"That's good hopping"

I'm reading Guess How Much I Love You while I let the hot oil treatment work through my 'locks. There's a line in the book that reads, "That's good hopping, thought Little Nutbrown Hare. I wish I could hop like that."

I don't know why, I think "that's good hopping" is funny. The way Los Gatos (the town in California) and Fish Rubbings are funny. Tee hee funny, you know? I'm going to try and incorporate that line into my everyday speech.

Just thought I would share.

Mood Update

My mood is greatly improved from yesterday. The primary reason is that the water pressure has been restored. I finally had a trickling of hot water at eleven o'clock last night...so I instantly washed all the dishes and watered my plants. At one am, there was hot water in the shower, so I immediately took a shower. Oh...I took a shower yesterday morning in the super's apartment in the basement which is freakin' HUGE, but there was no hot water in his place, so I had to take a cold one. As of right now, we still have water. This afternoon, I am doing my laundry and washing my hair because I don't want to risk putting it off. You don't realize how precious something is until it's gone.

I also got fantastic Christmas presents from my mom. The chair in the picture above is as old as I am. My mom got it as a present when she brought me home from the hospital. I always loved this chair because it was the one thing in the house that fit me perfectly. I sat in that chair and read. When my mom would do my hair, I sat in that chair. Ever since I bought my place, I've been pestering my mom to let me have it. She's always resisted. But this year, she shipped it to me for Christmas. It makes me so happy just to look at it. I was that small, you know? Strange...

My mom also got me Guess How Much I Love You by Sam McBratney. It's a children's book, but isn't it funny how often children's books can be so insightful for adults? My mom is very good at getting me those kinds of books. When I broke up with an old boyfriend, she got me The Missing Piece by Shel Silverstein. Guess How Much...refers to night a while ago when I was contemplating suicide and I called her at one in the morning. I was crying hysterically and I kept asking her to tell me that she loved me...so she did, over and over. My mom wrote a wonderful inscription that makes me cry everytime I read it.

I love my presents. I love having running water.

I'm in a much better mood.

Inspiration in Cyberspace

So I read this great post by Melissa, a New Yorker...well, actually she's from PA and now she lives in Miami, but really hates it and wants to move back to New York...or PA. But she's in love and she has a dog and really great stories to tell about the Miami bus system. I dig her because she's a Virgo and has lived in Brooklyn like me! and when I called her out on a post, she responded with respect and openness. Not one iota of defensiveness.

Anywhoo...

She wrote this great essay about memory and what influences how we feel about a particular time in our lives. I won't summarize...go read it for yourself and make her hit counter go up. It was very lovely and made me think about how I'm approaching this end/beginning on New Year's Eve Eve.

I spent most of this fall and winter in the past. I guess 'tis the seasons to contemplate what has been. In doing so, I also recreated my present and shaped my future. I dealt with the trauma of an abusive relationship and a dysfunctional childhood. And I added fulfilling activities into my life that nourish me. I faced my mother with what Christmas has been for me in her home. And began a new Christmas tradition -hopefully- in mine. I consider myself a Buddhist, but it's always wonderful to be reminded there is balance in the universe.

This year has dealt blows to many of us: from devastation that we all witnessed, to personal tragedies that only a few of us will know of. And there has also been victories, both great and small. Hooray to the death of the Republican Party! Melissa's question is a good one: how does one remember a year? Though Jonathan Larson had one answer..."measure in love" I think that it's really our choice on how we remember 2005...or any year, for that matter. Because there is balance always in all things...it just depends on what we allow ourselves to take in.

Bad Mood

I've been in a bunch of different moods over the past few months...many of them not so fun. I've been depressed, sad, hurt, scared, anxious, desperate, tired, etc. However, the one mood I have not been in is bad. Throughout all of this, I have not been in a bad mood.

Until yesterday.

The thing that put me in a bad mood yesterday is the thing that has kept me in a bad mood today...there is no water in my apartment!

For some reason or another, the super is often shutting down the water. He schedules the water shutdown in the middle of a work day always so the least amount of people will be affected. And he always turns it back on when he says he will. I respect that. I know this is a prewar building and that it takes a lot to maintain it. And I like our super...I really do.

Yesterday was different. At two o'clock, I go to turn on the water. I hadn't woken up in time to shower before the shutoff went into effect. There is no water. I call the super. He says he just turned on the water, so give it a second. So I do...still no water. At three o'clock I call again. He says that he has water down in the basement, so it's just taking a bit to move up to my floor. He tells me to turn on all my faucets to facilitate moving the water up. At four o'clock I call again and make him come up to my apartment and make sure there's nothing wrong with my pipes. He talks to my neighbors and discover that water is only getting to the second floor. At five o'clock I have to kick him out of my apartment because I'm going to be late for my therapy appointment. I still have no water at this point. I brush my teeth and wash my face with some bottled water I had bought at the movies the day before. I put on a BUNCH of deodorant and hope for the best.

Then...this morning. I woke up at nine o'clock, check the faucets. There is water! Hooray! I use the bathroom and flush the toilet. Then I make my big mistake...I go back to bed. I wake up again at ten thirty and use the bathroom again...no water. Nothing coming out of the shower, a trickle coming out of the faucet. I call the super again. He's not answering the phone.

