Apology To Myself

Well, I feel like I need to apologize, mostly for feeling like I wasn't allowed to be upset the past two days when I did have every right to be. There is so much inner turmoil and to deny myself the right to feel it is deny myself the chance to work on it - and work through it. So, I'm not sorry for venting so deeply the last few days and I'm trying to be more positive about my situation.

It's funny how you write such personal things on the web, even knowing full well that millions of people, even family, could come across it. I hope to God that nobody I really know ever reads these ramblings, except Venti of course.

My God things have been rough - that's true, but there are good things in there to be found. I am trying very hard to write only about those things tonight because I hear it's all about perspective.

Perhaps the lesson I need to learn most with Grande is that things are not always what they seem. Tonight he hurt my feelings something fierce and I took it very personally, anger welled up inside of me so badly that I panicked at the physical sensations of it. Venti came home shortly after the whole episode, after Grande had stormed up to his room, and gave me a fresh perspective on the whole thing. He said he would bet anything that Grande was up in his room sleeping - just like he was the night that he refused to open his door. After Venti went up to change, he came down and confirmed it - that yes, Grande was definitely sound asleep. So I started to think ... what time did he go to bed last night? No earlier than 2:30am - and he said he'd gotten up at 6:30, so of course he was tired. So, what I thought was definitely sheer hatred and using me as a doormat, was - well, some of that but also the fact that he was very tired.

So - what's the solution? Make sure that he gets to bed at a reasonable hour? It's after midnight right now and the "episode" happened at about 5:30, he's still sleeping. I wonder if he'll come down so we can talk about the whole thing? I hope he doesn't, I hope he sleeps until tomorrow morning and then when he gets home from school we can talk.

I really do love him so very much, I wish he respected me as a mother. Venti says that he treats me as if I'm his sister - which would seem more realistic since I had him so young - hell, I didn't do a very good job of standing up against my ex-mother in law when it came to her trying to steal him away from me and raise him as if he were her own, God I was so young. But, I know better now, and I'm trying to work with what I've got. I just have to try to remember that I'm 32, not 17. I'm the parent. I'm an adult. He is the kid, he gets that role and I get the parent role and although it's going to take a big shift in perspective, it's something solid I can work with. There, that felt positive!

Our financial situation. It's not permanent, and even if it turns out to be - I've got my kids and my husband and we love each other alot. We'll figure something out - but regardless, we'll have each other.

(Man, I'm really fighting hard not to bitch about things!!!! This is difficult!!)

We have a nice home with enough room and we live in a good school district - the kids are doing better with their grades than they have in a long time, the kids in the neighborhood are generally pretty nice and it's also a safe neighborhood.

We are 3 hours from the Atlantic Ocean - and although it's not nearly as impressive as the Pacific, it's there if we need to get away. (Biting my lip...get away to the crowds in NJ? **groan**)

My family. Oi. Okay, I can do this. I can't fix my sisters drug addiction or control addiction, I can't fix my other sisters selfishness, nor my other sisters aloofness, and I can't make my mother love me any differently than she already does. There is no making my brother remember that I still love him.
There is no making anyone do anything they don't want to do, I have to remember that.

My anxiety - well, I have cut my xanax use down to 3mg a day from 6mg a day and I'm really proud of that - and I am, in fact, taking further strides to overcome the debilitating level of anxiety I have. I have stayed on the Buspar that my family doctor gave to me and I will be seeing a psychiatrist tomorrow for more in depth guidance on how to beat these panic attacks. I know that even if he pushes a drug on me that I don't like, such as one that I know will cause me to gain 50 pounds, that there are others to try.

I have to remember that I am not completely agoraphobic, my anxiety does not actually hold me a total prisoner in my own home, I can go out with my husband, I can drive by myself if necessary, I can go shopping and well - do just about anything. I also have to focus on the fact that once upon a time, I couldn't even do that. Two whole years where I couldn't even leave my house or I'd panic and feel like I was going to pass out. I am much, much better.

So, with the help of my family doctor, a psychiatrist, then finally - what I've been waiting forever for - a psychologist. It will be $55 each visit but well worth it. I'll think of it as money going towards buying back my life, and that can only be a very positive thing!

Wednesday

I have no other ideas for a title because they all sound too negative. But you know what?

EVERYTHING SUCKS and my kids are driving me nuts and I need some fucking money and I need a fucking vacation!

Blathering About Life

Venti - honey you really don't want to read this one. I mean that.

You know, it's strange. You get to be a little older and you start to wonder what's going on with the world ... you get to be a little bit older still and you start to wonder what's going on with your family ... still a little bit older, you start to wonder what's going on with yourself - but then oddly, the whole mess of it spins around and you go through the process from back to font. Yourself, family, the world. I think there may even be a period of your life, called adulthood most likely, that's a melding together of those three things - except it never stops - there's always a focus or worry and you can't seem to finish getting through one thing before another thing hits....

I'm not at all implying that all my wondering has ever led to any revelations, I'm simply saying that it seems that life gets - not more complicated as you get older - faster. Sure, you have wisdom that you've picked up over the years, but it's not like you have much time to recall that wisdom in the midst of standing in the middle of your life going WHAT THE FUCK!!!?

I have been through some incredibly bad periods in my life and I don't forget that there are good periods back there, too, but damn if those bad ones don't seem to be outweighing the good by more than a thousand times right now.

I used to wonder about the world - wonder what I'd be when I grew up, how things would evolve and how I'd evolve with it. Was I really going to be an archaeologist? Was I going to be a professor at a quaint little college in Vermont like I'd always dreamed, spending my summers sifting through sand for incredible artifacts? Would there be peace, would I be able to stop being so afraid of the ever present threat of nuclear war - how would the world change? I dreamed about it, and I hoped for it, and now I'm in it.

And I'm not an archaeologist and I don't even remember to be thankful that there's no more USSR because now I have to worry about terrorism in my own country.

