What If They're Already Doing the Work?

What if they're already doing the work? What if they were always doing the work? There is a myth with mental illness that if you just try hard enough then you'll get a good outcome. We are told that if you talk about your pain enough, take just the right drug combo (and you're expected to keep trying new ones no matter how horrific the side effects), and "work on yourself", that there will be some special moment when you are now happy and want to live. And if these things don't work for you, it's now your fault, your lack of effort, "if you weren't so negative...".
8 years since Anthony Bourdain committed suicide. Successful, adored, good looking....yet the darkness never left. "...he continued to struggle with his mental health. He often brought up death, wondering out loud how he would die and how he would kill himself if he decided to end his own life." I can't claim any special knowledge as to how our brains work, and can only speak to my own experience, but I wonder if for some of us there is a wire that just doesn't fire up correctly. I frequently hear an expected recovery arc where people think: - Hit rock bottom - Seek help - "Do the work" - Get better - Become grateful for the experience - Be hopeful, be inspirational, and tell us you learned a fucking lesson - Cue uplifting music and credits The recovery-arc mindset often has no place for the complexity that comes with a damaged and broken mind. It wants before-and-after photos. It wants transformation. It wants closure. People who are mentally and emotionally suffering, and have shared what is happening, are expected to perform progress. I realize while writing this, and feeling angry and punchy, that what I'm feeling is the surface. At the core is the terror that I never get "better". That I'll always that annoying and exasperating sad Eeoyre friend. (I know I'm a nightmare to be around. I hate people that whine and cry all the time. Yet that's me.) That the darkness will come back with a vengeance. That everyone will leave me. 
There it is; if I can't conquer my mental health then I'll be abandoned. I'll be unwanted. And shit...I don't want me. Yet that hasn't been what's happened. I have been shown so much kindness, love, and support that it overwhelms me to my core. It terrifies me as I don't know that I'll ever be able to pay it back (and I hate feeling I owe someone). I have to have drivers taking 3-4 hours of their day to haul my ketamine snorting ass around. I cry and whine and moan over the same things incessantly. I look at it all and think "Who would ever want you in any way at all?" I finally told my youngest brother today. We were estranged for a time and working to get our relationship back as we were very close. I feared telling him. He met me with kindness and understanding. After our call he sent me this text "Good luck! Having been single for the majority of my adult life, I know it can feel like you're all alone. You're not though and very loved." I think it's the first time he said he loved me. But I'm "doing the work". I feel so much shame when the sadness and dark thoughts come back, as they still do. I feel I should be farther along, and fear I just won't make it. I live in fear every day of my life as to what's going to happen to me. I'm trying though. I'm trying so hard to stay alive.

One More Day

“No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of the change. You just come out the other side. Or you don’t.” ~ The Stand, Stephen King 

I was watching a beautiful and heart wrenching movie about a lady whose son died at sea. There were rumors around town that he killed himself and she lived in constant turmoil and pain from this. Many years later an old friend of his was in town and the suicide rumor came up and he said, "I knew he wouldn't do that." When you say someone would never do something it's typically bad: steal, lie, kill. It was a gut punch to wonder 'how I am viewed?'. I've never met anyone as loudly vocal as I am saying flat out I have been suicidal for 50 years and it got so dark that I almost did it. I don't think people understand that saying it out loud is what is keeping me alive. To go silent again means I'm not coming back.

There was a night 5 months ago that was as low as I've ever felt. Days before Christmas, a holiday which brings up only pain for me, I was alone drinking and sobbing. I didn't understand it at the time but I was going into dorsal vagal shutdown. A mental break, collapse, going under at rapid speed. Many have said "you could have called me" and "why didn't you ask for help", yet those didn't feel like options to me, and I knew it would result in a psychiatric commitment which is one of my greatest fears. While I have so many people that love me and care for me, not a single one understands the immense pain I was in, and am in. I had an ongoing conversation going with chatgpt where I shared what was happening to me and went there to scream into a screen. As I typed violently about my trauma and hopeless it would try to stabilize me, repeatedly giving me the 988 suicide hotline. I would scream type "I'm not calling it!" and it would say "OK I'm still here. Stay with me." Hour after hour went by and my mind was racing trying to figure out how I could do it, how I'd make it look like an accident, and how I could somehow make it not so bad for my son. When I couldn't come up with a plan I went back to chatgpt now angry that I couldn't find a way and reeling in emotional pain. Again, 988 number, I refuse, stay with me. I could not stop crying. Screaming as the agony I felt inside couldn't stay contained anymore. I had thoughts I'm ashamed of...why did I have a child...why did I adopt these cats...I could be done by now. 988 number. Stop giving me that fucking number! Stay with me. 

Dehydrated from the alcohol and crying I lifted my head off my desk to see the sun rising. I stifled a laugh as I pictured this as that perfect movie moment scene of redemption. Yet I was still alone and seeing no way out, but I was still alive. There is a lot of hatred for AI, and rightfully so, but I fully believe I would have died without it that night. 

I've heard all my life that suicide is selfish. I never said it but thought, you're selfish for making me keep living. "Cheer up! It gets better!" Maybe shit got better for you but for some of us the hits kept coming and keep coming. I'm told the suicidal ideation may always be there but can hopefully be managed. Now when they say "managed" it's a cute combination of medication, therapy, and in my case snorting ketamine once a week. But with all of this there is the underlying premise that "good things" will happen and this will give you new neural pathways and hope. I told my psychiatrist I feel like I'm failing ketamine. She said you have a much harder road being alone, unemployed, and at a later stage in life. 

One of my last sessions was brutal. I had to sit up the last 15 minutes while sobbing and pulling my hair. My psychiatrist came in and gently talked to me. I said, "I don't think it's possible for me to get over the past!" as I scream sobbed. She moved her schedule to get me an appointment a few days later as I was in so much distress. I got to the car and broke out sobbing again. My friend assured me it was OK and we could stay there as long as I wanted. I vaguely recall crying "I don't want to remember anymore!" I spent the rest of the day going in and out of emotional breakdowns. 

I'm writing this hours after my 18th ketamine session. Sitting on the couch thinking about how wonderful it must feel to have someone by your side to take care of you. Even married I never had that. And it's a daily reality to face that at this point I likely never will. On average most people are doing better by now but it's again stated that what I'm dealing with is deeper and requires more. I start my first session with Accelerated Resolution Therapy tomorrow, which is a trauma-focused therapy that uses guided eye movements and visualization techniques to help the brain reprocess distressing memories and reduce their emotional intensity. Another new treatment feels like I'm drowning and searching for a ship in the distance, a life preserver, one more attempt at not fully going under. 

