It is hard to know exactly what to say in a blog when I blog so infrequently. I am still unemployed, but I am helping out as a part-time nanny for a friend of a friend. Her husband left her while she was pregnant with his twins...and getting pregnant was HIS idea. She has a LOT of anger (justified), but that anger eats at her. I haven't known her long, but I can see how that anger is always with her an leaking out at random intervals. I too have been living with a lot of anger...over my termination from my job at the church. For months I would lie awake at night writing an angry letter to my former boss telling just how screwed up my life was and how much I blamed her. I would think of telling her how betrayed I felt, how blindsided. I also lamented everything I had lost, the community, the spiritual connection, even faith. The other night, lying awake next to my snoring husband, crying and writing in my head I decided to actually write that letter. It took me an hour and a half, but I wrote how I felt, what I needed to know from her, and ultimately how I wanted to get past the anger. I wasn't sure as I was writing it if I would ever send it...but in the end, I decided to do it. Getting all those thoughts and feelings out in the world got them out of my head. I feel lighter. My former boss/pastor was very glad that I wrote, even to hear that I was angry. I think I am glad I wrote too. I am still angry...but It isn't eating at me. I think I may be able to move on...and maybe even come back to church at some point. I think I can forgive. It won't be easy, and it won't solve all my problems. But, I think that some spiritual healing will help with my anxiety and depression. Body, mind, and spirit...they all need looking after. So, I am working on spiritual health...now if I can just lay off hte chocolate and get to the gym...
It has been a long time since I last blogged. Apparently, I only blog when I am in some sort of crisis or deep depression. I have had a lot of both in recent months. Lost my job, was pawed at my a creep at the theater, fell flat on my face (scar is coming along nicely). I am not crying every day like I was. But...I almost wonder if that was better. I was at least feeling something. I am existing these days, but it doesn't always feel like living. I can't sleep at night...can't wake up during the day. I try to find reasons to get up and out and do stuff. I feel...inertia. Like I am stuck and just can't get going without some outside force giving me a reason to get up...eat something. How sad is it that eating has become a nearly unbearable chore? If I could do nothing but sleep I would be happy. When I am asleep...I don't have to be me...poor...without purpose. Even the dreams of the end times are preferable...at least I can wake up when things get too bad. Problem is...I sleep to make the day go by faster...spend less time alone...but now I can't sleep at night. So I am alone anyway. My husband is blissfully snoring in the other room. I am wide awake unable to turn off my brain...but also unable to channel it to anything productive. Maybe I just need a good cry.
as everyone else. My insurance finally kicked in. I went to the doctor. I got my prescriptions. After an hour in the pharmacy with them trying to figure out my new insurance info, I got my pills. I got 3 psych meds, an inhaler, and my no baby pills. This would be over $2000 without insurance. I got it for $56. I am very relieved. The funny thing is, I had finally come out of the withdrawals. My anxiety was still elevated, and I was still not sleeping well. But, I felt more like myself that this crazy person I became. Now I am working my way back up to my full dosage. No more crazy.
I ran out of pills and money. I don't have $1500 to pay for a refill, and I am out of refills anyway. I tried to ration, but ran out about 2 weeks ago. I can tell that the last of it is out of my system. I guess I feel like my old self. That is not a good thing. The obsessive thoughts are back, like as ong you can't get out of your head. I can't turn them off to sleep. My brain keeps going and going over the same material. Said material is something stress related. No money. No pills. Some mistake I made at work. Chores that need done. Whatever. My brain doesn't turn off. The anxiety is back. Moments of panic for no reason. The phone ringing can set me off. I can be just lying in the couch with that flight or fight feeling. For those readers unfamiliar with this, imagine you are driving on the freeway going 70 plus MPH and the car infront slams on his brakes and you slam on your and for a second youknow you are going to hit him. That tight feeling in the chest, the quick breath, the tense muscles, the knowledge that some terrible is about to happen. That is what it feels like. Now, imagine that feeling lasting for hours at a time only without a tangible cause or resolve. I get into the panic and anxiety and can't shed it. I want to crawl out of my skin and away from the feeling. I feel trapped in myself. Trapped with my thoughts. part of me wants to crawl under the blanket and make the world go away. Part of me wants to run or drive a fast I can to outrun the panic or the opression of anxiety. A very irrational part that I ignore wants to cut something open in the misguided belief that I can vent the anxiety or bleed it out. With the anxiety comes depression. Overwhelming "this is my life and it will never change" thoughts press down on me. I hate being reminded that my brain doesn't work right, that I will always be different. I think I am somewhat prone to depression anyway. So, the anxiety is just one more thing to be depressed about. I hate that I don't have the money ot take care of myself. I hate that being messed up in the head has prevented anyone from insuring me. I feel like a freak and I don't enjoy feeling like that. I know I have been upsetting my husband. I came home from service on Christmas Eve feeling very stressed and down. I had forgotten that I hadn't gotten any ushers for the second service and just started spinning (the thoughts, not physically). I had messed up. I was going ot get in trouble. I am a failure at my job, I am going to lose my job. I can't handle working. I am going to have another breakdown and end up on the couch for a year just like before. It is all happeniong again. When I came home full of all those spiraling thoughts, I started cleaning... frantically. It scares Steve when I get all manic. I just feel like if I sit, I will lose control. If I am doing sometjng, I can handle it. It is the OCD. This ritual, this activity, this mantra will keep me sane. I hate that Steve has to watch me decline off my meds. I hate that it scares him. The new insurance kicks in on New Years. I will call for an appointment ASAP. I need to get back on the meds. This involuntary experiment has shown me how much better I am with my meds. Although, I do wonder how much of this might be withdrawal. I have had vertigo and headaches since a few days after I took my last pill. I have also be really grouchy. That is something I rememebr feeling before. All I know is that I am a mess and teh New Year can't come fast enough.
