Amazing....
It's truly amazing what a short amount of time can do for a person. Six weeks ago, I was probably at the lowest low I've ever been in my life. And now here I am, and I'm overwhelmingly OK. The doctor says that he doesn't want people feeling like an eight, and he doesn't want them feeling like a twelve. He wants them feeling like a ten.
It's hard to discuss medicine as it pertains to anxiety disorders because there are still many, many non-believers out there. It's really hard to continue going forward with treatment plans when there are people out there saying that your symptoms aren't real, or that you don't really have a medical problem at all. Tome Cruise, I'm talking to you. This isn't something that can be dealt with using vitamins and exercise. Trust me.
I sat on the balcony last night, having a ciggie and looking at the stars. I could see Orion's belt, for some reason, clear and pure and beautiful, shining down on me. I don't think it's coincidental that yesterday was the day that Big Brother returned to Afghanistan to finish his tour. He is the Hunter, much like Orion, and he has a tattoo of Orion on his left shoulder. And I was sitting on the balcony, and I was watching the stars and listening to the rumble-y tumble-y sounds of the city below me, and I realized: for the first time in months, I feel OK. I'm not an eight, or a minus five like I was a few short weeks ago. I'm not a twelve or a fifteen. I'm a perfect ten.
I imagine that part of my feelings of OK-ness stem from the warm welcome I've received from my friends, roommate, and co-workers over the last few days. Everyone's kind of excited to see that I'm still kickin', that I'm back in town, that I'm OK after all. I imagine as the "HEY! I'M BACK" feeling wears off, I might fall back to a nine or an eight. But, in time, if I do fall back into eight or nine out of ten, I know that I can get back to ten. That with the right help, the right medicine, the right coping mechanisms, OK will find it's way back to me.
My last semester is incredibly easy. I don't have a single class before 11:30 a.m, and I've started back at work slowly, with one shift per week. So for now, I'm focussing on staying at the very top of my game, doing my readings and making up Q-Cards for studying as I go through the chapters. I'm making sure to eat breakfast every day, even just a few bites, and starting my day on the right foot with freshly flossed teeth, conditioned hair, and a well-rested body.
A few weeks ago I didn't even have the energy to put on pants. I've now worn actual clothing, actual pants and tops (if even only T-Shirts and Jeans, it has to be better than tank tops and sweats) and done my hair for five days consecutively. I almost feel like someone should give me a medal. I'll settle for a cold can of Coke. You can bring it to me at my house.
You'll find me on the balcony, smiling up at Orion.
Toonses
It's hard to discuss medicine as it pertains to anxiety disorders because there are still many, many non-believers out there. It's really hard to continue going forward with treatment plans when there are people out there saying that your symptoms aren't real, or that you don't really have a medical problem at all. Tome Cruise, I'm talking to you. This isn't something that can be dealt with using vitamins and exercise. Trust me.
I sat on the balcony last night, having a ciggie and looking at the stars. I could see Orion's belt, for some reason, clear and pure and beautiful, shining down on me. I don't think it's coincidental that yesterday was the day that Big Brother returned to Afghanistan to finish his tour. He is the Hunter, much like Orion, and he has a tattoo of Orion on his left shoulder. And I was sitting on the balcony, and I was watching the stars and listening to the rumble-y tumble-y sounds of the city below me, and I realized: for the first time in months, I feel OK. I'm not an eight, or a minus five like I was a few short weeks ago. I'm not a twelve or a fifteen. I'm a perfect ten.
I imagine that part of my feelings of OK-ness stem from the warm welcome I've received from my friends, roommate, and co-workers over the last few days. Everyone's kind of excited to see that I'm still kickin', that I'm back in town, that I'm OK after all. I imagine as the "HEY! I'M BACK" feeling wears off, I might fall back to a nine or an eight. But, in time, if I do fall back into eight or nine out of ten, I know that I can get back to ten. That with the right help, the right medicine, the right coping mechanisms, OK will find it's way back to me.
My last semester is incredibly easy. I don't have a single class before 11:30 a.m, and I've started back at work slowly, with one shift per week. So for now, I'm focussing on staying at the very top of my game, doing my readings and making up Q-Cards for studying as I go through the chapters. I'm making sure to eat breakfast every day, even just a few bites, and starting my day on the right foot with freshly flossed teeth, conditioned hair, and a well-rested body.
A few weeks ago I didn't even have the energy to put on pants. I've now worn actual clothing, actual pants and tops (if even only T-Shirts and Jeans, it has to be better than tank tops and sweats) and done my hair for five days consecutively. I almost feel like someone should give me a medal. I'll settle for a cold can of Coke. You can bring it to me at my house.
You'll find me on the balcony, smiling up at Orion.
Toonses
posted by Amanda at 23:47
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