I'm going to have to trek to my gym to use the showers there. It's a Bally's gym, so they don't provide you with anything...not even a towel. I need to wash my hair, but I have 'locks so there is a whole process involving gel and hot oil treatments. I can't do that in the gym shower. On top of that, I have dishes in the sink I can't wash. I've got a Christmas tree I can't water. I've got laundry I need to do...so much so that my laundry bag is too big for my New York cart so I'm going to have to bring it the laundromat in shifts.

I am in a bad mood.

But there is balance in the universe...my mom told me that my Christmas presents are arriving today.

Positive Things in My Life

I think it's important to remind oneself about positive stuff that's occurring in one's life, especially if you are the one making it happen. So...

1. I am taking piano lessons. My teacher is very demanding, but he believes that I can handle it. Right now I'm learning fingering of scales and arpeggios. I have to go buy music books.

2. My step-grandfather sent me a Christmas check for $50.

3. I am going to make a chicken stew to bring to work for lunch.

4. I decided that I'm not going to graduate school in January. Instead I'm taking Beginning Sign Language and a writing class entitled "Illness as Odyssey."

5. I'm going to get a dog probably in January or February.

6. I think I am almost caught up on my winter movies. King Kong is next.

7. My best friend loves my Type A personality.

8. I bought The Artist's Way tonight and I know it was a very good purchase.

9. I got stuck in my building's elevator tonight and I didn't panic. In fact, I figured out a way to get myself out.

10. I have an appointment tomorrow to meet with a representative from Social Circles. Creating structure is very important, so I am creating scenarios that will get me out of the house.

Absence Makes the Heart...

Jeez! It's been forever since I've written on this blog. It got pretty busy around the holiday once I realized that I actually had to buy presents for friends and family. Then the transit strike happened and I got anxious and depressed. More on that later. On top of it all, my internet connection has been spotty at best.

But I'm back on track. I am in the middle of my last week of my leave. Last week I was considering extending it because I felt so unready to return to work, but this week I feel more confident. I need to start practicing using all the tools I've learned these past few weeks. I am feeling much better: my medication is finally stabilized although I have very intense, very strange dreams that I vividly remember, so I'm not getting a good night's sleep, I haven't thought about suicide in weeks and weeks, I'm not having anxiety and/or panic attacks, when I do feel anxiety I know exactly what to do. Though I know that I'm changed from what I'm dealing with, I feel back more myself. It will be interesting to see what happens when I return to work.

Big news...well, big for me. I spent my first Christmas in my new home away from my family. It's not the first time I haven't spent Christmas in Boston but the other times I was traveling. This is the first time I just didn't go anywhere. I was scared of what my mom was going to say, so scared in fact that I had to email her my decision. I didn't have the nerve to say it over the phone. I would end up lying...Yeah Mom, I'll probably get there Friday night. After she read the email and called me it took me two days to call her back. It ended up being all right and actually turned into a really positive conversation, but boy was I nervous! I learned a great deal about my mom and grandmother in that conversation...that's for another post.

Christmas was wonderful. I had six friends over for dinner: roasted chicken, stir fry, mashed potatoes, my famous macaroni-and-cheese, green beans, salad, rolls...and wine. Lots and lots of wine. We all sat around my coffee table and laughed and ate and drank. We took pictures, danced to "The Charlie Brown Christmas" soundtrack, played Cranium, opened presents and drank some more. In my own mind, I considered it a celebration of the birth of my new self. I knew at the end of that night that I was ready to re-enter my life. Especially since now I have tons of leftovers!

Realizations

So last night I saw an old friend from grad school...one I hadn't seen in years. It's amazing how the more things change, the more they stay the same. Though we both have gone through a lot in the time since we last saw each other, it felt comfortable, familiar. We were able to talk about old times in a new way since we were removed from them. I definitely learned some things...

Discovered something else...I know Bright Eyes. That was a strange experience. We've been reading each other's blogs for a while and never knew that we already knew each other. When we interacted last night, I felt like I was doing so in a different way. And the fact that she has read personal information about me is a strange fact to know. All three of us are connected in two specific ways, one of them being blogs, and yet we didn't discuss our blogs at all...it was as if they didn't exist. I realized that I don't discuss my blog with anyone that I know reads it. I wonder why that is...

Yet another realization...I'm getting better. I wasn't anxious while I was getting ready to go out, didn't have a panic attack as I walked out the door. I haven't had what the IOP therapists call "a dark thought" in weeks. I'm making decisions to slow down and simplify my life and it feels good.

The Whole Blog Thing IV

Sometimes I read all that I've written in the two blogs I've created and wonder what type of person do I seem like. This blog is not like the ones I enjoy reading in that it's specific to one very difficult thing ...same holds true for my last blog. But there is a lot of other stuff going on with me...good and bad. Piano lessons, guy stuff, my first Christmas tree, crazy Saturday nights where I didn't end up partying anywhere, yet didn't get home until 2am. I should have totally just stayed home! It just doesn't feel as fulfilling to blog about those things. I have a need to blog about the IOP, the medication, the doctors, the trauma. I think that if I didn't write it down, I might not tell anyone any of it...so scared am I of what I dealing with and what people may think about it. Writing it here so that everyone can see makes it less powerful, less scary.

