Blogs of Note

So, I decided to check out some of the blogs listed on Blogger.com as noteable. Really cool blogs there. As I was purusing http://blogarians.blogspot.com/, I came across this art piece and I just had to copy the link. I love it! Look, they are so happy. I cannot help but think of my daughter Sadie and her BFF Jessica...this looks so much like them and they find pleasure in simple things as well. Thank you BLOGARIAN!

Back & forth, back & forth, back & forth...

I fell compelled today to write about the feeling that has always frightened me most. Mind you, I do not know if this feeling has a name. For as long as I can remember, I have felt on display. Like a science project; you know like the glass jars in a lab filled with formaldehyde and some disfigured body part or unidentifiable species. In my warped imagination, I am on display so that others can look and stare and scratch their heads and say "I've never seen anything like this" or "wow, do you think it's real?"

Okay, I know that is not real. It is my one true paranoia obsession. My phobia, if you will.

When I was a little girl there where times I had convinced myself that I was nothing more than a character on a TV show. What the show was about I have no idea, but I was in it and people who watched felt sorry for me. Empathy vs. sympathy? Oh that poor girl, she is so pathetic. Look at her, she's fat - ugly - stupid - not good enough! How does a little girl have those feelings about herself? Not to mention that I knew better than to let anyone know this about me. Matter of fact, I have never told anyone about this (not to this extent).

That brings up another thought...secrets! Secrets come in many forms. There are secrets we have about other people, secret desires, secrets regrets, and I am sure there are others. How would this one be classified? Embarrassing secret. Shame. That is the feeling most present when I think of my childhood and these weird things that I hid from everyone. I would never have told my friends about the role I played on the TV show (I wish it had a title), nor would I have told them that I hated myself so much that not one day passed without me wishing I were someone else, somewhere else.

I recall being aware of the fact that this (this life) was not NORMAL. How did I know that? Why did I believe that? I don't even know what normal is now, how could I know that I was not normal?

Shit, I just got myself dizzy.

All I know is what I grew up with, isn't that right for all of us? Did I measure normalcy against my friends and their families? Or against television families? I was a huge Donahue fan and started watching Oprah from the first episode. Oooh, I could be addicted to talkshows. I still watch them and I have written to Dr. Phil and Oprah too many times to count.

Perhaps the answer lies there...they never did respond to any of my letters. Does that mean I am normal and cannot be a topic on their shows? Or am I so far gone that not even they can help?

I am in a constant state of confusion...back & forth, back & forth, back & forth.

I started this post less than 15 minutes ago and already I have no idea what made me start. What was the first line? I know I can go back and look, but I should not have to.

Oxymoron, anyone?

This is one of my favorite terms...OXYMORON. I have recognized oxymoron's and recall a feeling of triumph when I blurt out "that's an oxymoron!" Is that strange? I should say so.

Moment of enlightenment: I live in a constant state of oxymoronhood. Or is it oxymoronship? Whatever it is, I am living in it.

Now I cannot remember what made me want to write this in my blog and I am sure that I had more to back this up...but it's gone.

Just when I thought I was out of the woods.

So the first few days of weening off the Effexor went pretty good...I was even surprised at how good I was feeling. That should have been my first clue! Sunday was the next step down, figuratively and literally, as I went from 150 mg to 75 mg. By yesterday afternoon I began feeling the physical pains of the withdrawal. Certainly nothing comparable to my past experience of missing an entire dose, but noticeable nonetheless. The day started like any other, well I did not get up on time, did not get to work on time, and I had to leave early for my first appointment with my new therapist. So my day was not the same in the events, but rather in level of chaos. Back to my story (I would say 'back to my point', but I do not believe that I ever really have a point). Okay, so after my therapy (which went very well) I had just about an hour or so of playtime with my son before the pain began to creep up on me. And creep it did. Very slowly and very strangely, I felt some pain in my back and neck. My head felt a little weird, almost like when you stick your tongue on a 9 volt battery...but in my head. Next came an overwhelming feeling of loss of energy. I did not want to do anything, could not do anything. I felt almost paralyzed and pissed off too. Thankfully, Vince was home to tend to whatever needed tending to and I was able to hide in our bedroom again.

We planned to wake up early today and walk the dogs. Vince was finally able to get me out of bed when he came to kiss me good bye and told me I had to get up now because the baby was up and well, he had to leave for work. So much for the walk. I am dragging today...my arms are tingly, my back and body ache, I am exhausted. All of this is the price for sanity???

This better work. I just want the Effexor out of my system completely. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Effexor

Oh yeah and it would be nice too if the Lexapro works. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lexapro

Help, they're changing my meds...

Okay, so I just got home from a visit to my 'head' doctor or shrink, whichever you prefer.

About 6 mos. ago the great doctor (seriously, he is keeping me alive) up'ed my Effexor dose to 225mg/day. I don't know if that's a "holy shit" dose or an "eh, it could be worse" dose. Doesn't matter. Point is, I missed a dose of Effexor twice while taking 150mg and let me tell you it's no pleasure cruise. Both times my body just started to shake, on the inside. And I just felt like crap, but not just your ordinary "I feel like crap today". No, this was crap multiplied by 100. I researched this wonder drug that I started taking while vacationing in the mental ward of my local hospital. What I read terrified me, some refer to this strange reaction as 'brain shivers' or 'brain quivers' - that just sounds God-awful. Believe me, it feels worse. Back to my point.

