Lack of sleep, bitterness

I will come right out and say that my 16 month old Luke is a very mild-mannered and resilient kid. He is very curious and can keep himself entertained, as long as it involves something he shouldn't be doing, like scaling the washing machine or turning the printer on and off. The one complaint I have about this kid is his blatant disdain toward sleep. He is not a sleeper. Zach and I aren't really sleepers either, but we do like our minimum 7 hours at night. Now Luke will sleep on his own bed for a 6-7 hour stretch. When he does wake up, he goes back to sleep with just a little reassurance from me or Zach. I just expected that he would sleep "better" by now. Luke has an intense need to be close to us, and that I don't mind. In fact, I think it's a very healthy need. What does bother me is when he obviously needs to sleep, but instead puts up a fight that results in us leaving him in his room crying, yelling and screaming for several minutes at a time. This can go on for quite some time before we finally give up, let him walk around zombie-like for the rest of the afternoon and decide to put him to bed early, which usually ends up being a measly half hour early. It can be stressful, and added to that stress is the fact that we live on the third floor of a three-family apartment building.
I am paranoid that Luke's crying will result in our college neighbor calling child services on us. It sounds crazy, but this neighbor has given us reason to feel this way. She once ran to our landlords to complain that there was a baby sleeping out on the landing by himself, with no parents around. My mom and I were 20 feet away in the kitchen with the door open. Luke was sound asleep safely secured in his stroller at the top of our landing. It's like our front porch. Someone from the landlord's office came running over to see about it. At that point Luke was awake and no longer on the landing. Crazy landlord lady just kept repeating "you can't do that. you just can't do that". I told her I hoped she didn't come all the way over here just for that, but while she was here, could she look at our oven which had been broken for three weeks at that point with no sign of repair after numerous complaints. I later called the office and spoke with someone a little more levelheaded, someone who actually has kids, and he apologized. I told them that if it's an issue of not having anything at all on the landing, then I would understand, but this overreaction implied that I was being negligent. I am not negligent. So, I'm a little on edge, and I don't feel good about it. Babies cry, and it's natural and okay for them to cry. I am just a little angered by the screwed up society we now live in. I can appreciate someone taking the time to investigate something troubling, but how about the notion of just talking to someone before running to the RA (resident assistant of a college dorm) to tattle on someone. This happened in May, and I am still bitter about it.

Love and Anger

Zach and I had an ugly fight late last night over something that I consider pretty serious. I was yelling and nearly hyperventilating. Luke was in bed and didn't witness any of it. I felt like I was pushed into a corner and could no longer be heard. I didn't have the words I needed. I am feeling hurt and dismayed by the anger that surged forth from both of us. I need to find better ways to communicate, and yet, at the same time, I wish Zach could find a way to just listen to my fears and not judge them.
Why do people who love each other sometimes hurt each other? I know I'm not alone in feeling hurt in a relationship. The question now is what to do with the pain.

Now if only there were a Martini's up the Street.

I have been feeling very defensive and angry lately, with the main reason being our rental situation. We currently live in Pottersville, except that the landholders are the Rocketts, so I guess you could say we live in Rockettsville. Our oven has been broken for over two weeks now, and, as our lawyer neighbor and friend informed us, MA has comprehensive laws protecting the tenant in rental situations. We could call the Dept. of Health and file a complaint which could lead to us ultimately terminating the lease without repercussion. The problem is that one of the Rocketts is a former judge, so who knows how far we would get. Today I received notice that our lease is almost up, and the monthly rent is being increased by 10%. There have been other issues that I won't get into here. Needless to say, I think the Rocketts are big @holes, and we will be looking for a new place to live. I'm excited about it.

I'll call the landlord in the morning.

