My doctor recommended that I start medication in the next few weeks. I have mixed feelings regarding this approach, but at this point, I am so desperate I am willing to try anything.
What’s funny though is that for some reason, I feel relieved that I need meds. As though I had a “hunh…I guess I really wasn’t making things up” moment. A small (k not so small) part of me still thinks my depression is really just a weakness of mine and I just got to suck it up and deal with it…but another part is somewhat happy that there are others who believe that it’s something beyond my control…
Anyhow, my husband and I are looking into a get-away meditation retreat. Perhaps in B.C somewhere? Whoever you are reading this…if you have any recommendations, I’d love to hear from you.
I am tired of people being so self absorbed to listen to anyone, anything but themselves.
I am tired of having to explain myself to no end to what seems like a deaf audience.
When did we become so selfish?
I am tired.
A former mentor/instructor from teacher’s college emailed me today. He was passing along good news regarding my husband’s application to a particular board. In the email he wrote “When do I get a chance to pile on the compliments for you?”
Kind words. Encouraging words. And if I was any normal personal, I would probably have been touched, motivated and feeling good right now. Instead, I felt the words linger, echoing off the walls of my cognitive prison. Each bounce a painful reminder of what I should be doing; what isexpected of me.
“When,” he asks so innocently…and with such good intentions! But that’s the very question that’s been driving me insane for the past 6+ months. WHEN am I going to feel better? WHEN will it be the right time for me to apply for real jobs. WHEN can I stop feeling so worthless, confused, lost…WHEN will I stop feeling the uncontrollable urge to cry or drink or throw something at the wall…WHEN will I be motivated enough to get out of bed and wander around the world like every other normal person. WHEN?!?
I’ve had a few good days. I use the word loosely since I’ve still had pangs of anxiety strike me at random hours of the day, but for the most part, I’ve been alert, active, and engaged. But I’m not fooled to believe that I’m all “better”. My life is still in shambles, I still have absolutely no idea in which direction I should head, and the prospect of making a decision petrifies me; afraid that I would have chosen poorly and too soon.
The last time I acted on account of having had a few ‘good days’, I made hasty decisions and applied for volunteer positions far too numerous for what I was ready to handle. Inevitably, I hit a dip and I let the interview for the not-for-profit I so proudly wrote about slip away. I lied to myself, saying “That’s okay! You’ll reschedule”. Of course, I never did.
My one-on-one mentoring has been such a roller coaster ride. One minute I am feeling confident that I am making progress, the next, I feel used and manipulated. One minute I feel like I’m bonding with her through the exchange of our stories, the next, I feel I’ve exposed too much of myself and I feel like a fool.
Is this the illness speaking? Or is this simply me? I wish there was a definitive manifestation that could be detected on some monitor…a physical symptom that needs only to be excised and I could be told proudly by some surgeon that “we’ve got it all”. Curse this invisible disease. Curse it all to hell.
Today was my first day volunteering at my husband’s school. Overall, it was a very good day. I facilitated discussions in his classes and it felt really good to be back in the classroom.
My one-on-one started on a positive note also. The student was quite open about her academic journey so far and seemed keen on driving through the turbulent road to recovery ahead.
As I was providing guidance to my one-on-one, I couldn’t help but feel like a fraud at times. Here I was trying to get someone else’s life in order when I could barely arrange my own. Mere hours before I was thrashing around in my bed in a fit of fury at having to rise at 6am, after sleeping for less than 3 hours. I kicked my legs, I threw my pillows, I screamed and cursed and blamed my husband for letting me take on too much, too soon. I felt exhausted from working this week on virtually no sleep. All my body wanted this morning was more time to catch up on some much needed rest. My brain felt fried, I could barely stand without nausea and dizziness and I felt sore all over.
Nevertheless, my husband made the executive decision to let me lay in bed until 7:30am at which time I still dragged my feet and ultimately made us a few minutes late for his first class. I felt awful. Irresponsible. Guilty. Inadequate.
The rest of the world can function on little sleep…why can’t I? Albeit I’m running dangerously low on rest, but I’m sure there are others out there who get 2-3 hours of sleep a night at times and are still able to compose themselves in the morning and do what they need to do. Why do I get so wound up? My sleep issue is probably one of the highest anxiety causing factors, and sadly, it’s a vicious cycle; I am anxious -> I can’t sleep -> more anxious -> really can’t sleep -> more anxious still at the fact that I’m not getting rest -> extremely anxious…etc. etc. etc.
In any case, despite the rough start of the day (and appropriately bookended by anxiety in the evening), I still had a good few hours - that qualifies today as a “win” in my books.
So! I got an email from the not-for-profit today. They want to set up a time to meet to discuss my involvement. WOO HOO!!! I was getting pretty bummed thinking that I was being rejected; a bitter pill to swallow considering I was telling them I’ll work for them…FOR FREE. Then came today’s lovely surprise.
Also, I got the go-ahead to provide one-on-one support for one of my husband’s students. I’m pretty excited about this opportunity. It gets me back into the classroom but not as a central figure, I get to work directly with youth, AND I get to work at the same school as my husband again.
Someone out there knew I needed some good news in my life. Self high-five!
I can’t sleep again. Thankfully, it’s not because of Me2. Instead, I’ve been creating lesson plans, going over neat lab ideas, setting up my classroom agendas, conjuring up my “first day” intros…all for a class I’m teaching…in my head.
