Still Writing For My Life

My anxiety level has been incredibly high over the past several days for quite a few reasons, but I'm doing a pretty good job of not letting it paralyze me.  So, go me.  Some of the reasons are self-inflicted [well, isn't all anxiety pretty much self-inflicted?] like my constant over analyzing of whatever the hell is going on between Philip and I right now.  Most are environmental - stress over money, stress over the wedding I'm participating in, other friends that are presently dealing with life-altering career decisions, friends and close family members dealing with life-altering situations concerning relationships.  Monday was three years since my father died, and I found out that morning that a close friend's father passed away suddenly the day before.
Last Friday afternoon I took a second to scribble some notes in my journal to try to help me sort my thoughts.  I listed the things that are bothering me right now, then listed how I can cope with them in positive ways.  In short,

• Regarding Philip - It is out of my control, therefore I have to stop letting the questions that plague me [What is he doing at this moment?  What's going to happen between us?  Does he still miss me?  Care about me?  Did he cut his ex out of his life yet?  Is he sleeping with other people already?  What if I had done this?  What if I had said that?] consume my mind, because regardless of whatever the answers may be, I have no control over them.  I have to Let It Be.  
• Regarding financial stress - Work is picking back up already and the winter will [hopefully] be over soon.  My paychecks will return to normal.  My bills are paid, and I can't ask for much more than that.
• This wedding thing...ugh.  I'll reserve that rant for a whole separate post.  Let's just say I highly doubt I'll ever agree to be in another one unless it's for a family member or a close friend.  But it'll all work out.

Once I got all of that out of my system, I felt better.  On Saturday I was telling a friend about what I had done, and she texted me Tuesday morning to see how I was doing and inform me that I had inspired her to do the same thing - she wrote down all of of her anxieties, took a figurative step back, and was able to pinpoint the cause of the worst of them, therefore allowing her to focus on making changes so that her quality of life can improve.  It just goes to reiterate the point I am always trying to make - writing is cathartic and good for the soul.

Right now it's a matter of going back and applying the advice I give myself and praying that all will be well in the end.  

Sometimes There's Nothing More Gorgeous Than A $100 Bill

If money is the root of all evil, then why do I feel like if I just had a little bit more I would be happier?  Maybe because I wouldn't stress so hard over never feeling like I have enough to make ends meet?  I wouldn't wake up in the middle of the night with depressing thoughts creeping into my vulnerable, sleep-groggy mind, thoughts that tell me I'll never amount to much because I chose a career that I actually enjoy, that I'll never be able to afford to meet another human's basic needs, (a child's,) because I can barely meet my own, I start to panic about getting older and still not really having it together and I end up feeling utterly desolate, unable to fall back asleep.  
There are times I feel like no matter how much money I squirrel away, something will always happen to make it disappear.  Then I think, how do people do it?  How do they get married, buy houses, and have children when I know they are plagued by the same fears that plague me?  I guess the answer is simple - they just do.  My mother says the same thing.
Things change, people are born, they live, they work, they love, they hate, they work some more, try to live a decent life, and then they die, life goes on.  
It is a simple concept, it's just a really hard one to accept, especially for people like me.
I'm not sitting here bitching and complaining about my awful life, as I sip gourmet coffee (a Christmas gift) in a mug I bought when I went out to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame this past weekend, bundled up in warm clothes with properly running heat.  I unbelievably aware of how lucky and blessed I am to have a roof over my head, don't think for one minute I take anything for granted.
Maybe if I list the ways I've fucked up that I have since worked so hard to remedy, I'll feel a little better about myself?  Let's go.

• Back in 2009 I defaulted so bad on my car loan that my car was repossessed.
• Around the same time the car insurance company became tired of not getting paid and dropped me.
• I lost my health insurance for the same reason.
• I've had to borrow $20 from friends just to put some gas in my car.
• I've defaulted on my school loans.
• My credit card debt was so out of control that I just started ignoring the notices that came in the mail and the phone calls that came every day.
• For months, every bank statement I received had a negative balance.

