I’m not in the mood to be at all thoughtful. I haven’t been for a while now. Stupid medicine. Stupid everything.

Here are some basic updates for those who may care:

I’m starting my (unfortunately unpaid) internship at a fancy rehab facility in mid March.
I otherwise only have my one restaurant job now, because the pharmacy job and my anxiety had a falling out.
Having a gym membership finally is *thumbs up.*
Hearing from others that I’ve noticeably slimmed a little is *double thumbs up, with head-nod emphasis.*
I ate an entire pizza today.
My book reading has slowed down since my ability to concentrate decreased.
Though, I still love listening to my audiobooks when I’m working out.
My mom made a blog and posts a lot now. Well, at least she did last week.
Personal trainer!
Insomnia and nightmares!
Expensive wristband that tells me I don’t sleep enough but eat too much?

What an exciting life I lead.

Hopefully you have a wonderful whatever.

Some Weird Feelings

So, I think it’s well known through this blog that I have had a few issues with mental stuff. Mental stuff being a very broad term meant to encompass the eating disordered stuff, the anxiety stuff, the depression stuff, the psychosis stuff, and the mania stuff, and all that other stuff. All of it’s been a part of my life for a while now, and that’s not all bad. I’ve learned a lot about the brain and how it works, so that’s led to a better understanding of my own self which is nice. Luckily, the past couple years they haven’t been so overbearing because I got help and a support system that works for me (Thanks Matt and Mickey!). This introduction is shit.

What I was going to talk about is how it’s been since 2010/2011 since I’ve been on brain medicine of any kind, other than the occasional Xanax. The last batch was a group of 12 pills including SSRIs, anticonvulsants for mood stabilization, sleeping pills, antianxieties broadly, antipsychotics, and duplicates… There were a lot. So, just this month when my doctor suggested I take a medicine again it was kind of an odd thing to process. I am all for taking medicine when your brain needs it. Obviously, I know depression and other mental stuffs are real, so it didn’t bother me to take it, and it didn’t make me feel weak or less capable necessarily. It just kind of felt like I could go back to that sick spot in my mind again. It was scary for a few days.

I’m not sure what I’m complaining about. To my doctor, I expressed my frustration with my inability to focus and make sentences go together and do homework and not forget everything. She contributed it to my anxiety, so I’m taking prescribed Xanax and Lexapro now for its antianxiety stuff. It’s weird being medicated again. I guess I’m just not sure how I feel about it. I know I’m better off than I was last time I was medicated. Where am I going with this? Maybe my stupid way with words isn’t part of my anxiety. Maybe I’m just dumb. Sure does feel like it sometimes.

On a lighter note, I wrote a 4 1/2 page paper in 2 hours this week and I was so proud. Research papers are 230948% better than having-to-have-an-opinion papers.

Happy Wednesday, friends. Stay sunshiney.

All of the Inadequacy

From the start, I was destined to be independent. I always went off my own in the store, always used my allowance to buy things and learned money management early. I was obsessed with wallets, purses, organizers, and the things important people used them for. (All those company credit cards and appointments!) I wanted to wear my hair down in a convertible with shades on and drive to my important job, have lunch with other important people, and send important emails all day. Of course I’d also be wearing a pencil skirt or its equivalent, and workout every morning then cook healthy meals for my family every night.

Did I want to be a lawyer? A doctor? A pharmacist will do. No, not just a pharmacist at the local drugstore. Maybe I wanted to be a pharmacologist, study pharmacokinetics, or toxicology. Do something that took time, patience, and super important chemistry skills. The problem was that I still wanted to play viola. I was already best in my class, I might as well do something with it. Problem solved! Audition for the local symphony (no way would I stay in Omaha. I have far more important places to go) and participate in all the ground breaking performances. What about singing? I loved singing and everyone told me I was good at it. Done. Be music director at my eventual church (yet another symbol of having my shit together).

Now that life has killed my dreams (overly dramatic?) I’ve decided I want to be a stay-at-home cat lady. I’ll still have a job, but it will be a safe job I can do from my house completely eliminating the need to deal with people outside. I’ll have internet access to perform my job, and communication lines to talk to (relatively) important people. I want to be a pharmacist/pharmacologist/toxiologist so, so badly. However, that would require a lot of money/applying for things, leaving my house a LOT, and having a real life career with all these real life responsibilities that would just be way too much to handle.

I think I’ve accepted all of this. My current career path as a work-from-home is promising enough, and it’ll get me to a very stable point in my midlife years. I just wish I could ever be as important and independent as I wanted to be. Blame it on the agoraphobia.

I really wanted to go further with this post, but my brain-thoughts-hands system is under construction. Just insert thoughts of failure regarding college degrees here.