I went through the phase of worrying about my family - wondering what made them tick, very much out of sync, but tick non-the-less. I wanted to fix all of them, and perhaps a part of me still does to some degree, but certainly I'm no longer allowing it to consume me. I stopped being a doormat to my family not so long ago, and liberating as it is, it does get lonely at times. I think I've become used to the loneliness now, where I used to miss it, I have simply had to tuck it away and forget about it, and accept that this is my life and that having five people in it is fine. Of course, there are people who don't even have five people in their life and so I should be thankful. I guess.

I also went through a phase where I wondered about myself. I really stretched myself thin on that one, looking deep into my childhood, studying different religions so I could figure out where I belonged in this universe, I tried everything from being Susie Homemaker to immersing myself in all things paranormal. I tried being a writer, an artist, a secretary, and even a cleaning lady - all the while being a wife and a mother.

And because I am a wife and a mother I never really had a quiet moment to figure out exactly who I really was - or am now. Maybe that IS what I am, just a wife and mother. It's possible. I don't really think about it much anymore, it doesn't matter because there's nothing I can do that will ever make me become an archaeologist, and hell - I hate to get dirty anyway, so digging in the dirt of some middle-eastern country while a war rages on over my head is definitely not my ideal profession. There comes a time when you just tuck those dreams away and go change another diaper.

My oldest son, Grande, is 15 years old and thinks I'm the worst mother in the world because I don't clean. Well, he's right - I do not clean. He furiously cleans the house and after he's wound up the vacuum cleaner cord he sits down in a huff and says "I don't know why I even bother, it will just be messed up tomorrow." EXACTLY. I figure that my not cleaning will have no impact on tomorrow whatsoever, and so I don't do it. I used to care, I used to want everyone including myself to have a nice, clean and organized house - but at this point, I don't give a shit - because nobody else ever did. Isn't the definition of insanity 'continuing to do the same thing over and over and expecting different results?'

Do I want a neat and clean house? Of course. Am I willing to go through the process of cleaning it every single day to have it be that way? Absolutely not. Why? Because of what my son is learning. Nobody really cares what the house looks like, as long as they have a clean glass to drink out of - life's good for them.

I bet whoever reads this is thinking at this point - "This girl needs an antidepressant."

Well, maybe that's true, but the fact that my son throws a fit, slams doors and shuts himself down when dinner isn't going to happen at night - so I make dinner and the kitchen gets messed up and the next day he's flipping out on me because I didn't do the dishes...you know what? Fuck it.

He wants such a Leave it to Beaver life, but he picked the wrong mom. Like I said, I used to try my hardest - but I couldn't keep doing it because it was crazy how nobody noticed or cared - unless I DIDN'T do it. How work boots and filthy socks would be the first thing I'd see upon cracking my bedroom door open in the morning looking out over the livingroom, which, the night before had been freshly vacuumed and even dusted. A guy (Rotten Shit Coffee Grounds) who was supposed to love me and support me sprawled out across the loveseat (no, we couldn't afford a sofa at that point and were living in a god-awful trailer park) would snore, and I'd do everything in my power not to wake him up when I made myself a pot of coffee. He usually would, though, and go crawl into bed - always, always after I'd left it. I am doing the math in my head now, trying to be sure of this number...for TEN YEARS. I dare anyone to try dealing with that for ten years and then continuing to cook & clean to please people. Fuck that. There wasn't even any pleasing myself by that point.

So here it is, oh - three years later and I have a new husband, Venti, a good man - and I still don't clean the house, and I most often don't cook dinner. And now I have my 15 year old baby telling me off about it.

Of course I can't ever say "Honey, you're the reason mommy is poor." I don't mean that. But I do. But I don't. You know how it goes, you get pregnant when you're sixteen and college just isn't in the cards anymore, life's choices which were once spread out in front of you like a field full of diamonds becomes a much, much narrower swath - so simple that most days the biggest choice I have to make is which outfit to put on the baby. Will anyone notice if I stay in my pajamas all day? Nope. Will anyone care if I clean the house? Nope. Will anyone care that I've made dinner? Nope. (A stray thank you here and there, but more out of "oh thank God I didn't have to do it" than anything else.) Will anyone really care if I sleep all but four hours of the day? No, not really. There would be a discussion of concern, but if I would sit patiently through it and appease everyone, I could sleep all but four hours the next day and nobody would notice.

Of course, you can't sleep 20 hours a day when you have a baby, and I don't have just any baby - I have this incredible toddler that is beautiful and precious and really hates to play by himself, which I can understand because I used to be the same way. Thank God Short Decaf isn't a girl - just...thank God for that. He won't ever have to face getting pregnant at 16. Maybe that's why the universe only gave me boys - so I wouldn't have to relive that part of my life through my children.

I'm being quite reflective tonight because within the next few days I'll be seeing a psychiatrist about my anxiety. I know he won't want to talk about anything but my symptoms, and I haven't figured out exactly what my symptoms are yet. I haven't really thought about it because I always just say "I have panic attacks and a terrible phobia of my heart" and that's always enough for anyone, doctor or not - to say - "Oh, it's anxiety." Doctors look at the pen their writing with - fresh from the drug reps briefcase full of goodies - to figure out how to spell the name of the drug they want me to take. Thinking it through really is an old-fashioned concept when it comes to doctors who treat people with anxiety disorders. Or well, hell - let's just be negative (or realistic, take your pick) and say ALL doctors.

However, I guess there is - no, I was going to say there's depression but it's not that at all, it's anger. I have so much anger inside of me - for things I lost, for things I've been through, for things I'm going through - at myself, at others, at doctors, at my kids. Well, not Short Decaf, but Grande and Tall for sure.

I just asked myself WHY don't they CARE about anything??? And I can answer that one on my own - look at who their teacher was; me.

God, I've been so busy with the hardships in my life that I guess that's all they ever saw - was me trying to project a peaceful exterior, which meant inside I was raging like a tornado, my heart pounding wildly, panicking really badly - but you can't let your kids see that or it will scare them. So, instead of having them be scared, I let them believe that not caring about anything is fine. The "big lie" that's coming back to bite me in the ass. They could never actually see that I was a spring wound too tightly, because on the outside I was just sitting very still trying not to cause one more ripple of fucked-upedness.