I used to get so mad at how much the bank took from me every time I was hit with an overdraft charge, because I was trying, I was trying so hard to get back on my feet financially, and I couldn't.  Because it seemed like the bank was taking every dollar I was trying to use to get the credit card, school loan and car loan people off my back.
So let's now look at how I remedied (or at least tried to) all of these problems.

• I got my car back and resumed making the payments on time.  (We'll leave it at that.)
• I did end up driving without car insurance for a good year or two.  I don't condone anyone doing that, but once I was a little more financially stable, I secured myself some affordable insurance and have never missed a payment since.
• Same goes for my health insurance.  I did my best to take care of myself so as not to get sick, I went off birth control for about a year (which is actually recommended for women who are on it for long periods of time.)  And again, once I was back on my feet, I applied for individual coverage that I could afford.
• I called the company associated with my school loans and got back on track with them.  I was able to defer my loans until I was able to start paying them again, and since then have not needed a deference, nor missed a payment.
• I consolidated all of my credit card debt.  I know that's not the best way to handle things, but it was my only hope.  The woman I worked with offered me comfort and solace as I cried to her over the phone, as she pointed out to me that my case was no where near the astronomical ones they typical handle.
• I also stopped wasting money on trivial things like getting my nails done, (which I can do myself,) going out to the bars so often, and packing my lunch for work instead of hitting the Wawa every other day.  (Except for coffee refills of course.)

Once I got my shit together, which I swear only happened by the grace of God and lucrative seasons at work, I finally felt like a worthy human being again.  Now my car and credit cards are paid off, and the only debt I am carrying is my school loans, a very small amount on a credit card and the little bit I still owe on the eye surgery I had in June 2012.  These are the things I am using to reestablish my ruined credit and when I checked recently, it seems to be working.
But that little voice still nags me.  "Sure, you may be relatively back on your feet and supporting yourself, but what about a family?  Don't you want to buy a house one day?  How will you afford a mortgage payment?  Childcare?  College-fucking-tuition?"
Maybe once I realize that it's a never ending cycle, that there will always be things out of my control, I can accept it and just keep moving forward.  This constant feeling of being stuck?  It's getting really old.

The Anxiety, It'll Kill Ya

So this year did not start out as I had expected.  This year started on a down, and I'm the only one who can change that.  But I don't know how just yet.
I'm still reeling from losing the man I love.  When that happened to me back in November, I was crushed.  I am still crushed.  But now I'm wondering why I haven't picked up the pieces of my broken heart and started to move on with my life.  Usually at this point, a month or so later, I'd be making progress, gaining back my "Whatever, I'll just take on the world, again," attitude.  I'd be patching up my wounds with mascara and lipstick and lacing up my shit-kickers, each act a symbol of getting stronger.  I'd be even more inclined to keep pushing forward to prove to everyone that I am surviving and will come out of whatever it is trying to hold me down stronger, and more determined than ever to live an amazing life.
But I'm no where near that point.
The other day I realized that I'm not racing towards "the end."  If I had to describe it, it feels more like waiting.  That's the point I've gotten to.  Who in their right mind, at 30 years old, decides to sit around and wait to die?  Especially someone like me, a 30 year old woman that has an amazing group of supportive and loving people around her at all times, who has yet to notice the ravages of time on her body (save for the dark circles under my constantly puffy eyes as of late,) and in fact worked very hard to get to where she is now in life?  Who took an entire year to better her mind, her body and her career and had some damn good success?
Yeah this woman is the one doing it.  And it I need to stop.  I worry.  Constantly, about things not in my control.  I stress over the future instead of letting it become the present and dealing with it in stride.
[I understand everyone stresses over their future.  I think a little bit is normal.  But I take it to the extreme - my concerns and anxiety are downright paralyzing.]  
My mother made a valid point the other night - I am so stuck in my own head that I'm missing out on everything going on around me.  I've become an observer of life, and not a participant.  So guess what has been to added to my seemingly never-ending list of worries?  Just that.
How did this happen to me?

