my less serious life

maybe what?

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Wed, 19 Jun 2013 13:04:00 +0000

Today's Score
Meditation: 1
OCD: 0

head battle

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Wed, 19 Jun 2013 10:07:00 +0000

My head is in a battle, a spin. This could go either way. I awoke this morning at 3:30 and have been awake ever since. The OCD piece of me hates me for this, it is screaming at me that something is wrong.

(image)

Something is wrong because I woke up too early and I couldn't go back to sleep and I am going to be tired all day long and what is the real reason that I woke up too early? Is it because my anxiety is back and holyshit! what if my anxiety is back and today I am going to fuck up my progress and now I have to wait like way too long to do my bike ride because I want it to be light enough outside because otherwise I just shouldn't do it (not sure why, because I have lights on my bike, but those are my brain rules) and I am fucking hungry for breakfast but if I eat now then I will be hungry again at like normal people breakfast time and then that is two breakfasts and then I have meetings and maybe I should just meditate and that will calm me down but my brain is spinning so fast it is fucking impossible to sit down and calm my thoughts and I thought I was past this shit but remember there will be good days and bad days and maybe this can still be a good day but what the fuck and I supposed to do? (this may or may not be a rhetorical question; actually it is not, what the fuck? do you know?)

And don't you dare tell me to sit back in my chair and breathe (inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale), because I can't. I can't I can't I can't I can't. Oh, but I should. I should try. I think that is an answer (at least a piece of an answer in the fucking largest puzzle you have ever seen). Maybe I can. Maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe.

so i will write

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Tue, 18 Jun 2013 11:07:00 +0000

So, if I am one post short this week can I make it up to you with one post extra next week?

I just found the beginning of this draft blog post in my archives. I had so much anxiety surrounding my old blog - the feeling of posting to a schedule, the quality of my posts, the number of page hits, the number of comments. I wrote apologies to my blog audience, I felt guilty if I didn't measure up. What the fuck?

I reminded myself of this person this morning. Because I posted late last night because it was the only thing I knew to do at the time to help me get past my moment of negative energy. To write. And, I want to write again this morning and for a moment in time I felt like I shouldn't. Too many blog posts? What the fuck? Who made up these rules? MyheadmakestherulesbutIdonthavetofollowthem.

(image; yeah, so I'm typing when I write, but a picture of pen to paper makes me feel so much more contemplative or some bullshit)

Here is an apology:

I'm sorry, but did you think I was writing this blog for you? I'm not. I'm writing it for me. Because most mornings I wake up and there is all of this jumbledcrazyinformationinmyhead and if I sit and type long enough I can usually (usually) make sense of some small piece of it.

If you find strength or courage or something in my words I am elated (seriously, I mean that because I don't feel strong or courageous or anything most days). I can barely shower and fix myself a proper breakfast right now, I can't worry about pleasing you or you or you or you or you.

So, I will write. I will not feel guilty about the quality of my words. If I don't write I will not feel anxious. There will be no thing as 'writing too much' (you don't have to read any of this, after all). As in life, we must (or I must - at least right now) do what makes me feel peaceful, whole, calm, complete. So, I will write.

shut the door

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Tue, 18 Jun 2013 01:00:00 +0000

Listen.

Up close, the water from my shower head constantly splashes against the tile floor. The sound is so loud it is paralyzing. Dripdripdripdripdripdripdripdrip.This is the way my heart feels. Beaten over and over and over again with harsh pangs of sadness and fear.

I shut the door and walked away. Now, listen.

Separated by my bathroom door, the sounds is muted. It almost (almost) reminds me of a soft afternoon shower. The kind when the water trickles down your windows and you want to stay wrapped in that moment of comfort forever.

I know the water is there, splashing with the same intensity, but its power over me has faded. This is a lesson, I think. Shut the door and walk away. Shut the door and walk away. Shut the door and walk away.

I want to deadbolt that fucking door.

delete

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Mon, 17 Jun 2013 15:16:00 +0000

I just wrote and published an entire post about fighting and feeling like I am winning the battle against depression. Not ten minutes after I hit publish I yelled at my boyfriend and came into work where I sit now and my heart races with something that is anxiety/sadness/overwhelming-ness. I don't feel very strong at all anymore.

As soon as I could I deleted that post.

One moment I am winning, one moment I am losing.

Thirty minutes ago, I felt strong and in control and proud. In this moment, I feel scared.

just what it is

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Sat, 15 Jun 2013 12:06:00 +0000

I cried at the gym yesterday (this isn't the first time). I cried because I have fallen so far from where I started. I cried because I barely recognize myself in the mirror. I used to look in that mirror and feel proud, strong, and healthy; now I look in that mirror and feel guilty, ashamed, and sad. I went through the motions, I lifted the weights, I stretched my body. I felt nothing but negative - I just knew I have to do this to get back to where I started. I felt hopeless.