And I need all the less scary I can get these days.

Why This Out-of-Body Experience was Different

It's hard to explain...whenever my therapist and I are getting close to some sort of psychological injury, usually connected to my childhood and usually one that I can't remember, I have a sort of...out of body experience. I know how this sounds, but don't laugh. I revert back to a very scared little girl. My voice goes into a higher octave and becomes very quiet. I start to look up, as if everything I'm referencing is much taller than me. And I'm always crying...always. I know I'm in my therapist's office, but it's a different form of me there. When it first happened, I would lose myself completely in this little girl and my therapist would have to really talk me back into myself. These days, the 31-year-old is a lot more present and I can talk myself back.

The fact that I have these experiences doesn't upset me in the least anymore. I understand that it's a sign of some discovery. My therapist does a good job of keeping me in a safe space and helps ground me in the present. I won't say I'm "okay" directly afterward, but I usually bounce back in a day or so.

So...this happened on Wednesday. We were talking about how the words "fear" and "scared" permeate almost all discussions I have about myself. I'm always "scared" of something or someone or some event. We were talking about how fear must have been a major emotion when I was a child. We talked about some everyday events I experienced that were actually quite harrowing. We talked about how I never thought anything of them...on a conscious level.

My therapist asked me to say something angry toward those that put me in harm's way and I became a little girl instantly. I was beyond scared...I was petrified. She started to say some angry things and I had to cover my ears so I wouldn't hear them. I was rocking and crying. My throat closed up with a pain that was so intense! My mouth would open but no sound would come out. I felt someone's hands on my neck, not strangling me, but pulling my chin forward in a forceful way. I don't remember ever being that scared...which is I guess, the point.

So now I'm nervous. Something happened to me as a child. I have no idea what it was, but whatever it was, it scared the sh*t out of me. There are the typical answers: rape, incest, physical abuse by a parent. For some reason those don't ring true for me. My parents may have been inadequate in their child-rearing, but they did not abuse me. Something else happened with someone else.

The strange thing is - and the thing that my therapist thinks is very brave of me - is that I really want to know so I can begin to deal with it. I believe that this is the reason I had this breakdown. Ex was the catalyst to face some real pain in my life and start to heal. I'm terrified of what I might find, but I want to find it nonetheless. I want to get strong enough so that I can face whatever my past is trying to tell me. Does that make any sense?

Little Blessings

Ready for some math? Add 2 days of not having to go to IOP at the hospital with having 0 money and that equals not leaving the house. I did not exit my home at all yesterday. Wait, I did for about 10 minutes to buy flour to make biscuits. What can I say? I had a hankering for biscuits! It was looking like more of the same for today, although I did shower, which is a step up. I was getting dressed and thinking about what's going to happen on "All My Children" when my new friend called me.

I met her through a mutual friend. We had partied a couple of times before and each time we really enjoyed each other. Before the holiday, we had one great girl's night when secrets were shared and we became bonded by them...and now she's my friend.

She works at night and knew I wasn't working so she called me up to have coffee. So now I'm getting ready to leave the house for the first time since Monday afternoon. Her phone call showed me that I don't have the energy to take the initiative in my life yet. Thank goodness for little blessings...I'm really glad she called.

"Calling to Validate Your Reaction"

Ex called me last week. I haven't seen nor heard his voice in about a year and I heard it on Friday. This is what happened...

I was invited to be my friend's date at a wedding this weekend. Last week as we were finalizing things, my friend mentioned that he left me a voicemail at work. I thought it was odd he did that since my voicemail should say that I can't check messages since I'm on leave. So after my IOP sessions, I called my work voicemail. I heard that I hadn't actually activated the new voicemail, so people who called got a message that sounded like I was still working. Which meant I had to check all five messages to see if any of them needed a response.

Ex's message was #4. He called to ask me for the name of a restaurant. What!?!?! Surrounding the request he hoped I was doing well and "understood" if I didn't want to call him back. How nice of him. He also assumed that I still remembered his number. It's true, but why would you assume that?

I stopped in my tracks in the middle of the sidewalk. I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach. I started shaking and crying immediately. I called my friend, but she was in meetings, so I called my therapist. I didn't need a session or anything...I just need to share what just happened with a person who would understand my intense reaction to it.

My therapist called me right back and said, "I got your message and I'm just calling you back to validate your feelings and your reaction. Don't call him back." She said other things, but that was the essence.

So I didn't. I feel much better about the whole thing, but it rocked my world for a while. The catalyst to all that I'm going through now just popped up. He better not call me again.

The Whole Blog Thing III

Oftentimes I wish my blog weren't so heavy. I wish it was more topical and witty, like the ones I have links to. But then I try to write a witty post and it just seems contrived. Ah well...as least I'm spelling correctly.

Time Flies When You're Having Fun

Jeez, I can't believe it's been almost a week since I last posted. I've got like three drafts of posts saved, but for some reason, I can't get around to finishing them. Ah well...

