Sorry for the lack of updates. I'm in withdrawl mode. I don't know what's gotten into me, but I haven't left the house in a few weeks. And it had been a few weeks until I left the house last time. I've been pushing people offline away. I just don't want to deal with them I suppose. It's better to make someone mad and hate you than to put effort into a relationship and have them hate you anyway. At least in my twisted mind. I haven't made doctor's appointments, which is probably part of the problem. I actually sucked it up this week and did a phone appointment with my psychologist. He gave me a new treatment plan - go see a movie every day. If only it didn't cost money. At least that got a laugh out of me.
It's odd. I would rather sit on my ass in front of my laptop and converse with my friends online than actually go out. I think a part of it is that the one friend I usually do see has a boyfriend that I can't stand. And her son gets to me. They both act like total assholes and disrespect her constantly. Not to mention there's a fight every time I'm there and her boyfriend hits on anything that moves. I suppose the drama keeps me away. My other friends and my sister all have a lot of responsibilities that make it hard for them to get together much. Plus, I'd rather sleep all day then spend it trying to think of things to banter about.
So my goals this week? Go to the movies with my sister tomorrow night. Go to my doctor's office (and schedule that appt. tomorrow.) And try to do one thing I didn't do the day before. It's a good plan for the short term I suppose.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Binghamton Killings
I haven't written in a while and I apologize. Things have been...well...for lack of better terms, depressing. As you may have heard, my hometown - Binghamton, NY - was hit with a horrible tragedy yesterday. A gunman walked into the American Civic Association downtown and gunned down many people. 13 were killed, and more were injured. He then took his own life.
To put it mildly, I am in shock. This has never happened here before. It was definitely pre-meditated, being that he pulled a car up against the back entrance, making sure that no one could escape without going through him. If it weren't for one of the receptionists (the other was killed) playing dead, then calling 911 when he left for another room, who knows how much worse it could have been. It was hard. My mother was in hysterics, being that she has dealt with the people that work there through her job. I can't imagine the pain the families and friends are going through.
I've lived in Binghamton my entire life. I remember being a kid, and being able to run through the neighborhood with no worry. Whichever parent was closest would watch over us, feed us and do it willingly. Only once do I remember knowing of a crime. There was a man that had killed a cab driver. It shook the city then, much as this has shaken the city now. It's amazing the downturn that I have seen in my 30 years of living here. Crime has gone up. Companies that provided great jobs for the people in our area have moved. Young adults no longer stay after graduation. It's as if I've watched the place I love start circling the drain.
Now our community is left to deal with this horrible tragedy, perhaps never truly knowing why. The American Civic Center is a wonderful charity. People there are willing to give those coming to our area help becoming American citizens and members of our community. I can't imagine how it feels to one second be so excited at the prospect of becoming a part of our wonderful nation, then be afraid that your life is over in the next. Why? Why did he do this in the first place, and why at a place that provides wonderful support for immigrants such as himself?
He truly is a coward. He walked in there with the intention of killing people, and rather than facing the consequences for that, he made sure he would not be around to have to answer for his actions. Did he tell anyone why? Were there signs that he would go this far? I feel as if I need the answers. I think the people in that building yesterday and their loved ones deserve them.
The selfish part of me is thinking what this is going to do to me - being that I am so sensitive to things like this. I'm afraid to leave my house at the moment. I don't want to go down Front Street. I don't want to be reminded that people have been killed there. Most of all, I don't want to have the confirmation that my hometown has become what it has. I'm losing faith in humans. Not only here, but anywhere. When did our society become so violent, so...wrong? Can we fix it? Have I lost all hope that we can turn this around?
I guess a part of me is still in shock. I don't want to think about it. I'm tired. I want to sleep until people have forgotten about this and we return to a somewhat normal way of life. Then I feel guilty for feeling that way. I shouldn't be so jaded, but I can't help but be. No one has been able to tell me that things will get better and truly know they will. I am still looked at as lazy - as if my disability is all in my mind (which it is, but not the way people think.) I'm still utterly alone - which is mainly my own doing. I've pushed everyone away, so that they won't hurt the way I do. Yet there's still the side of me that can relate with the coward that committed this crime. That's what scares me the most.
I know what it's like to feel hopeless. I know what it's like to be angry at the world. I'd be lying to say that I've never thought of hurting all the people that have hurt me in my lifetime, then taking my own life. I'd like to think I'm not capable of it. I don't think I am - the guilt alone for thinking these things is almost too much to bear. But the thoughts are there, none the less. Is that normal? Does everyone feel so bitter toward people that have wronged them? I don't know. All I know is I make myself sick sometimes.