Later that morning I went to my one-on-one meditation session. Our new formal practice for the day was mindful stretching. We took our places on our mats and my teacher led us through simple, gentle stretches. Remarkably, many of the same stretches I had done that very morning at the end of my weight lifting class.

Each movement was done mindfully, slowly, and carefully. After each stretch we returned to corpse pose and set our mind on how the body felt following that movement. I felt so much in that space (quite the contrast to my mornings' guilt-fest). I felt a pulse of a newly moved muscle, I felt the gentle tinge of synovial fluid at each joint, I felt the faint tightness from the morning's weight lifting session. I felt.

(image)

As we finshed our mindful stretching experience my instructor said something that is still resonating in my mind today. The last stretch was bridge pose where we slowly and mindfully lifted our hips to the ceiling with our breath. As we lifted he told me, "do what you can and what you can do is enough. We are just here in this moment and whatever we can do in this moment is just what it is. And whatever that is...is okay."

Mind.Blown.

the storm

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Fri, 14 Jun 2013 11:08:00 +0000

Yesterday was a shit show. A genuine 'bad day'. I woke up and spent my morning hours writing and meditating. It was positive and everything that I am 'supposed' to be doing in healing myself. What a bunch of fucking baloney.

I returned home from meditation class and the negative energy - relationships, work, my own body - were too much to fight. I am so tired of fighting. It was an ugly, dark morning. There were tears and it took almost an hour for my boyfriend to even get me off the floor. At noon I cancelled my meetings at work, had a klonopin and beer, and passed out while watching fucking Ellen DeGeneres. I wonder if Portia has ever had lift her off the floor in tears...

6:00 PM I awoke. The pile of tissues around me was startling, but the ache in my heart had subsided. I looked in the mirror and the severe puffiness around my eyes reminded me of how much I hurt and hated just a few short hours ago. I'm too old for this shit...

Later that evening we went out for a few beers and dinner, puffy eyes and all. There was a storm so strong that the entire bar was drawn to its power. The lights flickered. It reminded me of how we are all in this little world together. And, how what seems like such separate and disconnected lives can all be brought together by the shared experience of a thunderstorm...

....and the rainbow following....

...and a sky suited for angels. Maybe we aren't all so different. Maybe strong storms are meant to remind us that we are all fragile. Maybe other people in that bar had a breakdown yesterday and felt like a failure.

Today I feel renewed. I'm hesitant to say this, though, because how many times have I awoken after a dark day and felt determined to beat this thing and fallen? Part of me hopes that this energy I feel now is the real fucking deal. Wouldn't that be something?

the gold star

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Thu, 13 Jun 2013 12:07:00 +0000

My therapist gave me this gold star yesterday morning during our session. I placed it on the palm of my hand.

By early afternoon its shiny gold coating had worn down to a dull, silver finish.

Later in the day, the sides had curled up in distress, it was hardly recognizable as a star any longer.

And so is my heart with each passing day. Why must each start with a shiny gold finish, yet end in a catastrophic fading and bending until all that is left is dull, pale, and torn?

savouring the pleasant: heart tree

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Wed, 12 Jun 2013 12:03:00 +0000

Savoring the Pleasant Day 2: heart tree

Yesterday, I was on the cusp of a full-blown negative energy spin, origins unknown. I was doing my best to fight it, and ended up in a coffee shop on the far side of town with a (large) bag of chocolate trail mix and a mug of green tea. I had my computer out, but the words wouldn't flow. In my frustration I looked up and saw this tree. I paused and surprised myself by stopping long enough to recognize its uniqueness, its beauty.

At first it seemed too minor to even write about. I mean it isn't even a perfect heart shape, but more a tree resembling a heart. But, the more I thought about it the more I realized the very fact that this experience was so simple made it more powerful. And that my ability to find joy in something so simple as an unexpected heart-shaped tree in the midst of a whirlwind of bad energy was nothing short of remarkable.

As I looked at that heart tree I felt peaceful, a bit awestruck, amazed that I even noticed it. I snapped a picture and went back to what I was doing, without realizing what seeing it had done to my day. It was a tiny catalyst in shifting my energy. And that, my friends, is worth everything.

a medium day

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Mon, 10 Jun 2013 10:57:00 +0000

My mom asks me regularly now if I am having a 'good' day or a 'bad' day. I find this question really difficult to answer -- and my response is usually: a medium day.

Unless you are one of those obnoxious people who is fucking perfect and happy all of the time, there are 'good' bits and 'bad' bits to every day for most of us. It is all about what we do with those bits that matters. Placing more energy (or even just focusing for a second on a good bit that would have been previously overshadowed by a bad bit) is where it's at. And the more I observe, the more I realize that this is just how life goes, for all of us.

