Church Sign

I either love those sayings churches put on signs or hate them. This morning I saw one that just made me stop and think.

"Worry makes a big shadow for a small thing" (I think that is how it was worded)

So when I worry needlessly, I am casting myself into darkness?

That makes a lot of sense, when you think of it that way. I am worrying and casting myself into darkness, and you can't find a solution in the dark. So therefore worrying doesn't result in anything other than flipping out.

I'm pretty sure I've been told that before, but sometimes it takes these things awhile to sink in.

I miss my spirituality I used to have. I am ready to seek it out again, but in a very personal way that simply works for me. So it may be a combination of things. But I must eliminate the worry.

Crazy Monkey Dance of Life

I don't know why but on my way to work this morning, I was suddenly inspired for several blog entries (other than how bad I feel, what meds I'm on, etc) and of course now that I'm at work, my brain has gone into shut-down-and-survive mode and I feel not an ounce of creativity. I still remember two.. and after an email I got this morning I'm hesitant to write this one, out of respect, but I'm still going to because it's just such a weird spiderweb example of how goofy life is.

Back in the fall of 1990, I was 12 years old and the world was showing me how sweet life could be. I was in the seventh grade, and I'd made the junior high cheerleading squad. My parents were getting along, I was tiny and cute and though not necessarily accepted by the popular crowd, I was at least tolerated and therefore life in school was not bad at all. After football season started, a cute sweet guy in the 9th grade (he was older!) started talking to me. I mean, boys didn't talk to me before that. They talked to Jennifer Edington or Allyson Lloyd and girls like that. I didn't really know what to do but I guess the natural flirt in me came out and I managed to talk back when he did speak to me. We began talking a little more and then hanging out together at recess. And, I'm sorry, but in Vardaman High School, being together at recess is serious business. He would talk to me on the sidelines of the games when he wasn't on the field. We started writing notes to each other that we'd pass on in the hallways, both of us having had memorized each other's schedules. We were going together, and on the day we got of school for Christmas break, the day before my birthday, he gave me my first kiss. When he broke up with me the following summer, I thought I would die from the hurt. I didn't get over him for two years.

That next school year EVERYTHING went wrong, but that's a whole 'nother story. This is all about how weird things are.

Fast forward to the 10th grade, when he's a senior, and he starts dating my best friend - or rather, the girl who'd been my best friend since first grade and then kind of dumped me over and over during school. She had dated his best friend a couple years before (ah, small town life!). I don't think I mentioned that we were ALL taught throughout school by both his parents and an aunt and uncle. Fast forward to a couple years ago, when he and I got back in touch and thought, thrillingly, that things would fall back into place and for a few weeks they did. He was just as smart and sweet as I remembered. But it just wasn't right for us. I thought he hated me. I sent him a birthday card and never heard anything. But when mine came around, I got a card, too. So I knew it was all ok.

Fast forward to just a few weeks ago when I was shocked to see a very kind and encouraging comment on my blog from him. So naturally I went to HIS blog and checked it a couple times over the next week for updates. No updates, but there was another comment aside from mine on his initial post. I won't link her because she's in a precarious situation and doesn't need publicity. It was this cute redheaded girl who lives in Vardaman and I started reading her blog. Oh, she just reminded me so much of myself when I was 16. Reading her blog was like reading my old journal entries. Except that she's got her shit together a whole lot better than I ever did. She talked about her family and God and her boyfriend, whose name she never mentioned. But I pieced it together almost immediately... it was him! At first I was like "Dear God what can they be thinking...he's 30, she's 16!" Her parents know, and accept it. His do not. I cannot believe they managed to keep it a secret for nearly a year now. And she had posted on her blog about being upset because he commented on mine. I didn't blame her, so I left her some comments to let her know not to worry. One thing led to another and we began emailing each other! She was so cool and funny - she's got that youthful freedom about her, yet at the same time she is so mature it was like talking to one of my regular girlfriends. She felt guilty (I'm trying to quit) but because Vardaman is such a suck-ass place to live, she was a bit lonely for female companionship. It was odd because I liked talking to her, yet at the same time I'm wishing she could meet up with my 15 year old niece because they'd get along so well.

