st ends

Be Fri

So I think everyone has heard about my "therapist-week-from-hell" week. Zach and I are no longer seeing our couple's counselor and I hope to never have to deal with that grief counselor again. Like Nancy in regard to her classes and profs., I don't know how much I am "allowed" to say here. All I know is that my confidence in how I've been living my life was shaken to the core. I felt like I'd been trampled upon and left, battered and alone in a dark forest, to the wolves. Where did all the compassion go? So how do I regain my strength and patch my battered soul? I've decided that the answer to that is through my friends. Janet keeps telling me what wonderful friends I have and to use them, call them,talk to them, and cash in on my friendships, so to speak. She tells me that she has to tell some of her clients NOT to call their friends, because they attract people who are not good for them. Good friends say something about who you are. I can't thank my friends enough. Nancy, Jenni, Annie and Liz, I can't thank all of you enough.

Better

I'm feeling SO much better tonight. I talked to Nancy yesterday and Jenni and Annie today. All those I reached out to extended their love back toward me. **I should make note of this for future reference.** It's not that I ever doubted it, but rather that I didn't feel what I had to say was worth talking about. I suppose I doubted myself more than anything. Last night was rough going. I didn't get to sleep until after 1:00 a.m., and I was thinking all those terrible thoughts that only come at that time of night, when the world feels like it's ending and there's no point to going to sleep becuase that just means waking up again the next morning. By this morning I was feeling better, though.
I'll post more later. Have a good Thursday everyone!

How do I trust myself?

Do you often get the feeling that there is some better way to be living your life? That somehow we're just deceiving others with false pretense? Lately that's how I've been feeling. I have been "cheating" at life. I'm not really living, but pretending to do so. I have little tricks, habits, obsessions and addictions that dictate my life. It's not real. I often don't know who's in charge-me or my obsessions. Can the two actually be separated?
I'm not happy with my coping mechanisms. I resort to old habits, like weighing myself too much, trying to control what I eat, creating lists of things to do in my mind, cleaning when nothing is dirty, and cutting myself. Where the hell did that last one come from? I am an intelligent person and I feel like I should know better, but I get to a point where I just don't care. It's a form of self punishment. If I keep it a secret, then I start to go crazy. If I tell people, I feel crazy and stupid. I hate that I don't tell Zach these things, and then I feel like if I can't talk to him about it then I shouldn't talk to anyone about it. Ultimately it's me that I'm hurting and deceiving, but somehow that doesn't resonate with me. I don't feel like I'm important enough to acknowledge the hurt. Then nothing feels important anymore. There are so many people in this world. How can they all be significant?
I just don't know how to deal with this-the feelings of insignificance and the stresses of life. I think I'm dealing with it just fine, and then I feel hopeless. I am staring destruction in the face, what looks like a shattered image of myself, and I don't know what's real.

The importance of accuracy in diagnosing penile disfunction

It's almost 1:00 p.m., Zach has left for work and I still haven't changed out of my pajamas. I've gotten a lot done though. I cooked all morning-cookies and a big pot of chili; this in addition to the mac 'n cheese and the mushroom noodle casserole I made this weekend from the Moosewood Cookbook. I don't know what's prompted me to do all this cooking. It could be because I actually have the time to cook. For a while I didn't feel like preparing anything more complicated than a bowl of cereal and a peanut butter sandwich. I'm starting to enjoy this time to myself. I haven't thought once about the course I had been teaching since I resigned. I've been reading lots, watching movies and listening to music and, from time to time, picking fights with Zach. Right before he left this afternoon he said he thought he might have a bladder infection. I said that it would be really painful while urinating and that there might be blood. He disagreed with me. He said either way it's still an irritation. I said that that's not the same as an infection. I know I was being a twit, but I am the type of person who insists on using medical terms properly. Some things just can't be thrown around lightly. Maybe it has to do with my sister's sickness and the need for an accurate diagnosis. At any rate, I don't think he has an infection, but, then again, Zach's threshold for pain might be different from mine, greater than mine.
But somehow I don't think so.

March 5, 2005

Today would have been Ashley's 25th birthday. I keep trying to think of something commemorative, exciting or crazy to do, but I don't like any ideas I come up with. Instead I'll probably just remember it is her birthday and go have a drink with Zach, Liz and Jay tonight. According to Buddhist belief, the spirit wanders the earth for 49 days after death. Sometime between last night and this morning would have marked 49 days since Ashley's death.

The Land of Perfect

Today feels like a day of action. I went from paralysis yesterday to action today. I just need to be sure not to put it in overdrive. I'm realizing that when I have those awful days of being lonely, inarticulate, needy and down on myself that it usually means there's a change coming about. If I can catch myself in those moments, then I can do something positive about it. I just hate even having those moments. Why the hell can't I be PERFECT? Nancy, if I don't discover the cure for AIDS today, then I'm throwing in the towel and going to live in those Walgreen ads on TV (you know the ones I'm talking about? Where the sky looks so pretty and people are singing Ahhh Ahhh Ahh Ah in the background?). It's now or never.

