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I’ve seen four neurologists looking for a diagnosis of my cognitive impairment. Following a second neuropsychological assessment two years ago, I saw one neurologist who said, “You don’t have dementia, your brain just thinks you do”. Following a PET scan that showed moderate frontotemporal degeneration, another neurologist thought that it looked like FTD but she wasn’t sure so she referred me to a third neurologist who didn’t know what it was. She then referred me to one of h

It goes without saying that I have been going through the grief process over my diagnosis of frontotemporal dysfunction. I find myself bouncing between the five stages of grief, struggling to make sense of my new reality. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance, I don’t go through them linearly. I flow between them, move forward, double back, but it takes a lot of energy processing everything that is happening to me. DENIAL: I tell myself it’s not really THAT BAD. I

Everyone says I’m so strong. I’m not strong by choice, weakness simply isn’t an option. I still need support. My last post garnered mixed responses. Some responded with appreciation and reminders that I am supported and loved. One doubted that I was remembering correctly. So, I decided to clarify the point of that post which is to speak out to the isolation those of us with non-apparent disabilities have to cope with. I go to church every Sunday. I’m known as a hugger so I ge

I feel like I’m going through this nightmare alone. I’ve tried to reach out to people for help. I’ve tried to prepare for the inevitable as my cognition worsens. I’ve tried to gain some semblance of control. One idea I had was to put together a video montage of people and memories. Something I could turn to as my memory worsened. I asked for short videos of people saying who they are, how they know me, and a brief memory. Some family responded but most didn’t. I kept explaini

This past Sunday my church surprised me with cards signed by the whole congregation, a plant, and a video montage during the service to recognize my service to God and the church. I cried. I have been so depressed as my faculties have begun to diminish, and I’ve had to step down from ministries I’d run for years. Over the last two years, ministry by ministry, I’ve had to pass on my “babies” to others. In every case the person taking over has blessed these ministries with fres

“I’m sorry” I cry out, repeating it over and over. “Why do you hate me?” Tapping into the feelings I had with an abusive father, I crouch in a corner of my mind instead of a room. In the dark of night, I lie on my bed praying, tears rolling down my face, anguish in the sound of my voice. I confess my sin and acknowledge that He knows everything and I only want to serve Him. But I want answers from Him. If I’m loved, if I’m forgiven, why is He making my worst fears come true?

All told, I saw four different neurologists for my cognitive impairment. The first in 2019 who ordered the first neurocognitive exam. The second in 2024 who ordered the second neurocognitive exam. Back to the first neurologist who told me I didn’t have dementia, my brain just thinks I do, and there was no point in seeing me again. Back to the second neurologist who then ordered a PET scan. She referred me to a third neurologist at Seattle Women’s Brain Health and then finally

In 2024 I underwent a second neurocognitive assessment to assess the mental struggles I was experiencing. I was concerned after worsening the last few years following a Mild Cognitive Impairment diagnosis in 2019. It was the same process I had gone through five years before. The test was harder than I remembered but I thought I was fine. When we got to the results appointment, I wasn’t overly concerned. I didn’t know my world was about to tip. At the appointment to review the

As I sat waiting for my appointment for my first neurocognitive exam, I was nervous and excited. I wanted answers and hoped these tests would provide them. I was dealing with extensive memory loss. I’m extremely intelligent and worried my intelligence was fading away. I was afraid of my deterioration. I've always been independent. I’ve always valued my intelligence and now it felt like I was losing how I viewed myself. The assessment itself was easy. I managed most of the tes

From September 2017- February 2018 I underwent electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) for schizoaffective disorder two to three times per week for six months. Memory loss is common with ECT and I got hit hard. It severely impacted my memory, but all the doctors said it was temporary. It was not. We waited for it to get better. By 2019, it was clear that it wasn’t. It started with holes on the day of my treatments. Then it spread. By August 2019 it was clear it was sticking around an