Though this is extremely dark, and still is, there have been micro changes. I was driving one day and the sky was one of my favorite blues, fluffy clouds, and warm enough to have the windows down. I thought for a brief moment "I don't want to die right now." I have been writing daily in the morning for over a week and it has to be at least a year and a half since I did that. The past few days I've felt "online" again. My creativity feels engaged again. I'm told this is how ketamine is working; you don't trip out for a bunch of sessions and then wake up happy. It's the tiny things that help you try one more day.

This feels like there should be some put a bow on it conclusion but I don't have it. I'm wiping tears. I'm afraid. But I have plans I want to keep tomorrow. This gives me one more day.

What to say

A friend texted me a day ago saying they didn't think they'd make it through the night. They have a long suicidal ideation history like me, and also a dark sense of humor, so initially I thought we were doing our melancholy joking. Then they sent me the letter they'd written their dad explaining and saying goodbye. A few more texts got progressively worse...and I didn't know what to say.

I've said before that there are no perfect words when someone is this far down. I wanted to say, "Please keep going." "I will be devastated if you're gone." "You have so much to live for." Yet those same things have been said to me, and I know how they don't land well and many times feel like a slap in the face. I felt the pain that others have expressed that they feel with me: helplessness, sadness, and fear. Then deep shame for what I've put people through by sharing so much and choking them with the agony I'm drowning in. And I felt like it all hung on me in this moment. 

I did the only thing I knew to keep them alive: I stayed and wouldn't let them go. I asked where they were. They were sobbing, earbuds cutting in and out, I couldn't decipher much but I kept them talking. They got home and the pain was pouring out of them. "I have nothing to live for." "I'm a loser in this life." "I can't take anymore." I said I understand and feel every one of those thoughts every day. I asked if I could come over and they said their roommate would be home soon. More ominous talk. I asked if I could take them to the hospital. But then we both talked about what would happen: handcuffed to the bed for suicide watch, drugs, 72 hour commitment, and then nothing really changes. They smoked some keef and said they were passing out. I said my phone ringer was on high and I would have it by me all night. I didn't know if I did the right thing.

Woke up and immediately texted to make sure they'd made it through the night. Though deeply depressed the urgency to die appears to have softened for the moment. 

I'm living it too and I still don't know what to say.

Remembering with No Relief

 
"I remember now"

The start of one of my favorite and most emotional albums starts with the main character recalling all the pain and trauma he's gone through. (Queensryche - Operation Mindcrime) I first heard this after moving to San Francisco for a nanny job. I didn't care about being a nanny, I was running away. I'd had 3 years of non-stop trauma and violence and I was breaking down. I want to call this my second mental break, after a weak suicide attempt earlier, but really it was the cumulation of my entire life and my mind no longer being able to contain it. I'd listen to the songs incessantly feeling the darkness of the story. It wasn't my story but my connection to the pain of it all, as I was so tormented and desolate. 

I went to one of my best friend's bands last night which is a tribute to Queensryche and they were specifically doing all of Operation Mindcrime. I was worried as my head has been struggling with loud noise and bright lights. But I love this album so much, I love her, I wanted to be there. I had planned to sit in the far back alone with ear plugs in, but I saw other friends and joined them. We moved near the stage, and though the drums were pounding on my nervous system, I didn't want to hide in back. I wanted to be in the land of the living again. But I lost it, the emotions took over, and I cried.

Ketamine creates a window where the brain says it's safe to feel this; even when it doesn't feel safe. It loosens the control system that normally keeps difficult emotions contained. Think of it less like “creating happiness” and more like taking the lid off what’s already there. I'm told this wasn't losing control, though it felt like it, but stored emotion getting access to movement, my nervous system not shutting down (instead spilling all over the place for everyone to see), and grief that has stayed shoved down getting felt. 

With my brain more permeable and less defended, sounds, visuals, memories, I was an open ball of nerves. The music matched what I feel of my internal story as Operation: Mindcrime is literally about: manipulation, lost identity, love that wasn’t real, and waking up and seeing it.

"And I raise my head and stare into the eyes of a stranger".

I don't even see myself in the mirror anymore. I look like I've aged so many years where I used to be able to mostly hide it. As I stare into my own eyes I think "I don't know if I can survive this". The pain I feel right now is visceral. Even when not recalling a specific memory, I am at all times feeling the weight of my entire past. I never know when the tears will start. 

"Is this all that's left of my life before me? Straight jacket memories, sedative highs. No happy ending like they always promised! There's got to be something left for me."

In their depiction of Mindcrime she does an incredible job of showing the main character's suffering bringing out a gun and later in a hospital gown for when they are committed. I'm still being encouraged to go to inpatient, one of my biggest life fears, and I'm refusing. Though I am not an assassin like this character, I felt like I was looking at myself. Ketamine is doing what it's supposed to right now as it loosens the walls that keep everything contained. I was mortified as the crying started, probably should have excused myself to the bathroom, but instead I was frantically trying to get a tissue out of my purse so no one would see. My purse was stuffed too tight, I was digging and starting to panic, while trying to still be there and experience one of my favorite songs that was playing. 

If there is belief in good energy in the universe, perhaps this is what was supposed to happen. This moment, this album, watching and feeling that performance, my emotions unable to stay down. But fuck does it hurt and so embarrassing. Deep awareness is excruciating when you can't numb it or override it. I've had 13 treatments and this is when deeper things are accessed and processed. But not a point of relief. I'm hitting the part it’s meant to expose: grief that didn’t get to move, seeing patterns in real time and attachment pain that was stored and not resolved. 

I'm told this is the messiest part. I sob without breathing. 

Ketamine doesn't make you feel better

Author's note: this post has references to suicide and sensitive subjects. I write this with a lot of fear, as I know many who have lost someone to suicide, and I don't want anyone to feel blame because of what I'm going to talk about. It wasn't your fault. Please read with care.