Last night our oven door broke. Actually, that's putting it mildly. It shattered into a million pieces. I keep the latch on the lock position now that Luke is mobile, and lately it's been getting stuck. I turned the oven on to broil some sweet potato fries, and then when the oven was hot, I couldn't open the door. I had unlocked it, but it was stuck. I wiggled the door handle until the oven was rocking slightly, so I stopped, turned it off, and sauted the fries on the stove top. When Zach got home, he pulled on the door once, twice and then a third time, wherein the handle ended up in his hands and no longer connected to the door, and we watched the shards of glass cascade onto the floor. Luke started crying, and Zach and I stood there in awe. Finally he said "I'll clean it up". So this is one perk of renting and not owning a home. I called the landlord this morning and told them we needed a new stove door, and they said "Okay. We'll send someone out to take a look". Despite this and other small benefits of renting, we would still really like to own a home. The problem is that the North Shore is expensive, and we are living off of one income for the time being. We've been looking at real estate for a few months now, Zach's gone to a seminar for first-time homebuyers, and we've been preapproved by our credit union. The whole process stresses me out beyond belief, so I'm trying to keep any emotions out of it. I think the thought of owning a home really just scares me, because that means we're "tied down". We can't just pick up and go. We would have to sell the house first. I know it's important to build equity, and it really does make sense for us to own, especially since the cost of rent isn't much less than a mortgage. It just feels like such an adult thing to own a home, more so to me than having a baby.

Laying down the Foundation

Luke is almost 8 months old, and I can't help but think about the little boy, teenager and man he will become. How will what I do now as a parent affect him at each stage of his life? Of course every parent wants their child to be happy, healthy and successful in life, but what defines those things? I also know that it is impossible to ensure your own happiness let alone somebody else's happiness, because life can be full of sorrow and hardship. My years of suffering depression have shed some light on the issue of happiness in life. I've said this before, and it's important for me to remember, and so I say it again; the opposite of depression is not happiness but resilience. So how do I raise my son to be resilient? I want for him to make reasonably good decisions in life when it comes to the important stuff. This is what I'm struggling with right now. Just what is the important stuff? Right now it is developing healthy eating habits and learning how to socialize and communicate with me. I suppose these things change with time, and that they build on each other. I don't want him to watch lots of t.v. and eat lots of junk food, so I model my eating habits for him and keep the t.v. off for most of the day. On the other hand, junk food and t.v. are a part of our culture, so I don't want to ignore these things. I want to teach Luke about moderation, and I hope that he will like apples, fresh mango, and ripe avocado, and running around outside in the fresh air. I suppose at some point I will have to realize where my influence begins and ends, and let Luke make his own decisions.

Nancy's Shower

And it was literally a shower. There were torrential downpours and flash floods, remniscent of my wedding. My mom and I drove to Downingtown from King of Prussia. When we got off Rt. 30 at the Thorndale exit, there was a creek where the road should have been. I have never experienced anything like it. I was driving, and I just drove right on through the rapids and past the driftwood and logs. First I made sure the other cars made it, then I went through. With a little perseverance, and some stupidity (I'm told you shouldn't drive through water if you can't see the road), we got back on the bypass and made it to Nancy's shower. We had a great time. It was nice seeing and meeting some of Nancy's family and friends. I look forward to the wedding. Of the dozens of pictures I blinded Nancy by taking, here are some of my favorites.






Good luck Nancy and Michael with the apt. search out in LA! I can't wait to hear all about your travels and experiences. 

I'm writing about work

I am feeling terrible right now. It involves some of the kids I work with and some bullying. I knew there was something going on between one boy and one girl, some negative comments and poking fun at. I stepped in whenever I saw it. I asked the girl if she was okay. I put the boy on time out, called his mom, had him apologize. No matter what I do, he doesn't seem to care. The thing is, I still like this boy. I don't think he's a bad kid. No kid is bad.
Sometimes the girl would tell me of an incident several days later. She seemed annoyed, and yet okay. She told her mom about it today, and her mom was very angry and upset, not with me, but upset just the same. I listened mostly and explained what I see and do. I encouraged her to write the principal (her idea), because that way she could express her anger in a constructive manner. I feel like I could have done something sooner. I feel like I should have stepped in sooner. I only have a small inkling of that deeply protective mothering instinct. There were even tears in her eyes. I told her it hurts me when I hear the negative remarks, too, because it does. I didn't really know what to say. I just feel bad.

Adulthood

Lately, I've been reading some of the blogs linked to Nancy's. Many of them are blogs written by mothers. I like reading mommy blogs and blogs about babies. My first encounter with blogs was The Trixie Update. I was visiting Nancy in Cincinnati about two years ago when she showed me some of the blogs she had started following, including that one. It wasn't long after that she started her own and convinced me to do the same. Actually, she tried to convince me to start one first. We talked about thinking about our lives in bloggable terms. We started narrating daily events in our heads, and, for me, it helped create a distinction between my lingering depression and me. It helped, and still helps, me to see things objectively. I never thought I would still be blogging almost two years later. It has helped me feel more connected to my friends and to many others who read my blog. Sometimes when I don't feel like writing, I will still post something for the internet. So much has happened in the past two, three years. When I began this blog, I had been married for a little over a year. Nancy once suggested on her blog that I post about my almost-turned-fiasco wedding. So here is an overview.

