One Month On Laxapro

I wasn’t unsure about writing this but I feel like I have to anyways. (In a good way of course).

 

For almost all my teenage years and the beginning of my adult life I had been unaware that I had anxiety and depression. I always thought that it was normal to feel the way I felt. Sure, there were times when I knew deep down inside that a person shouldn’t feel that way. But there was nothing I really ever did about it, or at least better said, there was nothing I felt I could do about it. I didn’t tell friends and I didn’t tell any family. I just kept it to myself.

This harmed me in the long run. Keeping all my feelings and emotions bottled up as I did was like a water damn overfilling and on the verge of bursting. Which I almost did a few times.

If I could go back in time and talk to myself or send a letter to my younger self I’d tell him to get help. I’d tell him to talk to a friend to tell them what was actually going on instead of just saying that I was “fine” all the time. I’d tell him to stop worrying about what everyone thinks and that their opinions don’t matter.

But alas, time goes on and everything happens for a reason. So here I am now. One month into taking Laxapro. (This is not a review about it, this is more of my own experience and other things I have done in conjunction with taking the pills).

It took me about five or more months to finally muster up the courage to talk to someone. I’m not one to open up to people about my issues or problems just like that. I don’t like strangers. But I did it, and I’m so glad I did.

When my therapist said that these pills might be able to help, I didn’t want them. See, I had always looked at pills in a negative way. Sure they help, but for how long? What are the side affects? What if I stop taking them? What if they make me worse? What if I become some one else? All these questions and possibly more flooded my head. But after talking with her I decided to trust her. And they worked.

I feel so much better in life. I don’t feel like I’m walking in a hole just going around in circles. I feel free, calm, at peace. Sure I worry some times because its natural. But its not like I used to.

I can’t say that the pills are the only thing that has helped, no. Another huge thing is exercise. I started to run, and run, and run. I was running almost ten miles a day! It was great. Then I joined a gym and started strength training. I never thought I’d be one to lift wights. A good diet also did me so well. I got rid of a lot of drinks that contained sugar and started drinking a lot more water. I suggest that if you want to start a diet. Drinks that contain sugar are what hold you back sometimes. Less carbs more healthy food. Hard at first but then you get used to it and then you even start to enjoy it, you just feel better.

But, the main thing that I have to say has helped me be happier, is finally doing what I want. Or in other words, stop doing what I didn’t want to do. I’m a people pleaser, probably a professional one. If it was a competition I’d win a gold medal for it. I would always put others needs before mine, do what they wanted me to do for them regardless if I wanted to or not, and in the end that hurt me.

Does that mean that now I’m this self entitled selfish douche bag? No. It just means I try to take care of myself before I take care of others. It means that yes, I will still go out of my way to help who I can, do things for them and all that, but this time if it affects me in anyway or I know the out come will in the end only hurt me, then it’s going to be a no for me.

I think I deserve a little happiness or in other words selfishness after all I’ve been through. I’m still the same guy. I still have the same heart, shoot I even think it’s better now.

In the end, I’m glad I got the help I needed, and I’m glad I’m living for myself. I’m glad I’m taking those pills. I’m glad I’m better now.

Severe Anxiety With A Sprinkle Of Depression

I finally saw a therapist.

Yes a real one. Not the one I made up in my head a couple months ago. Although, I’d say that session with myself did rather go pretty well.

Anyways, It was different. Last year I saw a counselor at my local doctors office that my doctor had recommended me. I went for maybe about three weeks but for some random reason I never went back.

This time I didn’t want a counselor. I wanted someone, I’d say, with a little more experience and expertise. And I was able to find one.

I took a test at the beginning, which was random, but it was mostly about how I was feeling, what I was going through, and other random question about my days to day.

Then we went over it and the therapist asked me to go more in-depth on why I felt the way I felt. It’s not easy to talk about things with a total stranger but I really didn’t have anything to lose, so I let my mouth run, and boy did it ever.