A Pleasant Monday

I stayed in most of today and read a great children's book called Kira-Kira by Cynthia Kadohata. I highly recommend it. It takes place in the 1950s, and is about a Japanese-American family trying to make a living in Georgia. It's also about Kate's older sister Lynn's illness and eventual death. Those are the only kinds of books I am reading right now. The end made me cry.
I also made banana bread, went food shopping and bought myself a pair of cute, black nylon, Mary-Jane-like shoes at TJ Maxx for $7.00. How could it get any better?

Note to Nancy: I will help you with all the wedding nonsense just as you helped me. I had to keep reminding myself that the wedding was more for my family than anyone else, and then I felt less guilty about all the money my parents put into it. And I did have fun.

Hitting a Nerve

So it's Saturday again. The weeks have been sliding by in a blur. The past few days have been good, though. On Thursday I realized that I don't need to "feel" sad all of the time. I can be angry, happy, depressed, joyous, tired, withdrawn, hyper, or fearful. Instead of forcing myself to feel sad, and wondering why I can't seem to cry, I can let myself be, and then cry when it comes naturally. This is a BIG relief.
Yesterday marked one month of the date of Ashley's death. It seems like it's been twice that long already. I feel like I'm swimming, or just trying to stay afloat, in the midst of chaos, and I'm waiting for that moment of clarity when it hits me again that Ashley is gone. I know that one day soon I am going to inadvertently pick up the phone to call her, and then will remember that I can't. The whole concept of death is beyond comprehension.
Last night Zach and I were discussing whether or not her spirit was around. Whenever I think of that possibility, it makes me nervous. If the spirit lingers, then is it aware of what is going on in the living world, and, if so, would it have any regrets or would it be lonely? I don't like to think about those possibilities. Whenever I think of Ashley's spirit, I can only think of an evil one. For me it's simpler to just believe that she's just gone, and that there's nothing more. Maybe that will change one day, but for now it keeps the harsh, cold reality of her death in my mind, and I don't want to forget it.

**Nancy, I started the Anne Lamott novel. I showed Janet, and she said she loves Anne Lamott and that she thought she had read all of her books (she hasn't read this one). My friend Liz is also a big Anne Lamott fan. There must be something in her writings that hits a nerve with all of us. Thanks again for the books.

Thinking that I should feel a certain way and that I'm a FREAK if I don't.

I don't have to teach anymore. They found a replacement for me. I'm happy about it, yet also saddened. I have to keep reminding myself that I did the responsible thing by resigning, even though it feels the exact opposite.
I'm feeling kind of numb to everything right now. I keep thinking that I should feel sad or angry or any certain way, and if I don't, then I'm a freak. I'm so afraid that I won't feel the sadness around Ashley's death anymore and that life will go on as normal. What kind of person am I if the death of my own sister doesn't make me sad? I know I'm overreacting, and that I'm such a perfectionist.
The books are great, Nancy. I'm almost finished with "Landscape without Gravity".
Thanks.

Grief hurts

Nancy, I'm writing this for you. Thank you so much for listening to me Saturday and for giving me great advice. I've written my letter of resignation and will be done teaching by Feb. 9th, or sooner if they find a replacement. I've been feeling sick about the whole thing and the fact that I even have to make such a decision. I knew I didn't want to continue teaching, but I felt horribly guilty about quitting. That guilt, or shame or whatever it is, is outweighed by my sorrow and the feelings of relief at not having to teach anymore when I really think about it. I miss Ashley. There's a knot in my throat and a tightness in my chest that just won't go away. I think there's also a hole in my heart, because it hurts when I think that there are supposed to be three of us, not two.

The evil voice that intrudes on my happiness

Okay, the part where I FREAK OUT has taken effect.

"Nope. I'm not going to write my dissertation" I said. "I'm not going to finish my PhD. You know, the thing with the classes, the teaching, and the exams and all that have contributed to my state of misery* over the past 5 years? Yeah, that's the thing I'm not going to finish".

And then there's this voice in my head, this evil voice that asks "Who says you're not going to continue putting yourself through this hell? Who gave you permission to decide to stop? What other rules are you going to break now? How will you support yourself without this as a career? Do you think you'll be able to do anything? And if there's something else you want to do with your life, don't get too excited because if you really want it hard enough it probably won't work out. The pressure of succeeding will be too great".