I want to curl up under the covers and sleep this through. At least my mind stops when I'm asleep. The constant barrage of thoughts goes away for that fleeting moment. It's the only time I'm truly at peace. I've never been able to just not think. I would go through the routine of relaxation drills before basketball games, but no matter how hard I tried to just let the tension go, it stayed. My body and mind are constantly on alert. It's as if that's all my mind is programmed for - fight or flight. I've tried hypnosis with my doctor. It didn't work. I've tried the breathing drills. I've tried to let the thoughts pass...just acknowledge them then move on. I can at least do that, but there are so many thoughts they're replaced with, it's just as tiring to try than to not.
I've been told you can't think of 2 things at the same time. I'm not sure I believe that. My mind is constantly going in circles. If it's true, and there aren't two thoughts there at the same time, then they're in such rapid succession that it has me fooled to think otherwise. It's tiring. It takes all of me to just fight the battle inside my mind most days, let alone to go out into the world and deal with the rest of the worries that brings. So now; being that I don't even feel safe in the city I know best; how do I put on a brave face and face the world?
The one I can't forget is my pain it seems. I only hope the song is true. I'll keep listening, and praying it is.
To put it mildly, I am in shock. This has never happened here before. It was definitely pre-meditated, being that he pulled a car up against the back entrance, making sure that no one could escape without going through him. If it weren't for one of the receptionists (the other was killed) playing dead, then calling 911 when he left for another room, who knows how much worse it could have been. It was hard. My mother was in hysterics, being that she has dealt with the people that work there through her job. I can't imagine the pain the families and friends are going through.
I've lived in Binghamton my entire life. I remember being a kid, and being able to run through the neighborhood with no worry. Whichever parent was closest would watch over us, feed us and do it willingly. Only once do I remember knowing of a crime. There was a man that had killed a cab driver. It shook the city then, much as this has shaken the city now. It's amazing the downturn that I have seen in my 30 years of living here. Crime has gone up. Companies that provided great jobs for the people in our area have moved. Young adults no longer stay after graduation. It's as if I've watched the place I love start circling the drain.
Now our community is left to deal with this horrible tragedy, perhaps never truly knowing why. The American Civic Center is a wonderful charity. People there are willing to give those coming to our area help becoming American citizens and members of our community. I can't imagine how it feels to one second be so excited at the prospect of becoming a part of our wonderful nation, then be afraid that your life is over in the next. Why? Why did he do this in the first place, and why at a place that provides wonderful support for immigrants such as himself?
He truly is a coward. He walked in there with the intention of killing people, and rather than facing the consequences for that, he made sure he would not be around to have to answer for his actions. Did he tell anyone why? Were there signs that he would go this far? I feel as if I need the answers. I think the people in that building yesterday and their loved ones deserve them.
The selfish part of me is thinking what this is going to do to me - being that I am so sensitive to things like this. I'm afraid to leave my house at the moment. I don't want to go down Front Street. I don't want to be reminded that people have been killed there. Most of all, I don't want to have the confirmation that my hometown has become what it has. I'm losing faith in humans. Not only here, but anywhere. When did our society become so violent, so...wrong? Can we fix it? Have I lost all hope that we can turn this around?
I guess a part of me is still in shock. I don't want to think about it. I'm tired. I want to sleep until people have forgotten about this and we return to a somewhat normal way of life. Then I feel guilty for feeling that way. I shouldn't be so jaded, but I can't help but be. No one has been able to tell me that things will get better and truly know they will. I am still looked at as lazy - as if my disability is all in my mind (which it is, but not the way people think.) I'm still utterly alone - which is mainly my own doing. I've pushed everyone away, so that they won't hurt the way I do. Yet there's still the side of me that can relate with the coward that committed this crime. That's what scares me the most.
I know what it's like to feel hopeless. I know what it's like to be angry at the world. I'd be lying to say that I've never thought of hurting all the people that have hurt me in my lifetime, then taking my own life. I'd like to think I'm not capable of it. I don't think I am - the guilt alone for thinking these things is almost too much to bear. But the thoughts are there, none the less. Is that normal? Does everyone feel so bitter toward people that have wronged them? I don't know. All I know is I make myself sick sometimes.
I want to curl up under the covers and sleep this through. At least my mind stops when I'm asleep. The constant barrage of thoughts goes away for that fleeting moment. It's the only time I'm truly at peace. I've never been able to just not think. I would go through the routine of relaxation drills before basketball games, but no matter how hard I tried to just let the tension go, it stayed. My body and mind are constantly on alert. It's as if that's all my mind is programmed for - fight or flight. I've tried hypnosis with my doctor. It didn't work. I've tried the breathing drills. I've tried to let the thoughts pass...just acknowledge them then move on. I can at least do that, but there are so many thoughts they're replaced with, it's just as tiring to try than to not.
