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Sunday, June 28, 2015

The Pedal's Down

Well, that was telling...

Have you ever had something happen that reminds you of something you feel? Not sure what I mean? Allow me to explain...

Today, while driving, there was a car that had been creeping up on me (more like going ten over the limit) who decided that the yellow light meant "floor it so you don't have to wait." This left me the only car waiting at the light (since I'm apparently the only driver in the state who follows the road rules).

As I was waiting, quite a few cars started piling up at the light going the opposite direction. There were enough of them that they got the straight and left turn light first.

So I'm sitting there with all these cars coming right at me, and I'm thinking, "Lovely. I'm sitting here alone while everything is coming at me."

I've felt like this more times than I care to think about. It just seems like everyone is passing me in life and when crap shower hits, I'm left to deal with it myself. This year's high school graduates are ten years younger than I am. Most of them are going to college, or at least have some kind of plan. I've got people I know who are five years younger who are married, live in their own place, or have graduated college and have careers.

I've heard people say, "Never judge your chapter one to some else's chapter ten," but I'm on chapter twenty-eight and I've got none of those things people on chapters twenty-five or even eighteen have.

Things just seem to be spinning out of control lately. I lost my job, my independence (thank you, wrist), and the one person who has ever called me "best friend." Not to mention, people have tried to start arguments on Twitter. Hate to burst baiter's bubbles, but I won't. Arguing with strangers online is pathetic and a desperate cry for attention. If you want my attention, just say hi! I've got enough negativity in my life, I don't need yours.

Basically, I feel like I'm losing control.

"No Control"~ One Direction

Friday, June 26, 2015

The Struggle Is Real

Huh?

So, I had my appointment with my psychiatrist a couple days back and we upped my medication. Doubled it, actually. I started the new, higher dose last night and I'm doing my best to function.

I slept for thirteen hours last night and only got up because I thought it was a bit pathetic to still be in bed at eleven o'clock. I wish I'd just stayed there because I've been freakishly tired the whole four hours I've been up. My brain isn't loving this new dose, either. I'm having trouble with the whole, words-putting-into-sentence-doing. Fun example: I had to retype the word "into" six times because I kept hitting the wrong keys. I also just had to fix "fun" because I spelt "fen," instead.

I went through this when I started the medication initially and my body adjusted fairly quickly. I'm hoping the same thing will happen as the dose continues to get raised.

Since I can't think of anything else to say on that, here's just a couple of reminders...
  • You can sign up for email notifications so that when I post, Blogger sends you an email. That's not going to stop me from posting it everywhere, but it could potentially be easier for you.
  • I'm on Twitter. My Twitter handle... name... thingy... is @AROTBEblog.
  • Facebook group here (hope that actually works). Side note: I hate that Facebook is 99% politics now, so please keep all of that out.
  • You are all fabulous!

I'm too tired and not functioning enough to find a relevant song...
"Courtesy of The Red, White, and Blue (The Angry American)"~ Toby Keith

Wednesday, June 24, 2015

My Daily Road

I hope I'm not kicking myself in the butt here...

Group interviews are the bane of my existence. I've been to a few and every time I get back to my car and practically break down. The whole time, I'm sitting there smiling and pretending to have an ounce of confidence while attempting to keep my breathing in check and mentally willing my heart to keep some sort of regular rhythm.

Not to say that interviews aren't a condoned form of torture in general, but for anyone with anxiety, they're pure hell. Add the group aspect and not even a heavy dose of Xanax can help.

I seem to have an incredible knack for making people believe that all is well when all I really want to do is scream and pace. This comes in handy on occasion (like when I do a group interview for a job that I really want!), but it doesn't really help when I'm trying to convince a psychologist that I'm really dying inside.

The socially accepted sadism happened five hours ago and I'm still trying to get out my anxious energy. Ok, the interviewers were really nice and kept the pressure to a minimum, but the whole social anxiety thing always takes over. It even takes over when I have to go out to my therapist's office.