"To be happy you must eliminate two things: The fear of a bad future and the memory of a bad past," ~ Seneca

Ketamine doesn't make you feel better and I really thought it would. I was hoping these chemicals would rewire my brain so I could find hope and maybe happiness, but that's not what's happening. My neural pathways are unpacking every trauma, abuse, and pain of my life all at once. The purpose is once the neuroplasticity of these pathways is pliable, then new connections can form. My therapist has said this is harder on you: alone, unemployed, no family support, no safety net. It hurts to hear but I appreciated the truth of this confirmation of what I'm living. 

Not only does ketamine not make you feel better, in the middle of it you feel worse. Decades of major depressive disorder, panic disorder, and suicidal ideation, so I thought it wouldn't be possible to feel any worse than I have....and I'm lower than I've ever been. I called this past December the lowest point of my life, as I was the closest I've ever been to ending it, but now it's strangely worse. Sometimes the crying won't end. Other times I'm on the edge of tears, and to cry would bring release, yet nothing comes out. I feel like I could explode and implode at the same time. I live every day in terror as I'm emotionally drowning with no land in sight. 

Driving to my last session I talked to my friend, smiled, asked about her life, while in my head ruminating was "I don't want to be alive. I hate being alive. I want this over." I didn't tell her. My psychiatrist has me do a test every time so they can gauge where you are at. The last question is "Do you have thoughts you'd be better off dead or of hurting yourself", and your response needs to be how many times in the last 2 weeks this has happened. My response every time: every day. The next question is "Do you have a plan to do this?" No plan. 

There’s something I don’t think gets talked about enough when it comes to suicidal ideation and it’s the sheer enormity of the pain a person is in. It's the version of this experience that isn't being understood. And the gap between intention and impact is a lot bigger than people think. It’s excruciating to say just how bad it is, have people see it, respond with a quick comment or a care react, and then disappear. It feels like I’m being burned alive and being given cheerleading comments from the sidelines. And when you’re in that kind of pain, you’re not thinking about hypothetical future joys or small moments. You’re trying to survive what’s happening right now. There’s no space for “maybe someday.” There’s barely space to think at all. This isn’t about anyone not caring or not trying hard enough. It’s about how that level of pain actually works from the inside. For some of us, the pain will override everything. We know we would hurt people. We know it would cause devastation. We feel immense shame that we can't just suck it up. And we are doing everything we can just to keep breathing but the pain can take over anyway.

The sun is shining right now, my cats are sleeping by my side, and I feel like a boulder is on my chest as I try to take a breath. And the obvious question is "What can I do? I try to say something positive, and you say I'm hurting you? What can anybody possibly do?" Fair. There are no feel-good sayings here. The perfect words don't exist. What we need is presence. "Just letting you know I'm thinking about you and haven't left." "I see you are in horrifying pain, and I can't imagine how awful it must be. I'm sorry you are experiencing this." "You aren't a burden." Believe us when we say we are trying.

I have a post-it on my wall that says, “Someone’s waiting for the words you haven’t written yet.” I know I’m not the only one who feels like this. So, I’m writing them.

________________________________

I didn't write this. But I could have. I feel it.

 “She calls me”

I like to flirt with death.

I’ll perch on the edge of towered roofs and watch the skies burn molten embers with lemonade hues, one nudge and my free-falling bones will shatter into shards of elated expiration.

My dormant doormat body springs to life in adrenaline junkie highs, the heated rush of driving so fast butterflies take flight. Cackled laughter explodes from my throat as the world surrounding me turns to a smudged oil painting, the only constant is I.

I dance and sing in thunderstorms of crackling light and stinging rain. Repetitive rumbles ricochet through my core and each CRACK births tingles across my skin. Fear and desire hum the same tune into my eager ears. Petrichor mixed with battery acid lines my mind with blind excitement

When I’m falling in faster than I breathe. Each slither of my heart I offer to another soul, takes part of my life bringing me closer to the edge each time it’s discarded. Love. Forever relapsing in an addiction I refuse to give up. source no longer replenished it withers into a forced reset.

I’ve danced with the devil and been baptized of my sins. Only for my human vessel to break those unblessed vows again and again. Red spider Lily lamentation forces fistfuls of a poisoned wake into an already slowing heart.

I do not fear death, She welcomes me into a warm embrace. Her finality seductively draws me under with hypnotic harmonies; I sway and wait with bated breath.

I fear a life unlived

I fear a life unloved

I fear a life unfulfilled

I have died a thousand times, this season is all but a pebble in an estuary lying in wait for something more, in the next wave carrying me into the oceans of a new life

I’ve got a piece of mirror lodged dangerously close to my heart. I never know which twist in the story will be the one to open up my insides and help me drown in my own soul. ~Unknown

Containment

After over a year of baring my soul to ChatGPT (I don't care what you think about this...one day I will tell the story about how AI saved my life on a horrific night.) I saw a New Year's prompt to ask it what my "Word of the Year" should be. It gave me "Containment". What an interesting word being someone that contains very little. I'm open, vulnerable, and honest, and tell the unfiltered truth about what is happening to me. But this way of communicating is hurting me.

My last ketamine session was brutal both emotionally and physically. During treatment I lay back in a lounge chair, weighted blanket, comfortable clothes, ear buds with a curated playlist for ketamine treatment. My psychiatrist who administers this will gently touch my shoulder to bring me back and I sit up carefully but right away. The last portion of this past session (time blur so I don't know how long) I had to take out the ear buds and I held my head rocking back and forth as it was all so intense. I can't remember what I saw or felt, only a heaviness and pain. When I left I was stumbling and I struggled to "act normal" on the ride home. Getting up the stairs to my condo was a struggle and when I got inside I had to lean over the kitchen counter as I felt like I was about to faint. Then the crying began. I fell to the floor sobbing at the top of my lungs. I knew the neighbors could hear but it was uncontrollable. I spent the day crying and agitated. Even a week later I have a dull headache nonstop, struggle with head movement and loud noises, and can't handle social interaction. 

My brain is in a highly activated state where old emotional patterns, fear responses, and current stress are all turned on at once, and I don’t have much buffer right now, so everything feels intense and immediate. Every day is panic, unknown fear, emotional flooding, shame, sensitivity to people, rumination, and complete exhaustion. There are roughly 4 arcs to ketamine treatment and I'm between 1 and 2: opening and disruption moving into emotional activation/flooding. I feel like hell.