(image)

I suppose I really am not that different from all of you who are reading these words. It is just that right now (stupid brain chemicals), my bad bits have the possibility to turn really, really bad. Sometimes they do. Shit happens. But, I am (painstakingly slowly) learning how to catch myself every now and then. When a bad bit happens, and I manage to pause long enough in my head to be aware of it, I picture myself standing at this bad energy feeling with two choices: the kinda bad, but not that huge of a deal path; or the my world is crumbling and I want to fucking die path.

Here is the realization: I have the ability to choose my path. Maybe it is harder for me right now than others, but I can do it. And let me tell you, the 'my world is crumbling and I want to fucking die path' is not the optimal choice.

savouring the pleasant: a simple comment from a stranger

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Sat, 08 Jun 2013 11:51:00 +0000

I haven't talked much about my new meditation practice, but my 'assignment' for this week is to be aware of one pleasant event or occurrence each day while it is happening and to record my experience. What better forum to record my experiences than this blog.

Savoring the Pleasant Day 1: a simple comment from a stranger

What was the experience?

I drove my bike to run some errands yesterday. I stopped at the office in a sweaty whirlwind on my way to the gym to ask someone to scan and e-mail a letter for me. This particular person had brought in her young niece to help at the office. After I asked for her to help me with this task, I walked away for a second, and came back to this pleasant comment: "I thought you were a 20 year old student!"

Were you aware of the pleasant feelings while the event was happening?

Yes. I told her she had made my day. I am in such a tender place. I needed this comment, simple as it may have been. It lifted me.

Describe how you felt during this experience?

Happy. My heart was warm. I smiled. I may have even fucking laughed. I felt a breeze of relief - like 'I still got it' even though I feel like shit - kind of relief.

What moods, feelings, and thoughts accompanied this event at the time?

She was admiring me, and it felt wonderful to have someone feel that about me when I feel so un-admirable. No, I am not 20 (I am 31). I have been feeling gross and defeated as this medication and depression have taken their toll on my body. Little did I know, I still can fool someone into thinking I am younger than I am. No, I am not a student (I am faculty). Her words reminding me of how accomplished I am and how far I have gotten despite my whacked-out brain were needed. Big time.

What thoughts are in your mind now as you write this?

Normally, I would tell you (blog world) all about my day. I tend to focus on the negative pieces because those are the ones that get trapped in my head. Yesterday there were other positive things, but there were also negative things (hello, rushing out of my gym class in tears). But, taking this moment to focus and savor my pleasant experience reinforces the fact that my life is not completely broken. There is brightness and reflecting on it is a crucial step in my recovery.

Meditation for the win.

head donations being accepted

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Fri, 07 Jun 2013 12:52:00 +0000

I just got an e-mail from a friend and he told me setbacks in this process were normal. That I should expect them, but they will get easier with time. Yesterday was a mother fucking setback.

Three good days. I had three good days. Yesterday my parents left and I was alone for the first time in quite awhile. Turns out, I am not ready to be alone. I am 31 fucking years old with a PhD and I can't be alone without my head taking over (omfg). Turns out, I am a fucking maniac. Turns out, my mind has more power than I ever thought. Turns out, my mind is pretty fucking sneaky and knows just when to strike and just what to do to completely destroy my progress.

Two steps forward, one fucking giant leap back.

Forward...

I cleaned out my car. Filled it with my gym bag and a giant water bottle. Healthy, happy intentions.

I got a little work done. It felt good, I felt productive, I enjoyed it.

I ate a fucking salad like a good intentioned, healthy, normal human being who needs to kill (too many) pounds of depression weight. I was satisfied.

Back...

I don't know what happened, but in the late afternoon I found myself with tears and tears and pills spread out on the bed comforter (I didn't take them - don't freak the fuck out). Talk about a setback. Where did all that positive energy go? I have been gathering it up for the last three days. Does it fucking expire or some shit? Do I need to store it in a fucking Tupperware or something? WHERETHEFUCKDIDITGO?

The night was filled with rage and tears and beer and pills and crying and crying and crying and lying on the kitchen floor and wanting to scrape off my own skin and finally ended by just passing out in exhaustion. My therapist said I need more pills. Different pills, but more pills. WHAT THE FUCK this entire time I am going through the process of getting off pills. I don't want them. I hate this thought.

Yes, today is a new day and I will do my best to be positive. But, today, I also feel angry, frustrated, beaten. My eyes are puffy from crying, my head is pounding from alcohol, my body is sore from exhaustion. I am pissed the fuck off. Not at you or my boyfriend or my parents or even at my therapist for telling me those things. Rather, I am pissed off at my own fucking head.

Can I please just lop off my head and switch with someone? Donations being accepted....

needing help

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Thu, 06 Jun 2013 11:35:00 +0000

The last time we talked I was in a dark place. My darkness (like deep dark pit dark) continued as the withdrawal symptoms off of Pristiq ravaged my mind. The first several days following my last dose of Pristiq were a blur of tears, pain, rage, brain zaps, and hallucinations.