I had the opportunity to be in the crowd on this night. It was only the second time, in all the years I've followed these guys, that I've had the chance to witness this beautiful song played live.  And right now, at this point in my life, the lyrics have gained incredibly important meaning.

The Pain Of Not Knowing Answers

Okay, so I tend to blow things out of proportion.  We all do, don't we?  I don't know why I'm struggling with insecurity issues when it comes to my relationship, or why I can't just let it be and accept the fact that someone outside of my family actually cares about me.
About 2 or 3 weeks ago my PMS had seemingly gotten out of control.  As much as I hate to return to the cliche, I can't help but point out that when I'm down on myself, when I'm bitchy and snap and everyone, when I want to crawl into a hole and die just so happens to be when my uterus is doing it's monthly thing.
Wednesday of that particular week I had the day off and the weather was gorgeous.  I spent all day outside, working on the pool & the yard, then laying by said pool even though it isn't swimmable yet.  Then my brain decided to get the best of me.  I started dwelling on why my boyfriend had abruptly cut off the texting the night before.  I started dwelling on the fact that I am almost 30 and I still live at home.  I started seriously wondering if I had made the right decision to leave my old job and start a new one in a completely different field.  Dwelling on financial struggle.  I was missing my dad, and my brother, who has been working down in Rehoboth for the past month or so and I don't get to see as much as I used to, (even though I know it's temporary.)  Waves of emotion just kept crashing down on me and I couldn't control them.
When this happens I ask myself, "Why?"  I have come so far in making positive changes to my life, so why do I still get incredibly down in the dumps?  For a split second I considered asking my doctor about going back on antidepressants.  But I don't want to travel down that road again.  I'd rather exercise a positive mind set without the aid of prescription medicine.  I'd rather stand up and say that I refuse to let depression get the best of me.
Why do I have so much trouble reminding myself to sit back and take serious inventory of all the good in my life and dwell on that instead of the negatives?  I'm in constant search of the answer.

DLMD

Lately I've been battling a lot of fear and paranoia in my mind.  I feel like something out there is trying to bring me down because life has been going so well.  It's not that I don't think I deserve happiness.  Or maybe I do and choose to be in denial about it.

Having a 9-5 job is a huge change.  Well, in my case, a 12:30-9.  It's a tough shift to get used to.  I'm home when everyone's at work, and when everyone's at home, I'm working.  It's almost...lonely.  I wake up every morning at 8, do whatever needs to be done - if it's cleaning, laundry, yard work, going to the gym or running errands, I go to work, come home and go to bed or to my boyfriend's house.  Wash, rinse, repeat.  I have to keep reminding myself that it won't be permanent.  But I have now become just another American working for the weekend.  How do you all deal with it?  I miss the flexibility of my old job, damn near coming and going as I pleased.  But I don't miss all the stress and bullshit that went along with it, trust me.

