daughter

so yeah, i'm about to just say fuck the world because i'm doing my best to keep my shit together, to not freak out, to do everyfuckingthing in my life on my own as far as taking care of myself, and someone who i thought loved me (and i'm not talking about a boyfriend or some random friend; this person is related to me by blood) said something that was so hurtful and heartless that i'm not really sure what to think.

i'm not a negative person, i really *do* have a lot of things in my life that make me happy, but i don't often blog about them because what am i gonna write? today was super!

how boring, and i don't tend to analyze why i'm happy. i go with it, relish the moment(s), and that's about it. if something out of the ordinary happens that is huge, positive, and unexpected, i *will* write about it...rarely...but the thing i really need to hash out is what i want to improve in my life.

plus, this person doesn't understand why i care about anything that i care about, so why mention it? so he can zone out while i describe in wonderment how i met eddie vedder, and talk about how fun pj20 will be? he doesn't get it, doesn't care.

yes, please ignore me when i talk about what matters most.

anyway, i know it's in my best interest to not let things like this get to me, but i'm already beyond stressed and working my best to take care of all my responsibilities, problems, and needs on my own without drowning. i don't have a lot of support, and it's easy to sit on your high horse of judgment when you have a spouse, a secretary, a full time job, a benefits package, and family to help you out.

i don't have any of those, despite my best efforts (and i'm a student, but that's my fault), and none of my family lives within a 200 mile radius. it amazes me that people who know what i've been through and can empathize and see how hard i bust my ass to keep my shit together tell me that i'm strong and resilient, and this person, who can't even pretend to sympathize with having debilitating depression that forced me to be hospitalized and on medication, thinks that i'm a glutton of self pity.

trust me, if i were to wallow in self pity, i would be dead.


"the picture kept will remind me..."

change (in the house of flies)

yep, another fucking blog with the word change in it. that's really not what's been going on today, but what a great song.

what's really going on is booooooooredom. holy hell, i can't take it. i think the biggest contributing factor is my medication. so, here's the deal: i take 400 mg of one of my meds a day. if i go down to 300 (there is no 350 option), i'm bordering on mopey. at 400, i'm bordering on manic. i can work out two hours a day if i want, i have to make myself eat, i end up taking three ativan instead of two to avoid anxiety issues (the prescription is written for three a day, but i haven't needed the third one till they upped this other stupid medication), i can't sleep, i've lost weight, and i have to sit on my hands so i don't rip off my cuticles.

i don't have a psychiatrist for the summer, so i'm kind of on my own here, *plus*, i got a 90 supply of all my medication for the summer, and my prescription is for 400 mg capsules (used to be a handful of 100 mg caps a day, so i had options), so unless i'm gonna open one up and pour part of it out, i'm screwed for the next 83 days.

another reason for boredom: NO money. i can't afford to do *anything*, nothing, i'm not exaggerating. paying the rent in july? that's going to be a miracle. i've never been this broke in my entire life. it's beyond frustrating and a long story.

and the pool is closed for repairs, and it's 95 degrees outside, i have the attention span of a fly right now (a ha! there's the fly reference!). FML.

anyway, back to bored...and restless. i can't sit still. i did an hour on the elliptical tonight, lifted weights, did crunches, and i still could've ridden my bike ten miles and been okay. i didn't because i would've died of heat exhaustion.

i'm not sure what to do because i can't *stand* being bored, and it's not like i can focus and read or study or do anything remotely intellectual or educationally productive (horrible phrase, work with me here) because the restlessness kicks that to the curb.

so what do i do? i exercise, pace, drink...mostly water, but sometimes rum, do push ups, clean out closets and drawers and cabinets, take deep breaths, chew on the inside of my mouth, keep grayson from killing phoenix. but mostly, i think about how bored i am, so bored that i can't even think of anything fun to do at home. i've been watching tv, which i haven't done much of in months, but i have to pause it and get up every seven minutes.

i have so much useless energy and nothing to do with it. i can only do the elliptical for so long before i, guess what? get bored! i don't know if my back can handle running, and walking sucks. i know that a lot of this contradictory, and that's exactly how it feels in my brain and my body: wires crossed everywhere.

i don't wanna to go down to 300 mg because i do *not* want to feel depressed, nothing even remotely in the same ballpark as that bitch. this other option isn't so fun, but with everything else that's going on, i'd rather be high as a kite than hiding razor blades.

other than all that, i'm trying not to do stupid things that get me in trouble, which is what i usually do when i'm bored because at least *then* it's exciting. i don't know if that's working out so well...

i texted someone tonight that i said i wouldn't. i didn't take a blood oath or anything, just told myself it would be a bad idea. oops. it took like three days of thinking about it before i did it, so i wasn't completely irrationally spontaneous. still, oops.

and even worse: he misses me, he's thinking about me, he's thinking about things we used to do together, he wants to see me, blah blah blah.

yeah, back to the gym and hide the phone...

weight of it all

matt nathanson...

i'm not sure what is going on, but this week i have *very* little ability to deal with anything good or bad, mostly bad. actually, i know part of what's going on: new moon, two months worth of SAT lessons and prep in a total of *maybe* 24 hours (which is an intellectual mind suck, to say the least), two days of training, very little sleep, lots of things on my mind, figuring out my new work schedule, stressing about the loss of my insurance, grayson almost broke my foot this morning, nerves are still acting up, i'm wondering if my 90 supply of meds will get here before my current supply runs out, trying to plan my research trip, and i can't remember *anything* and i need to make decisions that affect other people, so having some semblance of intellect or ability to plan/decide would be very helpful.

jesus, what next?

i can deal with a *lot* of shit, but i'm just burned out. i need about a 72 hour nap...straight through...no getting up, no dealing with the kids or FB or drama or parents or work or thinking or moving or pain or planning or money problems or emotions or scheduling.

