Saturday, February 28, 2009

struggles..

Nothing new. Taking higher doses of drug. Battling with whether I really need this or not... in some respects it helps in others it deters... guess it's much like life, generally speaking.

Monday, February 9, 2009

All alright.

I started this blog 2 weeks in hopes to objectively document my experience with my new "add" diagnosis and my reactions to the drug that I was prescribed.

I still don't really know what to think. Some days I feel like I see a tremendous difference, others, none. I think I see the greatest benefits when I am working, which is definitely a plus. Instead of rushing through things I find I am more focused and and intent on doing a good job. I believe I am zoning out less and not getting as distracted with things going on around me. There have been some days I have had a lot of anxiety but I have noticed that those were days that something had me anxious or worried, not the drug itself causing it. Sometimes I feel like I am more social than others and able to articulate myself better than usual and other times I feel like I stumble over my words and particularly self conscious.

I was really hoping to see more of a difference during the time I spend at home; seems like I may be spending a little less time dilly-dallying.... I'm still easily distracted and prone to getting off track with my chores. Then again, today after taking my second dose around 2pm, I made pork chops, green beans, coleslaw and roast tomatoes, all under 2 hours (how's that for some classic add-like multi tasking??). It's like once I get started doing something I do it intensely and proficiently, but it's just the getting started....

I've lost a few pounds. It is true, it does curb your appetite. However, sometimes it weird cause I'll have more intense hunger pangs then normal!

So, I am wondering how addicted I have become to this drug and don't realize it yet. I haven't not not taken it since I've had my scrip. I've never been a pill-popper, more of a drinker and pot smoker. The doctor told me that a lot of people choose not to take their meds on days where they don't have or want to get much done.. I never have those days!! I mean, I guess I could but I feel useless and worthless when I do. I'm not much on organizing but I hate a dirty house. I should skip a pill soon and see what happens. I have been told I am on a real low dose of this stuff though, don't know if that has much to do with things. I would imagine so.


I go back to the doctor a week from this Friday. My conclusion so far is this; I think the drug is helping but I fear that I am starting to fall into that mindset that I want the pill to fix everything for me and not have to do as much self-help, habit changing stuff that has been proven to be as if not more effective. I am still doing the to-do lists, several in fact.

I could always go back to no drugs, which I plan to do eventually. The drugs were something I was hoping to use a constructive tool to help pull me out of this abyss of muddled thoughts and depression that I've been in my whole life. To sort of gimme a jump start on a new way of living. I guess you just never win with drugs though, prescription or street, no matter what your intent is.... if you can put them down when the time comes to put them down, then everything is okay. But for some of us, that is easier said then done. Even with the ones that prove positive benefits for us, then comes the effects that they have on our organs, the toxicity issues, the withdrawals.. Is it worth it? Is it ever worth it??

Yeah, meditation and exercises helps. Eating pure food helps a lot. External positive factors, eliminating the negative influences helps. But when you are so beat down that you can't, when you don't have the motivation to do those things.. then what??

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Humble beginnings...

Everywhere you look, every channel you turn to, everyone you talk to - you can't escape it. We, this country, are in big trouble.

My parents - but more so my dad - grew up in the depression. He always encouraged me to understand the importance of not living outside your means and not getting in debt. I listened, but I didn't. My parents didn't use credit cards and if they did, they'd pay them off immediately.

I wished I'd listened to him and really took to heart what he was saying. I would always rationalize my spending by saying "some people like money, some people like what money can buy" or the famous "you can't take it with you!".

It's not like you wake up one day and have thousands of dollars of debt. A couple hundred here, fifty there, that unexpected, spontaneous vacation that you validate by needing it for your mental health... you marry someone that has a few thousand on a credit card... its a snowball affect that the creditors hope you'll fall prey to.

Credit for everybody! It's the American dream! No matter how poor you are, you can have pretty much whatever you want! Well, because of that way of thinking,that dream is now a nightmare. It's hard to believe that so may of us, so many of us who knew better, fell into this trap!!

I am hoping that I can treat this like all the other hardships in my life - as a lesson and an opportunity for growth. I'm just hoping that this isn't one of those "it's too late" kind of lessons to learn. Sometimes I get really worked up about it and wonder what we'll do if my business continues to drop off and we don't sell the other house. It's taking everything we make now to make it. I don't want to be like people I know who are my age and have already had to file bankruptcy. What if Matt gets laid off from him job like so many other people in this country, especially those who work in factories? I get so pissed at myself and feel like a big loser, a big irresponsible loser for not saving money back when I had one house payment and made more money... why did I have to be so careless and not think about the future?? I was too busy thinking about and living it up in the here and now. Another depression?? No way, that was in the old days, the powers that be would NEVER let that happen in this country again! Too many smart, responsible folk in important positions to let something like that happen to their people!!

So now you think.... will it get even worse? Some people seem to think so. I feel guilty for even worrying about what might happen because for so many people there is no "what if", its a cold hard reality and they have kids to take care of, which at least I don't have to worry about... God bless those people.

Monday, February 2, 2009

What's wrong with me?

Well, today went down pretty much as I'd expected but hope that it wouldn't. Drove Matt to his job at 7am and dropped him off so that he could go on his business trip.. came home and went about my usual Monday responsibilities; cleaning, laundry, groceries, cooking... I even made time to go for a walk on the farm behind my house because of the wonderful sunshine and near 60 degree temperatures. My mom came for dinner around 5 to enjoy with me the pot roast, jasmine rice, gravy, steamed green beans and carrots. I figured once my mom left would be when things would get weird... and I was right.