Seeing it written down really makes clear how harsh and unfair that voice is. I still think I can do this. I know I can change my career path and explore something that interests me, like speech pathology. But I'm still scared. I feel very strange, like I'm in some kind of state of limbo. It's kind of like "Chutes and Ladders", which I played with Alison yesterday. You're almost to the top, almost at the end, and then you land on that BIG chute that takes you all the way back to the beginning, but not the very beginning. You're neither at the beginning nor at the end. Is it human nature to want to create beginnings and ends for everything? I don't really know what the end is, but for some reason that's where I want to be. And that's where Alison wanted to be, too. She didn't handle losing to me (twice) well at all.

*The word "misery" may be a slight exaggeration, but only a very slight one.

Marriage

My first blog of the new year. yeah. There's really nothing new going on, though. It's the same stuff happenin'. Zach and I got back from Massachusetts Monday afternoon at 2:30 and went straight to our therapy session. I insisted that we go, and, even though we had been driving for 8 hours through the rain with very little sleep and no lunch, he came along. And it was a good session, because while we are there we are forced to listen to each other. Instead of having last year's Turmoil push us farther apart, we are taking small steps toward each other. Just when I think there's nothing we can do to improve our marriage, and that we'd be better off separated, things start looking up again. We can talk openly with each other, we are patient with each other, and it feels like as long as I have Zach near me like this, we can accomplish anything. Zach, if you're reading this, thank you for your love and support.

Anxious, Hungry, or Loony?

Been up since 4:30 this morning, probably because I'm anxious about the holiday. I watched the first half hour of Bridget Jones's Diary and then had some french toast-mmm. It's 6:30 now. Maybe I'll go for a walk.

Thoughts

My mind keeps spinning with the thought of the upcoming holiday and break in my routine. I have so much trouble adjusting to an environment other than my own for more than a four-day period. Somehow it really feels like the end of something, and I mean more than just the semester. I will miss commuting to Selinsgrove early in the morning and again in the evening with Zach. I will miss my familiar routine.
In January I start a new one; teaching at a new school, babysitting for a new family in addition to the one I already babysit for, beginning work on my dissertation, rearranging different appointments, and finding time for myself. It's also been nearly one year since my bout with major depression. It's still hard for me to even say it.

That didn't happen to me. I could have handled it better. Who am I to label myself with that, because doing so would admit to my self-worth and importance as a person, and I certainly didn't feel worthy of anything last year at this time.

I'm learning to feel worthy and to have respect for myself. I'm learning to take up space in the world, both literally and figuratively speaking.

Bathroom Privacy Comes with a Cost

Last week I babysat Maya, my usual Thursday morning routine. The reason I'm mentioning this now is because Maya is just over 2 years old, and has recently been potty trained. Needless to say, we spend lots of time in the bathroom.
During our first round on the toilet, she informed me that she needed privacy, so I slid the door shut all but a crack and asked if that was good. "No" she said, "it's not good. All the way". Three and a half minutes later I heard the toilet flush three consecutive times in a row, one after the other, one, two, three.
I opened the door to find Maya standing there, mind you, naked from the waist down peering into the toilet. She looked up at me with her big, blue eyes, pleading for my forgiveness, desperately trying to get rid of the evidence. When I looked down, I saw a clump of tissues floating in the rising water. The box on top of the toilet was empty. I can't get mad at her, because I remember doing stuff like that when I was her age, and, besides, it could have been far worse than tissues. So instead I decided to reason with her, and I explicitly explained to her how tissues cost money, and that it's not good to just throw them away like that, because they're not cheap. That's logical, right? By my reasoning, if she's old enough to request privacy in the bathroom, then she's old enough to understand the value of a dollar.
She blinked up at me and then turned to play in the running water in the sink.

Reminder to self: Only allow a two-year old privacy in the bathroom if she can understand the cost of diminishing returns, monetary value, cash deficit, and price ceilings.

Tagesablauf

German-(loosely translated as) The unfolding of the day

I realized today that it's been almost two weeks since I last posted anything. So to summarize what those last two weeks have been like, Thanksgiving was pretty good, I'm tired of turkey, the semester can't end soon enough, I don't always know what day it is, and sometimes I get my classes mixed up and make mistakes in creating their exams, specifically on the vocab section where I give my German 2 students words from my German 3 class, and still don't realize that I made that mistake until a student points it out to me halfway through the exam, there are too many crappy holiday songs on the radio interfering with my music, I've seen The Grinch 5 times on TBS already, and I hope to see it 5 more times!, I've eaten pounds of sweet, juicy clementines, and all of a sudden I really want a kitten. I guess I'll wait until I have my own house for that or at least a lease which allows for pets. I am happiest when I'm driving home from school with Zach, and we talk, listen to the news, but mostly we listen to music, discuss what we'll have for dinner, and watch the reflection of the light on the clouds in the sky, as it goes from light to dark, from light blue to yellow and orange and then to dark blue, with the clouds silhouetted against it. And then there are the mountains and the fir trees all around us. It's all so beautiful, peaceful, serene, awesome, humbling, and somehow sad, and it makes me want to drive forever.

