Summer colds...

Damn these summer colds. I swear, this happens to me every single July/August. Usually around the time I'm getting ready to move. 

It started yesterday, or rather the day before yesterday when we went to Tampa.

My throat gets all icky and scratchy and the phlegm gets significantly worse until it's at the point where it is now and I just want to hawk out my entire lung area and start over. Did I mention it causes me to lose my voice? Yeah, I realized I had lost it when I was telling Siri to wake me up in half an hour and she looked up directions for me in a place that doesn't exist CAUSE THAT'S NOT WHAT I SAID. 

I mentioned to Alexis I needed to start adding pictures to my blog posts cause all text is just boring. But I'm not exactly sure what I would post pictures of since I'm not sure what's relevant... if I posted pics of my med bottles well that would probably convey a really bad image lol.

I love how I'm not formally blogging here like I do with my other blogs and I'm pretty much just rambling. This is awesome. It's been years since I've rambled in a blog! Blogging has really changed in the last ten years by the way. 

Anyway. 

Night 2 of a full pill was last night. It's getting easier to swallow (pun intended!), the fear isn't really bothering me anymore. So far things have been good. Steady. I feel like it's something I can hold on to that won't let me down as long as I keep doing what I'm suppose to be doing. I'm not too much afraid of relapse anymore, I've got that extra push that's reminding me to keep going. One foot in front of the other. One day after another. The voice that tells me I'm worthless or that basically has trapped me for the last ten years is still there, I can feel it. Sitting in a corner, watching. But it's not saying anything. Each day that passes it gets more and more powerless. I think it's a little mad at me, this might sound scary but I have a small fear it might be plotting revenge. It can't control me anymore. The compulsions I still do are things that I'm use to, things that I know will take a while for me to stop doing, to basically remind me myself to forget to do them. If that makes sense. But with the progress I'm making, I'm confident that I'll "forget" them in time.

I think the part I am most excited about is that my desire to do things is coming back. I almost wrote a to-do list today. My desire to blog, to read, to create is creeping back in. My desire to be around things that inspire me. I walked around the apartment smiling every now and then yesterday just thinking about random things and it was so nice. It was so nice to feel that way. 

I feel like the last 3 months have taken my life and turned it inside out and I can point fingers. I can play the blame game. I can sit here and continue to be angry at them but I choose not to. Instead I'll use this new energy to rebuild myself. 

M came home at 4AM this morning, again. And I texted him when I woke up suddenly at 330 to find his phone was off again so either it died or he was hiding from me. Either way, I wasn't upset. I literally rolled over and just went back to sleep. It turns out his phone died cause he was FaceTiming his younger siblings while he went on his nightly walk and lost track of time as always. Whatever, I didn't care, I just wanted sleep. And while it was nice to for once not go bat shit crazy and care it was also sad. Sad that he looks at it as me just going crazy and not me being worried. But that's not my problem anymore. I basically told him this morning I was never going to let someone take away my passions or make me feel guilty for loving food and crafts I may never learn. This is my life, I can do and be into what I want for any reason I choose. Back off. 

So here's to doing just that. Living for me. Taking care of me first before anyone else. Staying strong. Being consumed by my passions and forgetting the world like I use to.

No one's going to stop me ever again.

Here we go...

So last night was night 7 and I was told to take half a pill of Zoloft for 7 nights then a whole pill the rest of the 7... so I guess I was suppose to take my last half a pill last night and my first whole pill tonight? Uh, oops.

Anyway.

I took my first whole pill along with 1/4 of anti-anxiety and I went to go start reading Divergent. I've put off this book for four years because it's massive. I mean, I've been part of the book blogging community for the last 4 years and I remember the hype around the release of this title and how everyone loved it and I always told myself I was gonna pick it up and I just didn't... I mean it took me 4 years to also pick up City of Bones and so I figure if I breezed through the first 3 books in The Mortal Instruments series in like 2 days I can finish Divergent within the 14 day borrow period I have. M went to see the movie and said it was great, he didn't read the book but everyone says it's as close to the book as The Hunger Games was so, that's good. Anyway I'm on chapter 5 so far and this is what I don't like about dystopia's... info dump. Like, I don't care about your parents conversation, I wanna know what's going to happen tomorrow NOW.

But, I was sitting up while I was reading and I was wide awake. Which kind of... confused me. Usually I have about 20 minutes after my shower before I knock out from the Zoloft. But I was wide awake. So I laid down after hitting chapter 5 and yup, there it was. The drowsy. Straaaaange. Yes, I'm totally going to test that theory tonight too. Let's hope I get through another 5 chapters. Or 10. 10 would actually be really nice.