Much has happened since my last post. The most important event has been that I've begun the Intensive Outpatient Program. Today will be my third day. It's "intense" in so many ways. I thought that three hours a day three times a week wouldn't be that hard, but when all you're doing is dealing with your mental health...and other people's mental health...it can get exhausting. All the sessions are group sessions, you see, and the groups change from day to day. Some of the sessions only involve other people in the IOP, which means they are "higher functioning." Other sessions include participants in another program that meets every day for several hours a day and whose participants are dealing with more severe mental illness, schizophrenia, for example.

I don't know how much I'll get out of this. It is nice to have someplace to go. It gets me out of my pajamas and gives me structure. I am learning more about my condition when before I was focusing on learning about narcissism alone. And I am meeting regularly with a real psychiatrist so that I feel much better about my medication situation. On the other hand, you can see the strain on the social workers' faces. You can hear the repetition in the sound of their voices. They have clearly been doing this for a very long time. Also, there is no one in the program who has not been hospitalized or who is dealing with PTSD, so I can't really relate to anyone. I guess the point is not to make friends, really, but to learn how to go to work without anxiety.

Oh, something else I learned...DO NOT talk to health professionals about suicide unless you really think you should be committed. Apparently, in my mode of full disclosure, I freaked out the social worker enough that she wanted me to talk to someone about being checked in. Lil' ole me thought, "Sure! Why not?" However, my law school student friend warned me that they have the right to commit me for three days if they think I'm going to harm myself. Scary! So I had to really think about whether that's what I wanted. It's not.

The IOP is only supposed to last for 2-3 weeks..."transitional" is what they say. So a week from today I get assessed to see if I should continue for one more week. I'll keep you posted.

Well, THAT Clearly Didn't Work!

My doctor's recommendation that I stop taking my anti-depressant solely based on me saying I don't think it's working, clearly wasn't a good one. My friend said today that if I had offed myself last night, my parents would have a clear wrongful death suit. Scary!

Luckily, I did indeed wake up this morning...and proceeded to call everyone under the sun. I am getting more of my anti-depressant tomorrow 'cuz even if it's not exactly right, it's clearly better than nothing. I have an initial appointment with the IOP I'm trying to get into on Thursday and I see my therapist tomorrow as well. I also called two friends and one is coming over for dinner tonight. I've also made a back up appointment with a back-up psychiatrist so that if I don't begin the IOP this week, I'm going to see someone, anyone about getting on the right medication.

I wanted to wrap this up with a moral, but I guess the only one I can think of is don't go to a general practitioner to get psychiatric advice...that's not really a moral, it's just common sense.

My Crucial Moments...

...are right now, in the middle of the night. When I've tried for hours to go to sleep and I just can't. When I cry because I don't know why I feel this way and all I want in the entire world is for this feeling of helplessness and being out of control to end. When I'm afraid that I won't ever stop crying...ever. When I know that fear is completely irrational and yet I feel it anyway. When I would do anything to make this fear and this despair end and I can only think of one way. When I start to think about what's in my medicine cabinet. When I have to wrack my brain to come up with a goddamned list of reasons that I should find another way. When even those other ways don't seem adequate. When I think that I will always be crazy. When all I want to do is reach out to someone...anyone, but for some reason I think that he/she will either not believe me, misunderstand me, freak out, run away or any combination of the four. When I wonder how many more of these crucial moments I can take.

Status Update

So I'm home. Got here last evening. Back to my normal life. Not quite sure how I feel about that...

I realized that right before the holiday, a lot of medical stuff occurred that I haven't mentioned. Since this is my journal as well, I feel I should document what happened. I had two appointments on the day I left town, which meant I was carrying around all my luggage up and down Manhattan. It didn't help that I packed horribly...way too much clothing.

My general doctor didn't give me any more anti-depressant because I told him that I didn't feel like I was on an anti-depressant. True, I wasn't crying everyday, but life just felt too hard for someone who was taking drugs. So he gave me a schedule to phase out of them. He also gave me a new prescription for an anti-anxiety medication to help with the attacks.

Side note: The paper for my prescription that he gave me was quite scary. It had all my personal info on it: name, address, date of birth. And...it had a barcode. So that my prescription could be scanned into some database somewhere and tracked! I know that this must occur on some level (probably with the insurance companies), but the fact that it was so blatant...WE'RE TRACKING YOU...freaked me out. Big Brother is SO here.

When I first went to my doc about this in the beginning of September, his non-chalance was reassuring. He told me how common these medications were these days and said "there is no exact science, just trial and error." I appreciated that when I thought taking medication meant I was hopeless. But now that one hasn't worked and yet I'm feeling the negative effects of not taking it and I'm being prescribed another one, I really want someone to approach it a bit more stringently.

Anywhoo, after that appointment, I headed down to see my therapist. I needed to sign a release form so that she can send a psych evaluation to the place where I will probably begin my intensive outpatient program (IOP). Again, no names to protect the innocent. We had a long conversation about what this means: three hours a day, three times a week, lots of group sessions, plenty of stabilization work, practice on getting me functional again. It was the first time that the reality of the situation truly sunk in...this is not a vacation. I've taken a break from one job to start another. This is going to be work, hard work. Right now, the only way I can live day-to-day is if I shut off a huge part of myself and go on auto-pilot. In this program, I will have to learn to function without shutting off any part of me.