I mean, what an odd cycle. But that is life for you.

But this morning, I got an email from her saying she was very sorry, but she just felt too guilty about talking to me, knowing he had asked her not to (though I am not sure why he did that) and that because she loved him, she just couldn't talk to me until he was ok with that.

I admit the disappointment caught me by surprise, poking me in the throat. But I understood, and I told her so - and that when she needs me, I'll be here. I just hope things continue to work out for them and that they will be happy. And honey, if he hurts you, I'll come and help you hide the body. That's what friends are for.

A Special Day!

Happy Birthday, Sarah!

Note to Self:

Stop venting on blogger - nobody wants to read all that whiny crap!

See? i'm feeling better, more upbeat. WTF? I'm trying to record all this in case the meds are making things worse. I love my mother and just want her to feel good, even if she doesn't make it up here.

I suck at life right now, and it's bothering me. I want to feel good and have fun!

Getting ill

I felt good this morning, after feeling horrible last night but now I'm getting ill again. I just want everybody to be quiet and that makes me feel horrible too. People should be entitled to talk and laugh and pick, right? It's not their fault every little thing gets under my skin.

Just shut up! Please!

Last night something happened that felt good and irritated me all at the same time. I was simultaneously worrying about my mother (who is also depressed and can't leave the house) and pissed and hurt that she can't make it up here to me after telling her two weeks ago in tears that I needed her. I wanted to text my sister, who blew up at her and set off the depression, "at least she will get out of bed for you". It brought back a flood of memories of anger and bewilderment and frustration that Mama couldn't get out of bed. The responsibilities that I had (and my sister) to help keep our house going, doing my own laundry when I was in the 3rd grade. Making childish efforts at preparing balanced meals and quietly staying at home during the summer days, because she couldn't take me to the pool. For the longest time I've said "oh, i know what it was like for her, and why she couldn't do anything" and I do. So of course I feel bad for feeling angry but for a little while I just let myself be mad and hurt. That it set in me a lifetime of a need to fix everything, make everything better, make sure everyone is happy and ok. That I feel responsible for everything around me and can't seem to be able to really relate to people.

I guess it's my own fault for living so far away but sometimes I feel like I'm being punished. "you're having a hard time? well, you choose to live there so if you're alone, that's too bad." I know that isn't the case. I'm so oversensitive right now, anything sets me off. Why am I so irritable? Am I getting worse, instead of better?

Mama told me a few years back that when I was little, I would complain about people wanting to talk to me, or touch my clothes or hair and that I didn't like it. Touch I don't mind - but I do find that I feel sometimes that everyone wants to know everything I'm doing. Like at work. I hate fixing something to eat because every person you see wants to know what it is, where'd you get that, that looks good, did you bring me some? I know that sounds so mean - they are just being nice and are being friendly. But it makes me self conscious. And I feel recently when I go out in public, everyone asks ME for directions or where the dressing room is, or what do I think of the new landscaping or what's my dog's name?

It's odd because I love the stage and theatre and attention from those closest to me. I just want the general public to be quiet and leave me alone. And I don't want to be one of those people who immerse themselves in a childhood come and gone instead of living in the day.

I'm just so tired of feeling responsible for everyone, for walking a tightrope and trying to placate at all times. I don't even want to plan social things because, what if people don't get along? What if someone doesn't have a good time? I can't handle anything right now it seems - nitpicking, teasing, complaints, criticism.

I didn't mean to go off on all that, I'm sorry. I just want my office mates to be quiet and you see what all comes out?

See?

I told y'all you could do it.

YEAH!!!!!!

Let's Go Canes!

Yes, you played like a bunch of junior high kids the other night. Or a grannies' league. But you were just tired. And up in Canada, eh?

Now you are back home. Now, you have your fans to yell for you inside your sold-out center and in bars and homes all across the Triangle. Now, you have your chance to pull everything you have out for 3 twenty-minute periods, and be the first team in our franchise history to win the Stanley Cup.

You got your red butts kicked the other night, but we still believe you can do it. We really do.