I lost track of my point... SO! Releasing anxious energy... I've always been fidgety, but when I'm trying to hold it together, I try to sit still, but it always comes out my hands or feet. I tend to tap my foot or wring my hands. When I interviewed for my last job at the school, when I walked out, my hands were bright red and incredibly sore. In public places, I usually just hold on to my worry stone, but at an interview, it would look really bad. 

I'm having a freakishly hard time finding a song to go along with this topic, so you get this...

"Every Road"~ The Maine


Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Actions & Reactions

That was not fun.

I told you about my new medication and the struggles that came with. Nothing has changed there, but last week, I found out something the hard way: Seroquel does not mix with prednisone.

Story: I was also blessed with asthma and severe allergies. These two things often make it difficult to breathe. When this happens, my doctor puts me on a few days of prednisone (steroids help calm everything down- contradicting much?). Well, about three hours after my first dose, I got super dizzy and my vision got all blurry. That, for me, is a migraine.

I thought this was just my typical Thursday (migraines are pretty common in my world) and didn't think anything of it. The next couple of days were the same: take pills, get migraine. Four days in a row is abnormal, so I asked my mom (blurry vision... can't read) to read the side effects of Seroquel. She found that it could interact with steroid medications.

Ah-HA!

Now, before you go judging my doctor, I was the one who failed to update my medication list, so he didn't know what I was taking.

I have a nasty habit of not reading those ridiculously long information inserts the pharmaceutical companies put with medications because, well, I'd really rather not know every possible reaction. It gets disturbing. I've learnt my lesson.

Know your medications. Know them so well that you could go one-on-one with the chemists who created them. The more you know, the fewer unnecessary reactions you'll have to endure.

I'm kind of obsessed with this song right now.
"Wait On Me"~ Rixton

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Blank

I'm so done with this.

When a dog is sick and has no hope of recovery, we euthanize it and call it humane. When a person is sick and has no hope for recovery, we medicate them beyond comprehension so they can live in the horrific pain they've so longed to be rid of. People always talk about how selfish suicide is, but honestly, how selfish is it of those forcing this person to live in agony?

As the school year ended, so did my job. My days are now filled with job hunting, watching a TV show with an obnoxious liberal agenda, and arguing with my father who can't seem to realize that he's my anger trigger. Let's just say, he's not the type of person who should have gotten married, let alone had children.

Side note: The more I realize my whole life has been a one sided relationship with my father, the more I realize why I can't get along with men in general. I just expect every one of them to be selfish.

Anyway, along with no job and a self-serving father to argue with, I also have a bum leg and two busted wrists. Needless to say, I'm feeling pretty worthless right about now. I can't exercise, so I've been gaining weight. I still have no friends in the valley. I'm, as always, the good friend who talks first (exceptions made for two). The only thing I want is for this to all be over.

I'm a Christian and firmly believe in an afterlife, but I don't even want that. I just want to stop existing altogether. I have no hope; I have no future.

What exactly did I do to deserve the hellish life I was given?

Friday, June 5, 2015

A Classical Matter

Why does this always happen?

It seems that, no matter how good a day has been, my mind is flooded with negative thoughts and memories at night. Tonight is particularly bad and I can't sleep because of it. I can't really say I'm thinking about this, but rather my brain seems to think I need to be reminded. The thing keeping me up tonight happened in high school.

We did a musical every year at my school and I was always in the orchestra pit. Most of the time, I can only remember how fun it was. We had a tradition-- every drink bottle we finished would be put on the ledge surrounding the pit and the goal was to get the whole thing covered. My friends and I put more than our fair share up there. We also had our "costumes" for each musical (crowns for Once Upon A Mattress, Cowboy hats for Oklahoma!, etc...). We had pit parties, pajama day for our Saturday rehearsals, and so many other fun things! Tonight, however, my brain has decided to remember Kathryn and Brad (I frankly don't care that I'm using real names here. Bullies have no right to identity protection).