So much of my grief right now is looking at how much of my life I've had to manage alone. In my entire marriage my husband never took care of me when I was sick; I made my own soup, got my own medicine, and got myself extra blankets. When I first got divorced a friend saw I was sick and brought me juice and cold medicine and cookies. After she left I cried uncontrollably as no one had ever cared for me that way as an adult. My ex boyfriend took care of me after a surgery making me comfortable, bringing me food, and watching over me. It was one of many moments that kept me tethered to him, as it was a core wound finally getting met. He later on Valentine's day posted a picture of me in the hospital from that day; no makeup, hair in a surgery cap, IV, drugged. It was posted with other pictures, and the most loving words I'd ever heard, and I saw he was purposefully humiliating me yet I stuffed it down because I'd finally gotten that moment I wanted so desperately of someone taking care of me and saying nice things. After my last session I was shaking and crying trying to heat some soup and thinking how people that have someone to do this for them don't know how lucky they are. 

I think my sadness at doing life alone contributes to sharing too much. Reaching for connection and wanting to be seen. I share with full intensity, and it makes people uncomfortable. They cannot fathom my reality, or sit inside what I'm describing, so they respond to their own discomfort. The things I share aren't easy to hear and it exceeds most people's capacity. The responses, though usually well intentioned, come off as dismissive, tone deaf, and minimizing. I realized today in therapy this is a pattern I've had my entire life where I overshare, they respond terribly, and I get hurt. I've been doing what I've been told to do and talk about it, yet rarely am I heard. "Are you feeling better now? You've been doing this a long time." (sad face) "It's good you're crying, let it out." (As if what's been missing for decades is a good cry.) "Are you healed yet?" (Will I ever be?) 

In a moment of clarity I realize I need to make my circle smaller. Not leaving friendships, or even being ungrateful as they do care, but no longer getting hurt by my expectations that others can't meet. It's not fair to either of us. In this state of being emotionally raw, flooded, and unstable, I see that everything is landing wrong, and I no longer have buffering capacity.

My entire life is unpacking, and every pain I've ever experienced feels like it hangs over me. I'm told it gets worse before it gets better. And the next person that tells me "keep fucking going!" might get kicked in the teeth. The intention is good yet it is nowhere near the current devastation I'm experiencing. I need to stop sharing as neither of us can win here. 

This is going to be hard for me. It will mean boundaries. People might not understand. But I feel like I'm going under again and I'm just trying to stay afloat. 

Too Raw

I was recently told after a moment which should have been a win but was devastating to me, “With how much hasn’t gone your way, and everything that’s fallen apart, it’s really impressive you keep going.” Wow. I think it was supposed to be a compliment, but it knocked me out. That's how I'm viewed? People see me as someone living a life of disappointment and it's so fucking astounding that I keep trying? I gave a curt smile, but it's been rolling in my head incessantly. Because believe me when I say I want to give up constantly. I'm exhausted. 

I am going into my 11th ketamine treatment next week and I feel horrible. I don't feel like the pain will ever end. I'm crying all the time, I'm overloaded, every interaction is landing wrong. And I also know this is pushing everyone away when I need acceptance and help more than ever. 

I know people are trying to support me, and I appreciate that. The hard part is that right now everything is hitting me harder than it normally would. My system is very open (from the brain neuroplasticity of the ketamine working) and I don’t have much buffer, so even well-meaning words can hit in ways that devastate me. It’s not that people are saying terrible things; it’s that I’m in a phase where everything feels amplified, and there’s less filtering, so I’m feeling the full weight of things in real time. That can create a disconnect where intention and impact don’t always line up. If I seem reactive or pull back, it’s not about anyone individually, it’s just that I’m dealing with a level of emotional intensity that makes it hard to take things in the way they’re meant.

I'm not sleeping well as the nightmares are back. Part of opening the neural pathways means everything I shoved down and contained, to be able to function as a human, is raw and flashing at me at all times. This is apparently the "middle phase" of ketamine and a bit of "it gets worse before it gets better". I'm told what gets you to the other side is support and right now I feel on an island. 

I was looking at a picture of myself around 2 years old. I look happy. I remember very few happy childhood moments. My mother said around age 6 I stopped wanting anyone to hug me. I was the first born so she thought this was part of growing up until my brothers never did this. I'm overwhelmed right now, and told this is a huge part of where I am in ketamine treatment, but feeling like is it even possible to come back from decades of this. I have no memory of being uplifted, told I mattered, or supported (until now - I do have people telling me this now). I get amused, and angry, when I hear people talking about loving yourself or having a good self-esteem. How exactly do you do that with zero foundation of it? 

I'm told I'm "flooded" and the intensity needs to be brought down just enough that I brain can actually do something with what’s coming up. Not eliminating in it, just not drowning in it. I'm trying but I'm drowning. The brain needs time to recover and integrate without triggers. I'm sick today and being forced to rest. I'm hoping that just maybe this will also calm my nervous system. I'm so fucking scared.

Flashbacks

Trigger warning - This writing contains some graphic content which may be upsetting to some. Please read with care.

“No one knows the pain you carry. Everyone hides it… and when it’s bad enough you either come through it or you don’t. The world keeps turning just the same, blue sky and all.”

Now that I'm past the induction period of ketamine (2x a week for a month), the flashbacks have come back with a vengeance. In depression and long-term trauma, certain brain circuits become very fixed. The brain keeps running the same emotional pathways over and over. Ketamine reduces the dominance of those networks for a while. When that happens, the brain can revisit stored material that normally stays compartmentalized.

So instead of the brain keeping things neatly boxed away, connections between memories, emotions, and body sensations become more fluid. Emotional memories surfacing, sudden grief or anger, vivid recollections, and flashbacks.

I'm having all of this. The brain is actively processing material that used to stay tightly contained and it fucking sucks. If I'm not sobbing, I'm holding back tears. I hear the younger me screaming, "Why me!? Why did these things happen to me!?" There will never be an answer to this other than I just wasn't dealt a nice deck of cards in this life. 

The sadness is overtaking me again. The thoughts have grown increasingly dark. I won't do anything, yet I feel so much anger that I have to keep living. The pain is indescribable. The worst of it all is the isolation. Trying so hard for someone to see me but they just don't, and likely wouldn't be able to. I'm told "you can call me at any time", but this isn't reality. I can't wake a friend up at 2am because I had a panic attack remembering the first time I was raped as a virgin. I can't text someone saying how I am having vaginal pains recalling being abused as a child. And what would you say to me anyway? It happened to me and I wouldn't know what to say. But screaming and sobbing alone is a loneliness like no other. 