So the status of things is such:

• By the end of next week, I will no longer be taking the anti-depressant I was prescribed two months ago.
• I have not decided whether I should fill my anti-anxiety medication.
• I will probably begin the IOP the middle of this week or beginning of next.
• It's almost one pm and I still haven't gone running...the one goal I had for myself today when I woke up at 10:30 this morning.

No Rest for the Weary

My week of family and turkey is wrapping up. I was looking forward to a few days of getting away from myself and my issues. Alas, I actually couldn't turn myself off. My day and a half with my mom, stepdad and sisters brought up a lot of issues. Luckily I was able to figure out why...at least a little bit.

The next three days with my dad and company showed me what I've been missing. It was a normal Thanksgiving: the traditional touch football game, a dinner table filled with people, lots of laughter, a walk into town. But even with that side of my family, I had to talk about medications, treatment plans and doctors. And since I'm a bit more removed from my dad and stepmom's family, their issues don't affect me as deeply...which then lead to other issues! Jeez Louise!

I wasn't planning on it, but I may take some time from this leave and go on a true vacation. I need to get out of my own head...this is getting ridiculous.

I was reading other people's blogs about their Thanksgiving and I felt so envious. They seemed to be filled with so little drama.

All I know is that no matter what, I'm going to spend the next holiday season with people who make me laugh, with whom I can relax, who feel relaxed around me. No angst...even if it kills me! :-)

Mini Intervention

So much for having my behavior only affect me. I just got a mini intervention phone call from one of my friends. It was hard to hear, but it did knock me out the fantasy that I was able to hide my trauma. I'm glad she did it.

The elephant in the room of the relationship was named as well in that phone call...and not in the way I thought. I acknowledge that I'm in a very sensitive place right now, but it seems like I'm more destructive than I thought...

Found a New Blog

I'm definitely going to add this on my sidebar, but the insanity of this blog warrants its own post. I found it through another blogger's sidebar...Surprise, surprise...and it is hilarious! I can't really describe it, just check it out...please!

The Whole Blog Thing II

Have you ever wanted to use your blog to get something off your chest in relative anonymity regarding someone close to you, but you are aware that person reads your blog, so you can't? Not use it to bad mouth a person...though I have seen people use blogs for that purpose. Tacky...but, instead, use it to name an elephant in the room of your relationship.

I guess that's what hard copy journals are for.

A Story for You

I promised that I would tell you about a really bad anxiety attack I had a couple of weeks ago. At the time it was a unique experience...a one-time thing that scared me. But at this point, it's happened three times.

I wake up and begin my day. But, at some point, I start questioning everything and everything comes into question. The idea that I can't make a decision paralyzes me and I start to cry. Then I start to have trouble breathing. And the only way for me to feel better is to talk to myself...to coax myself to function. I have to take real baby steps.

Britt, (names have been changed to protect the innocent) just put on your pants. You can even wear jeans today.

Britt, you got your socks on! I'm so proud of you. You are almost there.

You just have to open the door and walk through it, Britt. You'll be okay if you just walk through the door.

Those are just examples of the kinds of things I need to say to myself to get me out of the house.

Compulsive

I had a great weekend.

I had a horrible weekend.

Engaged in some really unhealthy, compulsive behavior...not once, but three nights in a row.
Reverted to the way I used to be in college. A way I thought I outgrew...age-wise and emotionally.

Ex really f*cked me up...in ways that no one understands...not even me.

Feel stupid explaining it to people, I feel scared showing it to people.

I'm going to spend the next six weeks trying to come to some sort of peace.

I'm so scared I'm going to fail. So I acted out all weekend...compulsively.

Getting Stuff Done

I have three more days until my leave begins. It's amazing, but I have been more productive than I've been in weeks. Not just at work, but in my life. I feel like I'm about to start a new chapter and I'm revved up for it. I am actually looking forward to doing an intense outpatient therapy program.

Did I mention that I might start taking piano lessons?

Skepticism

So...for quite a while I've had this nagging suspicion that people don't believe that I'm as unwell as I am. My therapist told me that I have an uncanny ability to disassociate. In order to function, I completely cut myself from my pain. So much so that I had a really horrible anxiety attack last week and I completely blocked it from my memory. I'll talk about it in a different post.

When I'm in social settings, you wouldn't know that anything was wrong. The only thing that indicates that something is amiss is the fact that I drink too much, but it's never embarrassing. The only one who sees the effects of that is me. I enjoy the fact that for a few hours I can pretend that I'm okay...that I'm happy. But when I do talk to people about my darkness, I fear that no one believes me.

However, now I'm thinking that I'm just projecting my own skepticism on to others. I was talking to my stepmom about me suffering from post traumatic stress disorder and I found myself laughing it off even though it makes a lot of sense to me.

