Niki’s Path to Peace

Life Update

26.05.2026

So, I have a new nurse practitioner for my medicine. The one I had took an offer somewhere else not client-facing.

Anywho, before she left she was trying to lower my dosages of medication to eventually eliminate some. Initially she talked about lowering my anxiety medicine but I was too worried about my panic attacks coming back. So we talked some more and decided we would take the Auvelity (for depression) down from twice a day to once a day. I did that for a week and a half and my depression started creeping back in. So I went back to two a day like she said I could if this happened.

So naturally I had to make this note with my Spravato team (there are two women doing it now) because my depression had gone up. Thankfully, taking the two a day Auvelity kicked back in so my depression level has gone down again.

During this time, my insurance denied one of my sleep aids (Quviviq). I’ve been on it for MONTHS with no problem. Now, ALL OF A SUDDEN, I get a letter from our insurance saying I need to try a different medicine (Belsomra) to see if that will work in place of the Quviviq.

Now, I’m almost positive Belsomra is cheaper for insurance than Quviviq is and that’s why, but why would you mess with something that is working? I know why.

Because it’s a numbers game! Some kid behind a computer sees that the insurance company can pay less if I’m on Belsomra instead of Quviviq. Craziness! This person knows NOTHING about me personally yet they are making quite a big decision in my life. *face palm* And the worst part is that it took over a month for insurance to send me a letter letting me know I needed to try this new drug. So my sleep has been crap for over a month because I’ve only been on one sleep aid.

Oh, and even better, in order to get put on this other medicine I had to set up ANOTHER appointment with my new nurse practitioner a week after I had already seen her instead of just being able to show her assistant the letter and the nurse practitioner send in the script to the pharmacy. *face palm*

And this happens to A LOT of people unfortunately, with all kinds of different medications. The insurance companies only care about the bottom line, dollars, they don’t care about the person behind the medicine.

I mean, how do drug companies come up with the cost of these medicines anyways? It seems to me, the more people need the medicine the more expensive it is. And the more that someone NEEDS the drug, like one to help someone breathe, the more expensive it is, even with insurance covering a portion. This should NOT happen! All medicine should be affordable and available to everyone. People should not be having to choose between their medicine, bills, and groceries.

But there are people whose pockets get padded by these insurance companies and it’s disgusting!

End of my rant. I hope you enjoy your week.

Join me next week when I talk about the relationship with my Dad.
Life After Separation Part 2

07.05.2026

Kavin was going through some things at the time so we talked to the boys’ pediatrician and he referred us to a psychiatrist. They tested him and found out he was ADHD combined-type (hyperactivity and impulsivity). They also believed he had Oppositional Defiant Disorder (ODD), so it was Ritalin and Depakote. Our insurance at the time made us start with Ritalin but eventually we found that Vyvanse helped the most.

As a side note, my therapist and I were just talking about this topic on Tuesday and we don’t think Kavin had ODD, he was simply reacting to what was going on around him in the only way he knew how.

Anywho, we removed candy from Kavin’s diet, only a piece as a reward for something. However, his “father” took the candy to the extreme. He would buy Kavin and Logan bags of candy and let them eat it all day long, knowing it would negatively affect Kavin and his meds. No doubt, using the sugared up kids to get back at me for something. Pretty pathetic! So I would let the sugar rush wear off and they would inevitably crash and be sound asleep.

One day, when he had the boys outside of court ordered time, he had family in from out of state, I had allowed him to take the boys for the day. He ended up taking them and a niece of his out to the park. Everything appeared fine. After awhile he called me and was slurring his words and asked if the boys could spend the night with their cousin. I tried to find out where they were but he wouldn’t tell me. I desperately needed the boys home and safe but going to get them ourselves was out of the question because he wouldn’t tell us where he was. So, I lied, and said, “Yes, they can stay the night but they had to get their clothes and Kavin’s medicine” (this was before he stole some). So he drove the kids to the house.