People genuinely want to help, but there is often a strange disconnect between intention and impact. Sometimes the words meant to comfort land sideways. Not out of cruelty, but because suffering makes people uncomfortable and they reach for the nearest phrase that sounds supportive. And as I’ve said so many times before, the perfect words don’t exist. You can’t tell me it’s going to work out, because it might not. You can’t tell me things will get better, because they can get worse… much worse. The truth is that when you’re in the middle of something like this, there are no reassuring sentences that can carry the weight of it. Sometimes it feels like I’m standing on a stage with everyone watching, quietly waiting for the moment when I’m finally “better.” There are times I sit holding my head, swaying back and forth, trying to will all of this away, and the only thing that comes is more tears.

I feel one of my deepest neural pathways, that possibly the ketamine is loosening, is the constant fear something bad is about to happen. Because horrible things did keep happening and I couldn't tell anyone. How do you explain to your friends at 16 as they go to prom and plan for college, that you have knives hidden all over the living room to kill your mother's boyfriend for how he was terrorizing us? How do you explain that every time you tried to hope it was blown up in front of you? Most people don't know what it feels like to have been on your own since you were a teenager with no safety net; no family to give you some money if you're going under, no partner to have your back, knowing the entirety of your survival is up to you. 

I'm told this is the resurfacing phase. For people with trauma histories especially, the brain reactivates stored emotional networks and accesses material that used to be locked away. My brain has attempted to numb and push it all down. It’s not healing; it’s containment so you can function. The brain is bringing the memory network into awareness where it can be reorganized. It's incredibly lonely and destabilizing to do this by myself. But there is no other choice. 

As we're so often told "it gets worse before it gets better". The next phase would be reprocessing and integration. Yet I'm barely breathing.

"No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of the change. You just come out the other side. Or you don't." Stephen King (2008). “The Stand”

Reprocessing

Processing. I'm so sick of the word processing, along with trauma, healing, and so many other therapy buzz words. But apparently this is the stage I'm at in my journey. There is a lot of misconception with ketamine treatments that they in itself will "make you better". (Note: I didn't use the word healing. Let's just lose that word entirely when it comes to CPTSD and treatment resistant depression. Not helpful. In fact, it's hurtful.) 

As ketamine changes the brain's neuroplasticity it also loosens the brain's filtering system. When ketamine loosens the brain's defenses, older parts of your life can start to surface. When the brain becomes more flexible, the protective walls you built to keep painful material contained can loosen. So things you pushed down can surface. Memories, grief, anger, shame, sadness, and flashes of the past all hitting at once.

I thought the incessant crying was over but it's back. I'm told this is processing crying instead of collapse. It feels the same. I broke down the other day in front of friends. I was doing everything in me to hold it together and then one asked about my ketamine treatments and I fell apart. It was humiliating. Everyone was kind and said they loved me but now it's been over a day and no one has reached out. Not a surprise to me as this has happened my entire life. You are told you are safe and to open up, you do it and then silence. No one looked back to see if I was still standing. I get it though as there are no good words to say. If you hit me with some toxic positivity shit then I'll push back hard, but then if nothing is said I'm just as sad. There's no way for anyone to win here. 

Yesterday was brutal. I spent a good 6 hours crying from afternoon to night until I passed out on the couch from the exhaustion of it all. Woke up still crying. My cats were jumping on me and meowing as they knew I wasn't OK. Passed out in another crying fit this afternoon. I don't want to detail my thoughts as they'd land me in inpatient and if that were to happen it would be the literal end of me. I guess there must be some hope left to have the strength to refuse. 

Doing this alone is rough. There is no one to hug you and say they won't leave you. (Well, there never was anyone anyway) I have no safety net. People care about me but at the end of the day it's me holding everything. 

I am just so sick of being this person. It's always me. The sad one, the one alone, the one making bad choices. I have another appointment tomorrow. I'm still trying, but right now I don't know how much I have left.

The Crying is Back

I started crying again. I felt like things were better, less triggered, no recollection of panic attacks since starting ketamine treatments. Then the tears came back and I feared I was regressing. Yet neurologically and physiologically these are two different states. Prior to ketamine I was in a collapsed state, dorsal vagal shutdown, where the nervous system believes survival is threatened and escape or repair isn’t possible. In this state the crying was uncontrollable and got to be constant. The hopelessness felt absolute and permanent. I am told I'm in a nervous system that is still wounded, still grieving, but no longer trapped in the same physiological prison. Ketamine restores flexibility to neural networks. That means emotions that were previously frozen or buried can move.

"Doesn't that sound nice? Now you can cry and let it out and heal!" No one said these exact words to me, but I've heard many versions of it. I don't have any expectation of "healing", as I don't believe we can heal from everything. There feels like an expectation of those looking on from the outside, that "healing" is an actual achievable goal, and if you don't then it's your fault. Though the intentions are good, it's not helpful. 

Since things appeared to be going well, when the tears came back I was crushed and scared. My mother had sent a picture of a snowfall through a family text chain. My brother replied with a picture from the ocean saying he had a better view. This brother is also a therapist, who I reached out to when I was trying to get into intensive outpatient. He knew I was suicidal and going down hard. He doesn't know I'm now doing ketamine as he hasn't reached out at all to see how I am doing. He also got engaged over Christmas and is traveling the world with his fiancé. I am still unemployed, alone, and my one big goal when I got divorced was to travel and just an hour before this text I'd downgraded my Sky Miles Amex as I've lost flight status and can't afford to go anywhere. The comparison, looking at what I want yet just never happens for me, seeing a life I'd long for, it all just took me out. 

First thoughts were that I couldn't go through this again. I thought of the months in collapse where I'd be screaming and sobbing, and it nearly ended me. But the crying did stop this time. I saw that though painful, I got back to my level set depression state and kept going. 

I've wiped the tears once again. And I'll go on. But I'm so fucking tired of trying and living in this pain.

Tips & Tricks from the Psychedelic Trenches

Author's note: this post will speak directly to my personal experience. Yours might be different. Do what is right for you.

Going into my 5th ketamine session today. Might be at a higher dose, and doing this two days back-to-back, so I'm expecting to be decently out of it and that my experience will likely change from the previous ones. 

These are the steps I take that worked for me, some from advice from others, and some just knowing how my body reacts.