There are times when life hits you so hard that you need help. I went from drinking alone (in tears, mind you; in a fucking Chili's, mind you; in the middle of the day mind you; un-showered, mind you; walking home in the pouring rain, mind you) to being surrounded by friends and family. We joined forces and battled together. This is not a fight that I could (can) win alone.

Despite my protests, my parents flew to me, my brother and my nephew (AKA my superhero) drove two hours to me, my friend stopped in his tracks and drank beers with me, my therapist was on the phone with me, and my boyfriend stayed with me. I have not really been alone (nor should I be) since Friday. Yeah, you better fucking believe I needed (need) some help. You know what I realized? You can need help AND still be fucking strong.

So, we battled.

We battled with distraction and laughter and shopping and walks and frozen yogurt and hugs and love and beers and beers and wine and beers and soldiers on my living room floor. Together, we forged ahead.

Yes, I still cried in bed. But, this time my mom was there to push the hair out of my face. Yes, I still felt small, but this time my dad was there with his strong hands. Together, I think we may have started to win this battle. Today the weight seems to have shifted - glimmers of light now peak through the clouds.

rain drops

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Wed, 05 Jun 2013 18:31:00 +0000

rain drops splatter on the ground like a million flickers of light...

...how i wish my insides could melt and join in their dancing.

(image)

slaying (maybe) a dragon

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Sun, 02 Jun 2013 12:00:00 +0000

Thank you thank you thank you thank you for your comments on Friday's post. As you read more today, you will understand why Friday was only just the beginning. Knowing I am not alone gives me strength. I NEED STRENGTH to fight this battle.

Friday morning I stopped taking my Pristiq. My sanity lasted approximately 5 hours at which point the shit storm of SNRI withdrawal began. This is the hardest thing I have ever done. The withdrawal overtakes me and I hurt my friends and family - desperately looking for someone/something to blame for the way it makes me feel. I feel guilty and alone. The neurological symptoms are constant. They call them 'brain zaps', which feel like someone is taking a taser to my brain over and over and over and over again. It isn't painful, rather disorienting and frustrating. At times it makes me nauseous. Most of the the time it just makes me so frustrated I cry.

The past two days I have been able to function for approximately one hour blocks of time, after which point I usually burst into tears. It feels like a demon jumps inside of me and makes every single thing feel more painful than it ever should. I cried in bed for hours yesterday about nothing and everything all at once. I cried and cried until I finally gathered the courage to go out of the house and force down a (therapist-prescribed) glass of wine. After my tender hour of sanity I cried at the bar and my boyfriend led me home, back to bed where I continued crying until my klonopin whisked me away to sleep. Outside my bedroom the sun shines, inside the darkness is so deep I cannot see.

I awoke, knew my sanity would be short-lived and used it to go to the grocery store with the naive thought that I would make dinner. My Pristiq demon jumped in my brain shortly after and I jumped on my bike, wandering through the streets until the day had turned as dark as I felt. I returned home and fell to the floor in tears, yelled at my boyfriend - blaming him for not caring when the opposite in fact is true. When I (i.e., my demon) begged him to leave he refused. I tore through his belongings (I had given him my klonopin's to dose out because I am taking too many) until I found the bottle and took two more. I told him again to leave. Again, he refused. I went next door where I cried on my neighbor's couch until I calmed down enough to go home. My demon was still inside me. I went home to another fight, exhaustion, and finally - sleep. I wish I could sleep all the time.

My mornings are best so I sit here and write this hoping that today will be better. My brain is already zapping me like a mother fucker, but I have to at least try. Pristiq is notoriously difficult to stop taking because of its short half-life. I'm hoping if I can make it through this weekend I will be okay. I'm not sure how much more I can handle...

I feel like I am fighting a dragon. A BIG MOTHER-FUCKING DRAGON.

your turn

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Fri, 31 May 2013 11:33:00 +0000

Yesterday I was broken. I cried during meditation - she had to stop her pose and bring me tissues. I cried alone on the porch when I awoke suddenly from a nap. I cried into the shoulder of a friend who came to sweep me out of my darkness (he did, for a moment). I wanted to cry in the office, watching my student - feeling he was more accomplished than I will ever be. I cried by myself when I got in bed alone at 6:00 (and remained there), knowing that my brain had won, feeling hopeless, lonely, like a failure.

