Well.
I have had a heck of a month.
Now, I have just interceded with myself on your behalf, dear reader, as I tend to be...rather long-winded. (I have, in the past, made a description of a Simspsons episode last nearly a half hour.) Therefore, allow me to summarize the last many weeks in a few short sentences:
Everything sucked a bunch until the middle of March (see previous posts).
I finally had a revelation about what I was doing with my life. I got on some meds for my crippling anxiety and I decided to make a change in my goals.
Then I was offered a job.
Then my grandparents gave me their old-but-awesome truck.
Then I got the lead in a show for this summer.
Then I got offered another, better job.
Then I got the lead in another show.
It has been a pretty amazing couple of weeks, as I'm sure you can imagine. I'm earning an income, which is one of the best things right now - I get my first paycheck next week, and all I can think is rent! phone bill! food! gas! medicine! As in, I won't have to choose between a couple of those things; I can just do them ALL. It's so new and thrilling.
I think my revelation will work better as a separate post, so I'm going to go grab some food-type stuff, and I'll post again in a bit.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Friday, February 29, 2008
The Real Deal
So, here's the thing: a lot of the reason I started this blog was so that I would stop sitting on all the crap that builds up in me and start getting it out in some form. I haven't been doing that, because...well, it's hard to admit that there are days (so many days!) in which I am completely convinced that I'm going to die alone, a failure, pathetically dependent on those whose compassion outweighs their common sense. It's really really hard to talk or write about it. But the truth, I have heard, will set me free, and I know that hiding behind a facade of competence and shrinking ever more into myself is NOT the way to go. Although it sounds easier.
The truth: my anxiety has been crushing me. It has been growing and becoming more frequent and harder to contain, to the point that I can't walk over sewer grates because I know they'll fall and I'll be surrounded by something dead - or, worse, undead. I can't get to sleep on my own - I have started taking sleeping pills, and even they don't do any good unless Rob is home, the closet is closed, and there are cats in my room to keep me company. I'm scared of EVERYTHING - I can't go new places, or be around people, or eat new food, or walk alone...it's ridiculous. Logically, I do know that, and it's bizarre to remember the way I used to be, the way I think I really am somewhere deep down - sassy and confident and, you know, wrong a fair amount, but happy and in charge of me. Like when I moved to Portland from Tucson with no actual plan - no plan for money, school, living, anything - I just knew I'd figure it out. And I did. But now I'm this feeble, frightened thing, and I'm sick of myself. I feel like others must be too; I'm convinced that I'm a burden, annoying, tragically gauche, and that as soon as I'm gone, people exchange looks about me (words, you understand, not being necessary).
That, in case you're wondering, is the reason I don't generally call people to make plans: I feel that any request for interaction coming from me is an imposition - one that my friends and family (being lovely people) will indulge for my good, out of a sense of obligation or charity, but not out of actual pleasure in my company. Again, I logically know that this is not the case (at least not always), but there literally is no time in my memory that I have not felt this fear.
This constant feeling of terror is HORRIFYING. I can't function. I can't live this way.
Yesterday was a particularly bad day - I tried to go to work, came back for my coat after a couple of blocks, and fell down on my bed and sobbed for a while. I called in to work, and then went to my doctor and told her (well, bawled at her is more like it) that I needed to be back on an antidepressant and why don't we try an anti-anxiety drug too because I think I'm going crazy and what's wrong with me. And here's a big old huzzah for Dr. Lewis, who talked to me about what was wrong, and gave me tissues, a prescription, some sleep aids, and a couple of hugs. She also suggested I might try praying for guidance, and you know? Not a bad idea. The fact that I don't believe in God per se is kind of immaterial, I think, and praying certainly can't hurt anything. So today I feel better.
I just have to get through one day at a time. Each day I can make it through is a victory right now, so...I'm close to another finish line. Thank goodness.
I can do this.
The truth: my anxiety has been crushing me. It has been growing and becoming more frequent and harder to contain, to the point that I can't walk over sewer grates because I know they'll fall and I'll be surrounded by something dead - or, worse, undead. I can't get to sleep on my own - I have started taking sleeping pills, and even they don't do any good unless Rob is home, the closet is closed, and there are cats in my room to keep me company. I'm scared of EVERYTHING - I can't go new places, or be around people, or eat new food, or walk alone...it's ridiculous. Logically, I do know that, and it's bizarre to remember the way I used to be, the way I think I really am somewhere deep down - sassy and confident and, you know, wrong a fair amount, but happy and in charge of me. Like when I moved to Portland from Tucson with no actual plan - no plan for money, school, living, anything - I just knew I'd figure it out. And I did. But now I'm this feeble, frightened thing, and I'm sick of myself. I feel like others must be too; I'm convinced that I'm a burden, annoying, tragically gauche, and that as soon as I'm gone, people exchange looks about me (words, you understand, not being necessary).