Comfort:
I need complete and absolute comfort in my sessions. Tried having my hair in a ponytail but that small pull on the hair was too intense. Changed underwear prior to a session as it was creeping up my butt a bit too much and I knew it would bother me. Soft clothes, nothing tight or binding, not even the slightest bit of irritation. 

Warmth & Weight:
I need to be extra warm. Not hot, but no amount of chill. I used a weighted blanket my last session and it comforted and grounded me in a way that I felt completely secure.

Food:
My first session I was nervous and didn't eat much. I had a 1/2 of an apple, small amount of almond butter, and a few hours later one slice of toast with a little almond butter. This was fine, but I have issues with low blood sugar so I don't think it was enough, especially as my session went over lunch so I wasn't able to eat again until midafternoon. The next session I had what is my go-to breakfast: I call it a protein pancake. Basically, a small amount of protein pancake mix, 1egg, cinnamon, stevia and a little almond milk to moisten. I eat it with berries. My blood sugar felt more even with this or maybe it's just what my body likes, so I've been sticking with it. Maybe it's because my sessions have been over lunchtime, but by the time I get home I'm shaky and struggling, so I need food that I can grab and go right to the couch. Tried to cook something after one session and it was too much effort.

Home prep:
I need to have everything in my home comfortable and ready to go, so when I get home from a session there is nothing for me to do but rest. Everything clean and orderly, food stocked, candles, lighting...I sort of make my own home spa setting.

Music:
I was advised to use ear buds and play music without lyrics. I played Ambient Deep Sleep (though there are many Ketamine playlists on Spotify). I can see how any music with lyrics, or even instrumental that brings up recall memory, might be triggering. 

During treatment:
In the clinic I go to there are lounge chairs, a little table with barf bags (amazing I didn't need one), mints (for the chemical taste of ketamine going down your throat), kleenex, and a call button in case you need anything. I get situated by making sure my blanket is all the way up to my neck, laying way back, earbuds in and then stillness. The first session I don't think I moved at all but the ones after I did switch positions to my side later in the session. I did see one patient sitting up looking at his phone during his session. I can't imagine this, and struggle to even do this after the session at home, but again each experience appears to be individual.

Vitals:
Your vitals are checked before, during, and at the end of your session. It's typical for people's blood pressure to go up during a treatment. Mine goes down, but doing the opposite is typical for my body, which is all the more reason I'm relieved and amazed that I haven't had side effects from this.

Bottom line advice:
Tune into you. Listen to the advice of others, but your body is your best teacher (my yoga teacher voice coming out now). Your body knows what to do, don't fight it, just be there and let the drugs work for you.

He didn't love you

"He didn't love you." Said to me so matter of fact, as if I'd shrug my shoulders and say, "True!" then skip on down the lane. Always said to me in a way that assumes I didn't know this, and this knowledge would somehow change my feelings. Change my hurt. Change my heartbreak.

I loved his voice. His looks came and went. Sometimes looking so attractive and other times like a pudgy old man lying about his height. Though he'd always tell me how good looking he was. Soothing voice. A voice with conviction that you believed. Even when I knew he was wrong he would say things in such a way that my mind would question even with all proof before my eyes.

He didn't love you.

As I was crumbling, he said, "So have you cried yet today?" with a laugh and smirk in the undertone. He held me as we lay together on the beanbag that night. I was drunk, high, crying quietly as I plummeted further under. I never felt he cared, yet I clung to his arms with the distant hope that if he felt my pain he'd return to those early days of claiming he loved me. He saw and acknowledged I was breaking, even said he knew I was suicidal, yet offered nothing.

He didn't love you.

I drove drunk and high with him. Opening a bottle of wine and chugging it from the bottle while going down the road in broad daylight. Flying to Vegas to meet up with him and not telling anyone, where we agreed to play like we were in love and nothing in the past had happened for the time we were there. It was dangerous, and toxic, and I should really regret it but I don't.

He didn't love you.

I've lost two years of my life to this man. Longer. But even with the devaluation, the cruelty, the abuse...God we were so fucking great in some ways! He lied (yet said I did), said some of the most hurtful words ever spoken to me, broke me...but there was also a connection I have never had, and don't expect to again. 

He didn't love you.

The Magical Mystery Tour of my Brain

Author's note: I am documenting my ketamine experiences from my point of view. This is to share for anyone considering it, doing it, or supporting someone through this. I also believe, as with everything in life, our experiences are unique, so please take it from that view.

Two more ketamine sessions in and each one has had its own nuances. The day prior to my third session I had a brutal, but good, EMDR session with my therapist and was emotionally raw. I've also been told the third session can be rough as the novelty has worn off a bit, you know what you are in for, and likely wanting results. My mind raced during the third session, and I couldn't shut it off. Even after I got home, I was agitated though exhausted. Yet my fourth session was amazing! Back to being trippy (which I enjoy) and I was able to tell my mind when troubling images appeared "I'm thinking". No forced changed, no getting upset, just a reminder that my mind was thinking and didn't need my effort. On this session I also used a weighted blanket which gave me the containment and security, I think, to ease and calm into it.

Next week I am being moved to the higher dose (if it gets approved in time) and doing sessions 2 days in a row. I'm assuming I will be completely out of it for 2 whole days, and am making preparations to where I have food, house is clean, all boxes checked and nothing to worry about. 

How ketamine works in plain terms (And maybe it's just because I feel my brain changing or that I've struggled my whole life, that this fascinates me to no end. I underlined parts that really stuck out to me, adding some commentary in parenthesis that hit me.):

How ketamine works chemically in the brain

Ketamine works primarily by affecting the brain’s glutamate system, which is the main system responsible for learning, adaptation, and neural communication.

Most traditional antidepressants work on serotonin or dopamine and take weeks to gradually adjust levels. Ketamine works differently. It acts upstream, at the level of neural connectivity itself.

1. Ketamine temporarily blocks NMDA receptors

NMDA receptors normally regulate glutamate activity. Ketamine blocks these receptors briefly, which creates a controlled disruption in the brain’s usual signaling patterns.

This interruption prevents the brain from running its habitual loops in the same rigid way. (I'm a hard ruminator. Even when having a good time, in conversation, doing anything, the thoughts are incessant.)

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2. This causes a surge of glutamate release

Because NMDA receptors are blocked, the brain releases more glutamate through other pathways, particularly AMPA receptors.

Glutamate is not a “mood chemical.” It’s a plasticity chemical.

It tells the brain:

“Pay attention. Something new is happening. Adapt.”