Part of me feels like if I just tried harder, I would be okay. That going on disability is lazy. If I can be okay to hang with friends, then I should be okay doing everything else. I'm not going through the symptoms of depression I'm accustomed to, so I figure what I'm going through isn't that deep.

But today on the subway, I was reading through my paper journal and I found all these entries about me feeling like I'm losing control. For weeks before the medication, before the therapy, before work became daunting, I felt like I was losing my mind.

I don't know quite what to do with all this. I have to learn how to cut myself a little slack, to be caring to myself. This skepticism is only anger toward myself. If I don't let go and be patient with myself, I may never heal.

One of Those Moments

I have to leave in 10 minutes to be an event that I was looking forward to all week. But all I want to do is curl up in my bed, eat take-out and watch TV.

It's scary how used to this moment I've become.

The Good Ole Saturdays

Saturday morning cartoons just aren't as good as when I was growing up. I'm watching cartoons this morning and they are officially lame! I miss Looney Tunes, Fat Albert, Tom and Jerry. Even He-Man was cool. I know many of those cartoons were created way before my time, but I didn't care. Now so many of the cartoons are all about the computer graphics and the fighting. Humor has gone out the window. It's depressing to think that my little brother and sister can only call this entertainment while my parents sleep late. I'll have to look into getting a DVD box set to show my siblings how's it's done.

Health Insurance Blues

I begin this post by saying that I realize my great fortune to have health insurance. It is scary to live in this country and not have any medical coverage. I've lived like that and it's isn't fun.

With that said, I am feeling very frustrated with my insurance company and the medical profession in general. I am in a frantic search to find a psychiatrist/psychopharmacologist. I can't believe I can spell those words! I need to get my medication right because what I'm taking now is not working for me. I also need to talk about my possible outpatient treatment. I wanted to find a psychiatrist that was referred by someone I know, so I asked around and got two numbers. One of those recommendations was for a doctor that doesn't even think about taking insurance. His initial hourly rate is $250! Money that I definitely don't have at the moment. The other recommendation was through a psychiatric clinic. However, I would have to get a new therapist because they only partner with therapists who are part of the clinic. I'm not keen on starting over with a brand new therapist. Grrrr.

So now I'm left with picking a random psychiatrist from the list of doctors that my insurance covers. I'm not excited by that option, but I can't wait any longer.

The Answer Is...

It was an anxiety attack. Usually they happen in the morning, but this one kicked in right in the middle of the afternoon. I talked to a friend Thank you!, took a walk with a co-worker Thank you!, and now feel better. Well...maybe "better" is too strong a term, but I feel less like I'm losing my mind.

My Heart Hurts

I don't know what's happening to me right now, but I feel a real constriction in my chest and I'm crying. For the life of me, I don't know why. It's moments like these that I feel like I'm going crazy...and these moments are happening more and more often. I know people with mental illness and others who have been deeply affected by it, so I don't use that term loosely. I really feel like I am not in control of myself at this moment.

My chest feels like there is a 1,000 pound weight on it, my mind is all muddy and I feel sick to my stomach. And it just came over me.

I HATE THIS FEELING!!!

So much for taking a vacation from my issues...

Family Lessons

So my 20-year-old sister came to visit me for one night on her way to the Homecoming Weekend at her college. She wanted to see me because she felt bad that she wasn't here last weekend when I ran the Marathon.

It was a short, but very pleasant visit. We had dinner, came home, drank tea and watched TV. And talked about boys. She's having serious boy drama and the saddest part about listening to her was how similar her tribulations are to mine. Which just reminded me, the more things change, the more they stay the same. It was depressing to think that she was dealing with the same confusing and infuriating behavior in men that my friends and I encounter and she's 10 years younger than me. She also does the same rationalization and justification that my friends and I do. It made me see what a long road she's going to hoe.

I could tell she wanted to talk about how I'm doing and what I'm going through...but I really didn't. I have this urge to protect her from the dark part of me. I also thinks that she can handle more than she actually can...an idea planted by my mother. My therapist is on vacation this week and I see it as a vacation from dealing with all the stuff I know I have to deal with. Which means I don't really want to talk about it with anyone.

Baby Steps

I read my therapy homework assignment on the subway all the way to work today. I'm quite proud of myself. It's a very well-written book...not bogged down in technical terms or touchy-feely psychobabble. The scariest thing is that not only has this author described Ex to a tee, she has pointed out some of my own character flaws. The author did warn me that might happen. But I got through 20 pages, so now I think I'm on a roll. It's a book I'm going to have to read twice, but I am looking for interesting quotes to share with you. Here's one:

"Narcissist entitlement has nothing to do with genuine self-esteem, which comes from real accomplishment and being true to one's own ideals. Individuals who feel entitled to respect without giving it in return, or who expect rewards without effort, or a life free of discomfort, are forfeiting any power they might have to shape their own destiny. They assume an essentially passive role and count on outside forces to make them happy. When what they expect doesn't happen, they feel impotent. By claiming entitlement, they demand to live in the fantasy world of the one-year-old child. No wonder they're enraged." Hotchkiss, p. 22.

A Declaration

When you can't sleep, posting on your blog seems like the best thing in the world to do.