Now, at the time, Aaron was as sick as he could be and I was pregnant with Micah. So I sat on the porch waiting for him to pull up. I know something wasn’t right but I didn’t know if it was drugs or alcohol. It didn’t really matter what it was though because I had no intention of letting them go back with him

So Aaron is at the door and lets the boys in the house then immediately shuts it and stands there. My mom and I are outside of the porch letting him know that we know there is something wrong with him and he will not be taking the boys with him. In his intoxicated state, he tried walking into our house multiple times which Aaron was absolutely not having.

Needless to say, he left with his niece that day and went home. I regretted not calling the police that day since he also had his niece with him. That evening he received his second DUI and had to serve time in jail.

After the second DUI, I took him back to court about visitation. I did all of this on my own without a lawyer. In the complaint I filed, I stated that I believed he was a danger to the boys and that he could not be trusted. I had been keeping a list of dates and incidents which I included.

The court appointed a guardian ad litem for the boys and she went to the boys’ school and each one of our homes. It was suggested by her that he have supervised visitation either by his mom or new wife. (Yes, he ended up getting married AGAIN, the day he got out of jail for his second DUI, which also happened to be… Logan’s birthday.) When he came over to see the kids, all he talked about was getting married and such. Never said Happy Birthday to Logan or anything.

The judge agreed with the guardian ad litem. No longer did the boys have to spend the night at his house. Every other Saturday for 9 AM- 5 PM, as long as his mom or wife was around, he would be able to see the boys.

Usually, it was his wife that supervised. The last time I ever dealt with his mother was on a Saturday (when he couldn’t drive because of his DUIs and he was sleeping instead of picking up the boys, no doubt from some kind of bender). She came to pick the boys up, which I allowed. While waiting for the boys to put their shoes on, she proceeded to tell me everything that had happened, including his two DUIs, was my fault, not her son’s. That was the last time she ever picked up the boys. I gave her what for that day and told her that if she wanted to see the boys she could take me to court for grandparent visitation (which is only a weekend a month or so). Needless to say she never did that and the last time they saw her was when the boys were about eight and seven, and then she didn’t want to have anything to do with them.

The boys begged and begged their “father” to let Aaron adopt them but he refused. To this day when they are talking to someone they’ll say “My dad” talking about Aaron. That’s the only stable male figure they knew from such a young age and I’m so thankful that they have him.
Life After Separation

23.04.2026

All the violence was too much for the kids.

Kavin was so traumatized from all the violence he had seen that every time I would go to leave the house, he would stand in front of the door with his arms out to the sides, begging me not to leave. When I asked him why, he’d say, “Daddy’s going to hurt you!” This broke my heart because I had allowed this to happen around my children.

Coparenting didn’t go any better for me. At the beginning he would call me and basically harass me.

“You’re no good.”

“You’re an awful mother.”

“No one will want you.”

“I’m going to keep the kids and you’ll never see them again.”

These were things he said to me daily and I would call my lawyer’s office crying.

Finally, my lawyer reached out to his lawyer and said, “Enough!” He told his lawyer that if he continued, that we would file harassment charges against him. That calmed things down for awhile.

One day, when he had the kids, he called and said, “I’m keeping the kids.” So I called my lawyer’s office and there was nothing I could do at the time because an agreement hadn’t been signed yet. This, yet again, broke my heart into a million pieces. My kids were my everything!

The next day he brought them back to me because they were begging for mommy and he couldn’t stand it. This, again, traumatized the boys a lot. I think this was one of the reasons why things never went smoothly when it was time for them to visit him. Parenting obviously didn’t come easy to him and it showed greatly!

Kavin, bless his heart, never wanted to go visit him. He would hide under beds and I’d have to drag him out to go for visits. I HATED having to do that but he would have had me thrown in jail in a heartbeat for not complying with our separation agreement.

Kavin and Logan were treated very differently when they were with him. Kavin was treated poorly because he would say “no” at times, and Logan was treated like a prince because he would comply with everything. If Kavin didn’t something wrong, his biological “grandmother” (on his sperm donor’s side) would pull her wooden spoon out and whip him. Very rarely, if ever, did Logan get whipped with the wooden spoon.