I have no neighbors where I live and the solidarity can be quite overwhelming at times. Its very strange... it is either my best friend or my worse enemy, depending on my mood. I am not scared to be alone in the house and I don't mind sleeping by myself. But today, the building up of emotions prior to today, the side effects of the drug I'm taking and the intense cold rain that set in out of nowhere after a day of spring like weather brought out an angry, scared beast in me that I had a feeling would rear its ugly head, eventually. 10 pm rolled around and I knew that bedtime was not far off and waited for Matt to call. I knew he was prolly out with his colleagues doing the dinner and drinks thing, fine. 10:45 rolls around and I am pissed and hurt, my anxieties were in full swing and the two large glasses of pinot noir wasn't helping things much. I call Matt and he answers, very callous (probably due to the fact that he was in front of his work pals, or atleast it better have been)... I didn't hold back at all and lit into him about his being inconsiderations to the fact that it was close to my bedtime and didn't feel like waiting up for his goodnight call. He seemed flustered and asked could he call me back in a few minutes. I hung up in his ear. It was on.

Well, when 11pm rolled around and he hadn't called back, I was livid. I called him back and started going off and yelling in a way that I haven't in quite some while. He said he had been drinking and wasn't in the best frame of mine. So the next 30 minutes consisted of me making personal attacks ranging from "I don't want to be married to you anymore" to all sorts of other things that I had no right saying. In my mind all I could see was that I felt Matt was being inconsiderate by not having called me earlier. After all, he knew how unhappy I was about him leaving me for two nights esp. feeling so out of sorts on this drug. I was so caught up in my own unwarranted emotions, me, me, me, that I couldn't see that all he did was have a innocent time drinking with a coworker. He could of been doing way much worse and I have.

So as usual, when I am feeling upset or insecure about something, instead of dealing with it in a healthy way, I direct it at a unsuspecting for the most part innocent bystander, usually whoever happens to be my boyfriend or husband at the time. Its fucked up but its what I do.

One day I'm gonna do this and I'm not gonna be able to apologize and take it back after I've came to my senses the next day. The person is gonna be all "eff you crazy lady, get a life, and I'm outta here". Am I testing people to see if they really love me and are willing to put up with my crazy outbursts? I wonder. I don't understand why I feel some of the things I feel and why I react to them in the unhealthy, irrational way that I do. I don't like it, and I can't afford to push anyone away that I care for.

Loneliness.. what would I do without you??

I don't mind being alone in any respect as long as it's by my own doings.

But when it's not my own doings I don't take kindly to it. In fact I go into panic mode. I know, silly, especially if it's only gonna be for a few day... separation anxiety?!

I should count how many times I have used the word "anxiety" in the last 8 days in these blogs. That could be a wake up call within itself.

He's in Richmond, getting some training for his job. We have only been apart 2 nights since we have pretty much known one another which has been about 2 and a half years. Those two nights were when I went to that hair show this past September.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Old Dog, New Tricks.

I love the time and in between
the calm inside me
in the space where I can breathe
I believe there is a
distance I have wandered
to touch upon the years of
reaching out and reaching in
holding out holding in
I believe
this is heaven to no one else but me
and I'll defend it as long as I can be
left here to linger in silence
if I choose to
would you try to understand   
From "elsewhere" by Sarah McLachlan


A couple of steps forward, one back. I'll have a great day on the drug and then have a so-so one. I'll have that classic, can't-catch-your breath -anxious pang, and I am reminded of how much of my life I have spent trying to avoid that feeling.  

But... the good news is, I am doing a lot of personal work. ADD (and I state this skeptically, depending on if this is what "it" really is) is not going to be cured by a pill or anything else.  The more I read (and believe me, I am, prolly about 200+ articles so far) the more I am realizing of how much work and self discipline I am going to have to execute to dig myself out of this hole I'm in. I am basically retraining my thoughts and the way I do things. I am realizing how important structure is in my life and how my life has been devoid of that for some while now. When I think back on times past, different scenarios - when my life had to have more structure for whatever the reason was (biggest example, when my son was living) those were the happiest, most balanced, healthiest times of my life. I was at my best and had so much to contribute to others' lives. Right now, I don't really feel I have a right to contribute cause I don't feel like I have much to give cause I'm such a mess. 

So, I am learning the importance of to do lists and referring to them often, in addition to my dry erase board and my planner. I don't put off paying bills, if I get one and the proper funds are in my account, I pay it then. So many times I've paid bills late, not cause I didn't have the $$ but because I hated paying bills so I would put them off and bam, my credit card interest rate would go from an awesome 5.99 to 21. Ridiculous and all because of carelessness. I wish I had all the money that I have lost due to my lack of interest and ability to budget and keep up with paying bills on time... not reading fine print on bills and getting charged for things or services I haven't signed up for. Not understanding things I was reading, like insurance stuff, terms of credit cards.... I used to say in high school even that numbers were like Chinese to me, they frustrated and intimidated me. I guess I have continued that philosophy til now and have used it as an excuse to not take control over my "fear of numbers".  