what's strange is that i'm not worrying about a lot of those things because there's absolutely nothing i can do. i am powerless to control 99% of what happens in my life. i have thrown my proverbial hands up in the air. all i can control is myself.

however, my emotions are still there, i can't shut them off. the best i can do is refrain from acting out negatively. however, they've been weighing on me enough that i can barely stand up...i need to lay down.

i'm exhausted, i need a vacation, a break from reality. i was supposed to be out of town this week, and that fell the hell apart, so now i have to wait until july 5th.

awesome.

i may not make it.

i'd go to bed now, but it's night 2 of 3 of celebrating the bestie's birthday and i can't miss it. plus, the stupid fucking mavericks are playing and i can't miss that. fine, bed at 11, sleep till i meet my friend at 1:30 tomorrow?

i wish.

in my life

the blessed beatles...

ugh, i'm trying so hard to take the high road, and do what's best for me, but what the hell? the road is getting lower and lower, and i'm doing my best to resist.

the bestie and i got into a discussion tonight about connections, "psychic connections", or those that resonate deeply and seem to bind two people through no force that can be explained or verified. she and i share this link; i don't know if it's because we've known each other since 1980, or because we're just naturally in sync, but we're in each other's heads a lot, and more often than not when i text her, she is picking up the phone to text me (or vice versa).

i also have this "link" with my mom. i didn't even realize it until i was in my early 20s and she said that ever since i was a kid, i had the ability to read her mind. she'd think of something she'd promised me, and out of nowhere, i'd mention it (her internal response, "shit! i thought she had forgotten.")

as i've gotten older, i've paid more attention to this type of phenomenon, and anything that may be sixth sense-related, i.e. the ghost issue. i've had similar intuitions and experiences with close friends, my sisters, but i can't think of one guy, really.

except one...the person that i'm trying to eradicate all feelings for.

son of a bitch.

he and i clicked instantaneously; looking back, it was almost like a car crash: forceful, dangerous, and too fast to do anyone any good. within a few days he was able to get inside my head and say what i was thinking without even trying. i seemed to read him in a similar fashion, i thought.

i was at ease from the get go, in ways it normally takes months for me to feel comfortable. the synchronicity was intense and instant, like an elastic band effortlessly snapping into place. i think that's why this person is so embedded in my thoughts. i feel like we're connected somehow, and how do you break a connection with someone?

i haven't talked to my mom in about 50 weeks (not that i'm counting), but i thought about her over the weekend, and had an overwhelming desire to contact her, for absolutely *no* reason, and trust me, i pondered it quite a bit...not much else you can do when you're drugged up, in pain, and icing your entire lower body. i didn't do it because logically, i had no reason to do so, and i was able to recognize that.

i had to run an errand today, and i was about 1/2 a mile from her house. out of nowhere, i felt like i had to, *had* to go to her house *immediately*. it was a visceral, almost physical pull to turn my car around. i came so close, but then i had a moment of rational thought, and realized that it was a bad idea.

instantly, i started crying, even while singing. i couldn't help it; i was sad...sad for what i've lost, what i've always wanted, and what i'll never have. i think that's another reason i've felt overwhelmed and lost the past few days: i'm not sure where this primal mother-craving instinct is coming from, and it's throwing me for a loop. i worked through this months ago, but then again, i also heard my biological clock ticking like a time bomb the other day, so maybe that's a contributing factor.

i feel like my distance from my mom is equivalent to an addict or an alcoholic in recovery. our relationship is that much of a toxic (at this point) and unhealthy influence in my life; i don't want to lose my 350something days of sobriety. luckily, i've had the presence of mind to refrain from acting on wild impulses.

i'm trying to apply those skills to other areas of my life. i *know* there are ways to implement them, and if i could just have the willpower to do so, i'd be much better off. the thing is, part of me doesn't want to; part of me wants to cave, to give in, to feel that bond of understanding and shorthand, regardless of the repercussions. hell, it took 30+ years to break up with my mom, but then again, she's my mom. she literally grew me in her body like a pod.

that's the selfish, masochistic part of me that aches to be understood and unquestioned in what i value, the part of me that is tired of having to defend what i'm passionate about, and just wants to be unconditionally accepted. i think everyone has that desire.

if i've learned anything in the past year, however, it's that a bond with someone isn't necessarily healthy or in my best interest. i figured out a long time ago that just because someone has been in my life for decades doesn't mean they belong here; some people outgrow you, and you outgrow some people.

so i ask you: how do you break a connection with someone? i honestly have no idea...

monkeywrench

wow, so i haven't written in about three and a half months. i can't believe it's been that long, especially since i was writing almost every day. things got busy, i was doing a lot to relieve my back/chronic pain, but things were mostly smoothed out, sailing along, and i didn't make writing a priority. i was too busy living my life, content and satisfied.

i felt so much better physically, mentally, emotionally. i've come to terms with a lot of things and made progress by leaps and bounds this year, as far as personal goals i set for myself.

now, i'm really regretting not keeping us with this blog, because if anything, looking back on things is a way to avoid making the same mistakes again, and a way to refresh your memory about all those things that were good, that make you happy and proud.

i realize that for every accomplishment or step forward, regression and a few steps backward are par for the course. in my experience, things will progress fantastically for a while, and then there will be a bump (or a fucking landmine) in the road, and it feels like everything has gone to shit. i get thrown off course.

one big improvement is that my recovery time has shortened drastically. i get upset, i give myself a certain amount of time to grieve and wallow, then i do what i know will bring me back to life and i'm back on track.

and that's basically what has happened the past few weeks, except things keep happening that prevent me from fully recovering or doing what i need to do. i have fallen off the wagon of self care and goal achievement. i'd gotten into the zone of being focused on taking care of myself, doing what i need to do, studying, exercising, socializing, eating well, *sleeping*, all the things that i know i need to do to stay sane and stable.