This morning I am doing my best to snap out of it. Does anyone have anything to tell me? C'mon, why am I doing all the writing? Oh yeah, I'm the bitch with the blog, but seriously people - I need some words of encouragement. Or to know that you cried yesterday too. Did you cry? Did you fuck up? Post anonymous, I don't give a shit - tell me you fucked up your dinner or you forgot to go to the post office or you ate a massive bowl of ice cream or that you skipped your workout or that you just felt shitty. Tell me I'm not alone. Some people have called me brave because I post this shit on my blog. But, I don't feel brave today. I feel weak and broken and today I need you. Comment the fuck out of today. Please.

fuck you, pristiq

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Thu, 30 May 2013 23:07:00 +0000

Dear Pristiq,

I hate you. I was skeptical of you from the very beginning. But, I took you after 5 failed attempts at SSRI GAD/OCD drug management. When you didn't work and I got worse I was told to take more of you. You made me silent and dark inside. I have been taking a half-dosage of you for 2.5 weeks. 2.5 weeks during which I feel like hell, during which I sometimes don't shower, and during which I experienced relatively constant brain zaps, neurological discomfort, and unexpected and extreme emotional battles.

Tomorrow, I will not take you. Fuck you, Pristiq. You can fight me all you want. You can zap my brain, you can make me puke in the street, you can make me cry for no reason at all, but I will win. I am determined to move through this - tears, pain, brain zaps and all. One day at a time. You are an ugly, ugly drug and I hope I never cross paths with you again.

And so it is.

-Sara-

living

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Thu, 30 May 2013 11:48:00 +0000

The last two days have been a whirlwind of brightness and self-discovery. Sure, there are hard moments, but I have spent most of my time reading books, taking long walks, eating healthy, talking with friends, riding my bike, reading magazines, going to the salon, meditating, putting away laundry, crying on my neighbor's couch, going to therapy, going to the gym, petting my dog, writing, thinking, and sitting in coffee shops with no particular task.

Yesterday morning I met with my therapist and told him about how full the last two days were for me, despite the fact that I am still not going into the office. I told him, "I don't know what I've been doing the last two days, but I sure am busy".

In his calm and thoughtful way he looked at me and said, "Sara, you've been living".

the vacation that wasn't

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Wed, 29 May 2013 11:28:00 +0000

We have some catching up to do. I am taking this week again off of work, but I've lost track of days. Some optimistic part of me thought I would be 'recovered' - whateverthefuck that means - after this arbitrarily defined 14-day period of rest and focus on myself. What a cute and innocent idea. While I am certainly on my way, this journey will be longer and harder than I had first imagined.

You probably want to know how my vacation went this past weekend. I wish I could report back that it was relaxing and restful and I feel refreshed and revived. In fact, I have quite the opposite to report. Instead of moments of darkness scattered in the light - the weekend was small moments of brightness that bravely worked their way through my darkness.

The streets were full of people and noise. I was anything but relaxed that first day. I should have known better, but it was so fucking hard to be away from my comfort spot, my home. My anxiety raced, my mind spun, and I couldn't place myself.

I collapsed in the street in a crying rage several times that first day. I am convinced that a large part of this MUST be tapering off this ugly medicine (Pristiq is a mad-ass bitch, btw). But, part of this is just me. I found myself crying in a street filled with happy people. My boyfriend would pull me to a bench and sit next to me and remind me to breathe. Inhaleexhaleinhaleexhaleinhaleexhale. I would calm down enough pick myself up and keep going (but inside I wanted to run away and hide).

The second day we stayed away from the city and headed down the Blue Ridge Parkway for a peaceful hike. While the scene was beautiful, I took this photograph in tears after I was unable to do the hike because of my healing stress fracture and an uneven terrain. I hiked back to the car in tears, in pain, in frustration, in exhaustion.

We almost went home early after that hike. But with the help of a nap, a klonopin, and beer I kept going (but inside I wanted to run away and hide).

A walk through a graveyard and the words from an old friend pushed me forward. During this walk I felt lucky to be. For a moment.

Finally, the weekend was over and I came home. And, I was eversoquickly reminded as I re-entered my car that my depression is always with me. This is what depression looks like. Clearly, I have some work to do.

Day whogivesafuck. Today is a new day and this is what I know. Things are bright today, actually. I had a enlightening day yesterday filled with meditation, friends, and hope that I can't wait to share with you. I stopped this morning and pet my dog. I pet her for a solid 5 minutes and she flipped her shit. She flipped her shit because I have been so under water that I haven't taken a simple moment like this with her in far too long. Here's to more simple moments of joy.

This is me, readjusting.

the mind of someone with OCD

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Mon, 27 May 2013 23:41:00 +0000

I wrote this as an e-mail at the beginning of April to share with my family and boyfriend in an attempt to capture how my OCD manifests and how exhausting and relentless it is. Now, I think it is time to share with you...

I live like this. Every day.

Anything that breaks my daily habits is a gigantic feat. My friend asked us to go to breakfast in the morning.

Here is the extent to what I'm sure my boyfriend thought about the experience: Yeah, that sounds good. That place has killer biscuits.

