as i write this i am shaking. i am terrified. i am going to see this psychiatrist in about 20 minutes. my appointment is at 11:30, and i am terrified. partly because i've never been there before and i'm worried about finding it and being on time, and partly because of what could happen while i'm there.
my therapist suggested that maybe i should go to AA while i'm on the antidepressants. that quitting drinking could just be a temporary thing so that the medicine works, and once i straighten my shit out maybe i could start again. and i am terrified.
i don't know where i'll land. i just need to get through this part, need to get through this first appointment and all that it contains.
i am sitting here in the silence of my house. i can hear the turtle tank upstairs, the water running through the filter. i need to fill the tank. other than the hum of the fan on this laptop and my fingers on the keys, that's all i hear. i love the quiet. i wish i didn't have to leave. that i could just sit in the quiet safety forever.
i just want to be okay. i listened to the dangerous summer on the way to mary's office today. "so here's the thing with my head, i'm unstable..." and that album was what i needed. i forgot how much i loved it.
i drink too much. and i do not care that much. and i wish sometimes that i could just disappear. that i could just vanish. and my therapist said to me, one day maybe you should write about you, "what would 26-year-old you say to 21-year-old you?"
and the answer is "fuck off, leave me alone, you don't fucking know me."
and i am here and it is nearly 3 am and i am happy because i have been drinking....no i am happy because i am not thinking.
i am not thinking.
the ground is not steady below my feet, and i do anything i can not to think. and my therapist thinks i need pills to be okay and i'm going with it because i respect her and trust her and i want this to stop.
i hope it stops. i feel like i've gotten exponentially crazier as i've lived this 26th year. i called my mother today and it felt okay, felt strange really. if i'm honest with myself. i'm not really happy about talking to her about any of it. but she knows me. she fucking raised me.
i finally got a psychiatrist to return my call...but of course i wasn't near my phone. so even though i returned the call like 5 minutes later, i got her voicemail. aaaand now have to begin the waiting game all over again. but at least i made contact...
this still scares the hell out of me, all of it. i want to feel better, but i'm afraid to take pills, afraid of side effects. and i don't really feel like talking to yet another person about all of this shit. another complete stranger. janine recited a two-minute drill of my history of depression and said that's what i should say to this lady when i finally get in for an appointment. it made me laugh but still...
today my therapist and i agreed that i would probably benefit from medication. so now i'm waiting on a call back from some psychiatrist that she recommended. i hate calling people; i hate waiting on them to call me back. i hate wondering what's next. haha what the fuck do i like?
i actually felt some relief today after my session. just the thought of being able to cope enough to get to the root of all this shit...but at the same time, i'm not really looking forward to doing this. talking to a doctor and being evaluated and actually taking the pills and all that comes with it. but i think i've been heading this way for a long time. it's going to be tough not to drink at all. which is a completely different beast. but i'll deal with that issue some other time. both my therapist and i agreed that i would probably not do so well with that part, but she made it clear that she was going to be up front about that with any psychiatrist i started seeing. i have no intention of concealing that either, but i think she said that so she knew i couldn't bullshit around. who knows.
so anyway, there's that. better living through chemistry, i guess.
vacation was nice, for the most part. interesting points include coming down with a cold friday night, seeing a shark behind me while i was in the water (i was only waist deep, if that!), and janine's mom and stepdad not coming because of the stuff happening with her brother.
it would take a while to summarize but he is suffering from anxiety and a now (very) evident drinking problem. the past two weekends there have been very inappropriate, public incidents of intoxication. and by that i mean WASTED. i guess there has a been a lot leading up to that but we weren't privy to that information. i see me in him in a lot of ways. i have mild social anxiety so i drink when i'm in "social" situations to bceome a bit more chatty, care a little less what people think. but then, even right now i'm on my third beer and i can feel that tug, that urge.
it says, "have another." it's not asking.