After that I never missed a dose, until the next time...

The next time...I wake up on a typical Wednesday morning and rush into the shower 'cause I hit snooze twice. No sooner do I get out of the shower and I am hunched over in pain. Shallow, quick breathing then cold sweats and my whole body tightens and I feel like I cannot move a muscle. I stay in a fetal position for what feels like forever but may have been only a few minutes. As the feeling fades, my jaw clenches and I have that weird sensation that crawls up out of your belly and right into your throat and out your...well, you can imagine. I have not vomited that violently since my 21st birthday! Back flash: The Big Kahuna, Dover, DE, Oct. 12, Wednesday- in the ladies' room. No one called me a lady that night!!! Well, just as I am rinsing my mouth it dawns on me, I forgot my meds the day before. So I hurry to take my missed dose and wait...and wait...and wait. After 5 hours of misery, I call the great doctor and he can't fix this one for me. He tells me I can take another dose right now and if by 7 pm I am not feeling better, take an extra Effexor. Fast-forward... the extra dose worked, I felt better by bedtime. I will never leave the house without a dose on me for backup. I love Effexor. I hate Effexor.

By the time I see the doc today, I have come to terms with the fact that I will be on Effexor for the rest of my life because I fear the withdrawal. What does the great doctor decide today? To switch me to Lexapro. He has had great success with Lexapro - I am sure he is referring to his patients; I bet he is not crazy. His decision is based on two things he says. Numero uno: my blood pressure has been hanging around 132/96 (apparently that is dangerouly high) for the last four months and I even quit smoking three months ago. Since the smoking wasn't causing the high blood pressure, it must be the Effexor. Great, does that mean I can smoke again? I finally find the pill that works and it raises my BP and holds me prisoner from fear of missing a dose. WTF? Oh yeah, the other reason for the switch...I am still feeling on the edge too often. I unravel at least twice a week. Sometimes the unraveling can last days. Can you imagine? I feel sorry for Vince and the kids when this happens. I am painfully aware while it's happening and no matter how much I want to, I cannot seem to take hold and stop it. The answer...onto Lexapro.

Wish me luck, I think I need it. I am cutting my dose by 1/3 starting tomorrow morning. Like I need this stress.

Is there such a thing...

Have you ever heard someone say "my earliest memory" or perhaps you read it in a book? A key character, that does not exist, claims to have something that I (a real person?) have never been able to claim? Could it be that none of us truly have an earliest memory? Do you? Does anyone? Anyone and everyone, but me, that is.

See, I have tried countless times to recall my earliest memory. Was it when Danny cut my arm? Or the fuzzy yellow outfit I loved? The anthill? Now, mind you, I see my vast memory as the wall of TV's in the Sears department store. You know the one, with all the different programs going at once? Well, that is how I see my memories in my head; I really can see the events as they happen (or rather, happened). And then I wonder does everyone see his or her memories? Do they see a wall of TVs? Or, is it just I? And, if so, why? Really, why? Why am I the screwed up one? What the hell did I do to deserve this shit? And, if it's the other way around then why hasn't anyone told me that I am normal? It's more than just the memory thing. I ask the very question about everything I do and everything I think. It's so annoying. I am actually getting pissed off at myself as I am typing these very words; I am banging the keys. Neurotic - I have never understood what that meant...until this very moment. Feeling neurotic, I feel it. Shit, the word has a feeling. I must be neurotic. Every thought purges countless thoughts. I can't keep track of them; much less ponder them.

What next? Well then I laugh at myself because I still find the humor in my madness.

Anyway, as I was saying...if I am normal I wish that someone would tell me. But in nearly 34 years, no one has EVER accused me of being normal. So, onto the centerpiece of my life...that creepy, little bastard that sits on left shoulder. I imagine you must be thinking, she's a freakin' nut job! And you would be spot on!

Where do I start? The beginning?

I am going to give this blogging thing a shot. I really just want to regurgitate my thoughts, my life, and my insanities. Can I be uncrazy? This is my question in life, my pursuit of happiness. I just want to be normal, what the hell is that anyway? Is there such a thing? IS ANYONE NORMAL? My plan is to blog my whole life as it comes to me in dribs and drabs. Reliving my childhood over and over in my head has created a vast cluster of garbage that I can no longer keep up there. It must go; and so to all (or any) of you who happen to come across this and read my posts, I offer my apologies and my guarantee that this is all true and as whacked as it sounds. YOUR COMMENTS ARE WELCOMED. I do hope that people will read and comment so that maybe I can find out where I am on the crazy scale. Side note: the term 'crazy' is not meant to offend; I have felt 'crazy' my whole life and I am a certifiable nutcase diagnosed with bi-polar disorder – therefore I make no apologies. I have earned the right to use this word while referencing myself. Okay, I'm off the soapbox.

My head is overly cramped today with thoughts and replays of this past weekend. I cried more than I smiled, I wanted to sleep the entire time and as much as I tried, I could not escape my family. Here's the kicker...I LOVE MY FAMILY, it's me that I want to run away from.