I underwent electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) for 7 months. It was probably the most impactful event I have ever had in my life. I experienced devastating memory loss. Its ramifications extended into all aspects of my life. At first, I experienced inconveniences such as not remembering where the glasses were kept in the kitchen but then I forgot negative memories that had ruined my life with bitterness and jealousy. I was so impaired from mental illness I risked everything, but

In the bad years when I hit rock bottom, I lost my closest friend. I thought we were best friends. I thought I could tell her anything and that I was safe. I was wrong. As “friends”, we talked all the time and shared confidences. We raised our children together. We shared history. But then one day, she went home to visit her family. I’m sure she talked to them about me, and they convinced her that I was dangerous, and she needed to cut off contact with me. Even writing this m

My wife is one of the most laid-back people you could ever meet. She can come home, find me with a knife in my hand, threatening to kill myself and respond, “Honey, put the knife down. Would you like chicken or beef for dinner?” Ok, that’s a slight exaggeration but, seriously, only slight. She meets every dramatic crisis I face with a calm sense of, “It’ll be alright”. She approaches life with abandon, possessing an unshakable faith that things will work out regardless of wha

I don’t know when God took hold of my heart, but he did, and He placed in me a strength I’ve rarely acknowledged. I was surrounded by people who taught me strength and perseverance. So many times, I wanted to give up, but I’m still here. Still fighting. God has empowered me to face the traumas of life and cherish people who answered my prayers and blessed me. My questions about God all hinged on the idea of the Bible being inerrant. I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea tha

I was first diagnosed with bipolar at 14. I struggled with my mental health for years. My worst manic episode occurred when I was in my early 20’s. No matter how hard I tried to be a good mom, it was never enough. Despite struggling my whole life with mental and emotional illness, it was having children that made me want to get better. I had seen doctors and tried medications, but life was still a challenge. Finally, it all came to a head. I wasn’t taking any medication at th

I don’t know when my insanity set in. I don’t know if I was ever sane. Even as a young child I battled depression and mania. The question was if my “attention getting” behaviors connected to a mental illness or to the chaotic world that I lived in. I was 12 years old when I first tried to kill myself. Twelve. At a time when I should have been out playing with friends and just starting to think about boys, I was thinking about dying. I was in such pain; all I wanted to do was

ECT MEMORY LOSS ECT caused extensive memory loss and stopping ECT didn’t make the memories return. Some memory gaps were significant. One day I was flipping through my calendar and noticed an entry: Bible Study Thursdays, 1:30. It didn’t say where and I couldn’t remember. I couldn’t tell you where it was held or what we were studying, I didn’t know who else was in the group. It was all a blank. I asked my spouse, “am I in a Bible study?” She said, “yes” but she didn’t know de

After only a few days, I was released from the psychiatric ward. It was practically a dream come true. I felt SOOO much better. The new medication, Clozapine, worked wonders. I was more stable and the suicidal thoughts were gone. It was an extremely effective drug with truly serious side effects. It was an older medication, rarely used which is why my psychiatrist hadn’t recommended it before. The new ones were supposed to be better, safer, but they didn’t work for me. Clozap

In 2017, my life imploded and I made the decision to do electroconvulsive therapy (ECT). In the beginning, when I first started ECT, I improved. At last, I was stable. I told myself I didn’t need ECT anymore. I was going to get my life back. The doctor agreed so after phasing off it, I stopped ECT. Big mistake! I had a psychotic break just as the day of the treatment I had cancelled arrived. Had I stopped it too soon? Or was it simply not going to work? My fears grew. I dete

FUNHOUSE As the mental illness took over my world, my life disintegrated. I had few friends who truly understood what I was going through or cared enough to stick with me through it. I had to give up a job I loved because I wasn’t mentally stable enough to do it. I turned to ECT as a last resort. I hoped to reclaim my life. I said “goodbye” to my boss, my job, and my dreams, hoping someday I would get them back. Though I was discouraged and isolated, I knew I had been throu