That, in case you're wondering, is the reason I don't generally call people to make plans: I feel that any request for interaction coming from me is an imposition - one that my friends and family (being lovely people) will indulge for my good, out of a sense of obligation or charity, but not out of actual pleasure in my company. Again, I logically know that this is not the case (at least not always), but there literally is no time in my memory that I have not felt this fear.
This constant feeling of terror is HORRIFYING. I can't function. I can't live this way.
Yesterday was a particularly bad day - I tried to go to work, came back for my coat after a couple of blocks, and fell down on my bed and sobbed for a while. I called in to work, and then went to my doctor and told her (well, bawled at her is more like it) that I needed to be back on an antidepressant and why don't we try an anti-anxiety drug too because I think I'm going crazy and what's wrong with me. And here's a big old huzzah for Dr. Lewis, who talked to me about what was wrong, and gave me tissues, a prescription, some sleep aids, and a couple of hugs. She also suggested I might try praying for guidance, and you know? Not a bad idea. The fact that I don't believe in God per se is kind of immaterial, I think, and praying certainly can't hurt anything. So today I feel better.
I just have to get through one day at a time. Each day I can make it through is a victory right now, so...I'm close to another finish line. Thank goodness.
I can do this.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Good Lord, people, I am so tired. I just got done with doing a performance of Opera Cinema: Carmen (which, incidentally, rocks), and my grandparents took me to dinner afterwards; this, of course, means Marie Callender's. I got the turkey dinner - how I love turkey dinners! I can't eat the mashed potatoes, sadly, since I avoid the poisonous-to-very-white-persons nightshades, but I just got more stuffing instead. 'Cause, you know, that's just how I roll.
ANYway, my grandparents were just having pie, so I scarfed half that dinner in, like, five minutes, so they wouldn't have to wait. I also had a cup of chamomile tea. This was kind of stupid, because I have been unable to keep my eyes fully open for the hour since we left the restaurant.
Okay, moving right along: I hate to say it, because I was really hoping Hil could win this thing, but I think Obama's going to get the Democratic nomination. Le sigh. I don't have anything really against his platform other than the MASSIVELY HUGE point that he's only twelve or whatever. Seriously, I don't think he has nearly enough experience to run a large state, let alone a country - VP, yes. Prez? Not so much! How frustrating this must be for Hillary. Well, maybe I'll be proven wrong, but...I have one of those...feelings about it.
Today on NPR, I heard a snippet of conversation about Antonin Scalia's remarks about the definition of torture. I have to say that the biggest argument I have against the use of torture in interrogating suspected criminals is this: knowing, as I do and most of the rest of the world does, that we have secretly and illegally subjected people to cruel and inhuman treatment means that I can no longer hold my head up as an American. I'm ashamed to be a part of a country that is so two-faced about a matter with such clear boundaries - even the people who advocate it must know it's wrong, or why do they insist that it is only to be used in the most extreme cases? No, torture is always wrong. Always.
I have more things to say on that, I think, but I'm awfully tired. More later. In the meantime, what do you think?
ANYway, my grandparents were just having pie, so I scarfed half that dinner in, like, five minutes, so they wouldn't have to wait. I also had a cup of chamomile tea. This was kind of stupid, because I have been unable to keep my eyes fully open for the hour since we left the restaurant.
Okay, moving right along: I hate to say it, because I was really hoping Hil could win this thing, but I think Obama's going to get the Democratic nomination. Le sigh. I don't have anything really against his platform other than the MASSIVELY HUGE point that he's only twelve or whatever. Seriously, I don't think he has nearly enough experience to run a large state, let alone a country - VP, yes. Prez? Not so much! How frustrating this must be for Hillary. Well, maybe I'll be proven wrong, but...I have one of those...feelings about it.
Today on NPR, I heard a snippet of conversation about Antonin Scalia's remarks about the definition of torture. I have to say that the biggest argument I have against the use of torture in interrogating suspected criminals is this: knowing, as I do and most of the rest of the world does, that we have secretly and illegally subjected people to cruel and inhuman treatment means that I can no longer hold my head up as an American. I'm ashamed to be a part of a country that is so two-faced about a matter with such clear boundaries - even the people who advocate it must know it's wrong, or why do they insist that it is only to be used in the most extreme cases? No, torture is always wrong. Always.
I have more things to say on that, I think, but I'm awfully tired. More later. In the meantime, what do you think?