Me. A tailspin. An absolute tailspin. He asked us out to breakfast yesterday morning. I have been thinking about it ever since then. My string of thoughts is relatively constant and only increases as the breakfast date approaches. I woke up at 4:30 this morning and cannot go back to sleep because of them. I know logically that they are 100% ridiculous, but I CANNOT MAKE THEM STOP.

This is what my head sounds like. It is a literal string of worry and analysis: that sounds like fun, I haven't been to breakfast in a while. But, what time will he want to meet? If it is too late I may be overly hungry and need a snack beforehand. And, then what kind of snack will I have? Should I drink coffee before because I will want to get coffee there because they have good coffee but I don't want to drink too much coffee because it makes me jittery. What will I order? (I proceed to google the menu - I have literally looked at it at least four times yesterday and once again this morning; I read through every single item). Eggs sounds great and they have awesome bacon. But, I usually like sweet breakfasts so maybe I want that. But, french toast sounds too sweet and I don't really like it that much. Man, but their bacon is really good. Maybe I could get a side of bacon. The granola yogurt parfait is what i'll get. That is sweet and has fruit and relatively healthy. It says it is topped with whipped cream - I don't want that. I wonder how many calories is in that choice? My usual breakfast is 400 calories. I don't think it would be a lot more? But, if it is a lot less then I will be hungry so I should order something else. That side of bacon? Oh wait maybe I'll get the veggie-egg scramble. But, cheese grits and a biscuit is too much carbs. Oh I can order a side of fruit. Do I want just coffee or maybe a cappuccino. I wonder what kind of milk they use? Do you think they have almond milk? I really like almond milk. But, i will miss my usual cereal bowl. Man, I am going to crave that all day if I don't eat my usual breakfast. And I really love the mornings eating that and reading blogs. Well shit, I can't do that if I go out to breakfast. Maybe I'll get up early and do both. But, then what will I order? Probably shouldn't do too much carbs and it should be more snack-like than meal-like because I won't be as hungry and I'll already have had a bowl of cereal. Maybe a cappuccino and some fruit. Or that side of bacon. Should I shower first? I wonder if other people will shower? I wonder if there will just be my friend or if he will have other friends there? And then maybe I should shower. What jeans should I wear? I wonder if we will go shopping afterwards? Oh and they have this really good lemonade maybe I'll get that. But it is really sweet I wonder if someone would want to share it. I'm glad we are going at 9 because it won't be too busy. But, I will miss my cereal bowl maybe I just won't go. Then I don't have to think about it. But, everyone will be mad at me and I don't really have a good reason. Just that my head is SO FUCKING NOISY about it. Whywhywhy it doesn't matter. (the next morning) Maybe I should take a klonopin because then I would stop all this thinking. But, it is too early. And I can't sleep for worry. And now I've already eaten my cereal bowl because I was up so early because I couldn't stop worrying about breakfast and now I ate breakfast and now I have to decide what to do and now I already had two cups of coffee. And, now I'm going to be tired this afternoon and I probably will want a nap. But, then I won't be able to sleep as well tonight and I want to be really productive tomorrow. And I didn't sleep well that means I'm going to feel groggy and lazy and I'm not going to want to workout. Because my workouts are chores right now and it takes all the motivation I have to just do them. But, I really should because they make me feel so much better and make my mind calm for a second. And I hate that I am feeling this way on a Saturday because my boyfriend will be upset with me and I want to enjoy my day and not feel crazy all day and stay in this spin all day. And my stomach is going to be upset all day and it is hard for me to enjoy my day when my stomach is upset. But, my stomach is upset because I am in this spin and my entire body is clenched and I can't get out of it. I clench because I spin and I spin because I clench. I am not in control and I am so fucking tired. TIRED> my mom will understand or at least she will know what to do or she will help me figure it out. i wonder if people get this? i should let people read this. when i say i can't stop thinking this is what i mean. this is what has been in my head for the last 3 hours straight and i can't make it stop. i just can't. OCD. i will now stop writing but my head will not stop spinning......

(images)

superhero

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Sat, 25 May 2013 13:22:00 +0000

The funny thing about depression is that it is fluid, moment to moment I never know what to expect. Stillness turns into rage turns into sadness turns into darkness - and if I am lucky - it can turn into peace. One day I am in the fucking darkest of darkest places and the next day I am doing a robot dance in the living room with my nephew. Darkness can transform into brightness in the blink of an eye. The key is in violating my dark patterns - in the shifting of my energy. For me, it takes a lot of work to get there - but it is possible. Even for me, even right now, happiness exists.

This weekend I am heading out of town with my boyfriend. I stopped at my family's home for a visit last night. My mom, dad, brother, sister-in-law, nephew, and niece were all there. My niece and nephew are sheer magic.