I've been told you can't think of 2 things at the same time. I'm not sure I believe that. My mind is constantly going in circles. If it's true, and there aren't two thoughts there at the same time, then they're in such rapid succession that it has me fooled to think otherwise. It's tiring. It takes all of me to just fight the battle inside my mind most days, let alone to go out into the world and deal with the rest of the worries that brings. So now; being that I don't even feel safe in the city I know best; how do I put on a brave face and face the world?
It's been the longest winter without you
I didn't know where to turn to
See somehow I can't forget you
After all that we've been through
Going coming thought I heard a knock
Who's there no one
Thinking that I deserve it
Now I realize that I really didn't know
If you didn't notice you mean everything
Quickly I'm learning to love again
All that I know is I'm gonna be ok
Thought I couldn't live without you
It's gonna hurt when it heals too
It'll all get better in time
Even though I really love you
I'm gonna smile cause I deserve to
It'll all get better in time
I couldn't turn on the TV
Without something there to remind me
Was it all that easy
To just put aside your feelings
If I'm dreaming don't wanna laugh
Hurt my feelings but that's the path
I'll believe in
And I know time will heal it
If you didn't notice boy you mean everything
Quickly I'm learning to love again
All I know is I'm gonna be ok
Thought I couldn't live without you
It's gonna hurt when it heals too
It'll all get better in time
Even though I really love you
I'm gonna smile cause I deserve to
It'll all get better in time
Since there's no more you and me
It's time I let you go
So I can be free
And live my life how it should be
No matter how hard it is I'll be fine without you
Yes I will
Thought I couldn't live without you
It's gonna hurt when it heals too
It'll all get better in time
Even though I really love you
I'm gonna smile cause I deserve to (yes I do)
It'll all get better in timeLeona Lewis - Better in Time
The one I can't forget is my pain it seems. I only hope the song is true. I'll keep listening, and praying it is.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Carve Your Heart Out Yourself
Carve your heart out yourself. Hopelessness is your cell. Since you've drawn out these lines, are you protected from trying times? Man, it takes a silly girl to lie about the dreams she has. Lord, it takes a lonely one to wish that she had never dreamt at all. Oh look now, there you go with hope again. Oh you're so sure I'll be leaving in the end.
Dig your ditch deep enough to keep you clear of the sun. You've been burned more than once. You don't think much of trust. Man, it takes a silly girl to lie about the dreams she has. Lord, it takes a lonely one to wish she had never dreamt at all. Oh Look now, there you go with hope again, but I'll be sure your secrets safe with me. Oh you're so sure I'll be leaving in the end. Treating me like I'm already gone, but I'm not, I will stay where you are always.Dashboard Confessional - Carve Your Heart Out Yourself
I don't know what's going on with me lately. I've been having panic attacks a lot more often lately, and wasn't able to sleep for almost 2 full days. This usually happens when my depression gets out of control, but it doesn't make me feel any better about it. I've started to fall into the routine I usually do when I take a downturn. I sleep during the day and spend the night on the computer. I don't want any human interaction other than through instant messages or the like. How do you stop yourself from falling down that huge hole you just just inched out of with the tips of your nails? Honestly...I wouldn't wish this shit on my worst enemy. It's hard...it's confusing...and of course it hurts...I think that's pretty much assumed from the beginning.
Something tonight got me thinking. Why does it bother me so much when people either call me crazy or imply something of the sort? I know it shouldn't bother me - God knows I've been called it enough - but it does. I think it's because I try so hard to keep myself from being "crazy" that if someone says I am it's like taking a bullet. I've spent the past 10 years fighting for my sanity...for someone to tell me I don't have it is devastating. Mostly I think it's because it angers me that there still is that stigma on mental illness. Even if whoever said it was joking, it offends me to no end...you are not crazy if you have a mental illness. Are cancer patients whining babies? No.
I used to frequent a Christian chat room for a while. I would go in there to debate and hear other people's views, etc. I remember once when I went in very depressed. I started talking to some in the chat about my illness, how I felt and such. I was asked if I was saved. I explained my views and that yes, I was saved. Someone in the room started telling me that it was not possible for me to be saved. He argued that since I did not have complete rationality in my mind, it was not possible for myself to be forgiven and that anyone else with a mental illness was in the same boat. I can't even begin to explain how much it hurts to see people that are so clueless as to what it's like for someone like me. I feel like I might be playing "woe is me" a lot of the time, but am I? I have to fight to get out of bed every morning. I can't describe what it's like. Most days it takes ALL my energy to just rationalize every thought that runs through my head. Forget anything else...I'm too damn tired. It's not like I don't want to get out of bed and go to work...it's almost physically impossible.
I'm rambling...I apologize. Sometimes I wonder if this blog really was a good idea. I just sit here and type about all this bullshit, but wonder if I should rather be doing something else. I always wonder if I could try harder than I do. I don't think I could...but that doubt plagues me. Am I just wallowing? I wish SOMEONE had the answer to that. But if they did, would I believe it? Am I too far gone in feeling sorry for myself to think that there is hope? I don't know...I guess only time will tell, right?