and then one distraction, at first glance a positive one, managed to send all of that into a tailspin of amazingly careless and self-destructive habits in a matter of weeks. i haven't been sleeping or eating. i've lost about 6 lbs. in a month, i have lacked the ability to set healthy boundaries, i've been exceedingly reckless, and i put the needs of someone else above my own (never a good thing), especially when the other party doesn't do the same.

bottom line: i feel like a fucking idiot. it's so rare to find a connection with someone, especially an instant, intense, easy connection. i found one, and i let it overtake me. i let my emotions dictate my choices and didn't stop to think about what i was doing. i didn't stop to think if what i was doing was a good choice for me. i lost sight of what i needed to do, and i lost sight of myself.

i let someone in for the first time in a long time, and now i'm wondering if it's something i'll be able to do again. i've never been one to just shut down my feelings or who i am. i want to experience all that i can and not hide. fear isn't something i experience very often.

i have so many other positive, healthy, happy things in my life that i've let fall by the wayside in such a short amount of time. i'm ashamed...

i wanted to incorporate this new part into my world, have someone to share my happiness with, have someone who *gets* what matters to me without question or judgment. this other person seemed to want that, too - making friends with mine, building a foundation for something between us, talking about the future.

i never saw it coming, but how can you ever expect betrayal when it rears its stealthy head? even if you feel a slight blip of doubt, you don't want to believe it, at least i don't. despite my cynicism, i give the people in my life countless chances for redemption, and i trusted this person. i couldn't find a reason not to; an amazing feat for me. i gave everything that i could to be a caring, loving, supportive person, and it was all for nothing.

what do i learn from this: that everyone has the potential to be a wolf in sheep's clothing? that my judgment about others hasn't improved despite my best efforts and beliefs to the contrary? that i deserve to be treated badly? that the only way to be treated well or not walked on is to walk on others?

i can't do that. i don't want to believe any of those things, and i'm not the person i used to be. i'm doing my best to be a kinder, gentler me every day, but for what? few seem to appreciate or value that version of me. kindness and understanding seems to equal gullible, deserving disrespect, a doormat.

i'm not angry, i'm numb, confused, hurt. i feel like a fool.

what's the point in trying to give someone your all when pain is the end result?

"This pair of wing's worn and rusted
From too many years by my side
They can carry me, swear to be sturdy and strong
But see, turning them on still means goodbye"

alone

deleted due to judgment (that i don't need) from people i don't know.

release

i haven't really posted about pearl jam lately, so that's their song in the title, mostly because the lyrics contain the word 'pain', and release from pain would be a really good thing right about now. i'm so frustrated because i'm trying to stay positive and on an even keel. i've got a good little medication cocktail for the depression worked out; i even had my diagnosis downgraded from severe to moderate. but with the pain i've been dealing with, it's really difficult. i do *not* want to bitch and moan all the time, but chronic pain is just that: with you all the time.

it's gotten to the point where it consumes almost every minute of my day. i can't concentrate, focus, or think about anything else without factoring in how much i have to move, how much it's going to hurt, and how much i'll regret it later.

along with all those calculations, i also have to try to figure out how i can do all the things that i need to in any given day, and how many i can neglect. last night was particularly bad, and phoenix was completely freaked out because i was crying, screaming into my pillow, and pulling my hair. i have traumatized my child.

i've been getting spinal injections to control the pain. it's basically a cortisone epidural, and while the procedure isn't bad, i feel horrible afterward. the first one helped alleviate the pain for almost two weeks, but the second one made it worse. my left arm ached, the knife was lodged in my back again, and it felt like a poker was embedded in my neck and head.

after much crying, frustration, and phone calls, i saw my doctor today, who wanted to talk to me about surgery. um, i believe my sentiment to her nurse was along the lines of "HELL NO!" but i still wanted to talk to the doctor about my concerns, results, etc., so i went.

she told me that my reaction to the second injection was atypical; not surprising, as my body tends to do the opposite of what it's supposed to do most of the time. the first injection (they do a series of three) is supposed to reduce the pain by 30%, then another 30% with the second, and then another 30% with the third one.

this, obviously, didn't happen, but since the first one worked she wants to do the third. after that, if i'm still having problems i'm going to have to see a surgeon. i've talked to a few medical professionals about back surgery, and everyone has strongly "urged" me to refrain. usually, they fuse your vertebrae together, then the surrounding vertebrae take up the slack, then *they* need surgery, and so on. no thank you, to the snowballing back surgeries.

however, what my doctor said was that i wouldn't have anything fused. a surgeon would do a minimally invasive procedure to "clean out" all the goop (i have no idea what the medical term is) that's poking around, sticking out, whatever and messing with my pinched nerves. apparently the bulging is incredibly bad (that's what she said), and the severity of the pinching may be what caused the bad reaction to the second injection.

in addition to this, i'll be starting an interdisciplinary pain management out patient program next week, three days a week from 8am to 3pm. needless to say, i'm pushing back my qualifying exams, which i really don't want to do but i'm completely useless at this point, and can't be in constant pain and taking pain killers daily (i'm up to percoset at this point).

the program will consist of physical therapy, occupational therapy, swimming, education about chronic pain, biofeedback, and relaxation techniques. and if the pain isn't reduced by this program, at least i'll be better equipped to deal with it on a daily basis.

fantastic.

i'm not as freaked out about surgery now, knowing that nothing will be soldered together with metal, and if they need to go in and vacuum all that crap out for me to feel better, i'm all for it. it'll take a few weeks to recuperate (i don't know the exact amount of time), but i'll worry about that later.

for now, i'm going to focus on what will essentially be my job for the next five weeks: reducing my pain so that i can feel like human again.

changes

yes, a song title once again...

this may sound stupid, but i think i'm addicted to tv. i looooooove watching tv. it's in my genes. my parents watch a *lot* of tv; my dad not so much as when i was a kid, but still, i've had a set in my room since i was nine years old. i can't even fall asleep without it on because it drowns out all the shit in my head.