I’m not sure what this means. The idea of returning to a class only to burn out and have to leave again petrifies me. And I still can’t definitively say that I love teaching and it is what I want to do. But then..I’m not quite sure why I can’t shut off all of this. Why I keep coming back to wanting to interact with students, wanting to implement new technologies and ideas…why I keep calling myself a teacher…
It would be reckless for me to jump right in. The whole point of this year was to figure out what other avenues in education (or not) I could take.
Speaking of which…I didn’t get that job I wrote about a few entries ago. But! I emailed last Friday regarding volunteering at the not-for-profit organization. I am hoping that they will get back to me and I can still get involved. I think it would be a pretty awesome experience - paid or not.
I’m not sure how best to end this post. So…The End.
I’m back to my crazy sleeping cycle. As soon as I lay my head down to rest, my thoughts take over and I writhe in agony at the incessant affronts to my sanity. I can’t turn them off. It’s my voice I’m hearing. At first, it starts off with a play by play of the day - what I should have said, what I should have done, what I failed to do. Then it spirals into a chain of taunts. ”You’re lazy.” ”Everyone would be fine without you.” ”This is your life - it’ll always be this way.” Then, and this is the part that worries me the most, it morphs into promises and commands. ”It’ll be over when you slit your wrists.” ”Imagine how at peace you’ll be!” “Grab the scarf and kill yourself in the closet.” ”Take the knife and stab your heart.” This last act, of my production of Crazy, involves a disturbing dialogue between myself…and…myself.
Me1: Maybe I don’t want to die…I think I just want to break from this cycle
Me2: Who cares? You won’t know whether it would have been good or bad!
Me1: I don’t want to stab myself
Me2: It’ll be over with before you know it.
Me1: what if I chicken out? It’ll probably hurt.
Me3: That’s why you should ram your body into the blade. Why not just test it out?
And it goes on and on like this until I can’t take it and I crumble into a ball of tears.
Is this normal? A part of me says no…but another part says maybe more people deal with this than I realize. Maybe I’m doing this for attention. Though from whom I have no idea. I can’t bring myself to tell husband when he asks me “what’s wrong” or “what are you thinking.” I can’t utter the words. It’s embarrassing. I can’t physically bring myself to mouth the words aloud.
Here, though, it’s easy. I am anonymous. I can say whatever I’d like without the worry of judgement or labeling as “crazy”. And even if you are judging me, it doesn’t matter. I don’t know you. You may even pass me on the street some day and would never have realized that it was this nut case you passed by.
No. I don’t want the attention. I don’t want people to see me as weak and help me or coddle me. I just want this cycle to stop. Me2 thinks the only way to end it is to die…Me1 is hoping there’s another way.
I made plans to see an ex-coworker for coffee this evening. As soon as I solidified the plans, I immediately regretted it.
Mind you, I know that once I sit down and we get going on our catch-up, all will be fine and I’ll inevitably have a “good time”. But really, I see absolutely no point to this meet-up. All we will do is talk about superficial matters and gloss over our lives. ”Oh I’m doing great - just taking some time off, you know how it is.” Of course, I don’t expect an honest response. How can she “know” how it is when I’m not honestly describing what “it” is?
It’ll be an hour of feigned interest in whatever fluffy conversation we will have, then I’ll trek back home in the gloomy weather, to an evening of anxiety and contemplation. At least I still have a few hours of mindless tv watching til then.
mmmm for 4 days.
I’m helping out a friend of mine who owns a swim boutique in town. I’ve worked there as a manager for a little over a year to save up for teacher’s college a few years ago, and I’ve been helping them here and there since.
It initially felt good knowing that I’d be doing something productive with my day. But now…now that it’s time for bed, and the express train to tomorrow has arrived…now I do not want to go. I am dreading the morning; waking up, getting ready, walking to the store then deal with pretentious customers for 9 hours. Only to come home, have supper, get to bed and start the cycle all over again for another 3 days.
I know it’s a short stint…but I’m still dreading it. I just want to crawl into a hole with my mac and novel and shut out the world. Alas.
As a side note: I cut my husband’s hair today using clippers. It turned out better than we anticipated. Not bad for a first time hair cutter! Perhaps I’ve found my true calling? Mmm..something tells me “nay”.
Came across an old blog post I wrote over 5 years ago. Funny how somethings change and somethings stay absolutely the same.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
In Search of Solace
maybe it’s the fact that i’ve only had 2 hours of sleep..or maybe it’s the fact that my body is in constant pain…or maybe it’s the fact that stress has once again returned to my life or~ maybe it’s the fact that i’m sitting in this germ infested, freakishly quiet, teal green, hole in the concrete of a room in the zoology building…but…i feel this unshakeable need to let out a shrieking, blood boiling, hair raising, object displacing, scream. i feel this need to just let out everything i’m feeling. i feel…restless and under motivated and angry and jealous and impatient and panicked and…just…tired!….tired of repeating the same old cycle again and again…where the stresses of school and life hits me in waves…completely catching me off guard and knocking me off my feet leaving me winded and disheveled. but tired too of stumbling upon the few naive individuals out there who roll along their happy-go-lucky lives, babbling with their frivolous and superficial banter with their frivolous and superficial friends…who put on a facade of poise and a charade of happiness…those people who annoyingly think they lead a tough, heavy burdened life, when really, they’ve merely encountered speed bumps on their road of life…
bah~ sorry for the melodrama…just feeling under-the-weather and boredom never ceases to be the catalyst of my verbal spew.