Wedding
It boiled down to almost losing the family dog (I found her about 1 hour before the ceremony was to begin out in the neighborhood while it was raining with my hair and makeup done. I was the only one not dressed yet, so it made the most sense for me to look for Zoe.), lots of thunder and torrential downpours, flooded roads and fires near the renovated barn where I was planning an outdoor reception, and no electricity. I was so happy to have found Zoe, that I almost didn't care what the ceremony would look like. We found a generator, and that gave us enough power for the little white lights wrapped around the beams and some music for the reception. We had candles all around, and I walked down a makeshift aisle created by the tables and chairs that were supposed to be outside under the flooded, mudcaked tent area. The rain eventually stopped, and it was cool for an August day. We made our way outside for dancing later in the evening. It was quite a memorable day. I was teary-eyed throughout the entire ceremony, because I looked at Ashley standing up front and heard a small sob, which ricocheted to my dad and then to me. I hadn't expected that. I really had to concentrate on holding back audible sobs. Everyone who said they were coming made it. I was really happy with the way the day turned out, and only wish it could have lasted longer.

Depression and Suicidal Ideation
I don't mean to imply here that marriage led to my depression. It's just the order in which things happened, and my depression is something I've wanted to write about here for some time. It is a major factor in my transition into adulthood, and I'd like to share it with you.

The first year and a half of marriage was difficult, to say the least. Zach and I hadn't lived together or even in the same state for over four years. He moved into what was my apt., and we quickly had to adjust to each other's presence. I didn't adjust. I can see now all the little things that contributed to my depression, and I think back to a quote I read somewhere about how the opposite of depression is not happiness, but resilience. I was not resilient. I had just gotten married, was finishing up my last semester of coursework for my PhD in German lit., which I wasn't even sure I wanted. I was helping TA for two different classes, I was studying for my comprehensive exam, both the written and oral, which I took and passed that November and December, I was training for a marathon, which I ran in October, and then Ashley got sick, which is what helped push me over the edge. Come December, I was done with all my coursework, exams, and had completed the marathon. It was dark and cold, and I was up in Massachusetts with Zach's family for the holidays. Meanwhile, back in Lancaster, my own family was broken. I still feel that way, what with Ashley now dead and Alyssa being mentally ill and having minimal contact with us. I still remember very clearly the first time it occurred to me that I could stop all this pain and misery with a few quick flicks of a razor blade, some vodka, and the big bottle of extra-strength Tylenol in the medicine cabinet. It was a Wednesday night in January, I was in the bathtub, and Zach was doing work. The thoughts entered my head seemingly out of nowhere. I envisioned myself lying in bloody bath water and tried to think about how it might feel to die that way. The next morning I couldn't shake those thoughts, and they were starting to freak me out. That's when the cutting began. I got home from a run, pulled out a pocket knife and scratched at my wrist. I thought if I could practice, then maybe in a little while I'd be able to really do IT. I felt immensely better afterwards. The cutting took on a life of its own. For the next two months, it became a release for me. It's what led me to the psych ward of the local hospital, and, ironically, probably what helped save me. It let me express physically what I couldn't put into words. Before I got the help I needed, though, I slipped down into some dark hole that I couldn't pull myself out of, not even with the help of my friends and family. I felt alone and miserable. I started swallowing the tylenol one afternoon. I got up to 9 pills before I stopped. I really didn't want to die. I wanted the pain to stop. I beat myself up for not being able to follow through with it. It made me feel worse about myself. Ashley convinced me to talk to my therapist, who eventually helped convince me to go away to a treatment center in AZ. Once I made the decision to go, things began looking up. Zach and I still weren't on good terms, and wouldn't be for another year or more. He didn't understand what was wrong and why I had to go, and there's still a lot of tension around the whole topic. It was less than a year later that Ashley died. This is all stuff that I've written about extensively in my own journals, and each time it feels a little less unbelievable. This is what really happened, and some days I am amazed at the human capacity for pain and suffering, and now, more recently, also at the capacity for happiness and love. I still don't have access to the words to describe what I felt and feel now. *I learned through my suffering that no human being is immune to the pain inherent in life. All people are connected through sadness and grief, and, as Nancy pointed out to me recently, they are also connected through love, joy and the myriad of emotions known to mankind that don't even have words to describe them.

