A twist in anxiety.

I am apparently at high risk of developing depression. My doctor, who is not nearly as nice as my old one, thinks I'm halfway there. So not only do I have to fight off the feeling of lunacy because I'm taking anti-anxiety medicine (we're on day 3) but I now have the added joy of coming to terms with the fact that he sent me away with a referral to a therapist... as if I didn't feel crazy enough already. He ignored pretty much every concern I voiced about the ill effects Paxil had on my mom and told me I needed counseling with the same emotion as a doctor telling me I have a cold. So now I sit, and wait for the medicine to either lift me up, or slam me back down. I feel better than I did two days ago when I started taking that, but I honestly don't know if that's the Paxil kicking in or the simple progression my moods tend to take. A few really bad days, two weeks of feeling on top of the world. Only time will tell. Day one was spent unable to eat from anxiety as I typically am during really bad days. Day 2 was spent scaring myself in and out of thinking I'd be one of those people that nothing works for and I'd feel like this forever. Today was spent feeling better and wondering why. 

Yesterday was my birthday. I barely noticed. It didn't feel that special. Sure, I got a lot of wishes on facebook, I got presents (a little early but presents all the same), I had cake and candles and a one man rendition of Happy Birthday (compliments of Tim) but it wasn't the same. It was just a day, like every other day here, spent with Tim. I love him. He waited on me hand and foot the whole day but there were no friends, no celebrating, no party. But you know what? I'm okay with that. I was sad about it the day before but it was a nice day. It was quiet, and it was nice. 

The "journey" continues. Or should I say I finally got the guts to start. I just hope I don't have some kind of breakdown while I'm home.

A few things I need to get off my chest:

I'm pretty isolated right now. I didn't realize exactly how much until I started trying to lash out at everyone and every thing the past few days. My current situation has left me anxious and highly irritable so I'm going to vent by writing out a list of things that's been pissing me off:

1,) I don't care if Facebook is free, I still have the right to complain about it. You want to know why? Because Facebook is a business, just like everything else. To assume they make no profit off it's millions of members is absolutely ludicrous, so the way I see it, if we're helping someone make bank, we have a right to give them feedback on how we're enjoying or hating it. That said I do think Facebook is stupid for changing everything except what people want changed, but people just need to shut up about it. It's not that had to figure out "new" Facebook.

2.) I hate Texas. I see nothing special about this place. It's worse than Elkhart. Yes, yes folks. It is possible for some place on the planet to be more miserable than that place.

3.) My pockets have bottoms. I know that financially I'm 100x better off than I was before I got married but that doesn't mean I have the time or the money or the means to drive all over the state of Indiana visiting people when I'm home. Guess what? I came the first 1,000 miles, it won't kill you to come the final 100. I can't afford to buy and ship everyone I know a Christmas present, I can't pay for everyone's gas to come see me, and I can't afford to fly home multiple times a year. The only reason I have is because my in-laws give me the hook up on buddy passes. In those cases I especially shouldn't have to drive to see anyone because flying standby is pure hell and it wears me out. If you don't believe me, trying flying through Atlanta on standby sometime. In the past two months Tim and I will have spent 3,000 dollars or more between tickets, moving and the dentist so forgive me if I'd like to keep what little is left of our savings. Yes we have purchased nice things in the past and will in the future but we try to keep our big money expenditures to a minimum.

4.) Just because I paint pretty pictures every now then and post pictures of nice doodles I did with Sharpie's does not mean I can draw anything in the world. I paint silhouettes for a reason. It's not an artistic inclination, it's an inability to draw or paint people's faces or accurately proportion their bodies. Asking me if I can draw things doesn't irritate me, assuming I can does. I also don't get why people think I'm okay with just giving them my artwork (some of it that is). I spend hours working on these paintings and I'm not going to pay 20 dollars in shipping or more and give it to you and everybody else that's asked. Quite frankly it's kind of rude to assume I'll just paint you something nice and give it to you because you're my friend. If I want you to have something, I'll offer which, if you are a good friend, is highly probable because most of the inspiration I get for paintings comes from my friends and I feel good giving it to them when they like what I paint in memory of them.

That is all for now. If you're wondering I'm not actually pissed at anyone, I'm pissed off at these generic ideas. That sounds dumb, but it's true and if you don't believe that's possible then tough cookies. Not my problem.

Depression is funny.