i watch entirely too much tv, it's too quiet when it's off, my apartment lacks animation and life that phoenix and grayson can't replace, and i absolutely can't miss an episode of any show that i watch, so i DVR everything.

i don't understand why i get so attached to fictional characters. granted, i realize that i'm not the only one who does this, but i was thinking about it last night. there are several tv shows that were i used to watch and were canceled or ended, and i was really disappointed every time.

maybe it's the consistency and schedule of knowing that i have something that i'm guaranteed to like, and will never let me down...unless there's a state of the union speech, or it's gonna snow, or some moron sent a bomb to a building downtown...*then* it gets interrupted, but the networks have finally realized that they need to plan for things like presidential events in advance. and they *do* show severe weather updates during commercials now, not during the show...

in the grand scheme of things, who cares about fictitious people and plots? they're not real, i'm not losing a friend, it's just a story made up by someone who's being paid to make up stories. although, every time i watch 'titanic', i'm like, "why does he have to DIE?!?" sad. just sad.

anyway, i've been trying to maintain some semblance of a schedule since the fall. because i'm done with coursework, and only have independent study classes, i was afraid that i wouldn't do anything; that my depression would suck me back in, and i'd spend six months on the couch, watching (what else?) the freaking tv.

actually, i've had a lot of things going on, and i feel very fulfilled and busy in my life. and my life is getting in the way of school. i went to a seminar/class on productive writing today, in preparation for starting my dissertation in a few months.

that is probably the most daunting thing i've written today. holy hell.

*deep breaths*

although i'm only reading and taking notes, collecting research here and there, i'm not writing yet, but the class was really helpful. i also found out that all the techniques i use to procrastinate (doing dishes, laundry, organizing, multitasking) are very common, so i don't feel like a complete slacker. and hey, my apartment is always clean. not that it was ever dirty before, but moving on...

i'm going to set up some new guidelines and structures around watching tv, reading, taking notes, and running errands. school is my primary job, and i need to treat it as such. if i don't feel good, and need to take the day off, then i better make up for it on the weekend or in the evening.

when i had classes with real life professors, i studied ALL the time. i busted my ass for school, and i need to get back to that. well, not completely, because i did nothing but study and work, but i need a focused mindset.

so bye bye shows that i really don't care about. bye bye to finding new shows just so i never run out of things to watch. bye bye stupid gossip "news" and repetitive celebrity crap. bye bye to washing clothes, cleaning cabinets, touching up the paint on my walls, and sweeping all at the same time.

qualifying exam preparation, i surrender to you. i am now at your mercy for the next ten weeks. omg, that is not *nearly* enough time...

OMG, this sucks

first, i've been feeling really good the past few days. last thursday was hellllllllllll. luckily, i have people who are willing to deal with the petulant, permanent monkey on my back. i wouldn't behave so badly, but depression? that bitch has a whole set of issues she'd like to keep stapled to my soul, and will drag everyone down with her.

i had a lot of fun after my meltdown, saw good friends, baked, went to the movies, and felt hopeful, and not so chicken little-ish. i fought my negative instincts to hibernate, and forced myself to do what was good for me. ah, monkey bitch slap!

okay, so the suckage...i know i said (just last week!) that i was going to be boy-less for another, oh, seven months (buddha help me), but i really don't know how that's going to be possible. i mean, i can keep from being in situations where there are guys to be met, that's pretty easy for me as i socialize with my friends at my home, their home, restaurants, or...that's pretty much it.

i don't have any ex-boyfriends that live in the area that i can call when i'm bored. i only have one that lives in dallas, but the rest are out of state. wait, one in el paso, but that's a ten hour drive, so no easy access. i think my "love addiction", if you want to call it that is going to prevent me from being alone. i don't think i necessarily have a lot of those characteristics anymore, but i *need* male attention. i think every woman does. well, heterosexual women, not sure about the rest.

i mean, to have minimal contact with half the species is pretty isolating and depressing in itself, and who wants that torture? right now, my male attention isn't even human, and while i dearly love grayson and phoenix, someone with two legs and a vocabulary i can understand would be nice.

i think a big part of this void is that i'm used to having a guy to at least talk to, flirt with, and now i don't, hence "OMG, this sucks". while i tell myself that i can be productive, not have any distractions, focus on school without a boy around, i need a freaking distraction before i get addicted to reality tv. i'm trying to refrain from calling the one ex i *could* talk to, because that situation plays into my black/white, all/nothing routine i've had since birth. no thanks.

i would like to make healthy relationship choices, but it takes two.
are there even any healthy guys out there?

*crickets*

just one day...

i would like to have one day where i'm not in some kind of physical, mental, or emotional pain. i ran this morning because i'm *supposed* to be exercising. it's good for depression, and i'm trying to get rid of the weight that my last medication caused me to gain.

due to a horrible experience a few weeks ago, i've been eating before i run, *every* time. but for some reason, i once again have a horrible stomach ache, one that nothing takes away.

i'm dizzy, nauseous, my mouth tastes like metal, and i just want to go to bed. i don't know if it's because i ran too far, or because i'm also in the throes of a fun female ritual, but i've been miserable all day.

if it's not medication that's making me ill, it's the sciatica in my left side, or a migraine, or some other ailment. i'm not that old, and i really don't think i'm asking for much: just one day without needing some kind of medication, other than the 25 already prescribed to me. i feel like i'm falling apart, and i'm doing everything i can to prevent it.

this is so frustrating, especially since what is making me sick (exercise, medicine), is what is supposed to be making me better...

any given thursday

yes, yesterday was thanksgiving, and i know the typical route is to write about what you're thankful for.

this year (and last year as well), i spent thanksgiving with friends, rather than family. i don't think that calling them "friends" quite gives them the credit that they deserve. these people in my life have become my family.

let's say they are my family of choice, not blood.

i'm not entirely close to a lot of my family, but i have friends who have offered their hearts and homes to me, visited me when i was in the hospital, taken care of my kids when i went out of town, driven me to the airport so i didn't have to pay $100 for parking, and accept me for who i am, with love, generosity, and kindness.