I guess I've been doing something right all these years cause I have next to perfect credit and I own two homes. As with many other aspects of my life I spose there is some "method to the madness" that has worked, but I am ready for one that works even better. I am learning!!  I am self employed, so my income is different every week. It rarely goes below a certain figure so I usually have a good idea of what I'll make that week. Up until this past Wednesday night, I have never analyzed what it costs to operate my business and what I need to make each week to cover those costs plus the cost of living bills that I am responsible for paying for our household. At first I was mortified. This was exactly the reason I had been avoiding analyzing that info!! Things had always just seemed to work out not knowing, and not knowing meant me not getting upset of freaking out or feeling more pressured... so why fix it if its not broke?? 

Well, my new thing is perseverance. It usually takes a rock bottom of sorts for me to stop some sort of negative behavior. I think my rock bottom was doing those numbers, knowing that my income could lessen, not having sold our home in dville and the constant bad news of lay offs. It's scary, serious shit. 

"Keep score, do more" was something that I heard at a hair show recently by Godiva Salon owner and visionary, Tony Promiscuo.  I haven't been keeping score but now I plan to. And if I don't do more, but atleast keep doing what I'm doing, then I'll be happy.

Could amphetamine be helping me to take more interest in these typically overwhelming tasks? Could it be somewhat the "placebo" affect in that I think   that im now supposed to be doing these things so I am??  I would be willing to bet that even a doctor couldn't answer that question for sure. 

So, I am hoping that with employing the holistic, self help methods that I am learning about plus a medication that is right for me and lots of prayer in hope to get a spiritual "okay" to these choices, that I'll be on a path that will lead me to personal fulfillment and be better company for anyone who crosses my path, especially my husband, mother and close friends - the people who I feel like have suffered due to my illness (not to mention my coworkers, and prolly even clients to a degree). 

So, I'm not sold on the drug yet but I haven't written it off either. 

Friday, January 30, 2009

Ego.

Well, this makes day 7 with taking speed, amphetamine, whatever.

I'm not sure what to make of it. This week has been a massive mix of feeling focused, anxious, sleepless, being able for the first time in ages w/out sleep aid, motivated, euphoric, depressed, fulfilled, hopeless...

Lemme break it down. I am a self employed hairdresser. One of my main reasons for seeking treatment/medication for my suspected add was to help me gain better organization so that I might gain better insight/control over my business. I am a horrible business person with the ability to make good money. So far, being on this drug has been a double edged sword. I have been better at keeping up with formulas and being better organized in general and I have been doing kick ass hair. I think I have been able to focus better when clients are speaking to me instead of zoning out .. but at the same time I feel I have been a little more socially awkward and have been stumbling over my words and not able to articulate myself as well.  So... I have noticed advantages and disadvantages. 

Take yesterday for example. I got up and before I had even taken my meds, was very anxious and worrisome  over the current economic situation and the fact that my business has been slower. We still have not sold the house in Dville so that has been an extra 700+ out of pocket each month for nothing. I was feeling very agitated and upset after spending the night before crunching numbers, realizing that it was taking every cent I was making at work to pay bills, nothing left over for anything else, and if work slowed down anymore, I'd be in the hole. Well... I took both doses of my meds and I was even more anxious and was in a state of hyperventilating all day. Finally, after being miserable and even questioned by a client "was I okay" took a quarter of 1 mg attivan, to which I  calmed down, caught my breath, and could hold a decent conversation. What to do?

Today  I was off work and was home all day. I took my meds and was able to focus and tackle  various tasks that I would of normally put off because of the mundane nature. I felt somewhat isolated but at the same time enjoy being in my own little world of music, art, and self concern. I talked to my mom about 45 minutes on the phone about recipes and politics... sheesh I feel old. Also, I am going to see a client that is a cpa who I am hoping can advise me and Matt as to what to do with our $$ in light of not having sold MY home and make the most of our money in case one of our incomes are dramatically slashed. 

I feel guilty (as I always do) feeling bad about my situation whereas their is so many folks who are in a much worse financial situation then myself. But I can't help it. This is me and I set my standards so that I am in perseverance mode, not  waiting til all hell has broken loose and my credit is shot. If we could just sell the Dville house, things would be so much easier and I wouldn't be as stressed or worried. 

But back to the drug. It has been an equal mix of positive and negative. I have come to the conclusion (because as my therapist has said I am so "body aware") that whatever mood I am in, it is amplified by the amphetamine. That can be good and bad. I have lost about 5 lbs. this week. It does curb your appetite which for someone as vain as myself can be a positive, But... I am still cooking and  planning meals as I normally do.

Whatever the case may be, whether I am add, bi polar, whatever, I will not stay on this drug but for so long. It is helping me to accomplish certain tasks and to stay focused which is a plus but the fact that it has affects on the heart and has such addictive qualities make me be very unsure and anxious about this treatment. We'll see.

Might I add that I have done really good hair this week and have enjoyed music more than I have in quite some while.        


Monday, January 26, 2009

Morals.

The eye altering, alters all. 
William Blake 


Yesterday I felt good and had  high hopes (no pun intended) of this medication working for me and hopefully determining whether I do actually have add or not. 

I didn't sleep well last night, which I was expecting, knowing that this is a side effect of the med. I have never slept well as long as I can remember, but esp. worse in the last couple of years. I have a scrip for attivan that I reserve for taking before bed, a few times a week so I will be able to get some restful sleep here and there. I do not feel that I am physically addicted to the attivan... I rarely to never use them any other time but to help me sleep and  I usually only take half of the recommended dose. Yeah, it sucks having to depend on them to that extent, but it beats walking around like a zombie, sleep deprived. I am not the type person to be able to function well without much sleep... you would almost think I would be by now after having problems sleeping all these years, but I don't. 