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Briefly
Hello and welcome to exciting notes from my life! First and foremost, Swedish Fish rock so hard I can't even tell you. I've been a weentsy bit stressed out and decided I may as well binge as not, so...yeah. Love the Swedish Fish, and Hallelujah for the binge! I think it's been helping; that glazed-over feeling that you get after having eaten your own weight in Ben & Jerry's Strawberry Cheesecake ice cream (which, by the way, is hella cheap at Fred's) is surprisingly like Inner Peace. Or like Inner Peace's ne'er-do-well cousin, Inner Brooding Despair.
So! The stress: consciousness is doing that to me right now. In recognition of that, I had My First Panic Attack on Sunday night. Whoo-hoo! It was a gas, let me tell you...my roommate (yes, the ex) wasn't home, and as it was past eleven at night, I was limited in my choices of people to call while weeping and hysterical. You know how it is. Anyway, I called everyone else on the short list that remained, and after about half an hour, I finally got my cousin. Yay for Christie, who stayed on the phone with me for an hour while I calmed down, until Rob got home and could protect me from the unnamed and completely imaginary Bogeythings that were gonna get me if I let down my guard.
Mmm...lemmesee. I love love love Law and Order: Criminal Intent, despite its being kinda formulaic (you know exactly how Vincent D'Onofrio's character is going to figure out whodunit and then creepily get the truth out of the perp during the last two minutes). However, I am not allowed to watch this after about four pm anymore. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to avoid all the shots of dead bodies and they freak me out for days afterward. Yes, I know they're just actors and very good make-up. It matters not.
Still no Internet access in my apartment. I can use the office computer during business hours, but...le sigh. The office Internet, it is not the same.
Okay. I need to go. Best of love!
So! The stress: consciousness is doing that to me right now. In recognition of that, I had My First Panic Attack on Sunday night. Whoo-hoo! It was a gas, let me tell you...my roommate (yes, the ex) wasn't home, and as it was past eleven at night, I was limited in my choices of people to call while weeping and hysterical. You know how it is. Anyway, I called everyone else on the short list that remained, and after about half an hour, I finally got my cousin. Yay for Christie, who stayed on the phone with me for an hour while I calmed down, until Rob got home and could protect me from the unnamed and completely imaginary Bogeythings that were gonna get me if I let down my guard.
Mmm...lemmesee. I love love love Law and Order: Criminal Intent, despite its being kinda formulaic (you know exactly how Vincent D'Onofrio's character is going to figure out whodunit and then creepily get the truth out of the perp during the last two minutes). However, I am not allowed to watch this after about four pm anymore. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to avoid all the shots of dead bodies and they freak me out for days afterward. Yes, I know they're just actors and very good make-up. It matters not.
Still no Internet access in my apartment. I can use the office computer during business hours, but...le sigh. The office Internet, it is not the same.
Okay. I need to go. Best of love!
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Lameness? No, thank you, I brought my own.
I'm trying to have friends. I went out last night to a company function...except that it's a small, non-stuffy company, so we went for drinks, saw Sweeney Todd, and then...yes, went for more drinks. It was fun, only pretty much every time I'm out with people I feel like they must be just waiting for me to finish talking because I sound like such a self-absorbed stooge. The consciousness of my own discomfort would, you might think, be enough to keep my tongue wagging rather minimally, but no. Oh, no, I must talk at length about things that I really had no intention of saying, because people (especially people I like) make me nervous and I can't control the drivel that I emit. So then I have a couple-few sips on my drink to calm down, and at the next pause in conversation, out spews more crap! Now with added tipsy rambling action! It's awesome.
In other news of the retard I am apparently trying to be, do you know what the parents of the nineteen-year-old you're dating don't love? Well, one thing is when they wake up and unexpectedly find you in the spare bed because you came over late and missed the last train home. It's also fun to accidentally take the name of their lord in vain when you are startled while making breakfast of their food in their kitchen. Yes, devout Christians love it when you shout "Jesus!" really loudly. It's like he's there.
I keep doing stupid stuff, stupid and much less considerate than I like to see. I'm trying not to try to make other people happy as much as is my wont, but I don't seem to be going about it the right way. I should take some time off from...I don't know. Human interaction? I wonder if I could just take a little trip for a day, alone with Buddha, and see what peace I can find. Plus I think it's time for some delayed New Year's resolutions. Yes. Coming soon, one Tsipa with firmer policies.
In other news of the retard I am apparently trying to be, do you know what the parents of the nineteen-year-old you're dating don't love? Well, one thing is when they wake up and unexpectedly find you in the spare bed because you came over late and missed the last train home. It's also fun to accidentally take the name of their lord in vain when you are startled while making breakfast of their food in their kitchen. Yes, devout Christians love it when you shout "Jesus!" really loudly. It's like he's there.