And to cycle in what I was speaking of earlier - now that I'm older and I'm poorer than I've ever been in my life, I'm beginning to see what it's really like to have to face up to all the shit that's going on in my life at once. It's not any singular thing, it's me, my family and the world. So much of it is fucked up and so much of it is irreparable. So, again, the "no feelings, no outward emotion, do not let anyone see any of the pain or frustration you feel" wall goes up, and inside I feel like each and every little thing that's wrong in my life is a shard of glass, and every shard is whirling around inside of me like a cyclone. It hurts, and I have no choice but to focus on all of it at once. I still want to make it better, I still want to believe that there's hope for a better life, but I'm tired and I'm sick of fighting the good fight about money and bills and kids not doing their schoolwork and sisters not caring and ex-husbands being dickheads, and my anxiety, and money - did I mention money, of course I did - it should be mentioned a thousand times since that seems to be the root of SO much misery in my life.

Depression is ever present in my house, whether from Venti, one or both of the kids, or me. Someone can't have a game, someone can't go to the store, someone can't pay the gas bill, well, you know what, there's a baby who has to have his formula rationed, too - and I consider that a problem well above the fact that there may not be hot water in the morning or a new GameBoy game, you know? My baby, my sweet angelic wonderful baby, barely has any clothing that fits him and he's growing like a weed. Everytime I go into a grocery store with Venti the babyfood aisle is the first one I head towards and Venti runs off to other aisles to grab things so I won't go down those aisles and see other things and throw them in the cart - he knows it takes me a while to pick out the babyfood - so hell, why not take advantage of the opportunity. This is why I no longer care to even go into a grocery store. And it's not just Short Decaf and his food - it's the older boys who need summer clothes, hair cuts, lunch money, and on and on it goes. These are necessities, not luxury items. Okay, I can cut hair, I can go to thrift shops to buy their clothes someday when we have money again, I can try to make them pack lunch, but I am oh so very fucking tired of facing every single solitary day with those facts staring me straight in the face as soon as I wake up.

And there's still not a man in the bed with me when i wake up - considering that I sleep in so late so that I can avoid being 'alone' for as long as possible. Thank God Short Decaf sleeps late, too. I stay up late at night because it's quiet and I don't have to wonder if the baby is going to swallow somebody's toenail that they ripped off of themselves in the livingroom.

And throughout all of that I wonder what the hell is wrong with the world that my family doesn't qualify for public assistance because we make TOO MUCH money! It's absolutely, positively laughable.

Have I asked for anything here other than for my anxiety to go away? No. I try not to care about anything else for me, personally. If I could just feel no fear that would be enough. I don't ask for things, I don't insist on getting new clothing, haircuts, jewelry, shoes, my nails done, a car, - oh, I did ask for a candy bar the other day, and I used to ask for a cup of coffee from Starbucks, but that was - what seems like - a long, long time ago.

Shit, I had to go and fuck up my job because I was having severe panic attacks on my way to work and on my way home again. But I couldn't put myself through that physical and emotional torture every day anymore, it was just way too much. I could have taken extra xanax then driven if it weren't for the fact that I had my baby in the car! I had no choice but to quit. I could never have taken a double dose of xanax and then hop in the car because of Short Decaf being in there with me, plus - God, even if he wasn't in the car, what if I would have wrecked into someone because I was stoned on 2mg of xanax? I took 1.5mg a half hour before I left for work in the morning and a half hour before I left to go home in the afternoon and I was still so panicked that I always had to pull the car over and try to convince myself that I wasn't going to pass out and die or have a heart attack. NOTHING in the world was ever as much of a relief as pulling my car into my driveway and turning off the ignition switch - talk about sweet relief! I felt like I'd just run through a mine field with all three of my kids and made it safely to the other side, I was so desperately relieved to be home! I did that nearly every day for four months, I still don't know how I found the inner strength to continue doing it. I guess because I knew if i quit, things would get THIS bad, and now they have and I hate myself for quitting.

So now we have no money and if there's a finger pointing anywhere, it's pointing right at me. Yet, my panic attacks are raging out of control, my mind is usually a complete blank because I've been FIGHTING the damn panic all day, plus the fact that I've lived in - well, pretty much constant isolation since the first week of February - God, three months now. My brain is mush. I have too much anxiety. Just thinking about getting a job makes me dizzy. And of course, we only have one car now.

Let's add some icing to this cake, shall we? Tall Decaf is going to be 13 in a few days. We won't have a spare dime until four days after his birthday, so I borrowed a hundred dollars from my sister to buy him a cake and some presents for his actual birthday, as well as put together a party for him - inviting my whole family from 3 hours away - the following Sunday. Yes, nearly a full week after his actual birthday - bad enough, right? Well, that $100 went to pay for the gas bill this week because they called and said they would be shutting it off. Also, it turns out that Sunday is Mother's Day. Oops. No party on that day and nobody seems to be able to make it down here for the new date, Saturday the 8th. And if they do - I don't know what they're going to eat. It's supposed to be a pizza party - so far only my sister has said she'd come and she'd only be bringing her husband (possibly - he usually doesn't come.) So, what have we got here? One kid who's so excited about having a REAL birthday party with with the works - including his family, (I even invited his dad and his girl-o'the-month) - but nobody will show up, I won't be able to afford anything for him, so he'll sink into a depression which I'm sure will include him dying his hair black and getting hiding cut marks on his forearms.

God, I'd cry but there's nothing inside of me.

This isn't depression folks, this is outright anger - and I know, so very well, that if I start to let even just little bits of it out like this that more and more will come out until I'm livid on the outside, shaking and palpitating on the inside, panicking because the feeling of expressing anger vocally is something I never do or else I get horrible physical feelings that I'm certain will cause me to die every time.

What could fix this? Money.

And guess what? There isn't any. Even if I get money it's absorbed into the "HOLY SHIT THIS IS URGENT" stream immediately. I made $38.16 cents off of my website - something it took me three months to do, it came in the mail and Venti brought it to me to sign, he even opened the envelope I believe, then took it right to the bank so that some emergency could be avoided (until the next one came along, which of course was the next day.) Man, I really wanted that forty bucks. I don't know what I was going to do with it - buy hair dye, get my eyebrows waxed, i don't know - but i wanted it. They've sent another check, it's $19.77, I assume I'll be getting it in a few days, probably just in time for Tall's birthday, which isn't too unfortunate. At least I can actually take the cash and see it being spent on someone or something. The illusion of control over one iota of my life.