So, go kick some Oiler ass!

GO CANES!!!

Musn't Brag

Ok, I shouldn't have bragged. Now, I do still feel better than I did this time last week. Thursday afternoon and Friday I had that terrific high and then by Friday night and all weekend I really didn't care much about anything, or doing anything. Even the thought of having to shower annoyed me.

I'm at work, I'm wearing makeup and cute clothes, and I'm getting things done. It's enough.

Dang, keep getting interrupted.. more later.

Blinking from the sunshine

Well, I'm back. I managed once again to crawl out of the cavern, rip off the yoke, break through the darkness etc. etc.

This weekend I crashed, from being off the Wellbutrin Xl. Crashed bad. I was at the beach visiting a dear friend and was doing ok and having a nice time. Saturday night I had a panic attack after I went to bed. The next morning I was ok, a little groggy from all the Xanax I gulped down but Ok. We went shopping and hit a sale at JC Penney's, where I found an adorable handbag and 3 bathing suits that actually look terrific on me. A huge change from last year when I was oh, 30 pounds heavier? I can't "weight" till I shed these last 15 or 20, but I still feel pretty hot mama-ish. I could tell, though, I wasn't feeling good. And people kept coming up to me to talk to me - to ask me things like where the fitting room was or did I see another size in that bottom piece. At one point I pointed to a saleslady who was two feet away and said "perhaps she knows?" I mean seriously.

It was on the drive home when things got bad, and they didn't improve much from that point on. Monday morning I came in to work, zombied and crying, to put in for a few days off and change my voice mail and email response so all that wouldn't pile up too bad. Then I called my psych's nurse to leave a message asking to get in that day and went home and crashed. They got me in at one, and I managed to get there, she agreed i should get back on the Wellbutrin XL and wrote me a prescription, I went to get something to eat then went home and crashed again. I made it to Wal-Mart that night to get my prescription and then pretty much spent the next two days in bed.

Yesterday I still felt like warmed-over shit, but I came in to work. I struggled all morning. I managed not to cry when my boss asked if I was ok, and that everyone was behind me in my efforts. At lunchtime, or after rather, I decided maybe eating something would make me feel better even though I had zero appetite. I was going to go to Taco Bell since I'm pretty sure they put drugs in their food to make it addictive but then I thought I'd go to the grocery store and get a salad. I was feeling more and more spacy, separated, insane. When I got to the parking lot and saw those nice normal people walking, I broke down. I parked my car and cried because I was so tired of fighting this fight. I was so scared that I will never have a "normal" life - marriage (if I decide to go there again), kids, etc. I wanted to just let go and be crazy and be done with it. I called Someone who, though kind, didn't exactly say what i wanted to hear. But it was still calming.

I walked into the store, up to the salad bar, turned around and went back out and to work.

About an hour later, I started to feel pretty good. I called and scheduled a massage for after work. I kept feeling more and more like myself. But I still felt broken - my whole body ached like I'd literally been at war, like my very skin and bones were pulled and torn from the struggle.

The massage itself deserves its own entry which I might get to later, but it literally felt like a rebirth. I felt like a new person. I went and picked up Tigger at Ken's house and went home and texted my parents that the sun had broken through that afternoon, so to speak. And that I still suspect Wellbutrin is crack in patent pill form, but whatever.

It felt so good to feel like me again. I still feel good today. I'm going to try to replace bad habits with good habits. I'm going to do more things that I enjoy and take care of myself more. I'm going to do everything I can to remember that no matter how dark it gets, no matter how badly it hurts, no matter how far from the world I feel, that I can fight it.

I had some major support through all of this, too. You all know who you are, and you were warriors with me and I'm too grateful to speak.

I'm better. I'm better. I'm better.

Weekend Getaway

I'm going to the beach this weekend.. Calabash, to be exact. A dear friend and former coworker lives down there now and I'm going to see her.

I get off work at noon today because we're on our summer schedule (yay!) I have to pick up my car from the auto center where it's getting the oil changed and all that... pick up a beach chair and suntan lotion... and mow the grass and pack and then I'm on my way.