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Feelin' Like a Sunday but Someday I'll Be Saturday Night
I went to the bridal shop with my sister yesterday (well, technically 2 days ago now since it's past 12.) We had a girl's night planned. We would look at bridesmaid dresses (she already has her gown) and then go see He's Just Not That Into You. It was myself, my sister, our mother, her future mother-in-law and future sister-in-law. They were having a 20% sale on the designer that I LOVE (Alfred Angelo.) I had a dress in mind when we went. My sister wanted me to be the only bridesmaid to wear white since I am the made of honor. I thought I had found the perfect dress and was set on it. (The image to the left is that dress, in the color that my sister wants for the bridesmaids.)
I left having bought a different dress. (The dress to the right, but of course the blue will be green.) The sister-in-law got a white sash, so my sister wanted me to wear more white so I would stand out more. I found the dress before she had told me that, but it was perfect for what she wanted, and I think it will look good on me (or at least I hope.) Miss (my sister - we've called her Missy since her birth) insisted that I get the dress hemmed to a shorter skirt because she "would be pissed if I didn't show off my chicken legs." What the bride wants, the bride gets. Plus, the wedding is in August, (of 2010 - we're ahead of schedule) so a shorter skirt would be more comfortable.
We went to the Olive Garden after the bridal shop and had some dinner. (side note - I absolutely LOVE their salad and bread sticks!) And wound up being too tired for a 9:50 showing of the movie. I was a little bummed out, being that I love going to the movies - I would be a happy woman if I could find a career in that! But all in all, it was a great night.
The downfall? Well, all the wedding preparations have me wondering if it will ever be my turn. I am damaged goods, after all. Will I ever find a guy that can put up with that? Another thing that I think of through all this - my sister is going to (most likely) have my father walk her down the aisle. Will I if it ever happens for me? My father is getting older - he was 44 when I was born - and he has scared us a few times. He was recently diagnosed with the beginnings of dementia. While I know that the medication they've put him on will slow the process, I can't help but wonder how much longer I'll have my dad here. I was devastated when they first told us he had dementia. I have worked in the Alzheimer's unit of a local nursing home, and I've seen what happens. All I could think of was watching my dad become one of them. I don't know if I could handle it. My father has always been the one I am closest to. I'm a daddy's girl without any doubt. Losing him would be... I don't know if there are any words to describe it. Sometimes I hope that by some odd chance, all my loved ones will outlive me. I'm not good with loss - at all. I'm still reeling over my grandmother's death - that was over 2 years ago.
What is it that makes me so sensitive to all this? Is this just some odd way my brain works too? I've been told by MANY people in the past that I need to develop a thick skin. I've tried - I'm a lot better off than I was 10 years ago - but when I get to the point where I'm walking through life without caring, I feel like a total schmuck. I've always had trouble with balance. I tend to go from one extreme to the other, never finding the middle-ground. I'm either all-in or not in at all. I wonder why that is. I've spent years trying to find a middle ground, but it seems out of reach. I don't know why or how this is so hard for me, but it is. It's as if my life is painted in black and white and there's no gray to highlight or shade.
With all I've learned in therapy, I haven't learned the most important thing - how to apply it. Sure, I've learned to rationalize my thinking and how to breathe myself out of a panic attack, but how do you learn to change your whole way of living/thinking? I would love to be able to say I love myself. Don't get me wrong - I do to a point - but I can't take that giant leap to say that I love everything about myself.
I have no idea what I'm saying anymore. I suppose it's time to stop.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
To Think or Not To Think
There have been times where I wished my brain would shut off. Though I feel arrogant for saying so, I have been placed in the genius level when my IQ has been tested. But with that comes a downfall. I over-think EVERYTHING. While talking with my therapist, I have told him on many occasions that sometimes I wish I were stupid. I feel horrible for saying that, because I realize I have been blessed, but I cannot help but feel this blessing has it's curses. I've heard it said that Albert Einstein had some type of mental illness and it makes me wonder if that's the price. Does a good mind also come with a heightened chance of depression or something similar? Is it the fact that your mind is able to comprehend things more fully that you tend to think there's no hope for the world? These are some of the things that run through my mind on a daily basis.
I would love nothing more than to be a functioning member of society. I have tried, God knows, to fit into the dog-eat-dog scheme of the work force. Being that I haven't been able to complete my schooling as of yet, I have been unable to compete for some of the higher level jobs that I know I could be good at. In fact, I don't think there's many jobs out there that I couldn't be good at with training - I can pick things up in a short amount of time. But I've found that no matter what job you're in, there is always that pesky little problem called co-workers. It's amazing the lengths that some will go to make a more competent worker look bad. Even in the most basic of jobs (customer service) I had co-workers that would try to bring me down. I've even had a manager tell me I was useless when I did his work on top of mine. It's amazing. Sorry, I got side-tracked, but my point is that I have had a hard time being able to maintain work with my panic disorder. I do have some underlying paranoia because of the nature of my illness, and when these petty co-workers try to undermine me, I can't help but think "I knew it all along!"