Eventually, he moved to Georgia for awhile so the boys didn’t see him for about a year and a half. They were happy kids, especially Kavin. Until one day he came up to visit his mom with his new girlfriend. He had said that he had straightened out (because after our separation I found out not only was he drinking but he was using cocaine) and I gave him the benefit of the doubt, so I let him and the girlfriend stay at the house with the kids while I went to run errands. When I got back, they left and everything was fine, or so I thought.

About a week later, I noticed that we were missing some of Kavin’s ADHD medication. My ex had taken some of his pills from his bottle while I was gone. They were sitting on the counter. I should have known better but I didn’t think anything of it when I left the house. Needless to say, Kavin had to go without his medication for about a week, which was absolutely NOT fair to him.

Eventually, my ex moved back. It was shocking to the boys because they had only seen him once in about two years and all of a sudden they then had to go to his house every other weekend again.

Stay tuned for Part 2 of Coparenting Hell!
I Married a Monster Part 4

13.04.2026

Welcome back! Sorry I didn’t post this last week but life happens and sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you just don’t get everything done. And that’s okay! (See, I’ve been working on my perfectionistic tendencies.) Anywho, let’s dive into Part 4…

I continued to put up with the drink and emotional and physical abuse until one night.

I had made some real friends in the AOL chat rooms that I frequented. I would always get into them when he wasn’t home so it didn’t cause a problem. There was also one girl that was in college like me and we would meet up at IHOP and eat and do our schoolwork. It was nice to get out but I had to be back home before he got home.

Anyways, one night he hit me and then took off in my car. I told my friend and she and another one of our friends came over. We were all sitting in the car talking. They were trying to get me to calm down. But he kept calling and texting and I kept ignoring them and ignoring them. But he continued to keep calling and calling, so I finally answered the phone. And I’ll never forget what he said. He said, “The next time I see you, I’m going to kill you and I’m on the way back to the house now.”

That scare me, like the time when I was about 11 years old and a togue wave swept me out into the deep blue part of the ocean. That day my tween self thought I was going to die. And I felt the exact same way that night.

So I called 911. I told them what had happened earlier and that he had already put his hands on me once and then that my husband had threatened to kill me. They immediately sent officers out to my house. While they were there, he was still texting me. I told him the police were there and in just a few minutes he pulled right up to the house. I’m not sure if he just didn’t believe me when I said I had called the cops or what but they arrested him again that night. But this time I didn’t bail him out, his parents did.

The next day they brought him over to the house and I told him to get his stuff and get out. So he did. My dad happened to be there visiting, my parents were reconciling, and so he gave me no trouble.

After he left, I had to explain to my dad what had been going on for the past four years because he had no clue. He was furious when he found out and he even offered to have him “taken care of.” My dad knew all kings of people so I knew he was serious but I said no. I didn’t want that on my hands.

So I was finally free. Well sort of. He still had to see the boys. But my mom and dad got me a good lawyer for the divorce. Tim Sceviour was former military (Navy) and he was the BEST attorney I could have ever had. I got full physical custody and he saw Logan on Wednesdays and bot boys every other weekend. That was the best I could do because, at the time, he was living with his mom so the courts felt it was safe. Later on this agreement would change.

Come back next week to read about how co-parenting went!
I Married a Monster Part 3

01.04.2026

I thought being a bartender would be a perfect job. I would get to interact with other people and have tips in my pocket every time I worked so that I could get diapers, formula, etc. However, that’s not how it worked. Instead, he would steal it out of my purse at night while I was sleeping and go buy drugs and alcohol. Many times I had to count on my mom and dad to buy diapers and formula for my two sweet babies.

Now that I was a bartender, he started coming into the bar to drink. And I would serve him because I had no choice. Either serve him, know what kind of mood he was in, go home and get beat or don’t serve him, piss him off, he goes somewhere else and gets drunk, he picks me up, we go home and he still beats me. Better the monster you know and can see at that point. At least that was what I thought at the time.