So, my night last night was asstastic; let me just start by saying that. It started off well enough. I got off work, hit Walmart for some camping supplies for the trip with weekend, came home to dinner with my husband and some friends. I got a call from my sister telling me that our friend D is being an ass and is no longer going on the trip. She says she will tell me about it later. Then, during dinner itself, I got a call requesting my presence at the Opera House for Tuna rehearsal even though tech doesn't start until Sunday, they want us techs there early because it is such a tech intense show with about 40 costume changes. So, I went to rehearsal at 7:30 without even clearing my plate. Why there, my sister (who is also teching the show along with my Daddy) told me exactly why she is mad at D and why he will not be going on the trip. Apparantly, D had an ulterior motice for the trip. He wanted to save me from what he percieves to be a marriage to the wrong guy by seducing me. Now, I will own responsibility to giving him some wrong ideas. I complain too much about my husband and what isn't working so well. I am also suffer from a compulsive need for attention and flirt without thinking anything of it. I really don't. I mean it all in fun. It doesn't mean anything. I act the same male, female, gay straight. It is nothing. I just assume that is what everyone else thinks. I never hide the fact that I am married and plan to stay that way. So, I am pissed at myself. However, I am more pissed at D. This shows a complete lack of respect for me, for my husband, for my marriage. I am afraid I have also shown lack of respect for my marriage by talking too much about what really isn't anyone's business. I have a hard time with boundaries and filters. I need to work on that, but again, I am pissed at myself. I am not even sure who I am more mad at. I feel very disgusted. I feel betrayed by someone who knows that I have low self-esteem and crave unhealthy amounts of attention. He knew this and planned to take advatage. There was going to be plenty of alcohol. When I drink, I rely on others to keep me safe. I have been drinking with D before. I felt safe with him. I don't think I can ever feel safe with him again. I also question my own judgement. I feel very unsettled. I am also not looking forward to talking to my husband about all this. It will upset him. He might get mad at me. I know he will be wternally pissed D. He already doesn't like him. For the saek of an honest marriage, I have to tell him what is up. I hope today is better.
I haven't been writing much. I haven't even been reviewing much lately. I have been very caught up in political discussions of late. Hopefully now that the elections are over (and the threads are being shut down because we can't behave) I can get back to the real purpose of the site, which is writing. I have done several reviews today. I have been dissapointed with the reviews I have recieved for my poetry and the last story I posted. Hardly any at all, and what I got was less than constructive. I figure, if I review other people's stuff, maybe they will return the favor. Maybe I just need to write better stuff? I dunno. I also have been meaning to get back to my painting. The one I am working on for Enid has sat untouched for a couple weeks now. I also have have beads to string. Photos to print. It seems like all I want to do when I have free time is sleep. I am tired all the time and I bleed Kool-aid. Maybe I am anemic again. It is hard being a veggie.
I had the pleasure last evening of reading a story written by the 10 year old nephew Collin. It was very clever. It was about these kids who lose their ball in the yard of their grumpy naighbor in the spooky house. There are always weird ghostly howling noises coming from it. Gus refuses to return their ball, so sneak into the house to get it back. They are confronted by one big ghost and 10 little ghosts. Only, the little ghosts act strange. They chase their tails and scratch their ears. They aren't ghosts! They are puppies in ghost costumes and Grumpy Gus is trying to scare the kids. They get their ball back, but it is covered in dog spit, so they don't want it anymore and decide to go trick-or-treating. I thought it was a very clever story. There were some areas where it was obviously written by a 10 year old. There were parts where I know Nana helped with grammar and punctuation. It was very cute though. It made me remember when I was a young writer. That was a LONG time ago. lol
I have written a grand total of 1 story and 1 poem since joining the forum. It is more a question of time than anything else though. I only really go on the sight from work. And, of course, how much time I spend depends on workload. I havn't had a free hour to dedicate to writing. I cranked out the poem in 5 minutes. I just needed to get something out. I still have some stories kicking around in my head. I still get anxious when I write. My hands go numb and I get dizzy. It is amazing how I don't even notice that I am hyperventilating at first. I push on. It will get easier. That is how it works. I am hoping ot get another story up pretty soon. In the meantime, I am having fun reading other people's stuff.
So, I took a two year break from writing. I went from writing short stories and doing open mic poetry to only writing for the church newsletter (which I don't count). I went through a bit of a rough patch. Little nervous breakdown. I just stopped writing after that. But, I think it is time to push past the anxiety and associations I have with writing and the breakdown (they weren't directly related, but anything literary reminds me of that time since I was so involed in it up until that point). It is time to start up again. I have written one short story. So, in two years, I have spent a total of one hour writing. Well, it is a start.