I was fortunate enough to stumble into a career I love. See, when I went to college at first, I decided to be a pharmacist. The only reason I had decided on that was because the college I was looking at, and ultimately chose, did not offer genetics (it is a hard major to find.) I qualified for an early admission seat in their pharmacy school, and was poised to graduate with a doctorate of pharmacy in 2003. We all know what happened there, but it turns out that the fact I had been in pharmacy school ended up working to my advantage. While at community college a few years after I had been diagnosed, I was taking photography classes. I took a few classes to test the waters and see if I was able to function at some level. I was doing well, so I decided to apply for a part-time job as a photo lab technician at a large pharmacy chain. A year after I had applied, on my birthday no less, I received a call from them. While they didn't have a photo-lab position available, they had seen that I had been in pharmacy school. They offered me a position in the pharmacy. I took the position, and found out very quickly that I loved the job. I was able to prove myself as a valuable employee very quickly, and become one of the most reliable workers there. Then it hit. There's no better way to describe it other than you jump over a hole in the road but hit a brick wall and fall in anyway. I was unable to work.
The pharmacist and I had developed a friendship and we had a disagreement. I wanted to apply for a hospital job to decide whether I would like to go that route as a pharmacist and for an increase in pay. (I had decided to go back to pharmacy school while working there.) He got very angry with me and to skip all the gory details, left me crying as I helped customers. This is the brick wall...I was unable to pull myself together enough to go back. I quit and used a few months to regroup, then began working at another pharmacy. I didn't enjoy it this time. It wasn't right. Luckily, the pharmacist that I had had the disagreement with offered me my job back anytime I wanted it a few months later, and I decided to take it. We never talked about that day that things had happened and just moved on. It was odd, most employees had issues with this pharmacist, but I would defend him. We had a connection that I couldn't explain. One of my friends from work once told me that I was different from others. He had never offered anyone their job back once they had quit. He never said a word about them afterward. I suppose I had found my place. I went back to work and almost a year later, I hit the wall again. Here I am now.
So now I'm left to wonder what it is that makes it hard for me to keep up the normal 9-5, 5 days a week routine? Am I lazy? (There's that nasty word again.) Will I ever be able to do it? Am I just too quick to give up? I don't have the answer. I just hit a stage where I'm so depressed I start having panic attacks over a little thing like leaving the house! The job is never the problem - I love working hard - it's the social aspects. Is this person talking about me? Is he/she watching everything I do, waiting for me to make a mistake? Did I just say too much? It never stops. So I'm back to the wish that I could just turn my brain OFF. I wonder what the price would be on an on/off switch for the mind. If anyone runs across one, let me know.
Will I ever overcome this illness enough to be a functioning member of society? Should I accept the fact that some things just aren't possible for me because of this illness? Will I EVER live up to my potential? I've talked with my doctor about these things very frequently, and he has suggested that I need to lower the bar on my expectations for myself. While he doesn't doubt I'm mentally capable of any job I would like, my illness is always going to be a road block. So how low should my expectations be? I'm applying for disability - should I expect to be on that for the rest of my life? I hope not. I don't want to be dependant on the system. I'm also afraid of the stigma. Will others see me as a leach? Will they think I'm just playing the system so I don't have to work? I understand that if they think that, they don't know me, but I've had those thoughts as well. Am I doing what's right? I doubt I'll ever know.
I would love nothing more than to be a functioning member of society. I have tried, God knows, to fit into the dog-eat-dog scheme of the work force. Being that I haven't been able to complete my schooling as of yet, I have been unable to compete for some of the higher level jobs that I know I could be good at. In fact, I don't think there's many jobs out there that I couldn't be good at with training - I can pick things up in a short amount of time. But I've found that no matter what job you're in, there is always that pesky little problem called co-workers. It's amazing the lengths that some will go to make a more competent worker look bad. Even in the most basic of jobs (customer service) I had co-workers that would try to bring me down. I've even had a manager tell me I was useless when I did his work on top of mine. It's amazing. Sorry, I got side-tracked, but my point is that I have had a hard time being able to maintain work with my panic disorder. I do have some underlying paranoia because of the nature of my illness, and when these petty co-workers try to undermine me, I can't help but think "I knew it all along!"