At this time he had had one DUI, driving home for Q Masters with me in the car also drunk. At that point, I drank to dull the pain when he would hit me. I myself, at that time, became an alcoholic. I wasn’t proud of it by any means, in fact it’s embarrassing to admit, but I said at the very beginning that I would tell you the good, bad, and ugly, and here is one of those things.

The plus to working at the bar was that I met this nice, attractive man (who was also married) who played pool and darts. We didn’t talk unless he was asking me for a Coke but we did play pool against each other every now and then in our pool league. He was so nice that it made me wonder what it would be like to be married to someone like that. I want to be VERY clear that we never even conversed, other than asking for a Coke, but spoiler alert, this guy was Aaron.

But back to the beginning of Part 1 where I had a concussion and I was looking at my children wondering how the hell I got to where I was. That, my friends, that night was my catalyst.

That night we had been at the bar where I worked. I had worked the day shift and he had come to pick me up and, or course, we drank for awhile.

Eventually we left and he was driving. We didn’t even get through the strip mall that the bar was in before we started fighting. He pulled over and immediately started punching me in the back of the head.

Luckily, two Navy guys that I had served earlier walked by while he was doing it. They stopped and called the police. They told him what they had done in an attempt to stop him from punching me but it didn’t help. They did stay there until the police came and they talked to them. At some point, he threw the keys to the truck out in the parking lot. (Side note: I never found them. I think they fell in a drain.)

A big group of older teenage boys also stopped when they saw what he was doing and they got him to start paying attention to them (he was mouthing off to them) and he stopped punching me in the back of the head. The police came and arrested him (he got his second DUI that night) and I’ll never forget what one of the police officers said to me. He said, “A buddy of mine was at your house last week when he threw you into the entertainment center. Once they start this, they don’t stop. It only gets worse.”

I was so embarrassed. Embarrassed that I had been the talk of police officers and embarrassed that I had let it happen again.

But I still didn’t leave… although, unknowingly, it put me closer to cutting ties.

Stayed tuned for Part 4 next week!
I Married a Monster Part 2

24.03.2026

Not surprisingly, the drinking and smoking weed continued. And, in fact, he was also doing cocaine, something I wouldn’t find out until after we divorced. Every time he got drunk he would hit me, throw stuff at me, or shove me. Then he’d say sorry and I would forgive him. One big circle of dysfunction.

And then I had my first beautiful baby boy. I was enamored! The birth was easy, peasy, lemon squeezy. He came into the world less than 5 pounds with his umbilical cord wrapped around his neck. They got it off and hit him with the oxygen twice and he pinked right up. My first amazing baby boy was here and I couldn’t be happier.

During the time in the hospital, he was still smoking weed and drinking. He wasn’t much help at all but I didn’t care. As a first-time mom I wanted to do all the things.

When Kavin and I came home, he was going through 40 ounce beers like crazy and smoking a ridiculous amount of weed. I ignored it all and put all my attention on my new baby boy, which he didn’t like very much.

I couldn’t get the hang of breastfeeding with Kavin so we bottle fed him. That took a lot of stress off me because anyone could feed him which would help me get a little time to do the things I needed to do like shower and such.

So “Dad”, and I use this term VERY loosely, would sometimes feed Kavin at night. That should be great, right? But unfortunately it wasn’t. I would wake up to Kavin crying, and I would go to the bassinet to get him, but he wouldn’t be there. He was definitely in the room, but “Dad” was nowhere to be seen. Many times I would find Kavin on the floor on “Dad’s” side of the bed or in the rocking chair in our room. To say the least, it scared the crap out of me.

Then a couple of months later, I found out I was pregnant again. The night I told him, he pinned me under our queen mattress because he got mad at something. What a great way to celebrate such a joyous occassion.

There was another time when I was pregnant that he was giving Kavin a bath in the bathroom at the top of the stairs. He had walked away from the bath tub, turning his back on it and I said something to him about not doing that. He got angry and the look in his eyes told me that he was thinking about pushing me down the stairs. Thank goodness he didn’t. At the time I was 6 months pregnant.