We're not here to talk about books. We talk books over there.

So I woke up today actually feeling really good. Normal. It felt like waking up on the first morning of Spring. Like it felt like the sun was shining through the window and you could smell the clean cotton air and you could feel that Spring warmth and that light breeze.... except I was in bed, it was cloudy outside and I was under my covers but the ceiling fan was on!

But it literally felt like a new day.

Almost like... the first day of my new life.

And that feelings of contentment almost happiness... I don't really want to call it that because I'm kind of afraid of the word... is still with me and it's almost 830PM. Today was a breeze. Nothing happened that bothered me or stressed me. I paid my phone bill and was fine even. And that little voice and urge of creativity and wanting to do things is pulling at my soul. I can feel it!

And I'm really excited to see what tomorrow will be like.

I also need to start adding pictures to these blog posts cause they're kinda boring without them and also... I need to fix this template. Like, seriously.

Worse before better?

I'm nearing the end of my first week with Zoloft, meaning I can stop taking half and start taking a whole. Which sort of frightens me because the half made me pretty darn drowsy does that mean... the whole would make me twice as drowsy? Or does it not matter? I guess we shall find out!

I noticed yesterday morning I woke up really really depressed. Just for no particular reason. I just didn't have the desire to get up or do anything. I ended up laying in bed awhile longer watching Lilo & Stitch on Netflix before I got a voice mail from my leasing office about well... shit that stresses you out. So much for that relaxing moment... oh life.

But the depression seemed to stay with me the rest of the day, well into night when I was falling asleep. And it was a strong, deep, hopeless sort of depression. Not like the kind I've felt before but something entirely different. 

I woke up this morning with the same feeling and though now that it's almost 7PM it has lessened a bit but it's still pretty much there. I guess it doesn't help that my relationship life isn't really helping either but that's something I'd rather not talk about --- no matter how much it actually impacts this journey let's pretend it does not.

So I looked it up because that's what people do now with the power of the internet and Google and all that other stuff. And I came across this thread of people discussing the same issue. I know everyone reacts to medication, especially something like this completely differently than everyone else but it's nice to know that other people have experienced what I'm experiencing and that it will go away and there's nothing to worry about. I just have to push through.

In other news, I can see small changes that are working. Things I've wanted to talk about before and haven't. 

The other night I was with a friend in a crowded area, a typically crowded area and I normally hate when people touch me. If they brush up on me, if they accidentally touch me. Anything. It freaks me out, not sure why, but it's just this thing. So we're walking through this crowd and people are brushing up against me, bumping me, touching me and I'm just... walking right on through like none of this even matters. Like, I don't even care. And it wasn't until I got to a clearing that I realized what happened. We sat on a curb waiting for a parade to start and sitting ass-to-curb use to be a thing I did ALL THE TIME pre-OCD days but not something I do often or really ever now. But I plopped my ass down and waited and watched the parade with her, not moving, not caring, not freaking out. I didn't even dust my ass off like I "normally" would.

A pretty big accomplishment however happened last night.

I was sitting on my bedroom floor and I had my shoes on and I ran my hand across the carpet. Like, if you were just playing with it. It has been three years since my hand has touched carpet like that. THREE. YEARS. And I was just overwhelmed with happiness at what I was doing. I kept grabbing and running my hand over it and I wasn't freaking out. I wasn't worried. I wasn't set on getting up and washing my hands RIGHT NOW. I was enjoying every second of it.

Then when I went to take a shower my slipper accidentally hovered over the foot towel. I know my foot didn't come down so technically it didn't touch the towel so I shrugged it off and took a shower and moved on. Like it wasn't a big deal.

So things are changing --- little things. And while I'm excited about this new sense of freedom and not freaking out and getting anxiety I'm also a little scared. Because what happens? What happens when all these things I'm use to stop happening? What happens when it's the big things that start changing? What happens when it all goes away? What then? What will my life be like then? What will I be like then? It's like OCD is this friend that's always been with you, in your head, in your ear telling you these things (I never said it was a good friend) and with all these changes it's suddenly just me. Just me and silence. And it's almost like losing a part of you.

And I think a bit of my depression has to do with how I don't know how to deal with that.

Oh hi, hello.

I never know how to start new blogs.

Should I give you a little background?

