Friday things.

Last week, on Sunday, I told Josh to go through the list of recipes I have and pick some out for the week. Then, I made a grocery list based on that, and he went to the store and bought everything. What I did not anticipate, however, was that he picked a large number of meals that yield leftovers...so now we only have to go replenish a few things for this next week, since we still have some frozen meat, and leftovers. Crazy. I should have realized this years ago. I have forever revolutionized grocery shopping.

Tomorrow night we're actually going to have a pretty fancy, and rather seafood-heavy, meal. Spicy shrimp dip to start, and steaks with saffron & lobster mashed potatoes on the side. I'm really excited!

The doctor visit went really well today. She actually concluded that I'm not bipolar, which was nice to hear, but then she said that I am delusional, which, apparently, is it's own diagnosis. I knew I had delusions, but didn't realize it was it's own disorder. Anyway, that plus anxiety NOS is what I have. Pretty sure she hit the nail on the head, though, because she actually read me the definition of each diagnosis and it was one of those, "Oh, hey, that's me!" moments. (Well, minus the exclamation point, I guess.) We talked for a long time, longer than any other doctor has ever talked to me (usually after one or two questions they hand me a prescription and show me the door) so it was really nice. I feel really comfortable with her, and I'm glad that it seems like this is going to work out. I have two more appoints with her, plus one with the actual psychiatrist (who, she warned me, will hand me a prescription and show me the door, but it'll be in conjunction with talking to her so I'm not worried.)

Just so I have a picture in this post, here is part of what I wore today. Alice + Olivia cashmere striped skirt, black tights, my Uggs that I swore to never leave the house in (it was cold and I was running late!), and you can kind of see my purse (Michael Kors) with it's fox fur keychain. (I pet it when I'm nervous.)

Do you have any idea how hard it is to get the smell of shrimp off your hands after you peel and de-vein two pounds of them? IMPOSSIBLE. My hands smell disgusting.

While we're on the subject of Annoying Things...my sunglasses are HERE, in this town, but I won't get them til Monday because Fed Ex is stupid. (Well, I think, I don't really know if they deliver on Saturday or not.)

I got inspired to make a bracelet today! Unfortunately my desk is still a horrific mess so it may be a couple of days before I get it cleared off, and work up the nerve to open my Giant Box of Fabric, but I promise it'll happen this week.

All those empty boxes from the gluten-free stuff I've been meaning to talk about are still in my kitchen. They're stuffed in a large bowl, and they get moved around at least once a day, but I haven't really been inspired to talk about them since I've cut out processed food for the time being.

Sometimes I get really sad about the fact that there is so much beauty in the world that I'll never get to experience. I mean, even if the whole world just stopped, right this second, and I never slept again, and spent the rest of my time alive just wandering the earth and experiencing everything this amazing planet has to offer - I still couldn't fit it all in.

"Getting old is a fatal mistake."

Free

One the major downsides to having a mental illness (besides, you know, having a mental illness) is the way it affects every other aspect of your life.

For example, one's physical health. I've struggled with my weight for the better part of 10 years now, and I know that there is a vicious cycle I tend to get trapped in. If I eat healthy, and work out regularly, it not only makes me feel better and gives me more energy, it also makes me feel better about myself, and in turn, I am happier in general. But when I get depressed one of the side effects is that I want to sleep all the time, and am completely unmotivated to do anything. That includes standing in front of the stove for 10 minutes to cook a healthy meal. And once I start eating crap, it makes me feel sick, bloated, and disgusted with myself for having done so...which sparks yet another bout of depression.

Like I said, a vicious, vicious cycle.

It also contributes to how clean or dirty the house is at any given time. Laundry is never a problem; I love doing laundry, and never let more than three loads pile up at once. Occasionally I'll even rewash stuff just so I can have a full load when I have a craving to do some laundry. (Yes I get cravings to do laundry. Yes I also realize this makes me one very strange individual.) Other things, though, tend to get left by the wayside when I'm depressed, mainly dishes that have to be washed by hand and cleaning random spills in the kitchen. It's gross, but when I can't really muster the strength to care about anything else, the kitchen really gets the brunt of it. And, again, the thought of how nasty it looks/is can be so overwhelming that it sends me over the edge again.

I'm pretty stable right now, as (hopefully) evidenced by my ability to articulate both a rational and coherent blog post. Unfortunately, it will not last forever. I wish it would, I really do, but I have no illusions about my disease; it is not one that can be cured, and it is certainly not to prone to just...disappearing.