I was fortunate enough to stumble into a career I love. See, when I went to college at first, I decided to be a pharmacist. The only reason I had decided on that was because the college I was looking at, and ultimately chose, did not offer genetics (it is a hard major to find.) I qualified for an early admission seat in their pharmacy school, and was poised to graduate with a doctorate of pharmacy in 2003. We all know what happened there, but it turns out that the fact I had been in pharmacy school ended up working to my advantage. While at community college a few years after I had been diagnosed, I was taking photography classes. I took a few classes to test the waters and see if I was able to function at some level. I was doing well, so I decided to apply for a part-time job as a photo lab technician at a large pharmacy chain. A year after I had applied, on my birthday no less, I received a call from them. While they didn't have a photo-lab position available, they had seen that I had been in pharmacy school. They offered me a position in the pharmacy. I took the position, and found out very quickly that I loved the job. I was able to prove myself as a valuable employee very quickly, and become one of the most reliable workers there. Then it hit. There's no better way to describe it other than you jump over a hole in the road but hit a brick wall and fall in anyway. I was unable to work.
The pharmacist and I had developed a friendship and we had a disagreement. I wanted to apply for a hospital job to decide whether I would like to go that route as a pharmacist and for an increase in pay. (I had decided to go back to pharmacy school while working there.) He got very angry with me and to skip all the gory details, left me crying as I helped customers. This is the brick wall...I was unable to pull myself together enough to go back. I quit and used a few months to regroup, then began working at another pharmacy. I didn't enjoy it this time. It wasn't right. Luckily, the pharmacist that I had had the disagreement with offered me my job back anytime I wanted it a few months later, and I decided to take it. We never talked about that day that things had happened and just moved on. It was odd, most employees had issues with this pharmacist, but I would defend him. We had a connection that I couldn't explain. One of my friends from work once told me that I was different from others. He had never offered anyone their job back once they had quit. He never said a word about them afterward. I suppose I had found my place. I went back to work and almost a year later, I hit the wall again. Here I am now.
So now I'm left to wonder what it is that makes it hard for me to keep up the normal 9-5, 5 days a week routine? Am I lazy? (There's that nasty word again.) Will I ever be able to do it? Am I just too quick to give up? I don't have the answer. I just hit a stage where I'm so depressed I start having panic attacks over a little thing like leaving the house! The job is never the problem - I love working hard - it's the social aspects. Is this person talking about me? Is he/she watching everything I do, waiting for me to make a mistake? Did I just say too much? It never stops. So I'm back to the wish that I could just turn my brain OFF. I wonder what the price would be on an on/off switch for the mind. If anyone runs across one, let me know.
Will I ever overcome this illness enough to be a functioning member of society? Should I accept the fact that some things just aren't possible for me because of this illness? Will I EVER live up to my potential? I've talked with my doctor about these things very frequently, and he has suggested that I need to lower the bar on my expectations for myself. While he doesn't doubt I'm mentally capable of any job I would like, my illness is always going to be a road block. So how low should my expectations be? I'm applying for disability - should I expect to be on that for the rest of my life? I hope not. I don't want to be dependant on the system. I'm also afraid of the stigma. Will others see me as a leach? Will they think I'm just playing the system so I don't have to work? I understand that if they think that, they don't know me, but I've had those thoughts as well. Am I doing what's right? I doubt I'll ever know.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Aftermath...
So it's been a day since supposed "friend" pulled crap with me. No apology, no contact. Never knew she was like that. Oh well.
I'm thinking I need a girl's night with those that love me. My sister called me earlier with just the news I wanted to hear. Dress shopping for her wedding then going to see "He's Just Not That Into You" Friday night. She told me to invite my best friend too (She's getting married in the next few years as well - we figure she can browse dresses too!) Hopefully she'll be able to make it. Her schedule is pretty tight lately - 2 jobs, 2 kids and school. I don't know if I'm really all that hopeful...but the time with sis will be great. Maybe afterward I can talk her into a little "guitar hero world tour" party with herself and her fiancee.
Have a doctor's appt. tomorrow. Hopefully this week will be more normal than last. I hate going in there and crying for an hour in front of him. I'm not feeling as bad as I was then, so there's hope. Usually my appointments are pretty fun...we joke and laugh while we talk about everything. He even lets me play with the kid's toys...what more can I ask for? LOL
I want to start back into making graphics, but I can't find the artistic motivation. I've also thought about writing some short stories or something, but I just stare at the screen every time I try to do either. I miss being able to just sit here and make graphics for friends and websites. I suppose that's one downfall of depression - it sucks the artistic drive right out of you.
I really need to find my digital SLR...I had some great pics from family gathering on there. Not sure if I left it at the cottage or somewhere else. Good camera...can't afford to lose that.
I'm babbling tonight. I guess boredom has overcome me. Have a good night everyone...I think I might try to go back to the thoughtless slumber!