Sorry to brag, but I neeeeeed this weekend at the beach! And I'll be cheering on the Canes Saturday night regardles... we're up 2-0, after giving the Oilers a 5 to 0 spanking the other night.

Hope you all have a great weekend!

I Hate Work Evaluations

'nuff said.

Tonight is Game 2 of the Stanley Cup finals - we won the first game and Edmunton did us a nice favor by taking out their own starting goalie for the rest of the series. My friend whom shall remain nameless because he works a high-security job has invited me, our other friend Swade and one other person to his house to watch it on his projection screen TV!

But seriously. If you think school is bad, wait until you get a job and someone that rarely interacts with you and what you do gets to evaluate your performance.

That reminds me - congratulations all you graduates!

How 'Bout Them CANES!!

They did it! The Hurricanes won 4-2 last night, scoring 2 of those goals in the last period of the game. My experience with the game involved a lot of drama: the sports bar where I went to watch the game with friends lost power with about 12 minutes to go in the last period. There was a loud, collective "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" followed by murmurs and chatter, followed by impatient quiet, followed by people getting up and leaving. Here is what ticked us off: not a single person came to our table to say what was happening, how long the power would be out, how we could pay our bill if we didn't want to wait for the charge card machines to start working, or to apologize. Our waitress disappeared. We waited as long as we could and then put what cash we had on the table and left. I didn't feel bad, because of the extremely tacky way management handled the situation. They just let everybody sit there. Another waitress told me that the whole area was out, but I could look out the window and see lights on at nearby buildings. She lied to me! We couldn't believe it was happening - everybody was on their cell phones, trying to get updates and scores, so when a cheer went up we knew we'd gotten another point and taken the lead. But enough was enough.

A bunch of people were in the parking lot listening to the game on the radio so we joined them, and then the TV's came back on! Everybody rushed back in and just stood near a TV to watch - we went on the patio - and everyone got to see the last two minutes of the game. We got to see that fourth goal and the end of the game. Everyone was screaming and shouting and high-fiving and jumping up and down and hugging strangers. I love watching sports in an atmosphere like that. Everyone loves each other all of a sudden.

We're going to the Stanley Cup! And we're not watching it at the Carolina Ale House!

In the past two days..

Getting better makes me realize how bad I was. In the past two days a few things have happened that let me see that:

1. Singing along with the radio. And not just murmuring a few words here and there, then becoming exhausted and switching the station. Or crying. But singing, belting with gusto, the way I used to when I felt good.

2. Feelings of hope. Glimpses of the happy future. Self-control.

3. Not crying.

4. Crying for only a few seconds then regaining self control.

5. Desire to treat myself well and live a healthy life.

6. Not crying.

7. Not worrying incessantly

But mostly, that singing along with the radio felt the best. It felt like ME.

Like a Fish Needs a Bicycle

My daddy bought me a bike this weekend when he was here - I've been wanting one for awhile. I remember I loved to ride my bike when I was a kid and frankly, I need some exercise, especially in the thigh area. And the knee area. I have knee fat. I think my legs are actually really nicely shaped, but that flap of fat hanging over my knee just ruins it for everybody.

Anyway. So I got a bike, just a regular ol' one from Wal-Mart, and a helmet. Daddy said if he finds out I'm not wearing it when I ride he will take the bike away. : )

Last night was the Maiden Voyage. I pedaled down the road I live on and back; not very far, maybe a mile and half to two miles, tops. It's true that you never forget how, but I'm thinking it seemed a whole lot easier and less painful when I was 9. First of all, that seat hurts. Second of all, it's not easy to pedal in a relatively straight line. Third, I am out of shape. Another bicyclist passed me. He had to be 20 years older than me and he PASSED me.

Regardless, I enjoyed the thrill of riding on the highway since I was never ever allowed to do that as a child. Paving rocks.

As you can see, I'm feeling better. I really am! I still get surges of panic or sadness but I can tell. I. Am. Getting. Better.

Happy happy happy! Now all I need is for the Hurricanes to win tonight's final and go to the Stanley Cup.