Something else that has been weighing on my mind is my relationship with my boyfriend.  It's wonderful, no doubt.  He makes me incredibly happy and I know I make him happy but....do I?  I don't know if it's the fact that I'm about to get my period at any minute, but I have become super paranoid.  Let me preface these next thoughts with the fact that the last man I loved was a no-good turbo whore that fucked anything he could.  I could assume that at given moment, he was sticking it in some piece of trash with bad teeth and be right 99.9% of the time.  So to say that I'm scarred would be an understatement.
Now here I sit, in a relationship with a guy who is so good to me, and shows it.  He makes sure the coffee is stocked when I come over.  When my side view mirror broke, he had a new one ordered and the broken one replaced within 3 days.  He picked out a beautiful backyard statue for my mom for Mother's Day, gets along with my brother and adores my nephew.  He is aware of how close my family is and doesn't resent me for it.
So why do I worry?  Because I know all about his sexual appetite and wonder if I keep him satisfied?  Yesterday I told him I probably wouldn't be coming over after work because I was planning on going into  work today to rack up a couple of extra hours.  Then I changed my mind and said I'd come over.  The response I got was, "I'm gonna call it an early night, I'm so tired."  Okay, no big deal.  A little odd, considering that when I do ask if he wants me to come over he never fails to respond with "Of course!" tired or not.  What kicked my paranoia into overdrive was the abrupt stop to our conversation.  I immediately jumped to the conclusion that the second I told him I wouldn't be coming over last night, he made "other" plans.  I mean, it happened before, even though we weren't exclusive at the time, who's to say it won't happen again?  I'll just come out and say it - I can't possibly believe that he fell asleep within seconds of sending me a text message.  Maybe he was busy fucking someone else.
Part of me said, "Holy shit Dana, shift into a lower gear.  That's ludicrous."  The other part said, "You and he go at it like bunnies when you're together.  Tonight you're 20 miles away and would be none the wiser if he has someone else in his bed.  He's got free reign if he wants it, sweetheart."
I have no doubt my trust issues stem from past relationships.  But I'm not in his  face about it because he isn't the cause of them and I'm doing my damnedest to make sure he doesn't up on the receiving end of any backlash.  In fact, I haven't even brought it up because at first it wasn't an issue.  Yet my brain has decided to make it one and now I have to say something or I will lose my mind.
Now I know it's possible for this topic to be gender neutral.  Both men and women are affected by past relationships and how they've been treated by the opposite sex.  It's all in how we go about dealing with it.  Sure, I could have blown up his phone last night when an hour passed and I still hadn't gotten a response to a question I asked him.  But I didn't.  I did my best to calm my nerves and went to bed.
I don't know.  I don't know why I'm freaking out over this.  More than likely he did fall asleep.  But the little demon is telling me otherwise because that little shit is trying to convince me that I don't deserve someone capable of being loyal to me.
So sometime in the near future I will be addressing this problem with him.  When we first made it official he had no qualms about expressing his fear of getting hurt and at the time, I didn't feel any need to express mine.  But I think that time has come.