It kind of is. Every woman in my family has been diagnosed with some form of mood disorder, be it anxiety or depression, and as it turns out, I guess I didn't dodge that hereditary bullet after all. 

Depression isn't like cancer. You don't go to the doctor one day and get the diagnosis dropped on you like a bomb. It's a slow creeping realization. For years I figured I'd be my turn eventually. My mom, my sisters, my grandparents all suffer from debilitating depression and anxiety. I dodged it for a while. I handled it. I didn't want to know, because knowing would mean accepting something is wrong with me. I'm flawed, and I'm crazy. And maybe I am, that can be true, but it's hard accepting it's through no fault of mine. The hard part is accepting needing medication doesn't make me less of a person. 

It's funny when you're so emotional unstable something simple like smelling fresh cut grass makes you so homesick you cry. It's funny how not being able to fold a piece of paper straight, or losing several games of Solitaire in row can upset you so much it ruins the rest of your day. It's funny because depression and anxiety are the most retarded and uncalled for emotions a person can feel, and once you get past feeling like the most horrible person in the world for feeling that way, it gets a little funny. It's hilarious looking back at moments when you're so emotionally exhausted you can't focus or grasp anything, and something happens that startles everyone around you, a slammed door, a car backfiring, a dropped object, and you just  stand there looking at everyone like they're jumpy nut jobs. It happens. It's funny when we get grown men running scared when they do something to make us fly into rages. I honestly couldn't tell you why, but we're frightening when we're mad.

Anxiety medication is funny. My doctor thinks my insomnia is probably related to my anxiety, I can't sleep because I can't stop thinking and worrying about every little that pops into my head. So I take Ambien on the bad nights and I hallucinate. Apparently the low dose is plenty for me because I start having wild lucid dreams and seeing things before I drop off. The funniest night was when the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling turns into vines controlled by the evil ceiling fan bulbs. No, I'm kidding. Yes, this is normal. 

The only thing left is for me to decide whether I want to keep fighting this on my own, or if I need chemical back up. The options are feel great without a fight, or feel ten times worse than I did before with a bad reaction. The only way to decide that is to wait. Now that I know I actually have a problem, I can fight it better. But I know I'll have bad days, and I know I'll have awful days, the question is whether or not I can handle those on my own, whether I'm strong enough to face them.

We'll see.

Back to school.

Have you ever noticed how much effort clothing and office supply stores put into making kids believe that next year will be cooler, next year everyone is gonna love you. They push the message of reinventing yourself so hard, and so often that I believe it when I was kid. But I'm sure all of you know and remember believing that too, getting to school on the first day of the year and getting the same looks, talking to the same people, and being called the same names. It never fails. And yet every year, this one is going to be different, this one is going to be better, and we continue to believe that no matter how many years we go back with our new shoes and fancy locker organizers and experience the same damn thing. I finally figured out why they do that. I mean, why would people build kids hopes up so high when they know they'll be crushed? I'm not going to say for profit, that's too obvious. I think that maybe, another reason they do that, they want kids to believe in themselves because without that false hope none of us would've had the courage to get out of bed on that first day. No one would want to go back if they knew the truth about it, and knew that nothing was ever going to change. 

Maybe they'd be more willing if they knew things change in college (they do!). Ah college. The first time I realized I might be attractive to a complete stranger. That's a weird and very uncomfortable feeling. The realization that if I just talk to someone they might actually like me without a remarkable amount of effort and convincing. College.

If someone told me (and some people have) that they want to run away for a while, to pick up and leave off, I would encourage it. I believe radical change is incredible nourishment for the soul. I believe it to be the most personally ratifying experience a person can go through. I believe this because when you're alone, and you have no one to talk to, and no one to hug, and no one to confide in, then you have nothing to bias you. You are what you are. You are rubbed raw, and scrubbed clean and left with the best definition of yourself that you will ever get. You will find that you are either powerful, or that you are weak. You will know without question whether you're really a unique individual, or just nameless and faceless like everyone else. You will either realize you love who you are, or you'll hate what you've become. 

I know who I am. I'm not proud of all of it. But at least I know it's there.

I'm so restless. I have passion and no where to release it. I have knowledge and the ability and desire to learn but no clear way to do it. I have so much love and so many to people to spend it on but I just can't get to them. 

I'm so excited about going home. I really honestly can't wait.