In the end, she finally told me what I had. She said I have severe anxiety with a little sprinkle of depression. Well isn’t that cute? Those weren’t words but it sounds less scary that way for me.

She asked me about medication and if I was willing to take any. In my head I’ve always told myself I didn’t need any. I’m fine. I don’t want to be crazy and taking pills all the time. I see on tv all these people going bonkers because they take pills, or hear how people hate taking them.

I told her that I was worried in doing so but if it helped, then I was willing to try. She told me that mental health issues depicted on TV are taken to the extreme and are not that accurate.

I’m starting off with this one med that I don’t really know the name of [it’s at the pharmacy still because I’m still nervous to take it. (Side note: isn’t it ironic that my own anxiety is stopping from taking anxiety medication for my anxiety? I just thought that was funny)].

She told me all the benefits of what she prescribed, and all the side effects. Also, she said that not every medication is meant for everyone so we might have to see what works for me. She gave me her contact info to keep her updated since according to her the first few weeks were critical.

So that along with something called CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy) that I should see improvements, but things don’t happen over night. With due time. But for that to happen I have to start taking the meds.

I hope they help, I hope all this helps.

This Person I Am, Who Is That?

I am bipolar.

No, its not written on a paper, I was not tested, and I haven’t seen anyone that actually has a degree to be telling me this. But I know I am. Either that or something else (I know I’ve gone over this before, which only proves my point). All I know is that something is not working correctly up there, its always malfunctioning, always pulling me in the wrong direction, and it needs to stop. These highs and lows, these lies I tell people and myself. This person I am, who is that?

 

I feel like I’m trapped inside a bubble, but get this, every single time I’m bursting my way out, every single time I think I am finally free from it, every single time I do the impossible to make it out of it alive… I stop. I, turn around, and find refuge in it.

If that didn’t make sense (because I’m literally just spitting my thoughts on the keyboard with my fingers), picture this;

You are running in the woods, dark and damp. It has just rained, again. You run and run. You can’t even remember why you are running any more, so you stop. You breathe, the trees are nice. The birds are chirping, and you tell yourself, “you know, maybe I am over reacting. It’s not all bad.” That’s when you hear it. The loudest growl you have ever heard. Every time you hear it, it gets louder, and meaner. Your heart starts to pound and you feel the sweat on your forehead start to drip into your eyes making them sting and water. Before you take off running you look back and you see it. Huge, mean, big teeth, sharp claws, heavy feet crumbling everything that gets in its way. Branches cracking and logs being shoved, the birds burst into the clouds in the skies because even though they are high in the tress and out of reach from this thing, they still fear it. That’s when you remember what you were running away from.

You start to run again, and you finally escape, just like you always do. It’s a cycle that never stops. But then, this time you stop running. You stand your ground and come face to face with this creature. You look into its mesmerizing, beautiful, glowing eyes. You touch its softer than soft fur. You notice that those sharp teeth shine an ear to ear with a genuine smile. You feel the warm embrace of a nice hug and you feel like you are home again. The birds return with a lovely melody only they can sing,  and the rays of the sun kiss your skin welcoming you back to bliss. You are ok. Everything is fine. And then you feel the sharp pain on your arms reminding you why you were running once again, as It’s sharp claws come up to strike once again, you take off. And the cycle continues.

 

That is how I feel. I don’t know of any other way to describe it. I don’t even know if it made any sense. I don’t know what to do about it. And honestly, it is getting way to repetitive in my opinion.

 


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Sunday Frustrated-Day

I. Am. Frustrated.

So sit down, shut up, and listen.

That was aggressive, I’m sorry, I’ve just ugh I don’t know, today has been a hot mess.

First, I was supposed to go help someone from church do some things, but because I really didn’t want to spend time with them and the people they invited I didn’t go. Also, my best friend invited me to a get together at the same time, but I honestly didn’t want to be around people, so canceled that real quick. Not necessarily be around people, just not socialize with them part, make sense?