after the last bad episode, on friday, he told his mother he was sorry, he had a problem, he would go see a counselor on tuesday. on tuesday, he could do it on his own, didn't need help. i get it. i know how that is. he's not ready to stop. i'm not either. and i know i will need help if/when the time comes. but i'm not in the same place as him. i have a house, a job, and i pay all my own bills. kindness can only extend so far when you aren't doing anything for yourself, and you're in denial...i just hope this situation turns around. for him, for his family...everyone. i mean, my mom is a sobriety success story. you wouldn't be able to tell now how big as mess she was. but she was much older, was married with two kids, by the time she decided she couldn't live another day like that. he's certainly not in her place.
janine worries even more now about when what's in me is going to come to the surface full force. i wish i had a good answer for her, something along the lines of, "i'm not a fucking ticking time bomb." i want to believe i can rise above. that i can keep fighting the good fight. i will continue to believe it.
(does it matter where you are in life when you decide to feed it just to shut it up?)
i can't figure out why i've been feeling like this. every little thing annoys me; i am constantly grumpy and irritable. i want to be by myself doing my own thing pretty much all the time. my stress/anxiety levels and unwillingness to do things are worse than they've ever been. and my drinking is ramping back up considerably. she says there's a tone in my voice, something mean, but i can't ever hear it when i speak. have i become this way over time? or did it happen overnight? i am not well, but i will continue to do my best to ignore that feeling. maybe five days in myrtle beach for labor day will help some. i want to be sitting on the shore with my ipod on, staring at the waves as they crash. so much new music to enjoy. maybe that will help too.
the turtle that she bought me is blue and beautiful and from mexico and it used to sit on my desk in the news office. it still has my paper clips and a note that says "i love you" in it from 2004. i love her so much. i've put her through too much.
edit 1: a receipt from 4/25/02 for $115.47 worth of alcohol. items such as 99 apples, blackberry brandy, 3 bottles of arbor mist (canandaigua, NY what what), mohawk vodka, and countless other things that 19-year-olds drink during their freshman year of college. one of my favorite pictures ever taken is from that weekend. i hope that's in this box, too.
edit 2: there are wayyyy too many plastic bags with nothing but seeds and stems in them in this box. hahahahahaha
edit 3: there are also things in this box that are still painful to read. i didn't expect that.
edit 4: when i was 18 i didn't want to go to college. i just found the letter that i wrote myself in mrs. albright's AP english class in 2001. she mailed them to us in 2005. glad i finally signed up for the 4 year plan or that would have been embarrassing. this letter is filled with things like, did you actually even go to college, did you finally end up with matt burgess, and stick with jenn she's a good person. i wish i could slap 2001 stephanie in the face because GOOD LORD, you were so out of touch. so much so, this letter is funny and not sad.
after two months in this wonderful house (that i spent my saturday morning cleaning from top to bottom because i actually care that it stays nice), i'm finally getting around to unpacking my personal boxes. you know, those boxes you fill with shit you can't get rid of. sentimental value from your past. mementos, yearbooks, graduation tassels from high school and college...in my case, a lot of my writing.
i own a typewriter. my great aunt gave it to me. i love it. i never use it anymore. this box is filled with things i wrote on that electric typewriter. here is an excerpt from some of the sheets toward the top of the box:
shit pretty much hit the fan during Baccalaureate Mass. my cell phone said the text was from Matt's phone, but i knew it wasn't him. "matt is sick, but we will talk to you later." i'm a college senior, less than 24 hours from walking across that stage to get that paper i worked so god damn hard for--okay, maybe not THAT hard-- and i'm sitting in the middle of Mass. i don't even like Mass; Catholic grammar school will do that to you. it's the last Mass and i'm sitting there and Janine and I are holding hands and my phone vibrates and i know i'm being lied to. Kathy told us earlier that Matt had done it, he'd gone through with it, and Becky and Tom and Annette had taken him to the hospital. she'd thought he'd slit his wrists. Matt was not sick.
there is a lot i haven't dealt with from that last college weekend. i want to write about it, to finally get. it. out. of. me. but every time i try, i get about that far. about a paragraph in. and then it feels forced, and i can't keep going. it will be one of the greatest things i do, to finally tell that fucking story.