there are many people who won't do so much for their family, much less their friends. i do have family who do what they can to take care of me, are always at the ready with a shoulder and an ear. well, pretty much my daddy, and there are others that i could probably count on in a pinch, but my closest relative lives 200 miles away (not counting my mother here).

i'm extremely blessed to have these amazingly supportive, loving, understanding individuals in my life.

i have friends who can commiserate with me when it comes to depression, medication, and less-than-perfect mothers (you know who you are).

i have friends who, although they are miles and miles away, share my love of music and all things pearl jam (damn it, they're back again).

they truly are my family (i just wish most of them lived closer).

can i get a second opinion on this?

one of the unfortunate things (one of many) that happens when you take medications that are supposed to "fix" or stabilize your mood is that your ability to gauge how you feel is thrown off completely. the fact that i recently changed medications doesn't help, either.

i think some people are under the impression that if you take medication to alleviate depression, anxiety, etc., that you're just a ball of sunshine *all* the time. you wake up singing, skip to the shower, and treat the rest of your day as if you're the star in a broadway musical.





no, it does not look like this.
<------------------------------









medication is supposed to get you to a place (figurative, not literal. no all-expenses-paid trip to europe, or anything like that) where you can experience the average, every day range of human emotions, from sadness to exhilaration, and all the colors in between.

it's supposed to keep you from laying in bed for three days, doing nothing but eating twizzlers, crying, and refusing to shower. that's not what my depression looks like, just an example.

herein lays my problem: when am i just having a bad day, and when are my meds not working? i have no freaking clue. i'm not laying on the couch, watching tv in my pajamas all day, only to take a bath and put on a different set of pajamas (*that's* what my depression looks like). i may have depression, people, but i'm not an animal.

i've been emotional for the past few days, very ponderous, thinking about topics more important than 'should i use the lemon vanilla lotion, or the almond milk? what to do, what to do'. i've been thinking about relationships and family issues, but nothing more than what i would typically think of in a given day.

i think.
a lot.
don't forget those voices...

but i really *don't* know if i'm just having a crappy couple of days, or if my brain isn't doing what it's supposed to be doing. there's no real way to know, other than wait, see if i feel better, or if the floor drops out from underneath me.

so...here i sit...a ticking time bomb...living in the grays.

despite not feeling all that great emotionally, i'm still getting up every morning and running; a very good sign. i've been socializing; also good. i've been productive and busy, not laying on the couch for days, but i'm not happy. i'm not altogether sad, just meh. blah.

this can't be what the average, every day human experience has become, can it? if not (or if so, for that matter), what the hell's going on?

inquiring minds (well, my mind) want to know...

it's just a broken heart

despite what you may think, i'm pretty particular about what i listen to (i think), but i also have a varied taste in music. for the past week, i've been running to taylor swift's new cd. now i realize that i'm not 14, but it's a guilty pleasure and it keeps me moving. her songs are all about good relationships gone bad, stupid choices (hello, john mayer), regret; all things i can identify with.

my musical taste does tend to gravitate toward the depressing love song; songs about ended relationships, betrayal, regret, "why didn't this work out", "why did you leave me", "i have to leave you, it's for the best". ya know, the brokenhearted variety. apparently, this is a genetic trait, as my dad listens to the same uplifting genre.

which made me wonder why pearl jam (yep, they're back) and their music mean so much to me. they don't really do a lot of "relationship" songs, not like the kind i was referring to. i'd say that they write a lot of songs that are "emotional", but they're about emotional pain; anger, abuse, loneliness. again, things with which i can identify.

the first pearl jam song that got me was "black". i had heard "alive", "jeremy" (hell, the kid who they based the song on went to a high school in my district and i remember when it happened), but those songs really didn't click. but "black", how could you *not* love this?





aw, young ed...what passion, what a voice. yes, he's beautiful, too. totally beside the point.

it wasn't until i heard "black", a song about a relationship that has ended, and the pain, loss, and regret that the singer feels, that i got the tape (remember those?) and literally sat for hours on my best friend deirdre's bed, trying to figure out the freaking lyrics.

because ed wouldn't be ed if he made anything less than challenging, especially when it comes to his personal experiences.

i listened to that song over and over, and my freshman year of college, i even had the lines
"i know someday you'll have a beautiful life, i know you'll be a star in someone else's sky. why can't it be mine?"
written in chalk on my wall.

my roommate probably thought i was nuts, but it was there for a reason, and for a person: the first person that i really and truly loved. he was, to date, the best boyfriend i've had, and when your best relationship happens at 18 years old, you, my friend, are fucked.

so, despite fact that the majority of pearl jam's lyrics aren't about lost love, they *are* about the human condition, and the struggles that (apparently) a lot of people feel. because i'm not sitting alone in those arenas, stadiums, and theaters. i definitely wasn't alone at madison square garden last may, with tens of thousands of people screaming and singing louder than the band.

i did a project about pearl jam for one of my classes, a storytelling project, and i had to interview 25 people and ask them 25 questions.

question #25 was this:

Which of these words, if any, have led you to Pearl Jam’s music because you can relate to these things and/or have experience with them: pain (emotional or physical or both), feeling like an outsider or misunderstood, dissatisfied, hopeless, alone, seeking a connection?

without question, all 25 people picked almost all of them.

so i'm not alone.

while love may have led me to pearl jam (and has kept me around), pain, dissatisfaction, and feelings of being misunderstood have kept me here, even though i'm part of a community that welcomes me with open arms. in that, i feel a connection.

elsewhere? that's a different story.

life: 1 april: 0

sooo, i was going to try and write something upbeat, something happy to offset yesterday's postings, but i just...can't. i didn't sleep well, the cat decided to try and linebacker his way out of the laundry room all night, and i had weird dreams, which are part and parcel for me dredging up all this shit buried in my psyche.


