27.7.06
7:30 Thursday Night
This past week has marked the beginning of morning sickness. I haven't actually vomited, but I feel nauseous nearly ALL DAY LOOOONG. This morning was the worst. I laid down on the grass at work and finally went to my car to take an hour-long nap, but not before calling the advice nurse in desparation for some advice and relief. In short, there is none. She suggested doing what I have been doing-sipping ginger ale, eating crackers and other bland foods, and eating small, frequent meals to avoid a dip in my blood sugar and headaches. I felt remarkably better by noon, and even ate the chicken noodle soup one of the girls at work bought for me. It is hard to eat, but when I do, it's foods I don't normally eat-french fries, grilled cheese, beef vegetable soup, and pizza. I haven't had a piece of fruit in over a week, and normally I'm the 2-a-day girl along with 3 servings of vegetables and the "right" amounts of every other food group. My diet is turned on its head. I walked throught the grocery store tonight with Zach looking at foods and determing what I might want to eat in the next few days by my gag reflex. If I could look at it and didn't feel like wretching, then I might be able to eat it. That list included: chicken and beef soups, black beans, canned sweet potatoes, cream of wheat, and fruit popsicles. Sometimes I can also tolerate cheese. It's nearing my bedtime, which is at about 8:00 now, so I need to shower and get ready for tomorrow. More to come soon...
16.7.06
5 Weeks
Today I am five weeks pregnant. I am cautious, anxious, and very excited right now. I know it's early, but I still wanted to share the news. I'm feeling pretty good, only slightly nauseous with slightly irritated bowels. There'll be plenty more to come later (in the way of both news and symptoms, I'm sure).
2.7.06
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.
Good luck Nancy and Michael with the apt. search out in LA! I can't wait to hear all about your travels and experiences.
2.6.06
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.
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.
21.5.06
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.
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.
11.5.06
Burlinton, VT/UVM/Our trip from end to beginning
Pomeroy Hall. This is where the communicative disorders dept. is located. I met with the dept. head for about an hour Monday afternoon. She was very friendly and enthusiastic, and I asked as many questions as I could think of in that hour. I enjoyed my visit, but I am still as ambivalent as before I took the trip. Zach and I have been weighing the pros and cons, and I think it will come down to us deciding how sick of State College we are.
University of Vermont
Bomoseen Golfland, near Bomoseen Lake and in the town of Bomoseen. This became the butt of a joke for at least an hour as my mom and I were driving up to Burlington. Who the hell is Bomo? What else did Bomo seen? We were waiting for the "Bomo for Mayor" lawn sign, but we didn't seen it.
Burlington, VT
Church Street, the main pedestrian shopping area in Burlington. My mom was disconcerted by the number of seedy-looking men just hanging around all day doing. My sister-in-law, who used to live in Burlington, informed us that they closed down the state mental hospital a few years ago. I am certainly of the mindset that mentally ill people should not be kept hidden away from society, and at the same time, I don't like to be yelled at and pestered for money. There are about 35,000 people in Burlington, which is about the same size as State College. The surrounding area of Burlington was more desolate than SC.
One of the replica lighthouses on Lake Champlain (at sunset).
We followed this truck for several miles on our way home. Look closely at the logo.
The tattoo I almost chickened out of. It's a silouhette of a small butterfly (in case you can't tell) with Ash written beneath it. It's on the back of my left leg, just above my ankle. I wanted it closer to my ankle, but the area was too narrow. It only took about 10 minutes, and it hurt, but I didn't faint. It felt like small razor blades cutting into my skin, but the vibrations of the needle helped numb most of the pain. My mom got a pink and blue butterfly with Ashley's initials, AVE, on the inside of her right wrist. It was definately the highlight of our trip.
Burlington, VT
The night my mom and I arrived in Burlington, we walked down to the waterfront and caught the end of the sunset. My camera has all kinds of settings, including taking pictures in the dark. I had a great time playing around with the different settings.
Lake Champlain at sunset. The lake extends down from Canada into Vermont and NY. Two-thirds of the lake lies in Vermont. It was briefly named the 6th Great Lakel, but the honor was revoked after a year. There is a loch ness monster in the lake named Champ.
Here is a picture of me, pre-tattoo (more to come on that later), sitting in front of the lake.
The distant mountains behind Lake Champlain.
One of three gargoyles sitting atop some office buildings near the waterfront.
Lake Champlain at sunset. The lake extends down from Canada into Vermont and NY. Two-thirds of the lake lies in Vermont. It was briefly named the 6th Great Lakel, but the honor was revoked after a year. There is a loch ness monster in the lake named Champ.
Here is a picture of me, pre-tattoo (more to come on that later), sitting in front of the lake.
The distant mountains behind Lake Champlain.
One of three gargoyles sitting atop some office buildings near the waterfront.
4.5.06
Not just a dog lover
When I look at this picture of Tyler*, my parent's 10 year old cat, I just want to squeeze him and rub my chin against his head while smothering him in kisses. I think he's so damn cute, and I know I must be a cat lover because, objectively speaking, he really doesn't look anything like cute in this picture.* His namesake is Steven Tyler from Aerosmith.
29.4.06
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.
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.
24.4.06
Grainy pics of pics
My parents (1972-my dad's senior prom)
Ashley-Christmas, 1990
Ashley and my grandfather at my wedding (8/16/03)
22.4.06
Two of my favorite things
A few days ago my mom left the kitchen door that leads out to the garage open as well as the car door while she was gathering some supplies for work. When she got out to the car, who did she see sitting in the passanger seat but Zoe. She was all ready to go for a ride. Perhaps she wanted to drive up to State College to visit her favorite people, one of whom is pictured above. My mom had to entice Zoe out of the car with a peanut butter bone.
16.4.06
It's Easter.
Me, my grandmother, and Ashley.
Photo taken December 31, 2004, about 2 weeks before Ashley died.
Exciting News
My sister-in-law and her boyfriend at Christmas. They're expecting a baby boy this September.
9.4.06
8.4.06
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.
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.
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