Organic Mayo and Brussel Sprouts

I am so obsessed with blogs!! Nancy, this is your fault. I never even knew they existed before last June. But I'm thankful for my new obsession. It's actually good for me. I read about other people's lives and know that I'm not alone when it comes to things like depression. It's so refreshing to hear other people talk about it, because it's constantly on my mind. I can also write about my own life right here, which is really good for me. And it lets Nancy know what I'm up to since I always seem to miss her calls and am too lazy to pick up the phone and dial her number myself. It's nothing personal. I'm just SO not a phone person. I run and hide when it rings. So all-in-all I'm feeling pretty content right now, so maybe I'll put off that phone call home for a few more hours (or days).

I just got back from food shopping at Wegman's. It always takes me twice as long to shop there as it does at Giant, and somehow I end up spending more on fewer items. I know why, though. It's because Wegman's is laid out so nice and pretty. I'm totally sucked into the facade. I do have to say, however, that their produce is much more plentiful and fresher than most other grocery stores I've seen. I end up buying things I would NEVER otherwise buy, like fresh brussel sprouts, which I do love btw, flax seeds, and tinted lip balm and facial cream with Vit. D, both of which are not tested on animals AND are organic. The reason I went to that store in the first place was to get some organic mayo. Zach loves this brand called Canes (do I need one of those little Rs next to that to let people know it's trademarked?) , which is only sold in New England. I am also hooked on it now. I was never a mayonnaise person before I got married. Anyway, Wegman's does not carry Canes, but I know they have organic mayo which I thought might be good, at least better than Hellman's (another little R there). It was the last item I picked up in the store, and I had to go back and look for it. I am just struck dumb when I'm in that store. I suppose if I went more often I would know what they stock and not be so amazed by the selection. Wegman's really has become a hot spot in State College.

The mayonnaise is decent and the brussel sprouts were great!

Hurting

Today I really miss my sisters. I miss the way things used to be a long time ago. I miss the times we spent conspiring against each other or my parents, I miss our old ways of fighting and arguing about crossing that imaginary line in the backseat of the car, I miss watching tv together on a Friday night, but most of all I miss their health and their presence in my life. I would give my right arm if it meant they could both be healthy again. This is the most I've ever felt the loss of my sisters, and it hurts. I know that they are still here, but they are both struggling with their health. I am struggling with knowing that things will never be as they once were or as I once thought they would be. There is nothing that could ever replace my sisters.

My Newly Discovered Talent:

Chugging water.

I can go through the entire alphabet in my head while chugging water. without taking a breath.

Why, you ask?

Because on the days when I go for a run and drink my daily half cup of coffee, I am in a state of hydration deficit (not quite the same as dehydration), and if I just drink a glass of water here and there, I won't be able to achieve equilibrium for the next five days. The whole delicate system is thrown off, and that equilibrium includes the functioning of my bowels. If they aren't working regularly, then I'm a bear, and being a constipated bear interferes with the stability and sanctity of my marriage. So for the sake of my marriage, I've developed the talent, or survival technique, of chugging water.

On the Fringe

I'm living on the fringe today. It's been a day of preparing, thinking, and eventually doing, but somehow it feels as if I'm not really in or part of the day. My surroundings feel distant and unreal, flat and two-dimensional. My body has been placed onto the surroundings of the day, but not in them. It's like those colorforms that we played with as kids. You place the plasticy, sticky figures onto the shiny, cardboardy background and create a scene. I'm the plasticy figure sticking to the background, just stuck there, with no way of really moving. There's me on one side and the world on the other, and they're at odds with each other.
I can't really figure out how this happens. It's a bright, sunny day, I'm getting along well with Zach, and I'm sleeping well, eating well, and getting plenty of fresh air. I start to wonder if I'm brooding too much, and, after a few more hours of brooding, I conclude that I am.
Okay. So now that's been established.
Thinking about this coming winter and what I'm going to do once my teaching position ends is frightening. I love fall and winter, but they are typically times when I feel most depressed, and I certainly don't want to have nothing to do come January. It's hard not to think that these feelings will last forever, and when I do talk about them I feel like a whiny baby. I'm really scared of what could happen. Could something like what happened last winter (the debilitating depression, self harm and thoughts of/plans for suicide) happen ever again? The effects from that time are still lingering, and I'm afraid that even if I did feel 100% better, that I could get sideswiped by it all again. What would be worse, being sideswiped or living in a heightened state of anxiety? I don't know right now. Right now it feels like I have no other viable option. So I'm living on the fringe, worrying about it, and trying to make sense of it all. Maybe it will never make sense.