*Here's where I stand on my soapbox.

Back to the Beginning
I started this post talking about mommy blogs, because I've been thinking more and more about having a baby, and soon. I am older than many of the mommies from those blogs, and I can't imagine having started a family before now. I am amazed at the number of women younger than I am who choose to start families. Nancy and I talk about how there is no set order to the way we are supposed to do things in life. As an adult, I can choose how I want to live my life. I am finally choosing what I want instead of what I think I should want. I am also finding the joy in my connections with other people. We really aren't alone in life, not if we choose to rely on other people. It's not a sign of weakness, as I once thought, but a sign of being human and of being healthy. It feels good to share not just the bad experiences, but also the good ones with other people.

And here's the "happy" post to compensate for the negative one that follows.

I feel much better just having posted all the negative stuff. Thanks for "listening".

WARNING: Post Contains Negative Thoughts

This post is full of bitterness, and I don't apologize for it.

I know that everyone experiences mood swings throughout each day or even within a several hour time span, but that still does not quell my mind about my own moodiness. I feel like a prisoner to my moods lately, and I don't know what to do about it. The annoying thing is that I can present a pretty normal, well-functioning face to the world, even to my friends and family. That makes me feel deceitful and coniving, and then it's when I'm alone with my thoughts that I feel crazy. I imagine doing all kinds of drastic, ridiculous things to make myself feel better; such as getting a random tattoo, chopping off all my hair, or dying my hair black or green among other darker thoughts, such as somehow getting into a car accident and dying, and then I imagine my funeral and all my sad friends and family gathering to say goodbye. WHAT is WRONG with me?! I HATE that I imagine these things. I HATE that I am obsessing on myself so much. I feel like I'm looking for some kind of attention that I feel that I'm lacking or maybe I'm feeling so overwhelmed that I'm looking for a way out. It scares me, because then I start to feel like I'm losing control over my thoughts, and that translates into becoming just like Alyssa. I have trouble accepting things for what they are lately. I have trouble accepting my own shortcomings and my own life situation right now. I don't know what I'm doing about school this fall. Zach and I haven't been communicating well, and at this moment we are not talking. That really sucks, because then I start to question my marriage and my own self worth. I know that when we talk again I'll feel a lot better, and in the meantime I will feel awful. What I don't like is that most times Zach and I have an argument, I berate myself and feel like an awful, miserable person. I want to change that. What makes that hard is that once the negative thoughts begin, it's hard to stop them. I go on to think about my sisters and how I couldn't "save" them, and about how now I don't have any sisters to talk to about these things. I know that I have loving friends I can turn to, but it doesn't change that my sisters are gone. Yes, I am feeling sorry for myself lately, and I've come to the conclusion that that's the way I want to feel. I'm angry right now, and writing about it here is the most open and honest way for me to express it.

Hot chai and other pleasures

I visited my parents for the day while Zach was in Harrisburg for his weekend class. My parents and I had lunch, we talked, I walked the dog in the rain, and I did 3 loads of laundry. Yes, I am 29, and I still take laundry home to my parents. I still can't get used to laundromats and the other weirdos who frequent them. I also had my hair cut and my eyebrows waxed at the salon my mom goes to. It was my birthday gift from my parents. The stylist, Melanie, asked if I wanted my eyebrows waxed after she washed my hair, and I said "sure". The hot wax felt good going on. I told her to just rip the wax off without telling me when, and she did, and it hurt, but I have a high threshold for pain, so I didn't even flinch. She then proceeded to pluck any stray hairs off, and I thought I would open my watering eyes to find two, thin lines left where my eyebrows used to be. I don't have bushy eyebrows to begin with, but I'm a stranger to the world of cosmetics and beauty. She said to pluck out any stray hairs she may have missed when I do my makeup. I nodded my head up and down. The only makeup I own is a tube of lipstick and some dried up mascara left over from my days as a teenager when I thought I would be a model. Alas, I am not tall enough, and so I went to school instead. At any rate, my eyebrows look very nice and trim.

On a Side Note:
My parents are funny now that it is just the two of them (and the dog and 2 cats) in the house. My mom likes to walk around the house pretending to talk to the animals like Tony Soprano, and my dad threatened to get rid of the new satellite dish if she didn't clean up her language.