Anyhow, when I don't get my proper rest I am very anxious and irritable the following day. I took my meds this morning and did not feel the happy surge of energy and well being that I felt yesterday. I didn't feel much of anything other than the irritability amplified. I went about my days activities and took my second dose around 2; same thing as earlier, no good feeling. Maybe, possibly, I was a little focused and able to get through my housework and duties a little better than without but I'm not certain.

The doctor had mentioned at my visit that he wasn't ruling out bi polar disorder and that my response to this med would dictate that. I have been reading quite a bit about bi polar today and I still say no. Yeah, I show a few of those symptoms but I do not feel I identify with them nearly as much as add. I have never experienced "mania" and I have never been suicidal. Yeah, I have acted on some impulses of a sexual nature in my life but they were alcohol induced and/or miserable in the current relationship. I have never had debilitating bouts of depression. I don't have wild mood swings. I'm pretty even-keeled, even when turmoil is in my life. I don't have the intense highs where I want to do lots of stuff and have all this extra energy or delusions of grandeur that I am some super human (that actually sounds appealing compared to my usual lack of motivation and apathy)... 

So... I'm a little disenchanted with the situation as compared to a few days ago. I was feeling hopeful that finally I would have a correct, clear cut diagnosis, be given the perfect meds and would start feeling a lot better. Maybe my body needs time to adjust to them? 

I've also been feeling guilty today about taking the meds. It goes against my spiritual beliefs. I believe that God has all the answers and when you depend on man instead of him to fix problems then you will be let down. Maybe this is a spiritual issue and I'm looking for the answers in the wrong places. Maybe today is an isolated incident and tomorrow I'll have a great experience with them.

Uggghhh... I hate being so wishy-washy and having the ability to see so many different sides to things. It's like a friend said earlier today, it would almost be easier being some narrow minded thinker that never thought about things objectively.... I just hope to get a decent nights' sleep. I took my evening primrose oil supplement and some valerian and melatonin. And I broke down and took a quarter of an attivan. 

Sunday, January 25, 2009

We stoop so low to reach so high.

Don't bother reading to much meaning into my blog titles..  great if you think I'm that cryptic but most of the time I use a line from whatever song I happen to be listening to at the moment.. might I suggest "Red Sky Mining" by U2? When they were good, mind you.

Obviously this is my first blog for this site. I am a member of Myspace and have been blogging there for the last 4 years. Sometimes I am able to feel free enough to be honest in my writings there but feel mostly that I have to censor myself due to many clients being on my "friends list."

Why this site, why another blog?? My friend Shannon gave me the idea of coming here, writing under a pen name and letting loose, as she does. Secondly, I just starting taking amphetamine for suspected adult attention deficit disorder. I tend to write more honestly than I think at times and am using this as a means of monitoring my thoughts, feelings, observations and moods while I decide if taking this drug is beneficial.

Let me start from the beginning, or what I feel to be the beginning. I'm sort of a cliche. I always thought add or adhd was a catch all diagnosis for flakey, eccentric people or kids who needed a good beat down that a parent didn't have the back bone to provide.  I didn't think it was real.. maybe I still don't. Life isn't meant to be smooth and worry free, I accepted that at an early age. I think a lot of mental illnesses were created for people who were on the fringe or who were not accepted into mainstream society so bam, a label is put on them to explain socially unacceptable behavior... a pill is created by the pharmaceutical companies that rule the country, doctors - some meaning well and some not so meaning well prescribe these meds,  document our responses to them and say hello to all these human lab rats running around.  Have I mentioned yet how cynical I am?

So, if I feel this strongly about mental illness, drugs, blah blah blah, isn't it a bit hypocritical of me to be engaging in such? Yes. But, let me explain. As long as I have had a memory I have felt like I was living in my own little world... maybe cause I really was. I was raised by parents who were old enough to be my grandparents. I stayed in my room a lot, listening to my radio, writing, daydreaming of being someone else, feeling unwanted and misunderstood. Usually when I came out of my room I was yelled at for being lazy or criticized for something. Mom was going through menopause (seriously) for most of my childhood and was pretty hot tempered and easily flustered. My dad retired from being a supervisor at a local hosiery mill when I was in the fourth grade and he tolerated very little. Spankings, beatings with a belt , newspaper, fly swatter, hand across the face, whatever - was doled out plentifully. Do I think I was physically abused? In today's world, prolly. I see it as being raised by parents who grew up in the depression era and were trying to raise a difficult child the best way they could. They grew up in severely poverty stricken environments and I never heard the end of "how good I had things" and how under-appreciative I was toward the home they provided me with. My dad was a WWII vet and prior to meeting my mother in his late 40's was a brawler and a womanizer. Both my parents had been married two times before they met and married. Mom, like a lot of woman raised in a poor, southern area, married her first time to get out of the house. Her second husband was an alcoholic and abusive. Dad's first wife was hurt in a an accident and was a vegetable and he either divorced her or she died first, I can't recall. His second wife was difficult, as he put it. Neither one of them had kids in their prior marriages.