But, exactly one year and fifteen days later, after Kavin was born, another little boy stole a piece of my heart. In the midst of the abuse, I gave birth to my second son, Logan. His birth was not as easy as Kavin’s, but my second little bundle of joy came into the world again, weighing less than 5 pounds. We’re talking teenie tiny babies, that even preemie clothes swallowed up. I breastfed for awhile making me the only one that could feed him. Therefore I knew he was safe at night, because I was the one taking him out of the bassinet and putting him in it.

But the beatings still continued.

It was shortly after Logan was born that he began to complain that I wasn’t working and contributing to our family. Not like taking care of two kids under the age of two was not a job in itself. But alas, I looked around and they were looking for a bartender at the bar we frequented, which was right around the corner from the house. I applied and got the job.

Stay tuned for Part 3 next week!
I Married A Monster Part 1

16.03.2026

I lay on the couch, my head pounding and my neck so stiff I can barely move it from the concussion I sustained the night before, starting at my two little boys wondering how the hell I got to this point in my life at such a young age. At twenty-two, I was the mom of two boys under the age of two and married to a man (I use that term loosely) who physically, mentally, and emotionally abused me every chance he got. Every minute of every hour of every day, I was walking on eggshells, hoping not to trigger another episode.

I met him in an AOL chat room, back when that was a thing. He sent me pictures and I figured “What the hell, I’ll meet up with him.” Of course now, I’ve watched enough ID TV to know how stupid this was but I was eighteen-years-old and I did some dumb stuff (haven’t we all).

He was twenty-three years old when we met and he had no driver’s license. I drove over to his house and picked him up. We hug out all night into the morning talking. The only thing he told me that I thought was negative was that he got high. But so what, right? So I started hanging out with him daily. Now I see it as clingy, but at that time I saw it as he really liked me.

Stupid, stupid, stupid me didn’t see the red flags then. If I had, I would have high-tailed it in the opposite direction. But I didn’t and so it didn’t take long for the two of us to get married and for me to get pregnant. This is a way better marriage than the pyromaniac, right? Nope! Wrong yet again, Niki!

I remember the first huge issue we ever had. It wasn’t a physical altercation, but it was a catalyst for what was to come.

His dad got minor league baseball tickets from his work and asked us if we’d like to go. I was pregnant and stuck in the house all day so I was like “Heck yeah, let’s go! It’ll be fun.” But it ended up NOT being fun AT ALL!

My ex drank a lot by that time (something he neglected to tell me at the beginning of things), and this night was no different. Since I was pregnant, and underage, I was the designated driver. During the ride home, he threw up in my car because he was so drunk. I was LIVID! I told him that I thought it was ridiculous that he was that drunk and how I didn’t think it was fair that I would have to clean it when we got home.

I don’t remember everything he said to me that night but that was the first time he told me I was worthless. That I was lucky to be with him because no other man would deal with a nag like me. That I- yes, I- was the reason that he drank so much.

I couldn’t believe it! Who the hell tells someone that they supposedly love, and who’s pregnant with their child all of this. Plus, I couldn’t figure out for the life of me what I had done so wrong to make him drink the way he did. I cried all the way home. Once we arrived at the house, I cleaned the car with the help of my mom and hurried to bed.

The next morning he woke me up.

“Good morning,” he said with a smile on his face.

“Good morning,” I said rather shortly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Don’t you remember last night?”

“Not really,” he said.

So I told him all about how he got wasted, threw up in the car, told me I was worthless, and then how I had to clean the car.

“I’m so, so, so, sorry,” he said. “It will never happen again.”

And I believed it. I accepted his apology. I chalked it up as a big mistake, one that wouldn’t happen again.

But boy was I wrong, and boy did it get much, much worse…

Stay tuned for Part 2 next week
My Parents

02.03.2026

My parents had a tumultuous relationship. It seemed like no one was very happy most of the time. My mom didn’t want me to come from a broken home. But which is worse? Staying or leaving? Both have pros and cons but one has to eventually win, if that’s what you want to call it.