My mom and I went out for tea and cocoa this afternoon before I left to pick up Zach and return home. We had a pleasant time, because it felt normal. Things haven't felt normal with my family for over 12 years, when Alyssa, my youngest sister, began her descent into a mysterious mental illness (borderline personality disorder?). We thought that would be the worst thing to happen, but then Ashley got sick with a mysterious intestinal disorder that never got better, despite having her colon removed, and died. I was missing Ashley today when my mom and I went out together. I remembered having tea with Ashley at a small coffee shop in Bryn Mawr when she was in school. There was nothing spectacular about that evening. Nothing stood out other than she told me to get it "to go", even though we were drinking it there, because the paper cup was bigger than the mug, but the price was the same. It was just a regular, old evening. I try to relish those evenings, but some days it's hard. My anxiety level has been high the past few days, and some of that is due to the bottled-up grief, anger and sadness I have for my sisters. Some of it is due to trying to figure out future school plans. I'm not sure what the rest of it is about. I am having trouble sleeping, I'm nauseous, and weary. I'm feeling depressed. I am, however, taking care of myself. This is big. Last time I felt like this, I was suicidal and resorted to self mutilation (cutting my arms with razor blades). I ended up in a hospital for a week and a treatment center for several more weeks. This time I am talking to people, I'm taking naps and sitting in the sun. I'm drinking hot chai, getting massages and having my hair cut and my eyebrows waxed. This time around I know that these feelings of anxiety and depression won't last forever.

I'm almost 29, and I'm supposed to feel like this, right?

I have been on an emotional rollercoaster the past few days. I got accepted into the three schools I applied to for an MS in Speech Therapy, which I was thrilled about, but I am not going to receive any funding. I have filed a FAFSA application, so I can get loans, but, as many of you who read my blog know, it's hard to go back to school after earning an income (albeit meager) for a while. I got into Penn State, University of Vermont, and West Chester. West Chester would be a pregraduate degree program that starts in May. I'm not really keen on moving there for a pregraduate program, but I'm not discounting it yet, either. Penn State is a bit more expensive, but I'm already here and familiar with the school and town. Zach and I have been talking about moving for over a year now, but he says he doesn't mind sticking around for a few more years while I complete me program. It would be awesome to move to Burlington, VT, but the tuition is sky high, and neither one of us would have any source of income. I know we're young, and that this is the time to take risks, so part of me wants to just up and move to VT, because, when else will we be able to do that? I am also scared that we'll move and won't have as many opportunities available to us. Burlington is slightly more isolated than State College, not to mention colder. I have about two weeks to figure out what to do. I've been in contact with the graduate advisor for my programs at UVM and PSU, and I'm looking at different options, such as defering my acceptance to UVM until the fall of 2007, after I become a resident of Vermont and different sources of funding for Penn State. I think of Nancy and Michael moving to LA this summer, and know that they will face all kind of uncertainties. It makes me want to get up and move, too. In the meantime, life goes on. Zach and I are thinking seriously about kids (like in the next year or so), and a house and a dog. Maybe not in that order, but you get the picture.

Getting Up-to-Date

Me and Zoe. I've been playing around with my "new" digital camera and my husband's new laptop. It's taking me a while to figure it all out. I'm pretty clueless when it comes to computers and cameras, even when dealing with the simple stuff. Between figuring this stuff out and getting an IPod for my birthday, I'm moving into the 21st Century. 

Spending Time

I've been reading some great books by author Elizabeth Berg lately (thanks to a suggestion from Nancy). I've also been crocheting some sad looking scarves with the time I normally would have spent cleaning. My apartment is still clean, but I just let it get dirty now first. Zach and I have been lamenting the day we can finally own our own home. On warm, sunny days like yesterday, we would like to spend our afternoons outside in our yard with the dogs.

That's all I really wanted to say.

Things have been going exceptionally well this past week. It's a welcome change from the way I had been feeling.

Hurting

Zach and I are readjusting to each other after spending 6 days apart while he remained with his family on Cape Cod for a few more days after X-mas. I came home to work and, be there no uncertainty, to have a few days to myself. A few days to myself became more like solitary confinement. I am not proud to say that I have spent a few nights in a padded room with nothing but a mattress on the floor, but this was worse. It was worse because I still went to work every day to face 20 screaming kids and because I still had to function like a functioning adult in the world. What made this time to myself so destructive was that I felt isolated and anxious. Soon it will be the one-year anniversary of Ashley's death, and that makes me fearful, sad, and angry. All those emotions at once are just too much, so I make myself numb. Zach doesn't like my negativity, but neither do I, and that's part of the problem. I try to push it away, so I end up brooding on my negativity. Then Zach asks me why I don't talk about it, and then I want to either hit him really hard or curl up in my bed with my stuffed bear. Zach is notorious for contradicting himself. He wants me to talk about what I'm thinking and feeling, but not to him. He wants me to be open and honest with him, but only if it's positive. It's enough to drive me crazy.