I need to add a new member to the Decaf's - and that is Buttplug Decaf, a friend of Venti's. He called to tell Venti that he has now decided that he's not going to buy A house, no - he's buying two. Which will bring the grand total of houses he owns to three. Hey Buttplug, your best friend drinks bargain bin gallon jugs of wine with screw tops (that he has to ration, by the way) and I'm sitting here sad because I don't have any more decaf teabags so my mornings are screwed, but way to go on your prosperity. I swear, honest to God, there was nothing else about that phone call than "I'm good. I have to tell you how good I am."

Jealous? No. Angry. I'm not jealous of people who have things I don't, really - I am angry with Buttplug for being so devoid of soul or brains that he'd actually call his nearly destitute friend and tell him how prosperous life is for him.

Destitute: Lacking resources or the means of subsistence; completely impoverished. See Synonyms at poor.

Yes, poor - but making too much money to qualify for food stamps, cash assistance, or even WIC, which ANYONE seemingly can get. I swear to God this world is fucked up.

The only good things I have in my life are my husband and kids and my ability to control my dreams. I've gotten pretty good at getting whomever I want to be in my dreams to show up but that's another entry for antoher time when I'm not so pissed off. Wouldn't want to taint a good thing.

I want my fucking Indian restaurant back! I want a goddamned haircut. I want a car that doesn't humiliate me to be seen in. I want to not have to scrape together quarters to buy a soda when we go for a drive, (which I always have a panic attack doing, plus I keep staring at the gas gauge feeling horrible about the fact that it's going to take $20 we don't have to refill it.) I want to care about how much money we do have instead of how much we don't have, or how much we need to get back to good, or just make it through the day.

And so, on the 7th of May, we'll have a paycheck that won't need to go entirely to rent and bills - mostly, but not entirely. Then on the 21st of May, another paycheck we'll have to pay bills out of and should probably also pay rent out of - otherwise we'll have to wait until the 5th of the month to pay the rent and we've paid it 9 days late for several months now, I think the landlord is going to get really pissed soon, so we can't do that, either. Which MEANS, that we won't have any spare money until June 4th - again take note that it's still fucking April! - which means .... nothing. We will have nothing at all until June, and I am betting any amount of money that with that paycheck a major car repair will need to be done, which will leave us with exactly $50 less than the amount of money we need to survive until the next paycheck comes.

I'm not trying to be pessimistic here - I just know I'm right. It's the way things work around here.

And in between all of that, I have to deal with my family, the world, and worst of all - myself. I'm sure that the doctor on Thursday will prescribe some new medicine like Lexapro that will cause me to balloon 40 pounds within 4 weeks (then yell at me and tell me to stop eating so much junk food) - and also give me horrible, horrible start up side-effects like dizziness, nausea, all kinds of horrible panic-inducing feelings. Hey, I know - I'll just ask him to knock me the fuck out. Wouldn't that be easier? No, I guess not, since Short Decaf would then need a babysitter we couldn't afford.

God, I'm sick of hearing myself bitch. And no, I'm not PMS, nor depressed, just angry.

Fuck - I really wanted that birthday party for Tall Decaf to happen the way I envisioned it. You only turn 13 once, I wanted it to be so special for him and he's so excited about it. Such a sweet little boy, his insides haven't grown as fast as his outside would lead a person to believe and I know that this is going to crush him. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I have so much more to say but I am probably going to hit some sort of post length quota and lose everything I typed ... so, more another day? Or more likely keep it inside because i know that bitching like this only makes my anxiety worse, as well as everyone else's who reads this.

Friday Thank You

Well it's Friday and that's supposed to be a good thing, right? I guess it is for most people but for me it's just another day....

Of course, the weekend will be here tomorrow and that means everyone will be home, but usually that means that forces clash and people are pissy. Especially the little people who think that the big people should be spending every waking moment entertaining them which usually means spending gobs of cash. No gobs, not even a miniscule cluster at the moment - so this ought to be an interesting weekend.

I wish we could go to "THE Indian Restaurant" tonight, then to Starbucks for lack of a better coffee place, oooh - no, first a movie, then the restaurant, then starbucks. That'd be so cool. I guess things like that stop happening after you have a baby, though. Well, there is such a thing as babysitters but I don't trust anyone, or - in fact - know anyone that could babysit Short Decaf.

So yesterday was a good day for me, anxiety-wise. That's always a good thing. Maybe the Buspar is starting to work, that'd be a nice break.

So, what happens after I get better with my panic attacks? The last time I got better I ended up getting a divorce because I couldn't stand living the same life that I'd hated for years and years. I'm sure something major will happen, not a divorce, but I think generally speaking that things MUST change or else I'll slip right back into panicking every day and being agoraphobic and having my mind waste away as I sit here on the computer and type to nobody. That is what happened last time after my panic attacks came back - after my divorce and after my father had died and after I'd settled into a new life. This cycle is a bitch.

Panicked for years and years, life altering change in amount of panic, panicking for years and years - now will the life altering change in panic come again - and if so, do I start to prepare for the panic to come back or do I just burst through life like a steamroller - er, no, that's a little slow - powerful but slow, burst through life like a tasmanian devil on speed? Powerful, fearless and nearly manic in my effforts to make up for the last three years of my life?

Well, about the Buspar again - it makes my heart beat slower for some reason- I don't know if that's a side effect or if that's what it's supposed to do but I'm sitting here and my heart rate is only 60bpm which is super low for me. When I go to bed at night and relax it gets down to like 52 - usually it is 82 or so, which I was always scared about being too high. I'm just a mess with all of these fears - and I really can't wait to talk to the panic doctor next week.

I'm not actually panicking about this but I feel lightheaded and so tired, and that makes me nervous.

I Am So Going to Kick Anxiety's Ass

Well, I went to my doctor today after six long anxiety filled months of putting it off....