When Friends With Benefits Gets Starts To Get Real

Recently the dynamic of one of the relationships I'm in has changed drastically.  I link the word "relationship" to Webster's definition to clarify that I'm not talking about a specific kind.  I am "in" a relationship with someone, but I'm also in relationships with everyone that is close to me.  We all are.
Relationships are funny.  Sometimes they're a walk in the park on a warm spring day, other times they're like trying to shovel 3 feet of snow out of one's driveway.  That goes for all types - familial, friendships, boyfriend/girlfriend, husband/wife, lovers.  Why this is so difficult for me is the fact that the relationship I'm referring to does not fit into any of those categories.  For simplicity's sake, I'll say it's a (very) sexual, close friendship.  Oxymoron, right?
For the most part this guy and I are cruising along doing our thing.  But I'm starting to get a little restless and I don't know how to address it, towards myself mostly.  This relationship is not following the natural order of things and it's kind of throwing me for a loop.  And I don't need to hear shit about how "it doesn't need follow any kind of order, it shouldn't follow any kind of order, rise, rebel and resist!"  I don't need my love life to be some complicated, over-worked, over-analyzed drama that I have to strive to keep unconventional.  Right now I'm beginning to want something secure, steady and stable.  Don't judge me.
There's nothing really wrong with our relationship, except for the fact that I don't know where it's heading, I don't even know where it will be tomorrow morning.  I know I should be discussing this with him and trust me, we discuss it plenty.
The most recent discussion happened when I informed him that if he chooses to sleep with other people, I don't need to find the aftermath, i.e. used condom & empty wrapper from (I'm guessing) two nights prior, sitting on top of the bathroom trashcan when I go to throw away my tissues after blowing my nose first thing in the morning.
I had always kept the fact that I'm sure he's sleeping with other women, even post-my top drawer of his dresser takeover, in the back of my head, but I was fine with it being there, not hearing about it, not seeing it, basically maintaining the ignorance is bliss mentality.  I was good with that.  But here's where it gets weird - I would never throw something like in his face, whether unintentionally or not.  I don't leave empty condom wrappers laying around for him to stumble upon.  I don't divulge sexual escapades.  I rarely even talk about my past, because we all know that your lover doesn't want to hear about some other guy that's been in your bed, even if you're trashing them.
Having the realization that he is sleeping with someone, or maybe even someones, violently pushed to the front of my mind was not a pleasant experience.  It was downright brutal, and my emotional response surprised me.  It hurt me more than I thought it would.  I cried.  A lot.  I got angry.  Very angry.  It brought back ugly, self-deprecating feelings of just being a girl that someone knows they can call if they want to get laid.
I feel very foolish and stupid.  I feel like I've been led on.  To be honest, I feel downright betrayed, regardless of the fact that we have not claimed exclusivity, due to how much time we spend together and how we spend it.  Now I feel as though people look at me when I'm with him and think to themselves, "Oh, that poor girl.  She has no idea.  Look how clueless she is."  Because for some reason I assume that everyone knows our business.  For all I know, I could have, at one time or another, been in the presence of this other girl while she snickered about their little secret on the inside.  (I know it happens; I've been that other girl.)  His behavior towards me when we're around other people dictates that we're together and I just go along with it because I really don't have a reason not to.  I'm often referred to as his girlfriend and he doesn't bother to correct it.  We're asked how long we've been together and he says "Since early summer or so."  So of course I'm going to be a little upset when he basically announces to me, unabashedly, Hey guess what, you're not the only girl I'm fucking.  I know he cares for me.  I know he values what we have together.   He tells me all the time.  But sorry baby, actions speak louder than words.
Now, I've been no angel.  For most of our "relationship," he has not been the only guy I've been sleeping with.  As I've addressed in previous posts, I've pretty much pushed other guys to the wayside, unintentionally or not, which leads me to think that he's worthy of my fidelity.  But if he's not going to give me that much, I have no reason to feel obligated to either.
He and I have discussed this ad nauseum.  At this point I am, for the most part, over it.  But it's still in the back of my head.  When I go over to his place I can't help but think, Hmmm, who was here last night?  The other night he had plans with a (girl)friend he hadn't seen in a very long time.  Was I losing my mind?  Yup.  So when I saw him the next night, he was telling me about his evening and I asked him point blank if he fucked her.  He looked as if I had slapped him.  Well, what do you expect?  I had a whole speech prepared if he were to say yes.  His answer was no.  Do I believe him?  Mostly yes, a tiny part of me - no.  But it's out of my control now.
The whole thing raises a lot of questions, not to mention there's a lot to the story I'm not sharing because it's too much for one post.  What would you do, based on what I have disclosed, in this situation?

Why I'm Glad I Never Became That MC's Girlfriend

This is all speculation from events I have witnessed in the past, things I've been told, observations I have made on my own, and only pertain to one specific person.  I am not referring to every MC I know, because I know not all of them are like him.

I was on my way to meet my girl friend for dinner the other night and reasons why I'm relieved that I ended my relationship with someone who became an MC started popping into my head.
Granted, MC or not, he treated me like shit.  I've gotten past the heartbreak of leaving him for the most part and it's easy to remember the good times we had together...but sometimes anger still surfaces - at him for being utterly disregarding of how his words and actions affected those around him, and myself for being so deluded about our relationship.
The path he chose is a downward spiral, (not all related to having become an MC, either.)  The second I realized I wanted no parts of it - that I have my whole life ahead of me, I have potential to make something of myself, I have love to shower on someone who deserves it and will return it - the darkness, gloom, and anxiety faded away.

