Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Day 13?

I think this is day 13 of Celexa. But, honestly, I'm not sure and I'm too lazy to look at a Calendar. What I am sure of is I feel better. Better than the last better, but still not as good as I probably can, with more work and perhaps more medication. It's still hard for me to take that little pill each morning, because even though I've mostly accepted the fact that I probably need to take that little pill each morning, I still wish I didn't have to. That will take some time to get over, and hopefully the better I feel the easier it will be.

So far, the medication has enabled me to go out whenever I need or want to go out without the fear of an impending panic attack. I can't even remember the last time I could do that. I was able to spend Thanksgiving day with a family other than my own (strangers) and endure some awkward silences throughout the day, without my brain entering fight or flight mode. I also only drank one glass of wine. One. I also didn't even need to drink that glass of wine. I would say that is progress.

The fear, the thoughts, and the worry are still there, however. Sitting quietly in the background. Waiting, perhaps? I don't know. The only way I can think to describe what the medication is doing is to say it's acting as a wall. All the evil doers are still lurking on the other side and even jump up to peek over now and again...but they can't actually GET over. The wall blocks them and is keeping them from reeking havoc. Something my unmedicated brain can't seem to do on it's own.

And that is pretty much all I have right now. Nothing funny. No pictures. No links to videos. I didn't even get to say the F word. But that's okay. Because I'm okay. And for the first time in a long time I think I believe I will continue to be okay.

Hope, who is looking forward to the Holidays this year, which is kind of weird really, but I'm totally going with it.

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

On the fifth day Celexa created...

A little peace of mind. Finally. Not a lot, but enough so that I feel like I'm slowly wiggling my way out of a scary, dark cave. I like feeling better. What I don't like is this "eh...I really can't be bothered because I don't give a shit" feeling.'s not really that I don't LIKE it, because, honestly it's not so bad. It's just that it's not "in my character", so to speak. Medicine will do that. Try to fix everything, even if it isn't broken.

But, in any case, it will have to do for now or until my Doctor is back from maternity leave. I can't really stomach the thought of explaining my "situation" to anyone new right now, and seeing how I have the Celexa stocked piled in my cabinet, I'd say it's all working out swimmingly. "Swimmingly". Okay...enough with the italics and the "quotes". Not really.

My Man, (who will forever be referred to as RL, unless he cheats on me, in which case we will then refer to him as asshole.), and I have this thing we do. We talk, or rather, we just say shit. Stupid Shit. For no reason, and then we usually laugh. Because it's funny. Or, because we think it's funny, is probably more accurate.

Sound Bite

Me: Everyone kept asking what I use for Birth Control at the Doctors office.

RL: Birth Control?

Me: Yeah. I said nothing.

RL: Did you tell them you usually don't even get the guys name?

Me: Not true. I DO get their names...just not until after I've stolen their wallet.

None of that is true, by the way. Except the part about not using Birth Control. So I'm off now to heed the following warning...

Alcohol may intensify this affect

Or to possibly ignore it.

Hope, who can't be bothered with spell check.

Saturday, November 17, 2012

Crap I feel like saying.

It never fails. The times when you wish the most to be invisible, will be the times you run into everyone you know at the grocery store...or at the very least...five or six people you'd rather not run into. Not because of them, of course. They're fine. I'm just not. At least not yet. In fact, I almost didn't even make it there. But I did. I won't say how though because, honestly I'm sick of talking about it.

What I never get sick of talking about, however, are pap smears and vaginas . Get them, people. They're important! The smear, I mean. Hopefully you already have the vagina. ( which is also important) Unless you're a dude. Then hopefully not. But anyway...

I got mine today (the smear) for the billionth time. They've been abnormal for the past 14 years, and I've had at least a thousand biopsies. (not really, maybe 6) No cancer yet. I'm not sure if that means the odds are with me or against me. Doesn't matter though because that is the one thing in my life I'm on top of. I've got my vagina covered. And that's a good thing or else this blog would have just turned into something different entirely.

Today, I'll leave you with this...because reading is sometimes boring without pictures, and because I took the picture.

The worlds largest Vagina Q-Tips.

Friday, November 16, 2012

Day one of a Daily Dose...

A decision has been made. I think. I wish I could say I already feel better, but I can't. I feel worse. Aside from the shakiness inside and out, I'm jumpy, I keep dropping things, my brain is in a fog, and I keep getting these electric shock feelings traveling through my body. Hands, feet, and head mostly. I know at least part of these physical symptoms are due to withdrawal from the Devil pills, so I'm just trying to get through it.

I'm hopeful. Hopeful that in a week or two I will start to feel better and I can get in to see my doctor again for the next plan of action. Therapy.

I would imagine choosing a Therapist is a lot like choosing a medication. Not every one will be right for me. I'm not looking forward to starting the process, but I think it will be good in the long run. And necessary. Even if, in the end all it does is help learn more about myself.