My mom constantly walked on eggshells around my dad and to be quite frank so did I. He wasn’t physically abusive but he was nasty in his own way. He would wait until one of us was out of the room and then he would be nasty to the one that was still in the room. He’d say things like “I know you wish I would die” or “Why didn’t you do x, y, and z?” It never ending.

I’d stick up for my mom when I could but most of the time it made things worse. And how much was I really doing at 6, 7, and 8 years old? Not much I can tell you that.

My dad was just an unhappy man. If a man can have a resting bitch face, he had one. I guess it came with his upbringing, being the only boy of seven children. I’m sure he wasn’t shown much love. Hell, he lied about his age when he was sixteen-years-old just so he could join the Navy and get away from his family. From what I know his house was really strict. No wonder he ended up the way he was, but that’s still no excuse to talk to people like they area piece of crap.

And the saddest part was that everything he went through he put on me. If I did something he thought was wrong, I’d get a whipping to where I had his handprint, whelps included, on my leg. And then the next day I would get a new barbie, candy, or most of the time both. I honestly thought even into my twenties and thirties that my dad didn’t love me. I thought he didn’t care. Now, because of therapy, I know he just didn’t know how to show love so the bad things far outweighed the good in my mind. It’s unfortunate.

Do I remember good times? Yes, but I have to search for them. I have to make a conscientious effort to wade through the bad memories and specifically look for the good memories. It’s work, let me tell you. A couple years back, my therapist challenged me to make a list of all the good memories I had with my dad and I made a list of about 40 happy times. I wish I could put my hands on the notebook that has that list in it but I wasn’t as much into bullet journaling as I am now and it just went into a random notebook. I’m going to end up making a whole new list and I’m hoping I come up with even more good memories.

Most of my good memories are from when I was younger, when I got to be a teenager and moved over to public school, that’s when my dad said all our problems started. Sorry to say this Daddy, but we had problems WAY before then.

I was the ultimate demise of my parent’s marriage. One day I had enough and told my mom it was either we left or she would never see me again. Looking back that’s kind of ominous isn’t it? What did I really mean when I said “She would never see me again”? Was I going to run away? I was too much of a baby to do that. Was I going to kill myself? Hell no, that’s permanent and has never been in my thoughts. Was I going to magically disappear? Most likely not. I have absolutely no idea what I meant, I just know I didn’t want to live in that situation any more. To this day, I don’t know how my mom interpreted it. (I’ll probably find out after she reads this blog post though.) But whatever the case, we left.

I do believe that had I never said that, my parents would have stayed married. And if they had, my life after would have been so much different. What I DO know is that I wouldn’t change anything in my life because it’s gotten me where I am today.

And I LOVE where I am today! Living in Indiana with my incredible husband, my four wonderful boys, my amazing mom, and my awesome mother-in-law wo lives about 15 minutes away from us.

Everything really does happen for a reason, doesn’t it?
A Mess of Emotions

17.02.2026
In my teenage years I had a lot going on. I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety, both of which I was on medication for and I was self-harming quite often.

Furthermore, during that time:
- My parents got divorced.
- I barely saw my dad.
- People at school were talking behind my back and spreading rumors.
- I was smoking marijuana and drinking.
- I was arrested.
- I spent a week in the Psych Unit.
- I had dropped out of school and went online.
Any one of these things alone would have been stressful enough for a teenager. Especially one dealing with depression and anxiety. Self-harm went through the roof. I was using scissors, razors, and lighters to cut and burn myself. I remember how relaxed I would feel after cutting. The blood running down my legs or arms. A short feeling of release from the depression and anxiety.

I now know that my medicine needed to be increased in dosage or switched but I had no clue then. Instead, I continued to suffer in silence because at this point, I was afraid to really TALK to my therapist for fear of being put back in the hospital. My mom was trying her best to understand me but I just couldn’t explain anything. All I could do was cut and then cry in regret as my mom bandaged me up.

That was one thing about cutting. It was a release of emotions when you first did it, then you would feel disappointed in yourself, sad, angry, and ashamed afterward. It was a horrible cycle I couldn’t break. I was lost and couldn’t tell up from down.