despite having both coffee and chatting with a good friend, and then dinner with another friend, i still sit here crying, and i'm not sure why. which really concerns me.


is this because my old meds are out of my system and the new ones haven't fully kicked in? are the new meds not going to work? am i just having a bad day? is this normal?

i don't even know what that means. i also threw my body for a loop when i stopped taking my birth control pills about three weeks ago because 1. who needs them? (not me, that's who) and 2. i feel like a cesspool for chemicals. i'm gonna need a liver transplant before i'm 60 with all the shit, albeit 99% of it legal, that i've put in my body. so is this a response to the fact that i'm having hormone withdrawal? who the hell knows?!? that's a big part of the problem.

can i not just feel okay? i don't want this blog to turn into my day-to-day dealings with depression. if you want, i can give you 25 interesting facts about me; i started that blog last week. unfortunately, this *is* my day-to-day right now. feel free to stop reading.

compound all this with the fact that my memory is awful, i seriously don't know what day of the week it is, i need to read 100 books in the next 5 months, and my coordination is for shit. i can barely type. oh, and my eyes keep doing this weird thing where it feels like they're shifting from side to side super fast, so fast that i can't focus. sounds bizarre; it is, and that's the best explanation i can give. on the upside, i've lost 6 lbs. in 12 days.

i think part of the issue is that i'm lonely. i mean really, intensely, painfully lonely. i know that not everyone has someone, but i've been pretty much single for almost 5 years, that's 70% of this decade of my life. they say that things happens when you're not looking, and i haven't been...and nothing. i feel surrounded and supported by great friends, and i'm always busy, there aren't enough hours in the day, but someone to share all this with?

my dog. at least he listens when i talk to him.
usually.

that last part was actually more difficult to post than anything i've written on here. i've come to terms with having depression, but i can't come to terms with this.

not yet.

profanity, anger, venting? inquire within.

i probably shouldn't write while i'm upset, but i feel like this evening was another case in point of someone not understanding me and what i'm going through, and trying to sweep it under the rug because i asked for help that i really didn't want to ask for. every time i feel like i make some progress, someone makes it glaringly apparent that i'm a bother or that they don't think i'm really sick.

trust me, i don't want to think of myself as ill, or having a disease, but that's what this is. there's no 12 step program, no steps to work, no snapping out of it. it's a lonely, isolating, ongoing, day to day, step by step process to strive to be happy, and it is work.

happiness and feeling "normal" shouldn't be this fucking hard. there should be a few moments here and there when you can just...be. hell, i don't even know what happiness is exactly because i don't have the same gauge by which to judge it that other people do. at this point, i can't discern happiness from manic tendencies.

i'm sorry that i suffer from depression.
i'm sorry that i have massive monthly expenses to ensure my continued health and safety.
i'm sorry that my insurance sucks.
i'm sorry that i'm 37 and still need support at times.
i'm sorry if i inconvenience anyone with my illness.

i'm sick and fucking tired of feeling like a pariah, less-than-human, or unworthy of sympathy. i feel like i've made great strides in the past few months, and the only reassurance i get is from my therapist and my psychiatrist (other than my friends who have reached out here, and when i've asked for help).

DEPRESSION IS NOT A CHOICE!!! IF IT WERE, I WOULD'VE DROPPED IT LIKE A BAD HABIT YEARS AGO. IT IS AN ILLNESS. IF YOU DON'T KNOW ABOUT IT, FUCKING EDUCATE YOURSELF, BECAUSE I GUARANTEE SOMEONE IN YOUR LIFE SUFFERS FROM IT.

i've dealt with this for EIGHTEEN YEARS. can you imagine having an illness that has these limitations: you can't talk about it, you can't deal with it publicly, you can't ask for support, and it is used against you with the express purpose of hurting you, knocking you down, and breaking your spirit by people you trust, just because they're angry, guilty, and feel helpless themselves?

nothing says support and understanding like your own mother calling you crazy repeatedly, asking if you've taken your meds when you have a bad day (everyone has them, even when medicated) and referring to you as "having been in the loony bin". wow, thanks for the encouragement, especially since she has depression herself.

i'm also tired of my mother telling people in our family, friends, and mutual acquaintances that i'm crazy, a bad daughter, the root of all her problems, and a deal breaker for her marriage. i haven't so much as raised my voice to her or insulted her, called her a name, or tried to hurt her feelings in almost two years. the same can't be said for her, when (in june) she called me a fucking, g*ddamn c*nt REPEATEDLY in front of my neighbors, and said that she wouldn't "do anything to me (physically) because her husband was there. so you'd have hit me if wasn't there? when i asked her to please stop embarrassing me, she went up to a friend's patio and yelled it louder.

i had no intentions of writing about my mother in this blog, ever, but i would like my side of the story told so that people will stop judging me about things they have no knowledge of. i also want people to know why i have some of the issues i have, and some of the stress i've been under this year.

i'm tired of having to deal with this by myself, i'm tired of people being afraid that i'm contagious (i'm not), or that i'm going to up and lose my shit. i don't yell, i don't take my pain out on others (i reserve that for myself), and i try not to even bother people when i need help, which is what got me so far down this path last december.

i have not had a safe place and no one who has taken me seriously the few times i said i needed help and was afraid. i have been dumped at the ER after overdosing because the person who took me didn't want to wait it out, and she knew it "would take a while" for me to be seen. this isn't just anyone, this is my MOTHER. fantastic support. wouldn't want to inconvenience you.

and people continue to wonder why i struggle with this, how i have virtually no family support, and why i feel so helpless? i'm not normally angry, but enough with this "hiding-it-under the carpet" mentality. i have had enough.

nothing stresses me out more

i cannot *stand* stressing about money. today started out *fantastic*. i got up, worked out, got some things done around the house while listening to old school U2. grayson sat on the patio, refrained from destroying anything. then i check the mail on the way to campus and get not one, not two, but three medical bills, and one that's been sent to collection, even though i paid on it two weeks ago.