Thought I’d go to Starbucks to edit, IT WAS PACKED, who knew everyone in Southern California has a weird fetish for Starbucks on a Sunday afternoon? I didn’t. I sat next to these nice woman. I asked if I could sit on the chair next to the table next to them, they said , “absolutely!” With a warm welcome like that why wouldn’t I sit down?

Then, out of shame, I didn’t even edit. I was scared they would look over and see me editing myself talking to a camera. So I just surfed the internet. A spot opened up across the store, did I move? Nope. I was so frighted that they nice ladies would think I was moving because of them. So I stayed there for thirty minutes until they left. Then, that’s when I took my chance and moved.

Once I moved, I started finally doing what I had gone there to do. Ok, good, then BAM, computer battery at 10% . Great . Just great. I know what you’re thinking, just plug it in. Well, Captain Obvious, that’s what I wanted to do. But the power outlet was right beside some dude and I was not about to tap him on the shoulder and ask if I could plug in my cord. So I left.

I went to go get an oil change because I wanted to at least do something productive today. I went to one where you don’t have to get off your car and it’s supper fast. It was a slow day for them (because everyone was probably sipping their Starbucks drinks at Starbucks) so everyone was on me and my oil change. I was out of there in less then 10 minutes. Great service, awkward goodbyes .

I come home and remember that tomorrow is Monday. I’m sorry if I just reminded you or informed you. But yes. Tomorrow is that day. Tomorrow I go to work. I dread it. If I wasn’t already frustrated enough, I’d get frustrated just by thinking that.

I literally just want to lay in bed and stare at the sealing. Is there anything much left to do?

Cat Stuck In A Tree

Can a medical professional, someone who has studied the human brain, or has at least some sort of wisdom about why I am socially awkward, tell me why?

Let me explain before everyone starts yelling at me that I’m crazy, (don’t worry you don’t need to), I already know.

I was laying in bed the other day, just breathing. Just laying there not even thinking of anything. Then, suddenly, like a real life movie, I started thinking. (I know dangerous). What was I thinking about? I’m glad you asked, thank you, you’re so kind, lets be friends?

So it was the day after my church had a park picnic. I didn’t go. Why? Because I freaked out and wimped the hell out. Is that normal? Like, I know the people there. I have been knowing them for years. They’re not mean, they’re not bad. They’re actually cool people. So why didn’t I go?

That’s a real question. I don’t have an answer to that one. But I’m trying to figure it out. This happens often. Do I mind it? I mean I’m not missing out on much to be honest, its not like I wanted to go in the first place, but still my friends were there, texting me, asking me where I was. Mean while I was at home watching Netflix and living the life of a King… alone.

I look back at last year and ask myself how I did all the things that I did. I’m like, dam, who is that dude? Who was that you know? I was so social, outgoing, fun! I was kissing random people in clubs, grinding, and dancing all over the dance floor like no one was watching. Just thinking about it gives me anxiety now.

I’ve talked about this before. I have these roller coaster highs and lows of my social-ness (is that a word? You get what I mean). I don’t understand why though.

The thing is that I am like a cat stuck in a tree. I’m up there. Stuck. Can’t get down. Then when someone tries to help me all I do is hiss at them. (OK, that actually made me laugh so hard, I literally pictured myself in a tree hissing at people, hahaha, I’m so lame).

man_in_tree

 

As I’m writing this I remember something that helped me break my social walls. Alcohol. Now that I remember correctly. Before any social gathering, I’d take at least one shot. To loosen up. Soon it became two. I didn’t tell anyone. No one noticed. But I see now that, that’s the actual reason why I was so outgoing.

I remember I was trying to be more “out there”. But it’s scary out there. For me at least. So what did I do? I got goose and got loose. It helped. It worked . But at what cost? What if I wouldn’t have stopped? What if I had kept going and it became a habit? As it almost did? Where would I be now?

It’s crazy how one thought can lead to another thought which will lead you to another one. This post is mainly me talking, speaking, and just letting my thoughts free. That’s why there’s no structure (I mean there never is but still). Main points: I know I have something maybe anxiety. Alcohol: helps. Is it the answer? No.


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