I told her everything, the panic, the eyes, the other things I can't mention here - and shit, when I first got in the room the nurse took my blood pressure and it was 150/90 - so the doctor took it a bit later and said it was 120/82 which she said was just about perfect, thank God. She was SO reassuring. So, so reassuring. I don't know how the woman does it, but she made me feel hope again. Everytime I see her - she does it.

I have to tell you this - the first thing she did when she walked in the room was look at my forearms and hands and say "First...what's going on here???" I said "I used that spray on tanning lotion and it - uh, streaked." She looked really relieved and then Venti made some joke about me eating too many carrots or something. It was hilarious, the look on her face, really. (God I hate being pale from winter, I really thought the spray on tanning stuff was a good idea, I swear!! LOL)

She did increase my Buspar to 10mg twice a day instead of 5mg twice a day, but I expected that, but also wants me to take Toprol XL which is a beta-blocker (used for anxiety as well as other things - as it slows down your heart rate, makes heart palpitations stop happening, and also helps block panic) - Now, I'm okay with all of that except for the Toprol, that makes me a little nervous. She said it would be okay though, so I'm going to trust her - she said it was a very tiny dose. Okay, tiny dose, I can do that. She didn't want to make a decision on an antidepressant for my panic attacks because I'm seeing a psychiatrist next week for that. I hope, so very hard, that he'll be a nice guy.

So, about my eyes - she isn't concerned, she believes it's from my optical something or other becoming so relaxed because I take a higher amount of xanax. Which is what I believed, too. Oh, thank you God!!!! I immediately felt SUCH relief when she talked about that.

She also reminded me that my panic disorder is a chronic condition - that I may need medicine now and even for a while - but not forever, although I may have to treat it forever, just not medicinally. The way she said it - it didn't sound so bad.

Also got a TON of reassurance that my heart is 100% healthy and she even said "You're not going to drop over with a heart attack." YES, I NEEDED to hear that!!! THANK YOU!!!!

So, I had a pretty good rest of the day, I even drove a bit - first to take my son to his cast-removal appointment and then back to my husband's office - all of what, three blocks? On the way to the appointment I did great, on the way back to Venti's office I had a moment or two of panic. Damn.

Tonight we also drove to a town 40 miles away to visit Venti's uncle whom he'd never met, who is involved in a cross country drive to raise awareness for organ donation. He was a really nice guy and I'm glad we went. Even took pictures! It was nice. A nice thing to do on a Tuesday night instead of sit around and stare at the walls or hear the TV blaring. I even got to go to Taco Bell!! :)

So, it was hot as hell again today - but the a/c repairman is coming tomorrow between noon and four, thank GOD. It's a three hour job, I don't care, I just want it fixed! I'll be just thrilled! I am such a cranky bitch when it's hot.

I am feeling very positive tonight - it's a great feeling! I already took the 10mg of buspar so I'm not freaked out about that - especially since my doctor said "Hey, 5mg twice a day is a miniscule dose - we're shooting for 30mg a day - so we've got to get you worked up to that!" I didn't realize the 5mg was a small dose, sorry - miniscule dose - I thought it was a therapeutic level for some people but I guess not.

My friend K is also taking the same dose as I am, we started the same day but her doctor increased her dose about a week ago, she didn't notice that things got worse anxiety-wise for her and since we both felt the same when we started on it, I'm sure I'll feel fine with the increase, too.

I just don't know when to start taking that Toprol - maybe i'll wait until the weekend when Venti will be home with me in case I panic about it. I've taken it before - for four days, then i stopped because I felt so good and didn't think I needed it. (DUH!!!!!!!)

Well, it's been a good day and I have a feeling that tomorrow is going to be a GREAT day.

Scared About Seeing My Doctor

I had a friend who was pregnant and panicking and I saw her through her whole pregnancy, we were due at the same time and she had her baby about two weeks early, her name was Penny. We were very good friends. She took Xanax during her pregnancy, too – and Remeron and I think Zoloft or something like that –

anyway, after her son was born she started getting these really bad headaches, she’d had migraines for years and years and never had them checked out. So she would tell me that she was getting a migraine and she’d be sitting there and be looking at her husband across the room and couldn’t see him because her eyes got this bright shining light in them. Well, she finally went and got the migraines checked out and they did an MRI and it showed that she had 2 aneurysms in her brain, the doctor said she probably had them since she was born – and they decided to operate on them, it was two operations – and now this is one of my biggest panic triggers of all time, and so it was hard talking her through these operations and everything…her first operation was a success but the second one caused her to have a stroke and die. She emailed me on the day she left for the hospital and I didn’t get to respond right away, and so I didn’t hear from her for a long time and then someone wrote to me to tell me that she hadn’t made it through the operation. I was a mess and I’ve tried to block it out for so long, but now with my eyes being weird I just can’t block it out anymore and I’m so damn scared.

I put my glasses on tonight and I could see the words on the screen more clearly - but I am still scared because of seeing a shadow when someone walks by or when something moves - it's not a halo, but more like a slow-motion picture - almost as if my eyes are stoned.

I am so fucking scared that I have something wrong with my brain, I can't even begin to tell you the panic and fear and torture that this has been putting me through for several weeks now. I am so, so very scared.

I had an MRI of my brain a little over two years ago and it came back perfectly normal. I was having vertigo (caused from my ear it turns out) and so that was totally reassuring, but now I think - it's been two years, what could have happened in that time?

The first time I noticed the shadow ... hell, I don't even remember, maybe about six months ago or so? I know it was after we moved to Virginia and I know it was after my son was born, and also after I had such a huge increase in my dose of xanax. It's not getting worse, I'm just more worried about it now because I'm focusing on it...or at least that's what I keep telling myself.

I hope and pray that it's happening because my xanax dose is too high. It doesn't happen all the time and it seems like if I am LOOKING for it to happen, it does. Penny never had an option - if she had a migraine she'd see the lights - halo's or whatever - really brightly - one time she couldn't see her husband across the room AT ALL. God I'm fucking scared. My appointment with my family doctor is in less than 12 hours and I shoudl be sleeping right now but I'm a nervous fucking wreck.