the long and short of it is, today will probably not end up being our closing day. the sellers' attorney fucked up and did not have them sign the second most important document for closing, so we were waiting on that, and THEN we found out that our lender apparently has a new policy now for releasing funds...so they haven't released the loan money.
so instead of today being a glorious beginning to the next phase in our lives, janine and i sit here in our house with the shades drawn, exhausted from the stress and disappointment of it all. the good news in all of it is that our mortgage broker agreed to pay a rush fee to our lender to get the funds sent asap. whether asap is today or tomorrow...or worse, monday...is yet to be seen.
i can't take much more of this. just give us the fucking keys already.
three glorious days of freedom ahead of me. it was easier to get up today because of that, and because today was payday. so i bought a 12 pack of newcastle because it was on sale and a 6 pack of sweet water ipa because that is my beer of choice now that they sell it here. oh happy day.
i'm not really sure how i feel right now. i often wonder if i'm just being overdramatic when i write entries like the past couple, but my internal monologue has always told me to suck it up and deal with it, whatever it may be. maybe it's an excuse to drink more beer.
is this me slowing turning into my mother? is this what she was like when she was my age? did these thoughts run through her head--am i becoming my mother? she had a 2-year-old when she was my age. fuck.
some days things are good and easy and some days they are not. at all. this week at work was better because despite two of my co-workers being out, the workload was less. that helps. they are probably going to fire the little bird who drops me pills because she called in sick thursday and had friday off. well, not because of that. more so because, in the three months i've been there, that's probably her 10th sick day. if not more. which sucks, as i enjoy her company and her drugs, and she was/is going to hook me up with a weed de-- keeper awayer. oh well. don't call in sick so fucking much, i guess. when i was sick last month i ate dayquil by the handful. just sayin.
time out: how did the shitty parking bald neighbor of ours get a hot blonde on his arm? what. the. hell.
game back on: i just put new TBS on. i never bothered listening to louder now. i have no idea why. i, like most people who post here, love "tell all your friends." and i love about half of "where you want to be." when i hear adam's voice i think of hot nights in western NY, jumping up and down on the pavement at chautauqua with my giant headphones on. i think of her. i had a dream about her the other day and i woke up unsettled and unpleasant and it did not help my mood. i hate dreams that are so real like that. bah.
this has turned into rambles and stream of consciousness. FOCUS. more newcastle.
or sweet water ipa.
i still wake up uneasy. i'm not 100% comfortable in my job and this is why i wake up uneasy. i always have work hanging over my head, hard fucking work. suck it up. deal with it. this is how life works. tonight i'm going to drink beer and play guitar hero and space the fuck out. and i will try not to get shitty and i will try not to fight with janine because that alone will be the death of our relationship and i cannot decide if it is fucked up or not that i am perfectly aware that my drinking--no, my shitty fucking moods/unpredictability when i am drunk--will be the end of the greatest thing i've ever been a part of. it's probably fucked up. it IS fucked up. suck it up and deal with it. am i becoming my mother? did my father feel how janine feels when i am like that?
i wonder this from time to time. history repeating itself. "i could blame a hundred people for the one that i've become..." the roots of my family tree are watered by alcohol. they say my grandmother crawled around on her hands and knees after too much booze. my aunt janet mixes cheap whiskey with, well, everything. my mother...i love her too much and she has come too far for me to talk about it here. i should keep that in mind. my mother's story has a happy ending. but i am not there yet. i still think i can be different, that i don't have to follow the path she took to get to where she is now. is that the truth or will this be just another story of a person lying through life?
this CD isn't terrible. but i do want to hear "where you want to be" now.
i am drinking a bit too fast and i am aware of it. so it goes. i am at a standstill here. i am getting nowhere. no new revelations, nothing. just fucking rambling, like it was when i was 20 and keeping a fucking ujournal. my therapist used to ask me, "why are you so hard on yourself?" and i said, "because i can do better."