I keep doing stupid stuff, stupid and much less considerate than I like to see. I'm trying not to try to make other people happy as much as is my wont, but I don't seem to be going about it the right way. I should take some time off from...I don't know. Human interaction? I wonder if I could just take a little trip for a day, alone with Buddha, and see what peace I can find. Plus I think it's time for some delayed New Year's resolutions. Yes. Coming soon, one Tsipa with firmer policies.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Stick this in your...um, nevermind.
Reason number 3,411 that I want to go to Europe: Post-partum care.
I have ranted to most people I know, I think, about the sad state that obstetric and post-partum care is in in this country, but I didn't know about the facts in the aforementioned article. If you want a good time, go find a book by Ina May Gaskin; Spiritual Midwifery was life-changing for me. It gave me hope for when I become a mother (Lord willing and the crick don't rise), and inspired me to start doula training. In other words, Ina May FRIGGIN' ROCKS.
Speaking of which, do you think it's possible to have a flourishing doula practice and a fulfilling opera career at the same time? I felt like they're mutually exclusive, so I gave up the one, but being a doula (doula-ing? doulism? doulacy?) is one of the greatest things that I can think of. Like, second only to opera, which of course is my personal crack cocaine. Anyway, I would love to do both. Both opera and doulage (ooh, that's a good one), that is; I'm fine without the crack.
Comments? Helpful suggestions? Ideas for the best way to make an abstract noun from "doula"?
I have ranted to most people I know, I think, about the sad state that obstetric and post-partum care is in in this country, but I didn't know about the facts in the aforementioned article. If you want a good time, go find a book by Ina May Gaskin; Spiritual Midwifery was life-changing for me. It gave me hope for when I become a mother (Lord willing and the crick don't rise), and inspired me to start doula training. In other words, Ina May FRIGGIN' ROCKS.
Speaking of which, do you think it's possible to have a flourishing doula practice and a fulfilling opera career at the same time? I felt like they're mutually exclusive, so I gave up the one, but being a doula (doula-ing? doulism? doulacy?) is one of the greatest things that I can think of. Like, second only to opera, which of course is my personal crack cocaine. Anyway, I would love to do both. Both opera and doulage (ooh, that's a good one), that is; I'm fine without the crack.
Comments? Helpful suggestions? Ideas for the best way to make an abstract noun from "doula"?
Monday, December 10, 2007
Briefly
People are amazing: I am dating an awesome, wonderful guy from Cinderella. In addition to being smart (he read, understood, and liked The Myth of Sisyphus), cute (oh holy goodness, is he adorable), and sweet (he danced me around a parking lot and sang to me - in front of people), he is quite talented. I went to a performance for the theater class he's in, and he was brilliant/hilarious in the improv skits, and funny/sincere in his scene. Yay for beauty!
People are frustrating: my ex got me flowers for the first time. That's right, after maybe three romantic gestures during the nearly two years we were involved, he gets me flowers now. He's legitimately sad and depressed, I feel guilty, and I don't think I did anything wrong. Aargh.
My cats have an unshakeable urge to eat flowers.
I really need to go out and get a job. Like right now. So, the next thing is the last.
I love languages!!! Love love love. So, when I went to Curious Expeditions (the link is to the left) and saw their post on Esperanto, I was thrilled. Why? Well, it turns out that Esperanto is pretty easy to acquire. That makes sense, as it is a planned language, but somehow I never thought it would be a relatively simple endeavor (you know, simple compared to German, which makes me feel like I'm in a Schwarzwald no matter how much I learn). At any rate, dear reader, if you are interested, you can go to this page and find links to learn for free, via online lessons and email. Since Esperanto isn't really from anywhere, your accent doesn't much matter, so you can practice at home until you feel like you have a handle on it, then go find other speakers and jabber away! Then leave me a message, in Esperanto, about how cool technology can be.
People are frustrating: my ex got me flowers for the first time. That's right, after maybe three romantic gestures during the nearly two years we were involved, he gets me flowers now. He's legitimately sad and depressed, I feel guilty, and I don't think I did anything wrong. Aargh.
My cats have an unshakeable urge to eat flowers.
I really need to go out and get a job. Like right now. So, the next thing is the last.
I love languages!!! Love love love. So, when I went to Curious Expeditions (the link is to the left) and saw their post on Esperanto, I was thrilled. Why? Well, it turns out that Esperanto is pretty easy to acquire. That makes sense, as it is a planned language, but somehow I never thought it would be a relatively simple endeavor (you know, simple compared to German, which makes me feel like I'm in a Schwarzwald no matter how much I learn). At any rate, dear reader, if you are interested, you can go to this page and find links to learn for free, via online lessons and email. Since Esperanto isn't really from anywhere, your accent doesn't much matter, so you can practice at home until you feel like you have a handle on it, then go find other speakers and jabber away! Then leave me a message, in Esperanto, about how cool technology can be.
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