"You're right - I am young.
I have my whole life ahead of me.
I don't want your bullshit.
I don't need your bullshit.
FUCK your BULLSHIT."

And I made my point by walking out of his life forever, which was the smartest thing I could have ever done.

So while driving to dinner that night I realized, if I had been that MC's girlfriend, I would not have necessarily been able to have him join my friend and I.  It dawned on me just how drastically my life would have changed for the worse and these are my reasons why:

• Most well-respected establishments do not permit hard colors.  So there would go dinners at high class restaurants, drinks at ritzy bars, even drinks at most dive bars, getting into concerts and shows without being given a hard time, etc.
• I like to flirt, boyfriend or not, and that, God forbid, is not tolerated.
• I would have been blatantly disrespected because he would have run around on me.  (Shit, he fucked anything that would let him even when we were seeing each other.)  I would never stand for being run around on, because that, as it was explained to me, they are "allowed" to do, and more or less encouraged to.  It killed me to see women considered a "girlfriend" overlook it, even go as far to accept it, women who I thought had some sort of self respect.  I'm sorry, but when I heard that even his boys consider him a big whore, I thought, "Wow, it has got to be worse than it ever was."  *Side note - he and I never claimed exclusivity.  I had my own fun behind his back, sometimes even going as far to rub it in his face which, in retrospect, made me no better than him.
• Family functions?  Forget it.  
• I can just see how life would have become like constantly walking on egg shells.  It didn't matter how much fun I had hanging out with a particular group of people.  It didn't matter how much I enjoyed flirting with his "brothers," (which apparently was not a big deal because I didn't carry the "girlfriend" title and the boys either respected him or me, or I had managed to make it crystal clear that it was flirting and nothing more, I don't know, I never really could tell.)  Why would anyone choose to live their life constantly watching their own back or being responsible for watching someone else's?
• Drama drama drama.  Stupid drama.  That's all that was ever going on.  I was never involved, but I guarantee if I was a girlfriend, I'd be dragged in unwillingly or not.  I rolled my eyes behind his back so many times I thought they were going to end up permanently stuck to the back of my lids.  Who has time for that shit?
• I would have never known what he was doing, where he was going, or where he was coming from.  He hid everything from everyone.
• Word on the street now is that said MC is back to being an addict after several years of sobriety.  That's a pill that was quite difficult for me to swallow (pun intended.) As upset as I was when I found out, I have since let it go because a)  I have no control over him, and b)  He's a grown man that is responsible for his own decisions.  In addition to constant worry that he'd disappear for good one day, I'd be worrying about whether or not he was on the bike fucked up, whether or not he was around his kids high out of his mind, fearful of the awful mood swings I had seen from him before, and of course a phone call in the middle of the night telling me that he had OD'ed or waking up to find him dead next to me.
• I am rambunctious, outspoken, and happy-go-lucky for the most part.  I never hesitated to call him out, even in front of the boys, but that surely would have changed had I been given the girlfriend title.  Why be in a relationship where I can't speak my mind?  I did that once already, and once is enough.
• The bullshit would have driven me utterly insane and turned me into someone I'm not.  Looking back on it, I can't blame the one girl who whacked her old man upside his head with a frying pan, or the other one who ran her car into her old man's garage door and caused a couple grand's worth of damage.  I'm not proud to say that I have no doubt in my mind this guy would have pushed my sanity over the edge and I would have ended up burning his fucking house down, but the level of the mind-fucking game that he plays on probably would have resulted in me being arrested for arson. 

