It’s 3:15am Monday morning, and like all good boys and girls, I should be in bed sleeping. Instead, I stayed awake fretting over the slight idea that my electricity was going to be cut off tomorrow (it’s not) and the added fact that I had a five hour nap lasting until 8pm this evening also did not help.
I’m still struggling with the fact of the amount of drugs I’m taking on a daily basis. Dr. B. says we have to work on my issues one at a time and she’s adding bipolar/manic depressiveness or ADD/ADDH to the mix because apparently while both are similar, I also exhibit symptoms of ADD/ADDH but apparently some of the underlying issues with learning disorders also clearly show to be like bipolar as well. Like how Anthrax has “flu like symptoms.” Bad connotation but you get the point.
I remember, five or six years ago when our GP put me on Prozac and I woke up every morning with suicidal thoughts. Apparently, I am one of the very few that had that kind of side affect happen to them. I think Dr. B. mentioned that Lithium and it’s derivatives are the same way, but the point is to remember it’s the medication and not how you truly feel, which is also my strong point. I’m too fucking stubborn to die. I take my anger out in other obtuse ways, like chopping off my hair (I did mention that I used to pull my hair out in huge clumps when I was pissed back in the day, didn’t i?), dying my hair, getting pierced/tattooed and shopping. When I’m angry, I spend money. heh. Yet I still look at my bookshelf and think I don’t own enough books. I cleaned off my desk while I was getting bills together this morning and found a book I had purchased over a month ago and forgot about.
I keep straying from the point.
So about five or six years ago, GP puts me on Prozac and i felt like a zombie. I did not feel like “me,” i felt like someone who wasn’t me but was sharing my body. I did not know who that person was, but it was pissing me off. I did not feel the highs or the lows like I was used to and that angered me. I wanted to feel the highs and the lows, but that would require me to be off drugs and it seemed everyone wanted me to be on drugs.
It was then and there that I swore that I would use holistics, therapy or other ways to control the body chemistry and not use artificial means. But after having panic attack after panic attack for months in the summer of 2000 and feeling like you were dying will change that in you.
Dr. B. asked me why I was so defensive. heh. I spilled out words to her about growing up in my family and school and what i was like. I was always effing alone when I was growing up. That’s how i felt. I didn’t have many friends and I didn’t have very man confidences. There was me, my books and reading.
Paul was pretty adamant about me going on lithium because he said it was addictive and that he had family members who could not get off of the drug. I asked Dr. B. about it and she said that lithium was not addictive and that really, none of my meds were except klonopin. Even then, because while i have an addictive personality, I’m so afraid of being strung out on drugs or alcohol, I refuse to put myself in that situation. I hardly every drink — last time I had beer was on 9/11/2001 and prior to that was Paul’s 21st birthday. I cannot even remember the last time I did illicit drugs. It does nothing for me. Growing up in an alcoholic family will do that to you, either you become this almost fanatic about alcohol and drugs or you succumb and do it yourself. I choose not to succumb and kept my mouth away from alcoholic pleasures for quite a long time. I won’t say I don’t drink, as I’ve been known to imbibe in a few yummy alcohol laden treats a few times in my life, but I don’t use alcohol as a crutch. Never could get over some of the taste and the smell of whiskey always reminds me of my dad. I never could date anyone who liked drinking whiskey and coke, because that to me along with a few other smells reminds me too much of my father.
I’m still fucking angry at him dying on me. I’m still pissed at my mom. Dr. B. says that I need to let the hurt go and I was almost shouting “I want to! I JUST DO NOT KNOW HOW!”
I don’t know how.
Wish I did.
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lisa
Tag: ADHD
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This weekend was a very slow and lazy weekend — the kind where paul and i did not have guests so we could relax but on the flip side i was so wired from — something (dunno what) that i couldn’t sit still for longer than five minutes at a time. i bounced around from cleaning to organizing to walking the dogs because no one could stay put in the same spot. on the flip side, paul was so bored that he took a three hour nap yesterday afternoon to relieve the boredom.
my mind was whirling at a speed i couldn’t comprehend. i would walk around doing stuff thinking of better and shorter ways to organize and clean. i couldn’t walk in the bathroom without putting towels away and putting towels away meant doing laundry and doing laundry meant i had to clean up the bedroom. so the simple act of putting something away was prolonged by insistence on doing 15 different things at once.
one of my obsessive/compulsive is cleaning and paul calls me the goff martha stewart because i love to clean. I’ve always admired working with my hands and putting things in order so that it is just so. I’m not so anal that there are not mess’s laying around but there is an order to the chaos of our lives and that order is me.
so i cleaned and organized and sorted and did things that i haven’t been able to do in the preceding weeks (paul cooks — we’ll just leave it at that) and finally crashed early later on in the after noon.
it all started when i was sitting on irc and someone brought up the infamous sexchart of which I am listed (just do a find for simunye — you’ll find me). Which made me REALLY FUCKING ANGRY! I sat there snapping to people on irc about something that happened to me only four years ago and yet feels like a lifetime ago.