I'm GOING to have to mention this to her and I am so scared of what she's going to say. I'm so afraid of her saying I need to see a neurologist and then going to a ton of appointments and going through that torture of waiting for the appointments, waiting for tests, waiting for results, it's so fucking scary and all I want to do is just go to bed and hide and cry - but I lay there and panic, that's all I can do. I have to take xanax just so I can sleep.

Please God I am begging you to not let me have anything wrong with my brain or my eyes, please let it just be because of the xanax or something simple - I am so scared. :( So very scared.

I spend every second of my life in total, utter fear. It's horrible. I hope beyond hope that my doctor can help me. I don't want to die. I really don't.

BBC is Cool

I watched four BBC America shows tonight, two shows, but two epeisodes each actually, and I realized that people seem really different in England, or Scotland, or wherever the shows happened to be taped in. In three of the shows, people referred to spirituality not having to do with Christianity, something almost unheard of on the regular shows I watch on TV. I know this seems rather silly to notice, but to me it's a big deal. Two women in one room of a house the one girl was looking at to buy were both creeped out because they felt a presence, and both had to get out of the room fast! I was amazed. Or maybe just amazed because I actually saw this candid video of them both getting creeped out by what they felt was a spirit....

Anyway, I just got a kick out of watching the shows, now I'm going to have to watch BBC America all the time.

Oh, I also noticed that the people on the shows tended to value their "things" more than we do. Like, this girl wanted to have her bedroom updated and she had really old furniture - a dresser and a nightstand - and they weren't nice at all - so they painted them with a couple coats of paint and then antiqued them, and added a few more touches and voila - the same furniture but a different look. I think, at least where I live - people would be like, "I'm like, just - SO sick of this nightstand - let's run to IKEA!"

I miss the connection I had with furniture before I left my "old life." I had a few pieces that I'd carried around with me for the 12 years I'd been living on my own and now the only thing I have left out of all of that is my hope-chest, my high school graduation present, handmade for me, the design picked out by both of my parents - my dad even wrote a congratulations and sentiment inside with a pencil. I can't imagine not having that cedar chest.

I have another trunk, but it is (I HOPE) still stored at my ex-mother-in-law's house. It's an old steamer trunk with brass bands around it, I have all kinds of special things in it - all kinds of drawings from when my kids first started school, things I'd made in high school (some pottery), pictures, journals - God I'd love to get that back.

I think that things like that anchor you down, it makes your house feel like a home. YOUR home. And I'd like to start gathering things that I LOVE, not things that I picked up at a yard sale or out of someone's trash after they'd moved out of their house - things I didn't want in particular, but had a need for - a chair, some shelves, all kinds of stuff I needed, but it wasn't what I REALLY wanted. Even my dinnerware isn't what I WANTED, it was just that it was $25 and a good name. Can't beat a set of 8 place settings of Mikasa dinnerware for that price anywhere. (Gotta love www.craigslist.org ) !

My sisters house is full of stuff that's been handed down to her and so it means alot to her, I feel really jealous about that. When my father died she took almost all of his furniture and decorations, things he'd spent a lifetime gathering - and when my mother remarried and then moved out of her house, my sister also got a ton of things from her - beautiful antique occasional tables, rugs, lamps, pictures, little pieces of art, benches, the list goes on and on - my sister never feels like she's living in someone else's house - it's hers. I want some of that for myself. Well, actually - the house my sister lives in IS my mothers house - it's the house I grew up in. All kinds of jealousy there and "Hey, whattabout me!!!????" feelings there.

I also got some really awesome decorating ideas for my own house from watching the BBC shows - and man have I made progress on my desire to get a mellow, warm, earthy yet up to date feel to the decoration of my own home.

Tonight we painted two opposing walls in our living room THE perfect shade of brown. I cannot describe it past brown very well - it's a medium warm - and yet I'd also say "spicy" brown, and I absolutely LOVE it!!! We pulled an old desk into the living room and are now using that for a TV stand, which worked out really great - we got the desk for three dollars at a yard sale, and then we blocked the fireplace off with our giant club chair - the chair was always in the way and took up a whole wall which seemed pointless and cluttered, plus the fireplace was such an enormous hazard for the baby (it's a gas fireplace and has all these little loose rocks in it that I'm not sure can be taken out?) - so we just blocked it off with the chair and painted the wall - a huge black framed mirror hangs above the mantle, which we kept white, and I'll be honest, it's an absolutely perfect arrangement! This also got my television away from blocking the window, so now I have my window back - which just thrills me! :) Now I'll be able to see my bird feeder more easily and flowers - if I manage to get any to grow this summer.

But my favorite is the corner on the tv wall - the one corner is where the tv is, and then across the room on the other end of the wall we put a small bookcase that used to have NO purpose whatsoever. On that is a lamp (also IKEA) - one of those 12" tall papery shade ones, plus a pottery bowl which we filled with sand and stuck incense sticks into it - and also a small terracotta candle holder, as well as a small black framed picture of my father with my oldest sons taken four nights before he passed away. It is like a little alter, sort of - I just love it and it works with the color of the wall so well. Oh, I also put an orchid on the shelf - it's an artificial one, but really nice - I'd certainly do away with any orchid if it were real, it wouldn't last long in this house, trust me!

So, I'm well on my way to getting my house decorated serenely - add to that my starting to do some basic yoga poses and meditation, and I think I'm headed in the right direction. I actually sat in the living room tonight and didn't even want to be on the computer because I actually ENJOYED being in that room! Imagine that! Unbelievable. I swear, it's the first time in years I've actually wanted to BE in a living room - I'm not a big TV fan so living rooms were never a priority for decorating - I usually attacked the kitchen and dining room first.

I MUST say that my dining room is looking absolutely wonderful as well - the walls are still white but that's okay - it's clean, the shelves of the wall unit aren't cluttered, and on the table sits a small brass bowl with my sandlewood candle sitting inside of it - and if anyone read my blog before - that sandlewood candle is the inspirational item that started me thinking about getting my house to look as warming and mellow as that candle smelled.