so i had the fun task of calling the creditor, who said that i've been paying regularly, and as long as i pay every month, i'm cool, but i had to call the hospital and figure out why i have five different accounts and what the hell is going on with them. i never got a statement of services, or any kind of benefits explanation; i've just been making payments for services (which ones?) for at least seven months. i also think i've paid more than my out-of-pocket, but the thought of calling blue cross to haggle about my benefits is almost worse than having to pay them.

this is another thing about depression, it's really freaking expensive. that's one thing that i don't think people recognize, and they definitely don't tell you at depression camp (that's a joke, people). it can make your depression worse, or at least cause a hell of a lot of anxiety, which really doesn't help.

not only do you have to pay for meds every month, you have to visit a psychiatrist on a regular basis, and you have to pay for therapy if you really want to get well. i'm paying $150 - $200 a month, *without* paying off these stupid medical expenses. and if you've traveled the road of mental health hell that i have, you have additional expenses to deal with.

this situation just sucks. i was in such a good mood today, and i know i shouldn't let this one thing get me down, but i hate worrying about money more than anything else. i feel helpless, and i've been emotionally all over the place the past few days.

i decided to do something to take care of myself because my mind, body, and chemicals have been used and abused for the past few weeks. i went to the massage school and got a massage. $30 for almost 90 minutes, and it was worth every penny.

yes, i'm broke but i lay on a heating pad for four hours every night, and for the past few weeks, it has felt like someone stabbed me in the lower back and the back of my neck. i have severe arthritis in my spine, scoliosis, scar tissue floating around from two car accidents, and frequent migraines. if i continue to take the narcotics that are prescribed to me for the pain, i'll have yet another issue to deal with, and rehab ain't my cup of tea.

i'm feeling very relaxed now, and oh so sleepy, if i can only keep this headache at bay...

milestone

this may not seem like a big thing to most people, but i achieved what, for me, was a milestone this weekend. i've been doing promotional work for almost four years now, but for the last year and a half, it's been really hard because of my depression that kicked in during the summer of '09.

i wasn't properly treated and medicated for this bout until last december, but even still, it's been really hard to function in some areas of my life. i know i have to go to school, and i've made myself do that, even when i could barely get out of the house. i also know that i have to show up as a teaching assistant, even though i really struggled during the fall of '09 due to a lot of health issues that were probably ralated to the depression.

another problem area has been leaving the house and/or hanging out with friends. leaving the house at night has been really hard because i have all day to think about the fact that i have to get ready, go somewhere, pretend to be okay, and not want to crawl into a fetal position on the couch. i'd spend the whole day counting down the hours until i had to get ready, not doing anything else because i couldn't focus on anything but the worry.

i've never had problems with social anxiety or anything like that, but with this round of depression, i've been really isolated, even when i feel better. i think it's taken so much effort just to feel okay that i haven't had the extra energy to share it with others, if that makes sense. i've been doing everything i can to get better, and sometimes that means i don't have time for others. i'm not doing it to be selfish, but so that i can literally stay alive.

i've also had problems working promotions because i haven't been able to talk to people when i do them. in the past, i'd approach *anyone*, be friendly, talkative, but i have dreaded this job for almost a year and a half because i just couldn't handle the socialization. it's also hard to promote something when meds have your brain so fried, it's literally difficult to speak, let alone remember all the freaking selling points.

so, this weekend was a milestone for me. i was scheduled to work nascar, friday - sunday, for a total of 21 hours, and i made it all the way through. i worked every day, i actually enjoyed it for the most part, and i did my best. that may not seem like a big deal, but the racetrack is an hour's drive from my house, i had to be there at 6:30 am one day, and 7:00 the next, and the first shift was 8 hours long. i also had to talk to thousands of people, survey them, ask for personal information, give out stuff, be charming, and get hit on by rednecks. not to mention the fact that it was 45 - 55 degrees.

it means a lot to me that i pulled this off, especially with the medication change/adjustment. i woke up the third morning, and really didn't want to go. it was really cold, it was really early, and i just wanted to sleep in, but i couldn't do it. i couldn't stay home; i got up and went to work.

i was, and am, really proud of myself.

bobcat or housecat? you decide...

i've never really been a cat person. i love dogs, and have had them for most of my life. i tend to treat my dogs as children. take phoenix for instance. i buy him birthday and christmas presents, and i insist that he's in another room when i wrap them so he won't ruin the surprise. okay, it's kinda weird, but i don't have human children, and ya work with what ya got.

despite gift giving, i'm not one of those annoying people that takes their dogs everywhere in a purse, dyes their hair funky colors, or dresses them in a different outfit every week.

fine, phoenix has been known to wear a sweater on occasion. for example:





doesn't he look *thrilled*?














but in my defense, his life usually looks a little something like this:




that's my bed. yep, rough life.














so, in order to keep my child occupied (because he's obviously not getting enough love or attention from me), i decided to get a cat: less maintenance than a dog, keeps to himself, poops in a box, acts like he's doing you a favor by petting him. you know, all the reasons why you'd want a cat.

two days after i decided to get one, a litter magically appeared in my mom's yard. it's kismet! to be clear, i did not pick my kitten. he picked me. so i took him home because that's what where i was going, and he was going with me. but really, how could you not love this face?



















i will tell you. he's obviously on a mission of some sort...a calling, if you will. i'm not sure who his puppet master is, or what agency he's working for, but that mission is obviously to drive me to the brink of insanity. yes, i suffer from depression, but i'm not crazy...yet. it's only been 5 months.

i haven't had a kitten since i was 16, and that cat, cassandra, was not your average bear. she was feisty but sweet, somewhat lazy, and affectionate. in a word: perfect. now i know that most kittens (and puppies) are playful. holy hell. playful does not even begin to describe grayson.

a sidebar about his name. when we found the litter, we gave each kitten a nickname so that we could identify them, instead of pointing and saying, "that one, with the hair!" while we looked for homes for them. grayson acquired his name because he looked like he was wearing gray socks. cheesy, but it worked.