i can always fucking do better. so i'm done with this for now.
i didn't want to get out of bed this morning, but today was a better day.
i haven't responded to jenn yet. janine says that i can't keep doing this, that i'm leading her on in a non-sexual way. i felt that was an interesting, albeit true, way of putting it. so i have to figure that out.
i am still self-medicating. it is what it is. the little bird who keeps dropping pills in my vicinity gave me the name of her doctor. doc's not a "dr. feelgood" but apparently will listen to what i have to say. the little bird and i talked today about anxiety and panic attacks, and i definitely do not have it as bad as her. which is comforting but frustrating. because it makes me feel like i should just be able to snap out of it, that this is all in my head. i know exactly what situations are going to trigger my anxiety - any time i have to do something new by myself. being in large groups of people who i do not know (mainly in social situations, although sometimes i get a little weirded out in super walmart/target). calling pretty much anyone besides janine, my parents and a few of our friends.
and then i wonder how my issues with alcohol fit in to all of this. is how i feel just a subconscious excuse to drink more? and now i start to get down on myself and think about how i can be better, how i have ALWAYS felt like i can be better. at school, at life, at everything. it's hard to explain.
my thoughts are jumbled. i'm just going to stop typing this now. janine and i are still picking out paint colors. behr and glidden have simulators online, so we can see the colors on the walls from the pictures we've taken. it makes me so happy.
rumor is, blink 182 is getting back together. how about that.
i tell all the stories of my past and you are in so many of them. they range from hilarious to ridiculous to heartbreaking.
do you think one day we could both be adults and it would be okay again? like before it got all messed up and angry and fucked up?
full disclosure, i drank some beer and took half a klonopin tonight. but i listen to this music and i think about my life and how it is now and how it was and i wonder...is there a place for you here, still?
...and i hope i dont regret sending this. i write a lot of them but never send them.
i decided to send this one.
i sent her an email when i was fucked in the head but i guess that's nothing new. i've started a bunch of those kinds of emails, and sent one or two, but mostly saved the rest in drafts. but i decided to send this one, and she called my brother and got my cell number and called me and left me a voicemail.
her voice still sounds the same, still sounds crazy and pretty much monotone and i could not tell if it was because we have not actually spoken words to each other in years, or if she is still the same. she said, "i needed to call you," and that made me feel better about the whole thing. i do stupid shit when i am drinking. this is one of many problematic signs regarding my drinking, but i digress.
there is so much wrong with this that i am not even sure i could explain it all. the verbal, physical and mental abuse, the fucking fact that her significant other sexually assaulted me when he thought i was passed out drunk...how can i ever expect it to work? for us to be friends again...we were teenagers and teenagers are fucking stupid. that is, we WEREN'T EVER adults when we were friends.
and i keep making the same mistakes. but i know she wants to make this right. there are days i just miss my fucking friend. we did a lot of fun and crazy shit together.
maybe it's because work has been grinding me into the ground lately, and i want to grasp hold of anything that reminds me of when i wasn't so tapped out. when life was carefree and the worst i dealt with was my friend going crazy on me and my confusion over why it felt so wrong to date her brother (or any boy, hahaha). that'd be trading in a lot of chips though. i have a good thing going right now in regards to about 90% of my life. janine's that light i keep my eye on as i walk through the dark. we close on our house in 5 weeks, and i CANNOT wait to get into all that. painting and planting and mowing and hanging my posters in my game room.
life with janine is beyond wonderful. there's no trading that, ever. i'm not saying this right.
but yet i still wonder, is there a place for jenn here, still? can we figure out a way to repair all that is broken? or at this point is it just resolution, just closure? or am i opening a door that should have stayed closed? this is not the first time i've pondered this. i don't think i can call her back. i don't think i can handle that yet.
i worked 9.5 hours today. that's about 50 for the week. and i'm going in tomorrow for 6 hours. as an added bonus, it took me about 30-40 minutes to get home when it should have been closer to 20. every bad decision i could make regarding my chosen route, i made.