I'm thinking I need a girl's night with those that love me. My sister called me earlier with just the news I wanted to hear. Dress shopping for her wedding then going to see "He's Just Not That Into You" Friday night. She told me to invite my best friend too (She's getting married in the next few years as well - we figure she can browse dresses too!) Hopefully she'll be able to make it. Her schedule is pretty tight lately - 2 jobs, 2 kids and school. I don't know if I'm really all that hopeful...but the time with sis will be great. Maybe afterward I can talk her into a little "guitar hero world tour" party with herself and her fiancee.
Have a doctor's appt. tomorrow. Hopefully this week will be more normal than last. I hate going in there and crying for an hour in front of him. I'm not feeling as bad as I was then, so there's hope. Usually my appointments are pretty fun...we joke and laugh while we talk about everything. He even lets me play with the kid's toys...what more can I ask for? LOL
I want to start back into making graphics, but I can't find the artistic motivation. I've also thought about writing some short stories or something, but I just stare at the screen every time I try to do either. I miss being able to just sit here and make graphics for friends and websites. I suppose that's one downfall of depression - it sucks the artistic drive right out of you.
I really need to find my digital SLR...I had some great pics from family gathering on there. Not sure if I left it at the cottage or somewhere else. Good camera...can't afford to lose that.
I'm babbling tonight. I guess boredom has overcome me. Have a good night everyone...I think I might try to go back to the thoughtless slumber!
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Introductions
So, I've finally decided to get myself a blog where I could talk about everything going on in my life. As you can see in my "About Me" section, I am dealing with clinical depression and an anxiety disorder. Sometimes it can get pretty overwhelming, and rather than feel as if I'm bringing everyone down with me I'd rather just be able to put it in writing somewhere. This is that somewhere.
I was diagnosed (incorrectly at first) in 1998 at the age of 18. My first doctor seemed to think I was manic depressive but mostly just a spoiled brat. I'm still dealing with the repercussions of that today. There are times when I think he might have been right although my doctor these days would like to beat me senseless for thinking that. (Well, he wouldn't beat me senseless, but he insists it's not true.) Thankfully, after being hospitalized twice for being "manic" - I really just wasn't depressed for a short period of time - my general practitioner recommended a wonderful psychiatrist who in turn recommended an amazing psychologist that could work in tandem with him. They have been a blessing. I have spent years trying to find the right combination of medications - the best result with the least side-effects. Throughout the years, a combo of drugs would work for a period of time, then I would spiral down. Every day I feel I'm doing good, I'm also waiting for the shove that's going to push me into that spiral again.
I had to leave college (I was at a private university and had an early admission seat into their pharmacy school) when this all started to show itself. I laid in my dorm room for about 3 days straight. No classes, maybe leaving for 1 meal, no practice. Finally my basketball coach - who had gotten word of my lack of attendance - called me and told me to put on a nice outfit and go to see my professors. The plan was that I would talk to them about how I could save my education and then meet with the school psychologist and then the dean. I saw my first professor and he looked me in the eyes and asked me outright if I was happy there. I burst into tears and admitted I wasn't. He told me he knew and that I needed to be home. I went to the psychologist and told him I wanted to go home. I forget exactly what happened after that, but it culminated in me crying and shouting in the dean's office at both my parents and my coach. I went home the next day, my parents found a doctor and 2 days later I found myself in the psychiatric ward of the local hospital.
It's been a struggle for the 11 or so years since this all happened. I've tried multiple times to hold down a steady job and provide for myself. It has ended the same way every time so far. I'll be doing very well for a while - months at a time - and then I'll get depressed which makes me have panic attacks when faced with ANYTHING social and I'll have to leave my job. Every day I wonder where the illness ends and the laziness - if any - begins. My psychologist consistantly reminds me that I have an illness just like anyone with cancer. His words are etched into my brain. "Shana, would you come down this hard on someone with cancer? So why are you doing it to yourself?" I always joke that my psychologist is a friend I have to pay, but there's some truth to it. In the years he has been working with me, I have learned to trust him more than I have most people. I think the only exceptions to that are my sister and my best friend since 5th grade. He has done so much for me that all the thanks I have in this life would not be enough.
So now, here I am today. My life consists of waking up and trying to push past the urge to just stay there and pull the covers over my head. I spend most of the day rationalizing the self-depreciating or anxious thoughts that never seem to stop. Sometimes it feels like I won't make it another hour, let alone a year - or worse - a decade. There are days I'm tempted to try to knock myself out or scratch all my skin because my mind won't stop. So what do I do? Lord, if I had the answer to that I'd be one rich woman.
My family and friends are wonderful. If it weren't for them...I doubt I would be here. They try so hard to understand what I'm going through, but how do you explain something you don't even know the cause of? I've had friends come and go - a lot of people can't accept that some days I simply can't get out the door. I've had so-called friends that would turn my illness against me - use it as a joke. I've been called many names - girl interrupted, pro-pro (someone's attempt at prozac humor,) psycho, lazy asshole...the list goes on. I've had one "friend" that would get mad at me whenever I told her I wasn't feeling up to doing anything. I would try to explain it to her every chance I got, but I guess it never got through. That friendship has pretty much ended tonight when she sent me a text message as a joke saying "I have to talk to you about something that's been going on in my life. It's about you. My phone is dying so call this number..." I wrote the number and called only to find it was a psychiatric hotline. Nice joke.