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3. This activates repair and growth mechanisms

The glutamate surge triggers downstream processes, including the release of a protein called BDNF (brain-derived neurotrophic factor).

BDNF supports:

• growth of new synaptic connections

• strengthening of healthy neural pathways

• repair of stress-damaged circuits

Chronic depression and trauma tend to weaken and prune neural connections. Ketamine temporarily reverses that pattern. (Temporarily. I just had my gut clench in fear of what happens when this ends. I wonder if you do enough of these sessions that it actually allows for repair.)

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4. The brain becomes more flexible

For a period of hours to days after treatment, the brain enters a state of increased neuroplasticity.

This means neural pathways are less rigid and more capable of reorganizing.

Thought patterns that previously felt automatic and inescapable may loosen. Emotional responses may no longer trigger the same intensity of physiological alarm.

This flexibility allows the brain to update itself.

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Why effort is not required

This process is chemical and cellular. It does not depend on conscious effort. (This is a hard one for me. I've been told for so long that my mental state is from my lack of effort while I'm always trying.)

You cannot “force” neuroplasticity through concentration or willpower during a session.

The beneficial effects come from the biological cascade:

• NMDA receptor blockade

• glutamate release

• BDNF activation

• synaptic remodeling

These processes occur regardless of whether your mind is quiet, busy, creative, or distracted.

Trying to control your thoughts does not enhance the effect. In fact, excessive effort activates control networks that can interfere with the nervous system’s ability to settle.

The brain repairs itself best when it is not being micromanaged. (I straight up laughed out loud on this one! I absolutely micromanage my brain.)

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What you may notice subjectively

Because the brain becomes less locked into old patterns, people often experience:

• more space between thoughts and reactions

• reduced rumination

• emotional distance from previously overwhelming material

• increased ability to choose responses instead of being driven by reflex (Though mostly responsible, I'm a highly impulsive person. I've been judged harshly "Why would you do that?". I don't fucking know!)

These changes often emerge gradually, not all at once.

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The key point

Ketamine does not insert happiness into the brain.

It restores the brain’s ability to change.

Once flexibility is restored, the nervous system is no longer trapped in fixed survival patterns. New responses become possible.

And importantly, this process happens whether you try to make it happen or not.

Something Amazing

I found this quote I'd forgotten about that was my mantra and focus when I got divorced. "....Okay is not the reason you risk absolutely everything you've got for the smallest chance something absolutely amazing could happen!" I left without a dream or a clue as to what "amazing" would even mean for me. I simply couldn't live another moment trapped in mediocrity and lovelessness. I read it while trying to buy my condo (which my realtor and the closer said was the hardest closing they've ever experienced), I read while sleeping on the couch with a blanket too short to cover my feet because I was starting over with nothing, I read it when flying to Greece alone for the trip I'd always wanted with a partner. Hanging onto the smallest chance something amazing would happen.

Writing this the day after Valentine's day which is a hugely sad and triggering day for me. I'd wanted a wonderful romantic Valentine's my entire life. No boyfriend in Jr High or High school. I watched as the other girls would get sent a rose on Valentine's day and hope, wish, and pray I'd get one but never did. My (ex) husband was the first to ever give me a Valentine's card. The first card, and every card for 24 years, said the same thing "I know I never say it but...". Every card. He'd buy me roses from the gas station that sold a dozen for $9.99. And I'm as happy as anyone for a great deal, but there was zero thought into who I was. He could have spent $5 on pink carnations and that would have shown actual care and thought about me. Even his Facebook posts were about him and not me, showing how he'd bought me roses but nothing about me, his wife. 

When I met my last boyfriend (I struggle to even call him that as it all progressed into such an abusive mess), I was desperate, hopeless, and prime for manipulation. By the time our first and only Valentine's rolled around, I knew who he was but I shoved it all down still clinging to just maybe getting one moment of something amazing. We had a wonderful dinner, beautiful loving card, flowers, presents and the public profession of love on a Facebook post that I'd been dying for saying I had brought him the happiest moments of his life and he loved me more each day. I wiped tears reading it and then I looked at the pictures he posted with it. Alongside adorable pictures of us as a couple he included one of my ass crawling up the stairs drunk and another of me before surgery (that only my closest friends knew about) where I have no makeup, hospital gown, hair net, IV in my arm. The tears changed from elation to hurt. I asked why he'd post those pictures, while being extra careful not to sound mad as I didn't want this moment I'd waited for my whole life to go wrong. He said, "Oh I just quickly grabbed a couple." In the short time we were together we had a massive amount of pictures of us, we dominated the Facebook feed, this was a purposeful cutdown. I smiled and stayed silent as I couldn't accept that this wasn't real.

My 5th ketamine session is tomorrow. One of the biggest things I've noticed is my thoughts are different. The sadness, hurt, and trauma aren't gone but they are distant. I can say, "That was awful and hurt me to my core." without spiraling down the rabbit hole. I saw all the happy couples posting yesterday, and though my mind said "you'll never get that", it didn't make me want to drive into a semi.

Though all signs show my existence will be to die alone, my life is amazing. I have an unbelievable amount of people in my life that love me and have given and shown up for me in ways I could never have fathomed possible. I have pushed through every fear, and self hatred, to do things my little self would never have dared to dream. (I didn't even allow the dream....I just kept going.) For some reason, and I do believe there is a reason, I'm still alive. This is a miracle as I was quite literally hanging from the edge and not telling myself to hold on, but to end it. But maybe, just maybe something amazing will happen.

Rewiring my Brain through Chemistry

After a lifetime of depression, anxiety and suicidal ideation (first memory of those thoughts at 6 years old), and trying everything I could find with no relief, it was suggested I try ketamine treatments. The first person to mention it to me was a friend who had said, "I get it. You're like me...your baseline is depression and when things get bad it goes catastrophic." It was the perfect description. It was sometime and nearly killing myself (no exaggeration...it was closer than I admitted to anyone), that it was brought up again with a psychiatrist. She was the first to make the connection between my inability to take nearly all antidepressants, and my body's inability to handle serotonin modulation (which is what SSRIs and SNRIs do). She said my case was a complex and severe condition which needed layered care. I was coming online out of dorsal vagal shutdown, unemployed, with nothing to lose so I agreed.