But, their were so many good things about my childhood, especially now in retrospect. I got to hear stories of my dad traveling the world in the navy, seeing Winston Churchill on the beach in Normandy walking his dog. After WW2, my dad was a bit of a hobo, traveling the states by jumping trains, working in the CC Camps of FDR presidency era in the Appalachia's. At the time these stories were so boring but what I wouldn't give now to hear his Tennessean accent describe these events. Mom and Dad didn't care what people thought of them and never tried to keep up with the Joneses. They didn't drive fancy cars and they refused to buy me the name brand clothing that my peers had (but this aspect is what I believe has fueled my ability to have my own "original"style that is not based around how other people dress and where they shop), and they infused a work ethic in me that let me know early on that if you wanted something you worked for it, period. Nobody owed you a damn thing and even if you worked hard, sometimes life wasn't fair but you sucked it up and went on.  Both of my parents were creative. Mom sang, played piano (completely by ear), wrote music, and wrote stories about her experiences in life. Dad loved music and had Johnny Cash records that I would play on my little red kids' record player. Dad was an avid gardener and we always had garden grown vegetables, beautiful flowers around our modest home, and he raised chickens- mainly as a hobby. My parents taught me the simple pleasures of life... sitting on the porch during a summer rainstorm, doing what you could to help people down on their luck and being true to yourself.

In school, I always felt different. Mom and Dad sent me to Christian school from kindergarten to 5th grade (as well as made me go to Baptist church three times a week til about the age of 17).   I had friends but I was never the adored, perfectly dressed, darling. I was shy and was easily bullied by other kids... boys didn't flirt or think I was cute cause I didn't have flowing blonde hair or the cute dresses that the other parents' so proudly had their little girls wear.  I would say this synapse was the case til I went to high school.

The summer before 9th grade, some things  happened to me... I learned how to dress, and (with the help of Sun-In) made my hair blonde. I had a tan. I had a D-cup bra size. I was still a virgin at that time but was quickly becoming aware of the power of sexuality, mainly because at that time I was a huge fan and follower of Madonna... she was sexy, smart, business savvy, mysterious, talented, and like myself, was not adored and accepted by all, for one reason or another. I was listening to The Cure a lot at this time, the album Disintegration to be exact, and my connection to this band and the music made feel empowered to know that their were people in this world who were successful and admired yet marched to the beat of their own drum. Fuck yeah. There was hope for me yet.

High school for me was a joke. The same as my prior academic situation, some classes I excelled in (like anything to do with writing, reading, art, studies of other cultures) and other things seemed completely boring and pointless to me like history, sciences, maths... I was never disruptive in classes, quite the opposite. I was in another world, my own, exotic, fun, glamorous worlds that I one day hoped to be a part of.. a world that did not involve redneck guys spitting tobacco in there Mountain Dew bottles and girls who looked down their noses at me cause I didn't kiss their asses to be in their boring clicks. The world I wanted to be a part of did not exist at Bartlet Yancey High School or Yanceyville NC. I didn't want to go to NC State to pursue agriculture. I didn't want to get married right out of high school to a good 'ol boy of the county and start popping out kids immediately. I wanted my own identity, I wanted to do hair. I wanted to help make people feel the way I wanted to feel, pretty and secure in myself, and help them to accept themself even if they didn't have the traditional model type beauty. I wanted help people to embrace what made them different instead of trying to fit in. I came to the conclusion that not fitting in helped me to build character and fueled the fire to do things my own way.

So yeah, school was kinda an afterthought for me during my teen years. I was dating,working as a shampoo girl (for now a world renowned platform artist and educator with Redken) skipping school, smoking pot, listening to music and my parents weren't around very much. You see, having older parents they were both retired at this point and had bought a small home at the beach, where they stayed quite often, trusting me to hold the fort down, go to school and not get in trouble. Well, I never got in trouble with the law but there was plenty of debauchery going on.

By the skin of my teeth, I graduated high school. I was still working at a small restaurant as a restaurant. One of my patrons was a local record store owner - the only cool, indie record store in Danville. Jokingly one day I told him he should hire me at the record store cause I knew a lot about music. Next thing  I know, he sends word to me to come to the store and fill out an application if I wanted to work there. I started working there right after graduation. The coolest job any kid in a 25 mile radius could have... how did I get so lucky??

I quickly started meeting people, cool people, that I never would of met otherwise... and all the awesome music I became familiar with! I felt like I belonged! These people LIKED and ACCEPTED ME! I didn't feel like the inadequate, odd man out. I still wanted to do hair, but I was living life and enjoying just working and hanging out.  It was tough though to hang out and have but so much fun though. All though I was 18/19 at this point, mom and dad were still strict and I had early curfews. I was smoking pot a lot, it made me introspective and I liked the way music sounded when I did it.  Most of the people I hung around with did it. 

I went to beauty school and the first few months, which was mainly theory, was tougher than what I'd anticipated,  why did I need to know so much anatomy and chemistry to do hair?? But, I made myself do it, cause I really wanted to do hair. I was still working at the record store. After a few months at beauty school, theory took a backseat and we were released to the "floor", which meant we would be working on actual clients. Let me backtrack a bit, I started doing my own hair and friends hair when I was 14.  This was different though. I didn't know how or why I knew what to do before, this was so structured and I had to do it a certain way. At first (on the floor) I fumbled my way through things and wondered if this was really for me. Then one day, something clicked! It made sense!! I understood why I was doing what I was doing. The patrons of the beauty school loved me... I finally felt like I had an identity. I will never forget one day a patron approached me ( I hadn't done her hair but she had been watching me work) and said she wanted me to know that she just knew I had a natural talent for doing hair because of the grace and confidence I exuded and the way I spoke to the person receiving a service. Could this really be happening? I was being praised for doing something well... and something that meant a lot to me!! 