Anyway...I was reading another woman's blog. I found it because she comments regularly to a friend of mine's blog. This blogging world is so small. I was playing catch-up since I only recently discovered her blog and saw a post about her feeling wiggy about getting so many wedding announcements and her biological clock ticking away. I don't know how old she actually is...in the post she says she's 25, but I think she's fibbing, and I think she knows that we know she's fibbing.

That really resonated with me because I'm 31...really, I am...and my biological clock is ticking like Big Ben. I realized that my strong desire to get married and start a family was turning me into a loony person when it comes to dating. I've always been really intense anyway when it comes to dudes I dig, so mix in some maternal instinct and it's a recipe for disaster.

So I came to a decision: if by the summer of my 34th year, the father of my children is not in my life, I am going to take steps to become a single mother. I have narrowed my choices to 1. having my great gay friend father my child, or 2. sperm donor, or 3. adopt.

Making this decision has really freed me. I mean, doing it by myself is definitely a last resort. I'm still hopeful that I will find my life partner and I do still have those twinges of Is he the one? when I meet someone new. However, for the most part, it has empowered me to make better decisions when it comes to men, i.e., not sticking with a dude who's not treating me right, not putting up with bullshit for the sake of saying I'm dating, etc.

The fact that I'm low on mental energy these days also helps because I just don't have the strength to deal with any dude angst. But now that I know that I will have a child regardless just makes it a little easier.

Avoidance

So my therapist recommended this book for me to read about narcissism. I've also been checking out a bunch of websites created by narcissists and those that have been hurt by them. But I don't read the book or the sites regularly. In fact, I barely read them at all. I am deathly afraid of reading that book. I've only gotten through the first 15 pages and I've owned it for several weeks.

I wish I understood this fear I have of learning about myself and improving myself. Understanding how I have been scarred is the first step of letting those scars heal. I can certainly talk that talk; but when it comes down to actually taking that step, I get so afraid.

Insomniac

I've been having difficulty sleeping for the past several weeks. It's not consistent...some nights I'm out like a light, other nights I'm exhausted but can't fall asleep, and other nights I'm wide awake. I should use this time to do some work, but instead I'll post on why I need to do work.

I'm going on disability in a week and a half. I'll be gone from work until the beginning of 2006. That sounds like a long time, but it's really only six weeks. (Scary! We're six weeks away from the end of the year!) I'm taking a break because if I don't, I'm going to lose my job. I've been coming in later and leaving earlier. I can't concentrate and I'm tired all the time.

So in order to process this, I have to do all this "stuff." I already have a therapist, but I need a psychiatrist because 1. my anti-depressant that I got from my general practitioner is not working well and 2. I need a true MD to sign off on my disability paperwork. I have to write out all my job responsibilities from now until the end of the year. I have to work out with my therapist and possibly my new psychiatrist whether I can be trusted to just go to therapy or if I need to check into some outpatient treatment facility. I have to talk to my insurance company about IF they would cover something like that. Argghhhh.

I've been thinking a lot about what I will do during my time off. I want to do a bunch of self-fulfilling things. There has been this artistic endeavor that has been in the back of my mind for a while now...I would like to start the research on that. I want to start meditating with more frequency, run more regularly and learn how to cook more dishes. I definitely want to start volunteering, preferably with young children and I want to adopt a cat. Actually, I really want a dog, but the Board of my co-op prohibits them.

My biggest fear is that I'll waste my time away. That I won't be able to get a handle on all the crap that's going on in my mind and soul and that I'll be just as bad in 2006 as I was when I left. I mean, I keep thinking one of the main reasons why I'm not getting better is because I don't have room to deal with all the darkness that is in my life. At work, I have to be "on," because others greatly depend on me. I don't feel comfortable sharing all my darkness with many of my friends (though that is changing).

I'm really looking forward to a time when I don't have to be anywhere or do anything for anyone else. I feel like I have all these holes inside of me, all these empty spaces. I just want some time to try and start filling them, to create me.

I don't know if any of this makes any sense, but that's the strange thing about insomnia...it can make things crystal clear even though you're in a fog.

I Like Football, Damn It!

I am a woman who enjoys watching football. I don't pay attention to statistics or track who has the best defense in the league, but I like watching two good teams go at it. I like seeing the strategy that different teams employ, I like watching turnovers and interceptions, I like watching long passes. However, one of the best things that I like about watching football is that dudes dig the fact that I like football. ;-)

No Longer "Training"

It's over and I did it! I finished the New York City Marathon. It was an amazing experience that I haven't fully processed since I finished less than 24 hours ago, but I know that the magnitude of completing this insane race will hit me at some point.

I've lived in NYC for over six years, but seeing the city as a Marathoner is like no other view. I wanted to absorb every inch of it. I took some pictures with my phone, but I don't know how to upload them to my computer. I'll figure it out.

I must say it's weird for me to be at a point where I'm not training for the Marathon. I mean, I've been training for almost two years. I was supposed to run it last year, but due to the events surrounding my break-up, I decided to postpone it. So I've been training for this race since January 2004. Scary! It's actually quite freeing to not be training anymore. I can enjoy running again...I never liked training. It makes running not fun.