So, that's that. I've started. Again, I wish it felt better. I'd love nothing more than to take a Devil pill right now and feel myself go back to " normal". To get rid of this racing heart and the feeling that I want to crawl out of my own body. But I won't.

Hope, who is holding it together. Even if it is just with duct tape.

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Quality over Quanity.

I'm starting to convince myself that's what important. The Quality of your days versus the Quanity. So what if taking medication every day for the rest of my life shortens it. What's the alternative. This. This is the alternative. I'm having a shit ass day today trying to avoid the Devil, and manage on my own. I've tried relaxing (aka...doing nothing), massage, heating pads, cup after cup of sleepy bedtime tea...and nothing is really working. So much for my last post about being funny. I've tried endlessly today to find the funny in this and there just isn't any. True Story. Watching this video of The Bloggess was helpful. Not very funny, but it made me feel better about my anxiety over taking daily medication for my anxiety.

I don't know if the video will show up. If it does...enjoy. If not, I'm sorry. I'll try again later. Hope, who has to make a decision and stick with it.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Train is still at the station. I am not.

A few days of calm and zero responsiblity (well really, really close to zero) has enabled me to exit flight or fight mode and take my foot off the damn train. I feel better. Not great, and probably not even what normal people might call good, but better. And in my world, that is good.

The weekend was actually great in the true sense of the word. It was full of great. I feel renewed and recharged. I even feel like I almost communicated in a way that may make more sense than words. In any case, I'm plugging away at this love thing and hopefully pounding away at the anxiety thing. I even went completely med free yesterday, which may have had something to do with having an ART day with my son. Painting has always relaxed me, especially when I don't have anything else hanging over my head.  This morning, however,  brought some unexpected drama that called for some artificial calming. Not even my drama, but that doesn't matter. My heart still starts beating too fast and my head still feels like it's going to explode. It probably won't. I know that, I think. But what's the harm of one little anxiety pill just to be sure?  No need to answer that.

One of the ups of the weekend was this coming in the mail.

It was written by Jenny Lawson aka  TheBloggess .  A friend recommended her Blog and Book and holy shit is she hilarious. Seriously fucked up, I'm sure, but the funniest person I've ever had the pleasure of not meeting. She's also inspiring. (I've found, not one ,but two inspiring blogs in a matter of weeks and that shit makes me happy.) I've always wanted to write a sort of memoir that kind of focused on the Alcolholic/Anxiety aspecs of my family, childhood etc...but I kept getting locked into the "this is going to be the most depressing book ever" mode, and would give up. Who wants to write a book that's going to make people want to kill themselves?  But what Jenny does in her book, although the topic is different from what I can tell so far, is she sprinkles the ridiculous with hilarity. I know not everyone can do it as well, but still, it got me thinking...I used to be funny. Sort of. In a sarcastic/pesimistic way. I can do that again. In my writing and in my life. Just because Anxiety is serious doesn't mean I always have to be. Just because serious shit happens doesn't mean we can't find the humor in it. It's there. It's always there. I suppose the same could be said for finding hope in a seemingless hopeless situation...but I suck at that, despite my name. So...funny it is. In addition to my road to coping (I don't dare say recovery), a new goal is to find the funny when possible. In just reading a few pages of this book, I actually felt the muscle tension in my neck ease up. I think I'm on to something here. I really do.

Hope, who honestly can't wait to be done with work today so I can get back to reading on the couch, while R keeps asking me "what's so funny?"

Thursday, November 8, 2012


While my anxiety can't be directly linked to a lever that can be pulled and shut off, there are most definitely things that trigger it. Arguments are one of those things. I'm all for talking out a problem and trying to fix it but that never works. Ever. The next is being brushed off and left to twist in my own tornado of uncertainty. This has been the pattern for the last 3 years now. Somewhere between..." I refuse to talk/answer you and "okay I'm done playing games"... I enter fight or flight mode, and mentally have everything in my life dismantled as I'm planning to board the next train to "the fuck out of here." This has less to do with the the fight and what it was about, than is has to do with "I can't be in a state of unresolved limbo". I can't. Simple as that. I do things I later regret, I lose what little trust I may have regained, and I sometimes (always) end up boarding that train.

Living with someone who not only doesn't understand my anxiety, but tends to trigger it more times than not, is probably one of THE most unhealthy and distructive things I have ever chosen to do. Aside from the laundry list of things that crushed my trust in first place, that I now relive over and over again, I feel like I don't even have a safe place or a safe person to confide in.

I have one foot off the train and one on. And why am I still here? I'm here because I love this man. I actually, for once in my fucking life, am here purely out of love. I love this man, who will never understand. If I tried to explain it would be useless. In fact, explaining why I need us to resolve things differently would cause another fight. Asking him to listen would result in days of no communication. It would cause defensiveness and resentment. Nothing changes.