I was about 21 at this point. Hairdressers weren't very respected in this town and I didn't even know what their annual income was and didn't care. I was still living at home with my parents. I was older now. I wanted my own place but didn't have the financial means of doing so and my parents balked and threatened to disown me when I mentioned having a roommate in an apartment. They had their own plans for me where that was concerned and I knew that was prolly my only out. Jason.

Jason was a wonderful, smart, loved by everyone kind of guy who I'd dated since I was 16. He loved and adored me,  and I loved him but wasn't in love with him. Mom and Dad loved him and was always quick to remind me of the wonderful, promising future that I would have with this young man. My parents never encouraged me to be independent. In their world, it was okay for a woman to have a job or maybe even a career, but if she wanted to be anyone or have anything, she had to be married. What could I say, or do? They had both been married before so if I married him and couldn't stand it, I'd just divorce him. So, I married him and divorced him after 2 and a half years of marriage. During that time I  cheated on him cause I wasn't physically attracted to him, he never found out. I was feeling that stifled, misunderstood feeling I felt in my childhood and teens. He didn't like the fact that I was becoming a flamboyant, thinking outside of the box- artist type.  He was addicted to porn, probably cause I never had sex with him and then never wanted to have sex with him cause of his love for porn. It was a vicious cycle. My sadness and disappointment in myself took over cause I wasn't able to love him and embrace this nice steady, stable life he could offer me. He was boring and too easy. I was still smoking pot a lot. It was a recipe for disaster. I had went to a psychiatrist and was put on paxil. I had felt depressed and anxious off and on throughout most of my life but this whole marriage thing was making things worse. We divorced, I moved into a small apt in a bad part of town cause it was all I could afford at the time. I was steady building my business as a hairdresser, but only made a couple hundred a week cause I worked at a "chop shop" in the mall and was on a commission basis.  Jason got a fantastic job with UPS and moved to Roanoke. My parents were devastated that we had split. My life was surely screwed now. I felt an intense burden off my shoulders. I went off the paxil cold turkey. I moved back in with my parents cause the apt in the ghetto was scary and I was lonely. Atleast moving back in with my parents would allow me the chance to save up some money and do whatever it was I was going to do next. 

So, I throw myself into my work. Yes, I was only working at Hair Plus, but I had lots of request clients. I didn't make much money but I felt successful and fulfilled. I wasn't living a lie anymore. It sucked living with my parents though. I was 24 now and they still treated me like I was 12. If I came in past 1 they would throw a fit. My dad was now in his mid 70's and mom in her 60's, they didn't need the headache. Then I met Will.

Will dated a friend of mine from high school and I always thought he was cute. I worked with his sister at Hair Plus and when she suggested we go out I was all for it. Will had a good job, all be it at a factory, but he made decent money, had tattoos so in my mind he wasn't all uptight like Jason was. WIll liked that I had tattoos. He was quiet and brooding and hard to figure out, the complete antitheses of Jason. I was really in love. A few months later, I was pregnant. My mom was fit to be tied because although I was 24 that still went against their strict baptist beliefs. What would the neighbors think, the family and especially her church family? She didn't want me to tell my dad, fearful of his reaction. He found out about a month or so later, to which he responded surprisingly understanding. I was four months preggers when me and Will got married. I continued to live with my parents while he fixed up the old home we were moving into on his parents property in Chatham, Va. I had a completely perfect, uneventful pregnancy. I felt good and worked like normal, no morning sickness, no elevated blood pressure, no swelling. Something was weird though, I never felt connected, excited or happy about the prospects of motherhood (although I wanted to get pregnant when I did). It was like something, some force of nature, some gut feeling wouldn't let me bond with this baby. 

April 2, 2001 i went into labor. The contractions came quick and strong. Mom and Will were with me in the delivery room. When I got to the hospital I dilated quickly and when the option of a epidural came up, they persuaded me not to, assuring me that the baby would get here soon enough with my the quick dilation and my contractions. They were doctors, I was just me, they knew best, I trusted them.

I pushed for 6 hours with no drugs. It was horrible. The delivering doctor would stick her head in the door and give the nurses directions. It was the middle of the night and she (the doc, DR LAHTI in case you are curious) was sleeping in the lounge. The nurses would talk among themselves, commenting that "this baby wasn't coming down". Finally, I was able to push til the babies head was visible but that was it. No matter how hard I pushed I couldn't push him out. The room filled up with doctors, nurses and people who looked important and concerned. They decided to put a vacuum thing on his head to get him out. Three nurses were pushing on the outside of my stomach and body to coax him out. My body was in so much pain, I went numb and could see my body and these goings on from outside my body. Finally they got him out, carried him to a table near by and started doing cpr on him. For all I knew this was normal, never having given birth but something was telling me things went horribly wrong and this baby was going to have serious problems, if he lived. It was almost as if during the birth process, I had grieved and mourned the loss of my chance at having a normal child. The delivering doctor came to my side to sew up my episiotomy and said "whew, next time you'll get a c- section". They had taken the baby from the room at this point and Dr Lahti played it off as though this was a normal occurrence. I think I was in shock. They informed me that the trauma from birth had made William seize and he was heavily sedated and they were sending him to the NICU at UVA. 