To sum it up cut and dry, I am a gorgeous 29 year old woman with no baggage.  I have no ex-husbands, no children, a great job and the potential do whatever I set my mind to.  I am well-educated, come from a wonderful family, I have a beautiful little nephew that  I would die for.  Why the fuck would I have even considered throwing all of that away for someone who has no regard for anyone or anything around him?  Why would I consider letting those of a lesser caliber into my life?  As much as I thought I'd be okay with his new found lifestyle, it's not me.  I have plenty of friends who genuinely care for me and plenty of friends whose bikes I can jump on the back of and not have to worry about my safety.  If I was forced to pick the lesser of two evils, I'd have rather been an old-school mob wife - at least I know I'd have been showered with gifts, cash, nice cars, fancy dinners and pretty dresses.

Turns Out This Month I'll Be Okay

I got two separate paychecks last week and was able to pay my bills, right before my cell phone was about to get shut off.  Yeah, yeah, I need to budget my money better.  I thought I had been, but as one of my dear friends said to me, "Holes can appear when you least expect it, and you'll get yourself out, I know you will."  And I did without having to ask anyone for help, thank God.  It was amazing how quickly my depression and anxiety lifted the second I signed on to my bank account and saw the deposits that had been made, one of which was much larger than I had anticipated.
So my plan is to do what every financial adviser tells us - make sure I have at least three months worth of bill payments stashed away, and if I'm really committed, four months with enough in my savings left over to have a comfortable little nest egg.  It sounds simple, but if it was, I wouldn't have been in the position I was two weeks ago.  So let's just take that as another wake-up call.  Then next summer, I can lay around the pool, not work, not worry about collecting unemployment, not worry about my bills being paid, and use the paychecks I do get for the sporadic work I do in the summer to go party down in Dewey Beach.
Sounds like a plan to me.

Gimme The Drugs Or Something Else Is Going To Give - A Brief Timeline (February 2012)

 I started to write out my past experience going down the psycho-pharmaceutical therapy route, then decided a timeline would be more concise and easier to comprehend. So here goes...

2003

• In the spring of this year I had my first actual breakdown. The stress of being in my last semester of college and assembling my final portfolio, the deterioration of my parents' marriage, the man I was in love with telling me his ex-girlfriend was pregnant and thinking the baby might be his, it all just hit me like a ton of bricks.
• My family doctor put me on Paxil* and things started to get better once it kicked in. I graduated college, landed a job within a month after moving home, as well as entered into a relationship with the man I was to spend the next five years with.

2005

• The Paxil stopped doing what it was supposed to so my doctor switched me to Effexor**. Life continued on as normal. The anxiety had yet to rear its ugly head.

2006

• I quit my job as a photographer, went back to school as a chemistry major and started working in a local pharmacy. My first few semesters went by relatively smoothly and weren't too stressful.

2007

• I got a job at the local hospital as a pharmacy technician and making a little more money, but school kept getting tougher, my relationship started to deteriorate and the stress of my family life kept escalating. All the while, I was taking my meds like a good little girl.

2008

• Cue breakdown Number Two. In April of this year I left my boyfriend, just dropped a nuclear bomb on his world and ran as fast as I could the other way. This was the start of my downward spiral and panic attacks as well.
• My family doctor asked me if I wanted Xanax***, and I said no. (Xanax makes me a zombie, no matter how small the dose.) So he prescribed me Klonopin***, which I take to this day whenever I feel a panic attack coming on. 
• I started seeing a therapist.
• The PA who oversaw prescribing psychotherapy medication in the network I was using kept increasing my dose of Effexor to the point where I had had enough. The therapy wasn't working and I didn't feel like a human being due to the amount of antidepressants I was taking.
• (I'm not proud of the fact that during this time, I was self-medicating as well with anything I could get my hands on - Valium, Vicodin, Darvocet, alcohol, and occasionally marijuana but I've never been a big pot smoker.)