Kathryn played string bass and Brad played trombone. Both sat behind me in the pit. Side note: I play clarinet. I honestly can't remember if this was my sophomore or junior year, but I want to say sophomore, but either way, it has stuck with me. See, they decided that, whenever we reached a poco rit. in the music, they would poke me with the bow and say "poco retard!" I tried a few times to passively wave it off, hoping that, by not reacting, they'd lose interest and quit doing it. They didn't. It went on from the first pit rehearsal all the way through closing night. All I could do was pretend not to notice then cry in the bathroom during breaks and intermission.

To this day, I get a minor panic attack when I'm playing a piece and I see poco rit. Every now and then, people ask why I don't play anymore. I give excuses like, "I don't have anyone to play with," or, more recently, "I busted my wrist," but honestly, I just get sick of being afraid of  basic music notations. I play a wind instrument. I can't afford to lose my breath.

I have no idea what I did to deserve to be their target. Even after the musical, I tried being nice to them, but they both treated me like something they'd stepped in. Was it something I did? Was it something I said? Was it Brooke? If any of my fellow Colts still talk to either of these two... people... any explanation would be appreciated. I'd even accept an "I don't remember, but I'm sorry."

Cliché, but I love this movement of this piece.
"K622- Allegro"~ Mozart

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

I Will Remember You, Bugs

(Clever opening line goes here)

All my life I've never really cared if people didn't like me based simply on what I like or what I wear. I got relentlessly made fun of in sixth grade because I loved Hanson, but I never once denied that I did just to please anyone. In seventh grade, I had this blue lipstick that I couldn't live without; I got snotty comments left and right, but I kept wearing it. Basically, I refuse to change anything about myself for the simple reason of "to please you." My entire existence has been validated by an eight-year-old-girl.

This may sound entirely trivial to you, but it meant the world to me. Yesterday, some of my girls had a One Direction book (mostly for the pictures since they can't really read yet), and every one of them said that they liked Niall-- all except one. When she said she liked Liam, the other girls were practically appalled! "How could you think he's cute?!" But she never backed down. She didn't care that her choices weren't popular, she held to her opinions and didn't let anyone or anything sway her.

This school year, working with these kids, I've learnt quite a lot.
  • It doesn't matter where you come from, you'll always have a friend.
  • A mental illness label doesn't mean a thing.
  • No matter what bad things you think about yourself, someone else always has a different perspective.
  • Everyone has bad days, but tomorrow is a brand new start.
  • Your weight and dress size mean squat.
  • The unconditional love of a child is the best feeling in the world!
Today was my last day with these monkeys. I just hope I get the opportunity to see them again next year.

"I Will Remember You"~ Sarah McLachlan

Monday, June 1, 2015

I'm A Bit Off

I've had a blank post open for four days trying to find something to write about. Right now, I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel just to get a post up. I've heard stories about how people stop taking their medications because they feel like the pills destroy who they are. I definitely understand now. My creativity and imagination have stalled and I don't even really want to write anymore. Well, I do, but I don't. Know what I mean? I'm most definitely not myself right now. Here is my best effort today...

Let the adventures begin!

So, I was finally able to get meds. I've been on them for about two weeks now, and I have no idea if they're working or not. Sounds weird, right? I mean, I've been on such a roller coaster for so long that I can't tell if I'm on my way down or if the medication is bringing me down to make things more even.

I'm still in that "body needs to adjust" phase so I'm constantly tired and just basically annoyed that I'm not really me at the moment. The really fun part is when I'm in the middle of something and I suddenly get so tired that I can't function. The recent rise in temperature (88f right now!) isn't helping matters any, either.

I was also lucky enough to get anxiety meds. Now, I've never been on anything for anxiety, so I don't really know much about them, but the one I got is apparently a controlled substance and I only get twenty pills per month. Each pill lasts only six hours. So basically, I have to hide ten solid days each month and can only be out for five or six hours the other days? I don't think so! If anyone knows of something I can take regularly instead of "as needed," please comment below.


"Reflection"~ Christina Aguilera