i am very close to making a doctor's appointment and asking for anti-anxiety medication. i can't take much more of this. my in-laws believe in "better living through chemistry"...i've never been one to be on board with that. i'm more of one who'd abuse what i'm given. but FUCK, i can't take much more of this.
so today i am self medicating, beer and half a klonopin (a little bird dropped it into my hand as it flew overhead). oh, and new eminem. back in the day, listening to em made things a bit better when i was angry. although i suppose if i am trying to calm down, this music is not the best route.
i am thankful for my job, but i am not thankful for busting my ass for no reward. cross your fingers that i'll at least get overtime pay/comp time for working on a fucking weekend.
my thoughts are coming in spurts today. should i take the other half of this pill? i'll let that thought simmer for a few more minutes.
eminem's rapping on this is quite strange. lots of strange accents when there's no reason for them...best way i can put it.
they held a vigil for the kid from my hometown who killed himself. how different things would have been had he used the extra ammunition they found in his pockets. the article i read today said that the school did all it could to help this kid, including addressing concern from friends and family...i hope that is true and not ass covering. although a lot rot good it did in the end.
please note that several minutes are passing between paragraphs.
except this one. i think i'm holding off on that second half of the pill...this is working nicely. and that, my internet friends, is a window into the line i walk every day:
the river has more colors at sunset than my sock drawer ever dreamed of
I could wake up screaming sometimes
but I don't
I could step off the end of this pier
but I've got shit to do
In nineteen minutes, you can mow the front lawn; color your hair; watch a third of a hockey game. In nineteen minutes, you can bake scones or get a tooth filled by a dentist; you can fold laundry for a family of five.
Nineteen minutes is how long it took the Tennessee Titans to sell out of tickets to the playoffs. Itís the amount of time it takes to listen to the Yes song Close to the Edge. Itís the length of a sitcom, minus the commercials. Itís the driving distance from the Vermont border to the town of Sterling, NH.
In nineteen minutes, you can order a pizza and get it delivered. You can read a story to a child or have your oil changed. You can walk two miles. You can sew a hem.
In nineteen minutes, you can stop the world; or you can just jump off it.
In nineteen minutes, you can get revenge.
my mother called today. this morning a student at my former high school killed himself in a bathroom near the pool with a sawed-off shotgun. when police searched his locker, they found 30 rounds of ammunition and two molotov cocktails.
this is unreal.
this is completely real.
his name was...is...thomas kane, and i went to school with his older brother. his older sister babysat me and my brother. my brother's girlfriend's brother was best friends with him, and one of the last people to see him alive.
this isn't supposed to happen in canandaigua.
after columbine, they installed a grand total of three security cameras in our halls. the popular kids petitioned to make the trenchcoat kids be trench-free. i never felt unsafe, not once.
i feel such grief. i don't know his motives, but i am sure they will all come out in the wash. i barely remember him from when i was a kid myself. but i cannot imagine the pain his family is going through tonight. second guessing everything they thought they knew. perhaps coming to terms with things they denied, things they might not want to have seen.
i am sure people will say, thank god he didn't hurt anyone else. and that is true, i suppose. if there had to be a death in this, it's a blessing that only one person was killed. but tell that to his family, to his friends. the ones who will live with the gap in their lives.
the one thing that is getting to me, is that my mom said that my brother's girlfriend's brother, will, saw that something was wrong with this kid in the period leading up to today. thomas told him he was going to bring something to school, but never said what. will told the principal that something was wrong with this young man. will's mother wrote to the superintendent, asking for attention to be paid.
and yet, here we are.
the quoted excerpt above is from a book called "nineteen minutes." it is one of the toughest books i've ever read. it's heartbreaking. but one of the notable points of the book is that kids who do these types of things walk a fine line between suicide and homicide, often picking one or the other at the last instant. anyway, it's probably a book that every kid should read. everyone, really.
anyway, i just needed to get this out. prayers to my hometown tonight. may everyone find peace.