2009

• My depression worsened, I was still engaging in unhealthy and risky behavior, my financial situation was completely in the shitter due to the fact that I bought a car I couldn't afford and had waited too long to apply for financial aid for school.
• I ended up losing my health insurance and could not afford the medication without it, so I weaned myself off, (which I do NOT suggest doing without aid from a doctor, but I had a pharmacology background and was able to do it relatively successfully...again, I couldn't even afford to go to the doctor.)
• I stopped going to therapy.
• I quit the hospital and went back to work for the same company that had hired me out of college. Things were starting to get a little better.
• My beautiful nephew was born.

2010

• My financial situation got a little better and I was doing okay without the meds.
• I felt stronger mentally and pulled my shit together enough for it show on the outside - my work improved, my relationships improved, and the panic attacks and bouts of depression subsided for the time being.

2011

• Pop died in February of this year.
• My panic attacks started again.
• I realized my depression had come back full force.
• Buzzard decided to tell me in December of this year that he loves me and it threw my emotions into complete chaos.

  And here we are in 2012. I decided to get professional help. I see a grief counselor once a week in order to help cope with my loss and learn the tools I need to move on with my life. Tuesday was also my first appointment with an LSW to help me get my life back on track. I will be documenting my progress with both women along this journey to recovery I've finally taken the initiative to start down.

*Paxil is an SSRI (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor.)  Drugs that are classified as SSRIs are meant to give one's mood a little uplifting.

**Effexor is an SNRI, (serotonin and norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor.) Drugs that are classified as SNRIs are meant to actually help relieve the symptoms of depression.   

***Both Xanax and Klonopin are classified as benzodiazepines and are meant to relieve the same symptoms, so I really don't understand why, on a chemical level, Xanax turns me into a zombie yet Klonopin takes the edge off enough for me to continue functioning throughout my day when taken if I need it.

Insanity and the Task of Keeping Myself Occupied - And On A Negative One - From February 2012

     Like I said in my previous post, I tend to spend more time doing things that aren't necessarily healthy in regards to my mental well-being.  So while the list may be short, these activities can be utterly and devastatingly self-destructive.

 Destructive

• Booze
  -I've become concerned with just how much alcohol I've been consuming lately.  But does that make me sit back and consider slowing it down?  No.  Because when I drink it slows down the thoughts running through my head.  Usually.  Sometimes it just makes it all worse, but most of the time it's the former, not the latter.  
• Drugs
  -Luckily, I've never had a problem with this one.  There's a voice inside my head that constantly reminds me that if I start, I will never stop.  I guess that can be considered a benefit of being aware that I have an addictive personality.  Unfortunately others are not so lucky.
• Sex
  -This is probably the worst one for me personally.  I use sex as a means to escape, as a means of self-justification, as a way to prove that someone does want me.  I may not jump in bed with strangers on a regular basis (I used to,) but it's still a big part of my life.  I'm going to safely assume that the endorphin released in my brain during the act of sex does squash my feelings of depression and desolation for a short period of time.  (Ex. - this past week I was at Buzzard's Tuesday night.  Wednesday night Drugstore Cowboy decided to reappear in my life and I ended up at his house.  Thursday night I got a phone call from another previous lover and he came over.  Friday night Drugstore Cowboy called me again and was in my bed within an hour.  So that feeling of being wanted?  Yeah, it's nice.  And I didn't have one depressive episode all week.) 
• Engaging in unhealthy relationships
  -This is another big one for me.  When one feels like their self-worth is in the shitter, they'll take whatever attention and affection they can get.  My weakness is the one I call Buzzard.  I love that asshole with all my heart, and I know he loves me the same, but our relationship is incredibly volatile and damaging at times.  So why don't I just leave?  Because I'm not strong enough.

January was a very hard month for me, with work being slow, I had too much time on my hands, most of it spent in my room, alone, at a bar with a drink in front of me, in the bathtub with a glass of wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other.  I'm trying to pick up the pieces of my life and make decisions based on whether or not they will affect me in a positive or negative way, but it's not easy, and anyone who is afflicted by depression can tell you that.

So for now, it's one fucking day at a time.