Some of it came out in the open in the news two years ago when I sang to the major papers (and never following up on my chances for writing for wired — second time in my life I’ve blown a major opportunity like this) about my relationship with se7en which seems like a nightmare and a life time many times removed from now.
the anger subsided later on in the night when paul and i had hit the local barnes and noble and i got a tall raspberry mocha frap (i am a trend setter — starfucks is now selling a ‘raspberry mocha chip’ frap in their stores. i don’t drink that swill — just mocha frap with raspberry syrup for me thanks).
but i couldn’t place my finger on what was making me so angry — so much has changed in the last four years since i moved to san francisco (almost four years to the day) and since when i left for Virginia. i sat there in the car just staring into space trying to think why i was so pissed, and not one goddamn reason was coming up. maybe because it was with my relationship with christian where i had laid all my eggs in one basket and they got scrambled or the thinking that my relief of finding someone like me wasn’t even close to being true. maybe it was the lies, the cheating and how i had fucked him in the summer of 97 when he was cheating on me with someone who he cheated on with me in Vegas. I still remember the look on his face when he told me he was breaking up with me — or the look on my face when i was jumping around for joy in my brain. I remember sitting in the bathroom at 4am in the morning writing in my journal about how much i hated laying next to him when i had no where else to go. I hated feeling weak and insecure and unloved.
with the help of Dr. B (indirectly I’ll add), I’ve been making a timeline in my head of where everything fell apart — and it was always with the men (which, one shrink had pointed out so wisely to me many years ago). With each passing relationship, where i had thrown myself into thinking i was in love with them, and getting trampled on only to have hurt the ones who have really loved me (danny, justin, and now paul). I think about this a lot – that the new spanking apartment in Herndon is still the crappy old apartment in El Cerrito, CA because in my head while the things around me have changed significantly, what is in my head has not. I still feel trapped and scared and unwilling to deal with what is truly bothering me than dealing with the present. and the past. and the future.
haven’t you ever just wanted to say “enough is enough” – but I’ve been screaming enough is enough for a long time now and I’m not getting any response back. i feel like the little boy who cried wolf — that simply (and honestly) no one believes me. it makes me smile saying that because in my youth — and to me my youth was in my early 20s, i always thought that the man i was with ‘right now’ was the one who was ‘forever’ — instead of just saying ‘he is mr right now’. but i was young and foolish and what did i know from any better on anything at that time other than i just wanted, simply and honestly, to be loved.
i wish someone had explained to me long time ago how to be more rational instead of being pigheaded and stubborn. i look at paul and i know deep in my heart we are meant to be together but from somewhere within I’m not allowing it to happen. to be relaxed and to watch him and love him. it was so easy a few years ago when he was 3000 miles away and like everyone before him, i have him and i don’t know what to do with him.
everyone wants me to talk, because i never say anything about me anymore anywhere i just agree and ask questions and forget what i asked. i want to learn about the people around me but forget when they tell me things because somewhere, unconsciously, perhaps i don’t care. or perhaps i care too much? it doesn’t hurt anymore thinking about it — i suppose the Effexor is good for one thing is stabilizing my emotions but for the last two years, i haven’t had that many emotions to deal with. i worry about the people who loved me I’ve left behind and about not being a good enough employee, girlfriend, daughter, sister daughter or lover.
i remember the ages of my youth falling with a twinkle in my eye and I’m watching paul going through what i went through less than a decade ago. i remember thinking i was never ever going to put myself in the position to be in a relationship with someone unless i was truly passionate about them and i remember what it was like being passionate and feeling i was in love with paul and knowing even know that i am but feel dead inside for no real discerning reason. sometimes i would think i would give up some things in my life only to feel alive like i did when i was younger and more naive because the i had not learned or handed myself to the ways i was now.
even then when i hated myself for being so impassioned i would look at this new self even more and shudder thinking what it was like to become her and how did she end up like this? i wish there was a way to chip the ice off of my heart so i can feel the love i feel for paul instead of looking at him sometimes waiting for him to leave like everyone else did before or lie or cheat or say something to make me wish i was noting more than a mattress with a hole in it. i wish i could feel the rage and the passion and the ups and the down of life instead of feeling like I’m drifting off into no mans land, on an ice cube in the Arctic.
i think you get my point.
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lisa