I'm at a dead end. He would tell me to stop feeling the way I feel, and I would try and then in the end it would all come full circle again. In taking my own advice from yesterday, it would seem like the only obvious solution is to eliminate this cycle. But if it can't be done together, that means I'd have to do it alone.

I'm at a dead end.

On a positive note, rather than stewing in my own anxiousness and fearing the sound of my own heartbeat, I went shopping. With the help of the Devil, of course, because without him I wouldn't have been able to get out of the car. It's not completely positive because I'm substituting love and happiness with spending, and I also need medication to it. I know this. And I know this has to change.

Hope, who may have to walk this road alone in order to get anywhere.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

To be or do or go...or not to be or do or go

Yesterday was election day. For me that basically amounted to voting against what I didn't want, rather than voting for what I did.  That may be true for the majority. I don't really know, but it appears as though the people are able to accept a shit economy for another four years easier than they are able to accept their personal rights (some of which they already have) being threatened.

I guess you could say it sucks making decisions that way, but the more I thought about it, the more it started to make some sense. I mean, we can't base all our decisions on what we want because sometimes we don't know what we want.  Or sometimes what we want simply isn't available to us. In the end, a decision still has to be made. Most of the time. Occasionally doing nothing can be the right option as well. If, you know, you have time to just sit on it. But who has time for that?

In my own life, decision making is often clouded or influenced by so many more things than my own personal desires. I guess that's normal. I make decisions based on what's needed, or time constraints, or my anxiety, or other peoples needs, lives, schedules. I rarely get the luxury of indulging my own wants and needs and what tends to happen is, I slowly start forgetting what those wants and needs are. If by chance I'm given a few hours to myself with no demands and I can choose how I want to spend that time...I usually find myself just sitting there, not knowing what to do and at the same time feeling guilty that I'm not doing something.

Perhaps by process of elimination I can take fuller advantage of those times. If I start making more decision based on what I don't want. In other words...weed out the people, places, things, or activities that give me zero to no pleasure.  In reading that over, it sounds kind of drastic. Maybe it is, but just contemplating it is making me smile on the inside. That has to mean something. I know I can't give up doing laundry forever but I can certainly not do it so much. And I know I can't live in a bubble away from the rest of Idiocracy (aka "the world"), but I can make better choices about who I spend my time with and make sure I'm truly enjoying that time. I can stop trying to fit my square peg into that round hole.  By eliminating the don't wants and by realizing where I don't belong, I give myself more space and options, and hopefully more opportunities to figure out where it is I do belong.

More Baby Steps.

Hope, who suddenly feels a little bit lighter.

Monday, November 5, 2012

Ridin' into town alone by the light of the moon...

I'm back. I think.

Or should I say...Dear this is pretty much what my blogging has become.

In any case, here I am, with nothing and everything to say all at once. I've missed getting my thoughts down on "paper" and I think by not doing that I've been slowly killing myself by keeping them locked up in my overcrowded head.

I recently stumbled upon a blog that inspired me to, not only start writing again, but to go back to writing my "truth". I had gone out about a week or so ago and indulged in a few (or more) drinks. It was a much needed break and more fun than expected. The problem was the next day my Anxiety Level was through the roof. This has happened before and due to my incurable "need" to find "whys", I started out on another internet quest for answers. I searched...Alcohol Anxiety. What I found was this guy.

My New Hero.

I've only just begun to read through all the post and listen to some of the podcasts, but for the first time in forever I not only feel like I've truly found "my people" but I have a little hope. Not hope that I can be fixed, but more like hope that maybe I can do something to manage it better. Hope that maybe I can live with less fear. Hope that I can survive the worst of my times because there are other people who feel this way out there and they survive the worst of their times.

I've spent the last few years censoring myself, hiding my truth, and masking my symptoms with medication that closely resembles the workings of the Devil. Honestly, I'm tired of feeling this way and I've been searching for a quick fix and a simple cause for years. Too many years. I think what I've just finally realized is there is no fix, and although there may be triggers, there is no specific cause. There is nothing that was done that can now be undone.  The anxiety is an illness and it is a part of me, and much like an alcoholic, I need to work on accepting that before I can do anything else. name is Hope...and I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Panic Attacks. My Anxiety interferes with my daily life, my relationships, and prevents me from doing things that I would love to do. Sometimes my Anxiety makes all the decisions.  Only one person in my life truly understands my Anxiety. Before that, no one understood. I've ended relationships and walked away from people due to my Anxiety and vise versa. Being alone makes is easier to control my Anxiety.  I've lied and hid the truth because of my Anxiety. I find it difficult to trust because of my Anxiety.  I avoid people, places, things and rarely feel "safe" due to my Anxiety. My Anxiety has made my world a very small place.

Baby Steps.

Hope, who is working on getting back in the saddle again...