I gathered some observations along the 26.2 miles to post here:

• New York is awesome! People from every walk of life came out not only to run the race, but to cheer people on. I had written my name on my shirt in bright markers and it truly felt like the entire city knew me.

• Brooklyn is even more awesome! Brooklynites totally represented. They lined all the streets, even the obscure ones and it was a full-fledged party in downtown Brooklyn. I am so proud that I live there.

• I am so proud to be a black woman. If you haven't noticed, running isn't really a black thang. It is an African thang, but for the most part there usually aren't very many people of color running in the pack, just chugging along. I've become used to this. However, yesterday, every time I passed a group of black spectators in any borough, especially black women, I got extra love. We all knew what the extra love was about, no explanations were necessary. We knew without knowing that I needed the extra support and that my running was bigger than me for that moment. We communicated through the louder cheers and the bigger "thank you" smiles. I LOVED that part of the Marathon.

• This city is mad diverse in its architecture.

• I have been born and raised in the world of theatre. Even as my career path has moved away from the stage, I'm still connected to it. In theatre, saying "Good Luck!" is the worst possible thing you could do. It creates bad luck. You are supposed to say "Break a leg!" That is really ingrained in my psyche. So yesterday, when everyone was saying "good luck," I wanted to say "Stop! You're jinxing me!" But on the other hand, telling a bunch of runners "break a leg" isn't really appropriate. So I decided to suck up my superstition for one day.

So now I'm on to my next thing: my leave of absence. I'm going on disability for the rest of the year to fully deal with all the mental health issues I've been having without fear of losing my job. More on that later...

The Whole Blog Thing

There is something I've always wondered about. I have several friends who have blogs. The blogs are really interesting and wonderful to read. A few friends use them to reveal personal things about themselves (ala this one). However, every time I read a very personal post, I feel a little guilty. I wonder: Should I have known this? Was I not paying enough attention? Was I not being a good enough friend?

I guess since I'm doing all this research in narcissism, I'm paranoid that I'm one. But it has always made me wonder about the nature of my friendships when I read a personal post. I should probably calm down...I'm not telling anyone about this blog and I care a great deal about my friends.

Roses

It's almost 4am, but I'm still up because I'm a victim of peer pressure and hung out way too late after work. The good thing is that I'm not drunk, just tired, so I won't have to worry about a hangover tomorrow. I've got enough to worry about tomorrow.

Anyway, the reason I'm writing is that I came home with a package at my door. It was a bouquet of roses given to me by a man who I dated for a couple of months over the summer. He treated me better than any man ever has...when he had time for me. Which was the problem. I got the sense that I was low on his priority list, even though when I did spend time with him, he treated me like a queen.

Anyway, he sent me flowers and I cried when I saw they were from him. Even if I'm in no position to date anyone, it's great to be reminded that I'm worthy of flowers.

Running this time

I was supposed to run this insane race last year, but because my life was a little crazed, I postponed it. So I'm doing it this year. Granted, I'm not at 100%, but at this point, I'm sick of training. Really...training sucks. So I've decided to just get it over with. I am guestimating how fast (or how slow) I'm going to run but really, I have no idea, nor do I care. My only goal is to finish before it gets dark. That gives me about seven hours. I pray that I'm not running seven hours after I start...that would really suck.

Anyway, the Marathon is on Sunday. If you are in the area, look out for me...wait, you don't know what I look like. So just cheer in general. I'm sure I'll hear you.

Trying again

I've got more issues. Actually, I've got the same issues and they are just coming up again...and boy are they coming up with a vengenance! I thought I was done with Ex and his evil effects, but alas...

For those two people who will read this: Ex is my ex-boyfriend who totally broke my heart over a year ago. (See my last blog to get the sorted details of that.) I really have no urge to go into that again, but I've been losing my mind for the last two months and I am just now figuring out why.

Apparently my relationship with Ex traumatized me. My therapist actually thinks I'm suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder! Part of me thinks this that diagnosis is SO over the top and melodramatic. But the other part knows that something is very wrong with me. I have to talk myself out of the house every morning; I am tired all the time, even when I sleep nine hours a night; I am getting into work later and later and having to leave earlier and earlier; I get freaked out by the idea of doing every day tasks. I get anxiety attacks on the regular.

There are only two people in my life with whom I can talk to who remotely understand what I'm going through. Everyone else just says "wow," which does not make me feel better at all. Most of the people in my life I don't trust enough to tell because I don't think they are supportive people. Which is making me really think about the people I bring into my life.

This brings me back to Ex. The predominant theory as to why I've been actually traumatized by my relationship instead of just heartbroken is because Ex is a narcissist. There is everyday narcissism and narcissism on a personality-disorder level. The problem is that, in our society, narcissism is so celebrated that the line between healthy ego and unempathatic evil is very blurry. So when someone has been the victim of a narcissist, rarely do they know it. Like me. The more I read about narcissism, the disorder, the more I learn about Ex. And the more I understand why I hurt so deeply.

So, since I don't feel comfortable opening up to friends, I will instead open up to complete strangers. Hey...it worked the last time.