i brought him home after going to see pearl jam on the east coast (yes people, there they are again) and i could *not* think of a name for him. after two days, i had yelled "grayson" so many times that it pretty much stuck. i had no say so in the matter, which seems to have solidified the nature of our relationship.

back to playfulness...grayon isn't playful, he is maniacal. i swear he didn't sleep the first two weeks i had him. i know. i was home. wall to wall insanity. he ate plants, shredded the couch cover, chewed on power cords, ate paper...pretty much anything that would get him killed, either by me or jolt of electricity. maybe it's a death wish, not a mission...

i got a water gun to "train" him, that's what "they" tell you to do. it's as easy as herding cats. he'd do something he *knew* he wasn't supposed to because i had just yelled at him about it 17 seconds ago. i'd pull out the water gun, and he'd squint and wait to see if it would work. let me add that this water gun was a piece of shit from walmart that worked sporadically. he'd wait and if it did spray water, he'd run...and then return to chewing on my earphone cords or trying to shred the chair ties, playing hockey with dog food, or terrorizing phoenix.

remind me again, why i got a cat?

granted, he pretty much has a dog's personality; he comes when i call him, loves to be petted, and acts like he's part of the pack (of me and phoenix, that is).

and i feel bad. i don't *want* to yell at him, because no one likes to be yelled at. i don't like to yell, i rarely do it (anymore), i grew up in a house *full* of yelling. and he really is sweet and affectionate, except when he's sleeping on my face.


i know, he does it out of love. uh huh.
















the yelling is starting to affect my psyche. about two months ago, i had a dream that i killed a rabbit by shaking it to death until it was a bloody bag of flesh. talk about disturbing. i'm convinced it's because i had yelled at grayson before bed and i felt guilty. then a few nights ago, i dreamed that i pulled one of his front legs out of the socket when he pissed me off and i grabbed him, and i had to put it back in. WTF? (needed caps there)

slow down. before you call the spca, you must know that i don't abuse either of my kids. granted, i yell at grayson, but when your cat is standing in the middle of your dining room table, with a mouthful of the pile of 60 exams you just graded and your lap is full of dog and knitting, you'd yell too.

phoenix is another story, for another blog. in short, i never yell at him because he never does anything wrong, really. he's a super mellow dog who seems to have inherited some of my anxiety. they say that pets mirror their owners, but if that's the case, i must have a split personality. keep your comments to yourself, please.

here's what he did last night:















i'm hoping that once i get grayson neutered, he'll slap on 15 lbs. of laziness and calm down. if not, i'm faced with the prospect of a 20 lb. monster who is a dog batterer and lays on my face.

awesome.

the life of a guinea pig/fat cat

soooo, other things on my mind. i'm going to divulge some personal info, and this isn't exactly easy for me to broadcast to the world, though i've dealt with it for half of my life. i'm on a few psychotropic meds because, like 47% of the population (i just made up that number), my brain doesn't produce the chemicals necessary to live a "normal" life. normal is a completely different topic, and i don't want to digress. anyway, i have a really, really weird brain that won't tolerate about 99.5% of the psych medications out there (that is a real number).

i was really excited in january when my doctor found something that worked and didn't make me hallucinate, stay awake for four days, cause panic attacks, or any of the other super fun side effects i've had to deal with. luckily, i'm not a guy because i'm sure sexual dysfunction would have been in there somewhere. back to meds:

i started taking this medication and, after like nine months on it, along with weekly therapy, i was feeling *great*, like tony the tiger great, until...i realized that my clothes were getting tighter and tighter. yes, happiness is all well and good (yay, mental health!), but if you gain weight, it's not exactly great for the self esteem. how can i not get depressed when i eat 1200 calories a day, work out six hours a week, obsess and record everything i put in my body, and still gain __ lbs?!?

<----- this is how i have been feeling.

i went to my primary care doctor, who told me that the med i'm taking is *notorious* for weight gain. fantastic. i went to my psychiatrist who said that, yes, weight gain is common with this drug. even better. she weighed me and "kinda" freaked out because every time i see her, she stresses the importance of exercise. i tell her i exercise. she says "good job". meanwhile, i had gained over 10% of my body weight since march.

now, this woman is a great psychiatrist, but if you've ever taken any psych meds or dealt with someone who has, it's a crapshoot (that was originally a title for a pearl jam song. yes, i'm obsessed). you are, in essence, a guinea pig and they try and try again until they find something that works.

because there are sooo many drugs i can't take, to find one that does work is a freaking miracle. the fact that it has the pesky little side effect of gaining __ lbs. in ten months is discarded in the name of mental health. anyway, because i was about to (calmly) have a nervous breakdown, and because she's a great doctor, she changed my medication to something that is known to cause weight loss. woo hoo!

now i'm dealing with the ever-so-fun task of experiencing and weeding through the side effects, while trying to determine if they'll go away. i also have to decide whether the side effects outweigh the intended effects. i talked to one of my friends about this (i will keep her anonymous to respect her privacy), and she said that she kept a journal of how she felt when she started a new med. i decided to try it out. here is a sample entry:

doubled the dosage today, numb, moody, blank mind and trouble remembering. i just want to go home and lay there and do nothing. i really just want to lay on my face, as weird as that sounds. i don’t want to feel anything, physically or emotionally. my brain doesn't contain any information. it's not that i can't access info, it's literally empty.

once again, welcome to my brain.

i feel the need to add a p.s.

while i'm going through all this trial/error/guinea pig experimentation crap, i really am, overall, doing soooooo much better than i was even a few months ago. several people have written to me, expressing concern (thank you friends, i love you), and i want you to know that i'm really, really good. i don't say that lightly, and it kind of scares me to put it out there because i'll be waiting for the other shoe to drop, but i'm hopeful, content, fulfilled, and optimistic. : )