Next things on the list are to get rid of the YELLOW kitchen and make it a warmer color and a BIG one - window coverings .... can't block too much light or it will be like a cave in here, but it also has to be just THE right color and texture so that it looks good with the sun coming through. Plus, I'd kind of like them to all be the same - I have four windows to deal with - actually, one single window, one bay window (set of three windows,) a window over the door (what the hell is the point of that?!) and the hardest one to deal with - the sliding glass door. Ugh. This could get expensive. Isnt' there something I can do with muslin? I mean, I DO own a sewing machine now. I'll have to think about it - roman shades come to mind. Or are they called Roman Blinds? Anyway...back to color...(and mood)...

My paint chip stealing from the store is pointing me towards a color called "Harvest Spice" for the kitchen - which is a peachy/tan color, much like the color of that sandlewood candle. There isn't a WHOLE lot of wall space in the kitchen so I think this color will work really well in there, plus it will go SO much better with the browns in the living room. I'm leaving the ceilings white everywhere and also I think that all the white walls on this level of the house will be a very, very pale variation of the color of the kitchen, so I think that (combined with the white cabinets and floor in the kitchen) will keep it bright enough to avoid being drab - yet at night especially, with some candles and incense lit - it will be like a haven in here. Mellow - not depressing.

That is IF I can keep the television off! Maybe I'll make "the ex" get the kids each one of their own tv's for their bedrooms and make him pay for the extra satellite receivers, too. He doesn't do any-fucking-thing else for the kids anyway. Ahhh...a great gift for the kids and an even better gift for ME!!! :) (Yes, it's late and I'm tired and of course there's no way their father would spend a dime on them that he didn't have to, so the tv thing is a pipe dream.)

But a person must keep dreaming, right?

At War With Myself

When I pulled the 10 of Cups from my tarot card last night I read the definition and really thought deeply into it for all of about ten seconds before my anxiety overcame me and I had to move onto something else. The interpretation of this card includes something about being at war with yourself and it being time for that to end. Am I at war with myself?

What constitutes war with oneself? Routines that are harmful but you keep doing them because you're afraid to do anything else? Being comfortable in your fearful existence because it's the only one you've known for many years? Wanting to change your life for the better but having your fears hold you back? Emotional conflicts that should have been resolved years ago, but you just can't seem to let go of them?

I wish I knew what the answer is. Today I did something - I took a step in the right direction, I called and made an appointment with my family doctor to get on an antidepressant. I said to Venti that I don't care if it makes me numb, I want to be numb, I just want anything other than what I've got now. He called me just as he was leaving from work and I was trying to just simply have a conversation with him and I started to get all choked up and cry. It's not healthy, it's not right, and I need help. So, I asked for some today, and I pray that she'll be able to help me. I will go and see her next Wednesday afternoon. But I didn't stop there, I called and tried to make an appointment with a psychologist - well, actually it's one giant practice full of psychiatrists, psychiatrists, counselors, etc., so it's like a one stop mental health shop. I only got the voice mail of the person who does the scheduling but I did leave my number - home and cell! - and I can only hope that she doesn't call me back first thing in the morning tomorrow because I'm a late sleeper. I thought about staying up all night just so I wouldn't miss the call - it's that important to me.

I am taking steps. I am doing it. I will make it through this.

Venti didn't get that job that we hoped he would get, that we were so sure he would get. And now his friend, who is involved with this job process, is avoiding him and it makes me angry. I have this newfound issue of being unable to express anger without it turning into a major panic attack.

Oh my God, I think the xanax I took is working - that's new!

You know what I want to say to my doctor next week? I just want to beg her to give me whatever she can to give me ONE day of knowing what it feels like to be relaxed, just ONE days worth of muscle relaxers, one days worth of anti-anxiety medication that will work. I want to be awake, I don't want to be asleep for this relaxed day - I just want to know what it feels like. My chest muscles are in a constant state of contraction - they are giant knots - those muscles on your chest but right below your shoulders, you know. My neck muscles and shoulder muscles were cramping up today as well. I wonder what it would take to just convince her that all i want is the hope that I'd gain in knowing that my body DOES know how to relax.

Venti describes a heavily sleeping cat on a pile of blankets like this, he says it looks like someone poured them there. I want to feel that way - but I don't want to be asleep when it happens! I want to laugh and play with the kids and take a walk and hell, RUN if I want to.

You know, that's been a dream of mine for years - to run. I loved to run - not miles or anything, but when I was younger I did, I just loved to sprint like the devil was chasing me! (I shouldn't have stopped running!)

I think I'll go and lay down for a little while, I am grateful, truly grateful that this particular xanax has decided to actually work. I don't know why it has, but I am so relieved to not feel that roiling around in my belly, coursing through my veins and spewing into my aura. The medicine lasts for four hours and I took it an hour ago so I probably have one hour of feeling barely-relaxed before the anxiety comes back.

Back with an update later...
Decaf

How Do I Start New Life Without Leaving Home?

I've been taking a new medicine for my panic attacks for the past two weeks and it's supposed to be working by now, however, I've had some of the worst panic imagineable these past few days. I found out that my sister, for sure, slept with my husband of fifteen years just after we'd broken up...

I had to see him, in her house, and he brought his new girlfriend in the house too. Now, my entire family was there for Easter dinner and my other sister, the oldest one, came out of the dining room and hugged the evil ex and gave him a kiss on the cheek. I couldn't believe it was happening even as I watched it. Then my sister, the one he slept with (makes me nauseous just to type it) started acting all flighty around him, actually offered him and his girlfriend to come in and sit down and eat - when he said no, she tried several times to push dessert on him. And I was STANDING RIGHT THERE!!!

I had called him on his cellphone and was very clear about how he should drop the kids off - we were way out in the boondocks of the country on a farmette - so I said that he should stop at my car, have the kids unload their things, and then drop them off at the house. I was very clear about the dropping them off part - so Venti decaf, my husband, goes out to the car to make sure there's room for the kids' things in the trunk. Ex shows up, the kids are walking up to the house with Venti and I was relieved, thinking my ex had left- but then Venti walks in and says "Just to warn you, he said he was turning his car around and stopping so he could come in for a few minutes."