The next year and  a half is a story within itself and is too much to write. To summarize it, William was diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy from the oxygen deprivation at birth. They told us he'd prolly never walk, talk, basically do anything. The social worker told me and WIll that we didn't have to take him home if we didn't want to, there were places for babies like William and no one would think bad of us if we did that. That was never an option. We were trained how to feed him (cause he couldn't swallow), administer all his many meds, give shots,  suction his nose and throat with a catheter. People encouraged me, even my own family to give up working so we wouldn't make as much money so William could qualify for SSi and other gvt assisted programs. I refused, I knew that I would go crazy not doing hair, not having an outlet. I had to preserve myself, my spirit, even with the horrible tragedy. His life was a lesson in humanity, forgiveness, love, inner strength, the ugliness and beauty of human nature. It drew me closer to God. It imposed on me the importance of health, intuition, and not relying on doctors to be the end all be all authority of our lives and health. I grew up to look at doctors as gods, super human beings that were smarter then I could ever hope to be. I learned that they are no different from myself. I make mistakes on my job and so do they. I forgave the doctor that delivered William, although she never completely admitted fault. I had a good shot at winning a malpractice lawsuit, but in doing that, it would of been an albatross around my neck every day for possibly years and I didn't want that. What was done was done and one day she would answer for her actions. The community knew what she'd done and that she was at fault. I chose to focus my attention on giving baby William the best life he could have instead of harboring hate toward Lahti. (Note: a couple of years later, Lahti, due to other lawsuits and other factors, lost her hospital privileges and only practices gynecology but no obstetrics). On August 3rd, 2002, I went to Williams bedroom to get him up before I went to work and his soul had left his sick, tortured body. He was still warm and Will (his dad) had checked on him around 3am. We will never know exactly what he died from... he could of aspirated or his heart just simply could of stopped working due to all the stress that his body had been under due to bouts with pneumonia. We didn't do an autopsy or have him embalmed. I wanted his body to be at rest. We buried him at a private service in an old cemetery behind our home that actual slaves had been buried in. I miss him but am glad that his soul is free from the pain and suffering that he endured daily. 

People would always ask me during that time, aren't you depressed?? We'lll, strangely I wasn't. Anxious, yeah, I would get stressed out and nervous, but just to persevere, a family doctor put me on zoloft ( I figured I'd get back to the mental health aspect of this since that is pretty much the purpose of this post. I never felt much from it, good or bad. In the meanwhile, my marriage was steadily crumbling. Will was never around and was mad at God, me and the world. He hated life. He went to a psychiatrist that had him on a cocktail of meds, he wouldn't go to therapy with me. During Williams life, Will was never around much either, which made me highly resentful but it wasn't until the baby was gone did the smoke clear and I got really mad about Wills inattentiveness toward the baby and me and his unwillingness to help himself or our marriage. I was tired of being caretaker and needed to be taken care of. I had just became self employed and was making good money, esp. for a 26 year old woman living in Dville Va. I had begged and pleaded with Will to help me fix things. I was going on a trip to Europe which he ridiculed me for and told me I was getting too "uppity".  I couldn't take it anymore.I hated the thought of being so young and having two failed marriages but at that point just needed to rest and get away from negative things. I packed up, hired a moving service and rented out a little mill house in town, 5 minutes from the salon I had just went to work at. I was uncertain and unsure but felt if I had the strength to get through what I had been through the last couple of years that I could start over, again. Will never tried to get me to stay, he told me if he were me, he'd want to leave him too.

So,  I lost my son, husband and extended family in a matter of a few months. My divorce was finalized, quick process since we had no children. I went to Europe and was riding on a train going through Austria on Williams birthday. How appropriate. William's life and death gave me the strength to accomplish things I'd never thought I could. Me? Go to Europe? I was scared to fly and had barely left the east coast. Me? Be self employed and actually be successful at it?? The girl in school who couldn't pass algebra and people shunned cause she didn't go to "college?" It couldn't be real. This couldn't be my life. So much pain, but so much beauty. People around me respected me and looked up to me for having endured all this so gracefully. I bought a house in a trendy neighborhood in Danville and had money left over to buy nice things. People in Danville knew my name and my face. I had arrived. I was cool. 

I was being invited to all the "it" events and I was in the same circles as a lot of people who I'd always known of and respected but thought were above me. I met a guy who was from Danville but had been in NYC for the last 10 years training and working as a chef. He was very cultured and had travelled and became my boyfriend. He came from a wealthy family and had was back in school for engineering and didn't work. He encouraged me to work hard.  I had detached myself from the William ordeal. I worked tons. I was taking on a lot. But life was good.

2005 had rolled around. Sean (the boyfriend) was still in school and still not working and had moved in with me. The last few years were catching up with me and I had gone on another anti depressant called Lexapro. The stresses of being self employed, supporting myself and Sean and my dad having cancer was taking its toll. We got engaged and everything seemed to be steady and in place, finally.  The summer of 2006 rolled around and Sean graduated from college. How wonderful, he had found a job (thanks to my connections) at a new industry that specialized in nano-technology. He could finally contribute financially and the last two years of me supporting him, my goodwill, would pay off! Suddenly, he was unhappy and wanted to break up. I was devastated...  I could not bare to lose anymore people I cared for.  I had started drinking a lot, it was comforting.  My dad was sick. He was losing weight and although he had bladder cancer off and on within the last couple of years, they had assured us it was gone. A friend of mine was taking Wellbutrin at the time and loved it, I asked my OB/GYN at my check up could I try it, and go off the Lexapro. My anxiety/depression had came and gone over the years  but of course the hard times exacerbated them. The doc was like "sure" gave me a scrip and sent me on my way, telling me how to ween myself off the Lexapro. I felt horrible, I was drinking lots, Sean was in and out of my life, my life seemed out of control. I felt stupid and weak. If I could survive my sons death, why couldn't I still be strong now?  The wellbutrin made me feel super anxious. I went back to the psychiatrist who I'd seen during my first marriage and told him I needed help bad, he prescribed prozac.  