For the time being I will do what I can; I will treat myself well, feed my body what it needs, and hope that it prolongs this time of mental peace. I'll avoid my triggers as much as I can, take things in stride, and not overwhelm myself whenever I can help it. I'll do what I love, what makes me truly happy, and not worry about what anyone else thinks or says. I feel so free right now, and I want to keep this.

plagued.

Sometimes the world is just too much, and I just want to not exist for a bit.

My head gets clouded with thoughts, and they're messy, disconnected, and overlapping, and I can't make sense of anything. I can't focus. People's voices mix with the words in my head, and I get overwhelmed. Silence is a distant memory, and the more I try to clear my head, the more thoughts clog it up.

I start to feel like I'm falling down a deep dark hole, but I can't ask for help. My heart burns and aches but my brain turns on me and tells me that I'm not worth one minute of anyone's time, and that I shouldn't bother people. I want to call someone, anyone, and just talk, tell them how I feel but my mind won't let me.

It says that I have no one, and that people won't understand. They'll think I'm crazy, or over-reacting, or just trying to get attention. It feeds on my low self-esteem, reminding me that I'm invisible, a nobody, a faceless statistic amongst a sea of people drowning in mental illness. I start to believe it.

I doubt my self-worth. I wonder what kind of impact, if any, I've ever had on anyone's life. I speculate how long it would take before people didn't even remember my name. How long before my animals stopped wondering if I was coming home.

I feel so alone, so trapped in this illness that lies, and breaks me down, and makes me hate myself. I want to tell someone, and I want reassurance, to know that there's a light at the end of the tunnel, but so often I don't get it. Instead I hear "just stop being sad" or "stop crying, your life is good." I know my life is good, that's not the issue. And I can't just stop being sad. This pain is real, these demons are real; I've got the scars to prove it.

I'm tired of feeling stigmatized because I can't always control my emotions. I'm tired of having anxiety attacks. I'm tired of living with this disease, and I'm tired of feeling tired all the time. I just want to...rest.

Anxieties

I've made no secret of the fact that I suffer from a severe anxiety disorder. I have a number of triggers that can set off anxiety attacks.

Some of them are the normal things you would associate with anxiety attacks; being in a closed space with too many people, and driving on a busy, undivided highway can both give way to panic.

Some of them are not as common, but are still explainable, as they are manifestations of traumatic incidents in my childhood, like my inability to be outside alone after dark, and how people driving past me with their windows down makes me uncomfortable.

Others, though, especially (for whatever reason) those that are focused on the night, are oddly inexplicable.

One of the strongest is a fear of closing the bathroom door. My brain, despite efforts on my part to convince it otherwise, has determined that if I close the bathroom door, and murderers break in while I'm in there, then I won't hear them and I'll walk right out and into their murderous plan. However, reason fails when it comes to understanding why having the door open, and them seeing me on the pot would save my life.

Another that stands out in my mind, and is equally lacking in logic is the idea that 5 AM is the magical time when murderers stop breaking into houses. If I get to bed before midnight, before Josh, or if we have company, this does not apply. (Again, this is not something I want to believe; these are simply things that my brain makes me believe, despite what I know to be true when I'm not in the midst of an attack, and can think logically.) I don't know why. I suppose all murderers have to be at work at 7 AM, and therefore they must do their dirty work before 5, so they can get home and get ready for their day job.

I'll share one more, and I don't know where it fits in exactly, because I've never really talked to other people with anxiety as severe as mine. I've read a few blog posts here and there, but it's not typically something people want to discuss, and I understand that, of course, but at the same time it's always nice to know that you're not alone in this horrible struggle. Anyway. The last thing I'll share is my fear of loud noises at night, or rather, what horrors those loud noises could possibly be covering up. Once it's dark, my TV gets turned down to the lowest possible volume I can get it and still hear what I'm trying to watch.

The rational part of my brain knows that these thoughts, these fears are ridiculous, and as I type them out I can see how silly they may sound to someone who's never felt the level of panic that I can feel over some of these things, but the truth is, when you're trapped in an anxiety attack there is no logic, no reason, it's just fear. Pure, unadulterated fear and panic, and those things are so very real in that moment. It's an awful feeling that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy, but I feel lucky that I have wonderful and understanding people in my life who help me through the darkness on my worst days.