Should I just jump straight into the point?

Should I just babble? 

Does it even matter?!

I guess a blog like this might call for a little bit of background information --- if you care enough to read it.

I think looking back I've always had some sort of OCD tendency but it wasn't something that really bothered me or something I really thought about. Just a "quirk" I guess. It wasn't until around early 2004 that OCD started to creep in a little stronger.

Me and my boyfriend did a lot of napping after school. His house, my house, whatever. We were really big on napping. Well one afternoon his older brother was home and he was stepping on my boyfriends bed --- which I had just been napping on --- with his shoes on. ALL OVER THE PILLOW. I was disgusted. I told my boyfriend about it and his response? "Oh, he does that a lot."

Excuse me?

My face was just smashed into that pillow not too long ago as I was drifted into blissful sleep and you're saying I was basically cuddling up with whatever shit was on the bottom of his shoe?! 

Needless to say I went home that night and took the longest shower of my life before getting into my own bed for the night.

From there the OCD just got worse. I'd shower every night I came home from his house. Then it turned into I had to vacuum before showering before bed every night. Then other things started happening; I was really big on keeping things "clean" and I suddenly had excessive urges to wash my hands. To not walk around barefoot even though we have carpet. Certain things couldn't be touched after I took a shower if I wasn't sure if it was "clean" or not. If my hand grazed the wall on accident trying to turn on a light switch I'd have to wash my hands. I was set on doing my own laundry because I wanted to make sure it was "clean". I'd keep my door closed so my pets couldn't roam into my room making my floor "dirty" even though my mom still did it and it caused me to vacuum twice a day, every day. 

And the anxiety just kept getting worse and worse. I remember the peek of it. I remember how helpless and confined and scared and out of control I felt. I remember how crazy my thoughts were because I didn't know what was happening or why or where it came from. All I knew was that it felt like there was a parasite in my brain telling me these things that didn't make sense, these things I had to do in order to "be calm" and that voice was SO STRONG. I remember it being so very strong and I remember trying to fight it and breaking down and crying because fighting against it meant my anxiety would run wild. 

I battled depression since I was 13. But I battled it alone and in secret. My mom is a psych nurse and she could tell I was depressed growing up and she would always say, "if you're depressed let me know" but other times she would say "if they find out you're crazy they'll throw you in my hospital." and for a very long time I didn't want to go to the doctor about my depression or my OCD because I was scared they would think I was crazy and lock me away. And it's a shame I grew up thinking that, maybe I could had gotten help sooner. 

In 2006, my OCD had completely taken over my life and my thoughts and I was so far gone that I was completely out of control. I was miserable. I was pretending. I was a huge huge mess. And so I bit the bullet and I started looking for a therapist. It took me two tries to find the perfect one. The first one I saw did nothing but try to push drugs on me which I declined --- I wanted to beat this on my own. And she told me that there was no way to cure it with just therapy alone and it's hopeless to even try. The only way is with drugs. So I thanked her for her time and moved on. The second therapist I saw didn't mind that I declined drugs but he was curious to know my battle plan and for a number of years he supported whatever idea I came up with. While therapy did and did not help, I will forever me thankful for his support when I felt so completely lost. The last time I saw him was in 2008 and I saw him again at the end of 2012 and when he saw me he looked shocked and said "you're not wearing a hood today." and I said "no, I'm not." and he said "last time I saw you, you were really concerned about keeping your hair clean so you'd always wear a hood." and I had completely forgotten about that. It touched me that he remembered and he noticed. Even after all these years.

It's a shame I had to move across the country and find another therapist. No other will compare to his dedication and support.

So it is now 2014 and I've lived with the ups and downs of OCD for ten years. There are times when I will "be better" and there are times where I will relapse and I think with OCD, it's so easy to because it's not some physical thing you can put your finger on. It's something that just happens. You can't really control it physically, you can't see it and you can't touch it.

I recently made the decision to start medication. Because I can't do this on my own and it's gotten to the point where it's taking over my life again. So I'm on the lowest dosage of Zoloft, half a pill a day for 7 days then a full pill once a day for 7 more days just to see where it goes. While waiting for that to kick in I'm on an anti-anxiety medication called Clonazepam again the lowest dosage anywhere from 1/4 to half a pill three times a day or as needed. I usually take half a pill during the day and 1/4 at night since the mixture of both the Clonazepam and Zoloft makes me drowsy.

So, this is my journey. 

Hopefully into taking my life back.