Why am I writing all this? I'm asking myself that right now. I suppose it's for release mostly, but a part of me has wanted to find a way to reach out to other people that are going through the same thing as me. I have never quite figured out how I could do that while I'm still struggling myself, but I hope that maybe just by making my own story known I can help someone. Maybe it's just a pipe dream.
So here I am. I'll be posting as the need arises. Read if you'd like and if not...I understand.
I was diagnosed (incorrectly at first) in 1998 at the age of 18. My first doctor seemed to think I was manic depressive but mostly just a spoiled brat. I'm still dealing with the repercussions of that today. There are times when I think he might have been right although my doctor these days would like to beat me senseless for thinking that. (Well, he wouldn't beat me senseless, but he insists it's not true.) Thankfully, after being hospitalized twice for being "manic" - I really just wasn't depressed for a short period of time - my general practitioner recommended a wonderful psychiatrist who in turn recommended an amazing psychologist that could work in tandem with him. They have been a blessing. I have spent years trying to find the right combination of medications - the best result with the least side-effects. Throughout the years, a combo of drugs would work for a period of time, then I would spiral down. Every day I feel I'm doing good, I'm also waiting for the shove that's going to push me into that spiral again.
I had to leave college (I was at a private university and had an early admission seat into their pharmacy school) when this all started to show itself. I laid in my dorm room for about 3 days straight. No classes, maybe leaving for 1 meal, no practice. Finally my basketball coach - who had gotten word of my lack of attendance - called me and told me to put on a nice outfit and go to see my professors. The plan was that I would talk to them about how I could save my education and then meet with the school psychologist and then the dean. I saw my first professor and he looked me in the eyes and asked me outright if I was happy there. I burst into tears and admitted I wasn't. He told me he knew and that I needed to be home. I went to the psychologist and told him I wanted to go home. I forget exactly what happened after that, but it culminated in me crying and shouting in the dean's office at both my parents and my coach. I went home the next day, my parents found a doctor and 2 days later I found myself in the psychiatric ward of the local hospital.
It's been a struggle for the 11 or so years since this all happened. I've tried multiple times to hold down a steady job and provide for myself. It has ended the same way every time so far. I'll be doing very well for a while - months at a time - and then I'll get depressed which makes me have panic attacks when faced with ANYTHING social and I'll have to leave my job. Every day I wonder where the illness ends and the laziness - if any - begins. My psychologist consistantly reminds me that I have an illness just like anyone with cancer. His words are etched into my brain. "Shana, would you come down this hard on someone with cancer? So why are you doing it to yourself?" I always joke that my psychologist is a friend I have to pay, but there's some truth to it. In the years he has been working with me, I have learned to trust him more than I have most people. I think the only exceptions to that are my sister and my best friend since 5th grade. He has done so much for me that all the thanks I have in this life would not be enough.
So now, here I am today. My life consists of waking up and trying to push past the urge to just stay there and pull the covers over my head. I spend most of the day rationalizing the self-depreciating or anxious thoughts that never seem to stop. Sometimes it feels like I won't make it another hour, let alone a year - or worse - a decade. There are days I'm tempted to try to knock myself out or scratch all my skin because my mind won't stop. So what do I do? Lord, if I had the answer to that I'd be one rich woman.
My family and friends are wonderful. If it weren't for them...I doubt I would be here. They try so hard to understand what I'm going through, but how do you explain something you don't even know the cause of? I've had friends come and go - a lot of people can't accept that some days I simply can't get out the door. I've had so-called friends that would turn my illness against me - use it as a joke. I've been called many names - girl interrupted, pro-pro (someone's attempt at prozac humor,) psycho, lazy asshole...the list goes on. I've had one "friend" that would get mad at me whenever I told her I wasn't feeling up to doing anything. I would try to explain it to her every chance I got, but I guess it never got through. That friendship has pretty much ended tonight when she sent me a text message as a joke saying "I have to talk to you about something that's been going on in my life. It's about you. My phone is dying so call this number..." I wrote the number and called only to find it was a psychiatric hotline. Nice joke.
Why am I writing all this? I'm asking myself that right now. I suppose it's for release mostly, but a part of me has wanted to find a way to reach out to other people that are going through the same thing as me. I have never quite figured out how I could do that while I'm still struggling myself, but I hope that maybe just by making my own story known I can help someone. Maybe it's just a pipe dream.
So here I am. I'll be posting as the need arises. Read if you'd like and if not...I understand.
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