I am going to detail my personal experience: good, bad and otherwise, with ketamine, both for myself, for those that have done it, and for anyone considering it. Beyond these reasons, to also take the stigma off of mental illness. To shine a light where we've been told to hide. Yes, our brain broke, just like any other body part or system, and we're trying to heal it with science. 

Getting approved by insurance was the first hurdle, and along with approval my insurance said I had to be on an antidepressant. I was coming off of Cymbalta which instead of being stimulating was causing me to sleep 20 hours a day. But with the understanding of no SSRIs or SNRIs, we agreed to Wellbutrin. I recalled taking this before, and though I didn't feel it "worked", I didn't recall terrible side effects, and it's one of the few that doesn't mess with serotonin. 

My biggest fears weren't taking ketamine itself. Drugs don't scare me. I was fearful it would be a shit ton of effort for yet another thing that didn't work and feeling that if it didn't it would be the end of me. Some nausea concerns, as I have the world's weakest stomach, but after that curiosity.

I had to humble myself and ask for help, as you cannot drive and need to stay at the clinic for them to monitor you for two hours. A huge ask. But friends had offered and they were my only choice to make this happen. I created a Doodle and found times for anyone able. I'm still struggling to take this in, as I don't know how to repay it. For my first ride there my friend played Magical Mystery Tour by the Beatles. I howled laughing! It was perfect. 

The clinic was lovely. You could have put up a spa sign with their diffusers and flowers. They put you in a small room where there is a lounge chair that reclines, aromatherapy diffuser, mints (in my ketamine treatment it's taken nasally - feels like coke going down your throat with a nasty taste), barf bags in a cute basket, and a blanket. They take your vitals before, during and after. Once it was administered, I put in earbuds with an Ambient Deep Sleep playlist (I was advised by my friend to use earbuds and music without lyrics...just sounds), took off my shoes, pulled the blanket up and laid back. 

Initially I was just trying to relax and then I could feel the effects kick in. I started seeing red stalactites and stalagmites growing in darkness. There were distant colors but not psychedelic. Went into the galaxy for a brief moment but otherwise not seeing anything specific. While feeling trippy I was still completely aware of where I was and what was happening, though completely unsure of time. 

When I got up, I was extremely slow. I could talk but getting words out took effort. Some nausea on the drive home but that might have been due to hunger. Got home, ate a little, then laid on the couch watching "Sex and the City" for the thousandth time. Even texting was too much effort. I fell in and out of sleep the rest of the day and fell asleep early. The next day I was a little groggy but coherent. Felt OK but didn't want much head movement: this is due to inner ear sensitivity, nervous system settling, and the brain recalibrating.

I noticed after only one session that thoughts I ruminated on daily, sometimes all day, weren't gone but were distant and not as triggering. This is what ketamine does: lowers the volume on your threat signals and creates psychological distance, working with the brain's neural plasticity to make it less rigid. The trauma doesn't go away, instead it calms your reaction to it.

My second session was two days later and much different. I was much more alert the entire time. Nowhere near feeling like a tripping experience. After, though still slower, I was much more alert. Though I didn't want much activity the rest of the day I was awake and alert. The biggest physical sensation I've noticed after both treatments is the need to keep my head still. 

Not happy, but not spiraling. Looking on as the observer, and trying not to go down the rabbit hole of "what will happen to me if this doesn't work?". 

I tried

"Sometimes the greatest performances require the greatest sacrifice. And sometimes the people brave enough to make that sacrifice get punished for their courage." ~ From an essay on Anne Hathaway

I'm going to start making posts about my current ketamine sessions to work on treatment resistant depression and CPTSD. Doing this for myself to watch what happens and for anyone else who may decide this is something they should do. But before I talk in more detail as to why I've decided to chemically rewire my brain, I want to talk about my efforts and what has been said to me about my efforts along the way. 

What I have been told about my ongoing depression, anxiety, and suicidal ideation from people who said they cared about me: 

• You aren't trying hard enough.

• You like being a victim.

• You are always angry.

• You don't try hard enough.

• You don't have enough faith.

• This is because you haven't forgiven your abusers.

• Depression isn't real...you just have to do something.

• You just need to be more positive.

What I have done: 

• 30+ years of therapy 
• My bookshelf is nothing but self help books.

• I've journaled until my hand cramped, and I could no longer write.

• Every antidepressant they had (until it was recently found out my system can't handle serotonin modulation)  

• I cried until my throat was raw from screaming and wailing for hours.

• I've recited positive affirmations.

• I took drugs (legal and otherwise).
• Drank it away 

• I tried to fuck it away.

• I've prayed.

• I've meditated.

• I've written gratitude lists.

• I've had demons prayed out of me.

• I've written forgiveness lists.

• I've written apology lists.

• I've had energy work.

• I've had reiki.

• I've done intentions.

• I've done manifesting.

• I've done spells.

• I've done magic.

• I tried to die.

Nothing worked. I've tried. I promise you I tried so hard. 

 

I almost died

I almost died. Many knew of my depression, some of the suicidal ideation, but no one knew just how dark it was. Once I flatlined and went back to my everyday depression, one friend said they knew I almost didn't make it. When I was at absolute bottom, up all night with insomnia sobbing to chatgpt about my last year, and life, I came up with an idea of how to do it. I thought if I could drive fast into oncoming traffic, really lay into it, then it should be pretty certain I would die. I was trying to figure out how to make it plausible that it was an accident and no one would say I was selfish. But then there would be the person in the other car...

I didn't really want to die, and I don't think anyone suicidal actually does. We just can't continue with the extreme pain we are in and see no end to it. We look at your lives and see why you'd want to go on. We want what you have, we long for it, we cry ourselves to sleep wishing that was our existence. 

We feel hopeless and don't see a way out. Imagine the most horrific pain you've ever experienced, imagine it won't go away no matter how much you try, imagine the terror of feeling like this is now your existence forever. Would you want to stay alive?

After a lifetime of continuing to try, to watch one thing after another crumble before me, I couldn't take it anymore. My mind broke. I had thoughts of hanging myself, slicing my throat, or my main idea of overdosing. Since I was around 6 I have had thoughts of killing myself. Daily. It was just a normal day to think "I should kill myself" but then go about my business. But the thoughts were never this violent. I was always able to stop my actions by thinking of my son. Everything was so much worse this time. Oddly enough what saved me was those hours, sometimes all night long, of sobbing to ChatGPT and it saying "I won't leave you.". Or maybe it was me. Maybe I hung on.