My chest started burning and I started hyperventilated and I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I only remember feeling that sensation one other time in my life and that was something like 15 years ago when I was in tenth grade. I'd been sitting in a bathroom stall smoking a cigarette and my boyfriends ex-girlfriend walks in with her best friend and goes up to the mirror right outside the bathroom door I was in and started talking really ugly about me, saying I was a slut, and how "Bob" was seeing her and me at the same time and wasn't I just the stupid one not even knowing it, and terrible things like that...I threw open the bathroom door and I remember shaking and my chest burning like that then. I looked at her, and if looks could kill she'd have been vaporized!

But to feel that when you're 14 and to feel it when you're 32 is completely different. It's scary as hell and makes you scared that you're going to have a heart attack.

And it happened again to me tonight - but this time it was 15 year old son locking himself into his bedroom - which is an absolutely non-negotiable rule in our house - you can lock your door but if I knock and want in, you better damn well fucking open it. I'd made him dinner and it was time to watch a movie, but he'd gone up to his room pissed off about something not working right on the computer - (but more likely pissed because I hadn't made dinner on schedule) - Venti tried to get him to come down by pounding on his door - then I went up and started yelling at him through the door. He refused to open it and I could hear him in there. I got angrier as the seconds passed.

So I kicked the door - and as I did that I felt that rush of heat/pressure in my chest and it scared me so bad that I was shaking and could barely get the words out to tell him how pissed off I was. It didn't hurt - thank God, or I would have been terrified, and I had no other symptoms of a heart attack, but man World, I am SCARED!!!

I eventually took a screwdriver to his doorknob and removed it and the latch - he's lucky he got to keep the damn door. He never did come down from his room so he can just stay up there for the next few days, at least three, with the door closed sans doorknob.

Where the hell did I go wrong with him!?!

So what I want to know is how do you start a new life, how do you change things so that you don't let stress affect you like that? How do you just call it quits? I took several xanax tonight but it didn't help, it was like taking a tic-tac. And it's ONLY MONDAY!! I have already been puked on twice by Short Decaf, spent the entire day as a prisoner in my own home, no car, no friends, no life, just diapers and vomit and snotty teenage boys, a tired husband and I AM WORN OUT AND FRAZZLED AND SCARED ABOUT MY HEART.

I'm going to see if my doctor will see me tomorrow. The buspar is NOT working at all - in fact, I've developed a tick in my cheek ever since taking it. The website says it should work in two weeks, it hasn't. I want off of it. I need something stronger, more serious, and I need my goddamned xanax to work like it's supposed to! I can NOT keep having so much anxiety!!!

I was talking to my niece who also has panic attacks, as does her husband, and they both switched to Lexapro and both love it - she seems like her old self, it's amazing - her husband seems very mellow - plus, you can drink alcohol while you take that - which you can't when you take buspar or xanax. I HATE taking xanax, but it helps a little sometimes - and sometimes it works great. I am so confused, I just don't know what to do - and God, you know - I gave up caffeine 8 months ago, I haven't slipped once, and I still have serious panic attacks! I tried to cut back on cigarette smoking but that's not going too well, it actually calms me down when I am anxious and quitting makes me anxious so - God what a catch-22.

Oh, that's nice, i just pulled a tarot card after begging the deck to give me some answers...it's the fucking four of swords, dead person laying there with three swords above their head and one below...let's just go figure out what THAT means...

Oh, good...yes, it's exactly the guidance I asked for...

REST, CONTEMPLATION, QUIET PREPARATION

When you are in harmony with yourself, you experience harmony in your environment. Okay, HOW??????????????

Anyway, I've been trying to finish this post forever and I keep getting interrupted so I guess I'll work on it later....

The Swords cards all stand for trials of some kind, but the Four suggests feelings of peace and stillness. Why is this card different? Because it represents the challenge to be quiet! Sometimes resting and doing nothing is the ultimate challenge. Activity can be a habit that is very difficult to break. There is always so much to do, and modern society beguiles us with its attractions and distractions. The result is we forget to stop and be still.

In readings, the Four of Swords is often a sign that you need to slow down and get some rest. If you are recovering from an illness, allow yourself quiet time to heal. Even if you feel completely healthy, you are risking getting sick if you don't take a break.

The Four of Swords also represents taking the time to think things over without hurry. It is important to step back and gain perspective. This is especially true when you are facing an ordeal or big event. You need quiet preparation time to gather your strength and center your energy. Picture an Olympic diver on the high board. She doesn't climb the ladder and then dash out. She stops, motionless as she readies herself for the burst of activity to come. This is the only way to bring the best to our endeavors.

Sometimes the Four of Swords implies that you are or could be shifting focus from the external to the internal. When we are silent, we can more easily go within. The knight in the picture appears to be praying or meditating deeply. Actually, he appears to be dead! For those who are addicted to activity, rest and quiet can seem like death, but that is certainly not the case. Stillness holds its own rewards, but they must be recognized and sought.

Card Two

Ten of Cups

JOY PEACE FAMILY

On the Ten of Cups we see a loving couple with their carefree children. The family home is in the background, surrounded by trees and water. A rainbow of cups is overhead blessing the scene. A cynic might scoff at this romantic picture, but I see it as a symbol of what our emotional life could be at its best. The feelings represented here are an ideal that is within the reach of each of us.

First, there is joy. Joy goes beyond happiness, contentment, enjoyment. It is the feeling that comes when we know at the deepest level that we are one with all that is, and it is good. Unfortunately, this is not exactly a common feeling! Too often we are blinded by the trials of life and overwhelmed by their challenges. Joy exists, though, and is our birthright.

Peace is another aspect of the Ten of Cups - the serenity that comes when all elements are in harmony. There is inner peace and outer peace which are reflections of each other. When you are in harmony with yourself, you experience harmony in your environment. When you see the Ten of Cups, know that an end to hostility is possible. If there is fighting around you, it may cease. If you are at war with yourself, you may find peace.

In readings, this card often signals a time of abundant blessings. It tells you that you can reach for the fulfillment you deserve, and it will come to you. Look for ways to realize joy and create peace. You may find the key to happiness in your family. Your family is the group of people you are attached to emotionally - for better or worse! If there is trouble in your family right now, work to restore harmony. The time is right for greater closeness.