I think about them often in my dark moments and secretly envy their innocence in something so simple as The Bernstein Bears. They are some of my greatest teachers. I hope one day when he is older my nephew reads this and realizes how just knowing he loves me has pushed me to keep going. Just thinking of his face has gotten me up out of bed. My nephew is my Superhero.

Someone please remind me. Please remind me when I am dark and anxious and obsessing. Please remind me when my brain takes over that in the end, I am beyond lucky. Family = happiness.

Day 10. This is Day 10 and this is what I know. Today I am going on vacation with my boyfriend. We have no agenda (which thrills me and scares the shit out of me simultaneously). I am in desperate need of a 'normal' vacation. I want to wander the streets, eat in cute cafes, buy cheesy souvenirs. Here's hoping...

This is me, readjusting.

darkness

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Fri, 24 May 2013 15:21:00 +0000

I don't feel like writing much today. Even though my day yesterday started out bright, it turned dark. I lost control, and the energy I had worked so hard to change reverted back into a web of confusion, fear, and sadness.

It looks innocent enough. But, this was only the beginning of my fury.

Sadness. Deep, dark, sadness.

An emergency meeting with my therapist. He helped. For a moment...

A madness-induced magazine tearing session. The night ended poorly. I don't want to talk about it. Not my brightest day. Sadly, not my darkest either.

Day 9. This is Day 9 and this is what I know. My mind is a cruel, harsh place. But, just as quickly as things can black out into utter darkness, they can be made bright again.

This is me, readusting.

what do you want to do?

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Thu, 23 May 2013 14:33:00 +0000

My favorite (although there were many favorites) thought from yesterday's comments: "I can still save this day." No matter what happens - you can always save your day.

Day 7 began with a pleasant morning of blogging, a run and walk with my pup around the neighborhood. I had positive energy flowing through me, my boyfriend was still at the house and he gives me nothing but support and love. I am lucky.

Every week on Wednesday morning I see my therapist. Why do people fear going to therapy? Why are people ashamed? I am the opposite - I brag about my therapist because he rocks my socks. My therapist has helped me more than I ever thought he would. We talked about my dark day yesterday. He knew why I got stuck and spun out of control. It was because I was standing in my kitchen thinking of all the things I SHOULD do (he is totally right, go back and read yesterday's post). And, I get stuck in decisions like these - especially when none of my options are things that I actually want to do. He kept asking me over and over and over - Sara, what do you WANT to do? Holy shit. I never ask myself this. I spent the rest of the day asking myself moment to moment - What do I want to do?

Therapists. They are fucking brilliant.

What did I want to do? I wanted to get my nails done. I wanted to get them painted an obnoxiously happy color. Yellow for the win. I wanted to sport these cheesy nail salon flip flops the entire day long.

I wanted to paint one nail turquoise. I didn't want to clean my car.

I wanted to take my boyfriend out to a nice lunch. I wanted to order a glass of wine.

At about 3:00 (my witching hour) I found myself wandering around the house at the very beginning of a 'what should i do i don't know what to do with myself spin'. But, before I could spiral out of control my boyfriend put his hands on my shoulders and we talked it through. I decided I WANTED to be out in the world. So, I rode my (new) bike to Earth Fare, sipped a Kombucha, and watched the world spin around me. I relaxed.

I rode to the gym and met my friend to ride on the elliptical (picture is close-up on the elliptical monitor) and walk the track before Body Pump. I haven't had a solid workout in weeks. The idea of it was intoxicating.

Body Pump reminded me of how strong I really am. With every rep I remembered how much I have inside me. I am stronger than I think. I shouldn't ever forget. I left this class feeling reinvigorated, feeling alive.

The nighted ended calmly. I treated myself to a bowl (and a half) of frozen yogurt. This was more than I 'wanted' to eat. But, certainly not a binge. The score for today: Sara = 1; Depression = 0.

Day 8. This is Day 8 and this is what I know. I awoke in a startle at 5 AM, with bad energy, a racing mind, and was terrified of getting out of bed. I panicked, texted my therapist and we worked through it.

By 9:00 AM I managed a calming walk, I took myself out to breakfast, and I now sit at a local coffee shop writing these words. I changed my energy. Ifuckingchangedmyenergy! I CHANGED MY ENERGY! The day is just beginning and I feel okay....wait maybe better than okay...

This is me, readjusting.

i'm still alive

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Wed, 22 May 2013 12:04:00 +0000

Your comments, guuuuuuys, you are awesome. I know I said this before, but it deserves saying again. I have received countless blog comments, facebook messages, and phone messages from friends who aren't just expressing their concern - they are expressing HOW THEY RELATE and how these little scrawny posts I write have given them some sort of relief or power or at least a tiny bit of solace in knowing they are not alone. I, myself, find a TREMENDOUS amount of comfort in your words and knowing I am not alone. I thought I was alone for so long. Post anonymous, send me an e-mail, something, anything - it is helping me more than you could ever know. And never feel ashamed. You didn't ask for this - it is bigger than us. Please please please keep your words coming. Please.