Resolutions

I normally don't make them, because for me it would be something like "be lazier", and somehow that doesn't sound like a good thing to strive toward. There is, however, something I would like to resolve to do better this year (and the years to follow). That is spending quality time with Zach. Oftentimes when we are together, my mind is elsewhere. I would just like to be more present when we do get a chance to spend time together.

Each Day

I catch myself in a quick moment of peaceful mindfulness early in the morning on my way to work. I usually wake up in a frenzy, a little too late and a little too tired, and run out the door forgoing a shower or a decent breakfast. My ride to school is only 7 miles, and it takes me about 14 minutes to get there. As I round a bend a little over halfway there, a mountain ridge appears. It's not big, but it's serene and beautiful. The sun rises behind it, so the clouds are a soft pink and orange while the sky is slate gray. Snow covers the mountain, and some lights from the houses twinkle down its sides. It reminds me of the moment I entered the Fjord of Oslo by boat early one December morning 5 years ago. It is that small, fleeting moment that helps make the rest of the day okay.

Wherein I get full of myself and talk about myself some more

Call me crazy, but my new "assignment" from my therapist is to NOT make my bed at least one morning this week, to NOT make lunches for me and Zach one day this week, to at least consider not running one of the days I run if I don't feel like it, and to try to stop the worrisome thoughts I have of what I'm eating-is it too much, not enough, balanced enough? Sounds crazy, right, like it's the complete opposite of healthy?
I've begun to accept the fact that I seem to be highly energetic and have trouble sitting still. In fact part of me gets a rush from getting so much done every day. The problem, though, is that at some point I start to feel tired and overwhelmed. I'm trying so hard to keep everything contained in a neat, little package wrapped in a pretty red bow, and it's bursting at the seams. I imagined it exploding, but then everything was strewn across the floor of a white room with no escape. I'm working on building myself mental shelves. That way I can keep everything on a shelf, nice and neat, but not bursting at the seams or scattered all over the place.
I've always been a worrier. I worry about the silliest things. For example, what if I forget to replenish the supply of cups at work? In reality, the kids would just drink from the water fountain that day, but the reality of the situation eludes me. I might just have to intentionally forget the cups one day to prove to myself that nothing catastrophic will happen. The irony in all of my worrying is that one of the ultimate terrible things that could happen to me has, that being the death of my sister. What could compare other than another death? But I've been worrying about things for as long as I can remember, starting in preschool. I've heard it said that awareness is the first step toward change. That may be true, but at this point all awareness has done is make it harder for me to live my life. At least before, without the awareness, I could live me life in a way that felt good, even if it wasn't healthy. Now I know better. Knowing better sucks, and that first occurred to me when I was three and Ashley was a baby, and I realized that she couldn't get in trouble, because she was a baby and didn't know any better. I'm not sure where I'm going with this, so I'll end on that note.

Goodbye Summer

It's been one of those weeks where I feel like I just can't get started. It started on Sunday when I was dog/cat sitting for my parents, and I ended up leaving their house 3 hours later than I had originally planned. Monday was Monday, but Tuesday started off with such a gloomy feel to it, that I felt paralyzed. I couldn't get anything done at work, so I went to Walmart and bought a football for the kids to play with afterschool. I felt like sitting down and crying in the middle of Walmart, because it is so enormous, impersonal, smelly and fluorescent. Now it's happened again today. I went for a run after working this morning, and here I sit, 3 hours later in my apt. NOT working. I did do a lot of housework, but that was obviously one of my old distraction mechanisms I resort to from time to time. I really didn't need to clean. I'm feeling overwhelmed and very anxious. I get these surges of adrenaline for seemingly no reason that leave me feeling weak. Granted today is a beautiful, sunny day, I sense the changes that the fall and winter will bring about. I'm really anxious about this upcoming winter and all the memories of Ashley's death that it will bring. I realize that the anticipation of it all is much worse than the thing itself will actually be, but how do you come to terms with that?