!

I posted about flashbacks last week. Flashbacks aren’t just thoughts, they are all the feelings too. It’s almost like you are there again. On top of that, I had no time to deal with myself because I had to be in Vancouver for an MRI. We did stop at Jamie’s to give her her birthday present early which did help me feel more grounded.

The MRI was supposed to be an open one because I am claustrophobic but when I got there, I found we had missed their calls to reschedule so they squeezed me into a regular MRI, literally. It was terrifying.

They handed me a ball I could squeeze if I needed them to stop but the mindful part of me knew that would only mean they would have to start over so I focused as much as I could on my breathing in order to not hyperventilate. As I got better I was able to practice pursed lip breathing which is very helpful. I had my eyes closed because when I opened them my heart would race because I felt like I was in a coffin. After awhile I started seeing flower shapes. It may have been my imagination but maybe it was God helping me. They keep the room freezing, it is supposed to be helpful but when you have arthritis it is just painful. Halfway through, I hurt from head to toe.

When it was over I was so ready to leave! Karen brought me home and I went to bed. We agreed I had not advocated very well for myself in scheduling a mammogram for the next day so Karen called that morning and rescheduled for a few weeks after my next surgery…which is coming up soon.

I shared my flashbacks with my therapist. She agreed that we should talk in more detail about this family member and their actions and what I want to do with these memories. I talk with her again in a week and a half. I don’t have this family member in my life anymore. I know they have their own trauma experiences and issues. I am not angry anymore but I don’t trust them and I don’t feel safe around them, emotionally, so relationship is not an option, even though they have made it clear they don’t want a relationship. I need the memories to not have power anymore.

These memories are potentially fatal if I had not got away. I visualized that I had been brave enough to face them and realized 1 of 2 things would have happened: 1) they would have potentially killed me or 2) they would have broken. I didn’t let them catch me any of the times they threatened me and they calmed down and we went on with life. Our parents did not have the tools to change the situation. Because they didn’t catch me we don’t know what would’ve happened. If they would have been broken their behavior may have become worse in other ways; because they cannot kill me now the only part of me that can die is the part of me that is scared of them and I might as well work on a few other people I am scared of that I don’t have relationship with anymore, at this time, as well.

I have had a lot of fear in my life. I think I am ready to let some of it go because I am also very brave, in spite of my fears.

Like this surgery coming up… I didn’t know what to expect before. Ignorance was bliss. But I am no longer ignorant. I am a little scared. I don’t like pain. This winter has been hard and emotionally I feel raw and unprepared for much of anything.

I am being really honest here but I also know that my wife really loves me in a way that makes me feel heard and respected and there are people that pray for me that I don’t even know and God is good always and He has given me dreams to strive for and I will keep trying.

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.

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.

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