Yesterday, I started strong and in control. Wait, am I supposed to be in control? Who fucking knows anymore...

I took my pup on a long morning walk on a path we don't normally venture down. It is time, my friends, to change paths.

I used to take long runs because they took me away from my mind and were peaceful and relaxing. I can't run that far anymore, but long walks provide me with these moments. I need these moments.

We walked by this stream and it made all those streamy sounds. You know? Babbling brook type shit. I used to run by this same stream probably 4 days a week. This is the first time I actually HEARD it. What the fuck have I been doing? I used to be so caught up in my runs, my times, my pace, that I wouldn't even ever dare considering pausing for a moment to listen. Pausing and feeling peace is so much more important than a perfectly paced run.

I sat on my porch, ate a healthy lunch, and read. It was normal and healthy and relaxing.

I went out to run some errands and I came back to my house, alone. I stood in the kitchen not knowing what to do with myself. With all of my energy and I should do this and I should do that, but not knowing what to do with it. All the positive pieces of my morning crumbled. A binge ensued, pills were taken, and I crashed into bed.

I haven't told you guys this yet, but I am a week into the process of tapering off Pristiq an SNRI (anti-depressant, anti-anxiety medication - that just isn't doing shit for me). I really hope what happened next was the result of a messed up brain circuit because of this tapering, but whatever it was it was real. Real real.

I called my boyfriend with tears and exhaustion and told him that I was giving up. Too tired of the loneliness and the binges and the depression and my body and not being able to get on top of it. Suicidal thoughts, people. (Yikes, if anything is scary to type this is it). But when all I want to do is escape and escape my brain what other option is there?

He left his job in that moment and drove two hours to me. I was so exhausted and so medicated that I passed out. I woke up when he arrived and he got into bed with me and held my hand. I knew that I was going to be okay.

Day 7. This is Day 7 and this is what I know. I am feeling a bit annoyed at these stupid chirping birds and I am feeling a bit tired of trying again and again and again and constantly feeling like I am failing. But, what else can I do? Oh yeah, get a mani/pedi - I'm going to do that today for sure.

This is me, readjusting.

ice cream in the morning

noreply@blogger.com (Sara) — Tue, 21 May 2013 12:53:00 +0000

I put too much hope in my shrively corn. Did you think that I found it and my journey towards happiness had ended? For a moment I thought (hoped) this was true. Wouldn't that be the shit? It is far from true. It is only just the beginning.

I didn't post yesterday. That is because yesterday was a dark, dark day.

I should tell you first that Sunday was a happy, normal day - I read, I went shopping, rode my bike, had happy hour beers without guilt, made a healthy dinner, and relaxed on the couch with my boyfriend. Happy, fucking, normal. IT IS POSSIBLE FOR ME.

And then there was Monday. Monday I woke in a startle because I didn't set the alarm and my boyfriend was going to be late for work (he lives in another city during the week for his job). My energy was off from that very moment. I fucking knew it. I knew what was happening to me and I didn't know how to stop it. My heart was pacing and all I could focus on was my boyfriend clanging around in a rush and my head spun around and around - which workout classes I should attend - what time are they? what is best for my body? should I do one or two? what should I eat for breakfast? I have OCD - these thoughts spin and spin and spin for fucking hours upon hours and IT IS EXHAUSTING. There is never a resolution. Only a build up of negative energy.

I tried to stop it, I really did. But, by 8:00 yesterday morning an ugly binge started. I hate writing about it because I feel ashamed. But, there shouldn't be any shame. My binges are just another way to mask my negative emotions - which are so fucking strong they entirely take over my body. By 10 in the morning I was on my couch eating a tub of Ben and Jerry's. It was coffee-flavored, though, so appropriate for the morning?!?! The only way I know to stop it is to try and restart my day. Pop 2 pills and fall asleep. Wake up and try again.

I woke up, forced my fat ass bloated self outside for a 2-mile run and long walk with my dog. I began to feel alive. Guilty and like a fucking fat ass - but alive.

I forced myself to go to my first movement and mindful meditation class. I was nervous. My stomach was bloated. Even though I entered conspicuously broken, they welcomed me. The class was beautiful. I felt peaceful. I felt alive.

At the end of the class we sat and meditated and focused on our breath. I, however, was battling my brain thoughts the entire time. Fucking brain thoughts. I think I will get better. At the end, my instructor hit a gong and I felt it resonate through my tired body. She smiled and told me I did great. She told me it isn't about being perfect, but about doing what feels right. My entire fucking life is about being perfect. Her words washed over me in relief and I smiled.

Day 6. This is Day 6 and this is what I know. My body is tired, really tired, from the abuse I put it through yesterday. All I can do is pick myself up and try again. Here I go....

This is me, readjusting.