The drinking and smoking weed helped me to feel like I belonged somewhere and it helped me disassociate from the depression and anxiety. I now know that I was self-medicating because my meds weren’t working for me at all.

Once I finished school online, I decided to get a job so I would have so money. My first job was waitressing at Waffle House in Hampton, on Mercury Boulevard. I was good at waitressing but the guy I kept getting stuck working with was a major pot head. He smoked all during our shift and would disappear for a half hour or so. When that happened, I would take the orders of anyone who walked in, not knowing how long the other guy was going to be gone. Usually you wait on every other person that comes in the establishment.

Then, when he would come back in he would complain, in front of customers, that I had taken his tables. Never mind the fact that they already had their food and were eating when he finally walked in to take their order.

Needless to say, I got tired of that real quick and ended up quitting Waffle House. I was working the night shift, until 6:00 AM during that time so that was even more reason for me to leave. I was only 17 when I got my first job.

Then, I got an opportunity to be a receptionist at an OB/GYN’s office. That wasn’t much of a better environment as the doctor sexually harassed ALL of us! He made comments like “Y’all should have your exams done by me.” And, “I’m going to buy all three of you completely white outfits and take you all out of my boat and get your soaking wet.” Reminder that I was still 17 at the time, so that job didn’t last long either.

During this time I still had no relationship with my dad. He didn’t call me and I didn’t call him. I felt like he didn’t want to have anything to do with me so that’s why I didn’t reach out. Plus, he was the adult, wasn’t he the one that was REALLY supposed to reach out in that situation?
More About My Sessions

10.02.2026
The week before last I started getting a cold, AGAIN, after having one two weeks before. I thought it was totally unfair that I got sick again, and I was miserable! And I’m not a good sick person.

I hate soups!

I hate being hot!

I hate being cold!

I HATE BEING SICK!

And I tend to cry randomly when I’m sick because I just hate it all.

And, in the midst of being sick, my anxiety spiked. Yay me!

January 29th was my eighth Spravato treatment, the last of the twice a week treatments. But I didn’t want to leave the house because of my anxiety. I was so sure I was going to end up vomiting during my session, even though I’d had nothing to eat and just enough to drink to get my meds down, as usual on treatment days.

I thoughts for sure my blood pressure would spike and I’d have to be take to the hospital. All the things that could go wrong were going to go wrong as far as I was concerned.

But I did some deep breathing, got in the car, and showed up for my appointment. There I was in my treatment and nothing was going wrong. At least not anything I thought would go wrong did except…

At the end of my session, my RN informed me that our insurance had denied my once a week treatments. Like that makes any sense! Right?! Approve the twice a week treatments but not the once a week. *insert face palm*

So then my psychiatrist, who I had seen the day before, and who was thrilled with my progress, had to get on the phone and do some bureaucratic bullshit (pardon my language) so that I would be able to continue having my treatments once a week. How crazy is that?

When did the health of a patient start to hang in the balance because of insurance? People making decisions about your health not knowing you, how you have been, and what progress you’re making on the medicine you’re taking. I know! When the drug companies were allowed to charge whatever the hell they want for life-saving (and I do mean this) meds. Insurance companies just don’t want to pay the prices. And, let’s be real, most of us can’t afford the prices ourselves. It’s sickening!

And I know this doesn’t just happen in the mental health sector either. It’s…
- cancer treatments that aren’t fully covered by insurance
- shots for those who are anaphylactic
- and more
We run ourselves in debt to stay alive, yet we cry when people commit suicide because they just can’t handle it all anymore. Crazy isn’t it? Thinking about all the people you know that this actually affects, huh?

So, after my psychiatrist and RN rallied for me with insurance, they approved the once a week round of treatments. Thank goodness!

This time there are 3 nasal sprays, instead of two. A higher dose that has really left me feeling like I’m melting big time.

I’m really grateful for the opportunity to take Spravato. It has made such a difference in my depression. I feel it and my family sees it. There’s not much better than being able to feel happy and hopeful!