Sean was officially out of my life. I was starting to feel better on the prozac. I was still drinking a lot, mainly out of loneliness. I would drink a lone in my house, and look at pictures of baby William and sob, and would cry out to God and ask him why so much bad shit had to happen to me. I had respect, clout, status, good looks, had overcame so much, but why couldn't I have love in my life??  Why did I have to keep losing people that I cared about?? Was this some sort of sick, cosmic debt that I was having to pay? Maybe it was payback for when I married my first husband and broke his heart. My friends were concerned and I'd started to push some of them away. All sorts of guys were coming out of the woodworks wanting to go out with me but I wasn't interested. 

My dad was losing weight quickly. I knew he was 84 and well, sure, hes gonna start getting sickly, but I never anticipated what we found out. He had already told me that he didn't think he'd be alive much longer and I told him he was wrong.  Dad had liver cancer. This was the worse news I could of ever gotten at the worse possible time. Not my dad, my rock, my hero, the man that was tough as nails on me as a child but it was out of love and wanted me to be strong.  The man who was among some of the greatest men to fight for our country in WWII. The doctor gave him 6 months. Dad asked God to take him soon, he was ready. He knew he had lived a long, full life. I couldn't talk to him or be around him without crying. I told him all the things I wanted to tell him, like that he was my hero and thanked him for my upbringing and I was sorry for any heatache I'd caused him. He said he was sorry for having me so late in life and in turn he was leaving me sooner. All I'd ever wanted was to know that my dad was proud of me. I asked my dad "how will I know what to do??" he said, "you'll know". In my heart that was my peace of knowing that maybe I'd made some good choices and hadn't fucked up too bad. 

Dad died 10 days after getting his diagnosis. Dad went from being pretty normal and coherent one day to pretty much losing all his faculties. They say this is what the liver does when it is shutting down and starts to poison the body. Hospice came in the home and mom and me took care of him, it was a matter of waiting.  It was the very first of October 2006 and the weather was gorgeous. I would lay with dad in his bed with his window open so he could feel the breeze and sunshine from the gorgeous weather. Friday the 13th dad was pretty much comatose. Hospice brought morphine. After being there all day, I told mom I was going to go home to shower and grab some more clothes and I'e be back shortly. I had been home a short while when the phone rang at it was my aunt, who had stopped by mom and dads after I'd left, informing me that my dad had passed right after I'd left. 

It wasn't fair, none of this was fair. I drank and drank. I had met a nice guy though, right before dad got his diagnosis .He had heard about me threw a mutual friend and made an appt to get his hair cut but it was also to see if I was good looking. He asked me out that night but I turned him down, I told him my life was crazy and he best not get involved but her persisted and I went out with him and it was the best date I'd ever been on.  He was 6 years younger than me and was simply unpretentious, down to earth,  caring, attentive and although we had just met, insisted that he stick by my side threw my dads illness and death. He saw how bad I was hurting. He met me at my absolute worse, rock bottom scenario. He encouraged me to stop drinking and told me it was a slow suicide. I went back to my therapist that I'd seen when the baby died. In January of 2007 Matt and I decided to get married. Was it a little soon? Maybe. Do I regret it?? No. I could not of asked for a better husband and God knew that I needed someone like him at that time. My drinking continued until May of 2007 when I hit a rock bottom. I detoxed myself, prayed a lot, started a vegetarian diet and immersed myself in holistic teaches of Ayurveda and other practices that focuses on self healing.  I was completely sober for several months , during which I went off the Prozac and took my life back.

So, the smoke cleared once again and things started settling down. I wanted to move from my house I'd bought in 2003 and start anew with Matt my new husband and have OUR home, not my home.  My old house had so many demons and bad memories in it and living in the location that I did, people, friends, family were constantly coming by. We found a house in the country, about 20 minutes from Danville and and hour north of Durham.  We hadn't sold our house in Danville, but the mortgage there wasn't expensive and we could shoulder it for a while. Of course the economy has gone all to hell,  my house still hasn't sold and my business has slacked off some, although I still can't complain. All I can do is the best I can. 

So, now you are saying... what does this all have to do with ADD, and taking amphetamine? Doesn't this go against your natural living stance? Why haven't you figured out long before now thats what you have instead of depression?? 

I believe God puts certain people, conversations, ideas in our head at a certain time for a specific reason. Deepak Chopra even has  a book on it about the Power of Intention.  In one week, I had two clients, one being a 50 some year old housewife and the other being a special ed teacher with a son with add that  both told me basically the same story that made the same point that rang a bell in my head. My depression and anxieties over the years I think have been situational, but there has been several on-going themes. My inattentiveness. , my cluttered thinking and thoughts, agitation, my difficulties in school, not being able to stay with conversations because my mind has gone ahead of what the person is saying.. these things have not changed ever. 

So, I didn't know what to do or where to start. Could this issue, IF its the issue, be at the root of some of the hardships I've had in life.. the bad feelings about myself, the failed relationships, my constant guilt about not doing or accomplishing enough? I want to have a good quality of life. I want to be able to enjoy all my blessings in life to the fullest potential.  I want to genuinely be helped, not get high off a drug. If that is all I wanted I could seek that out elsewhere and for a lot cheaper than the cost of seeing a psychiatrist (yes, I have insurance but it is crappy). I want to be a good wife, not be snappy or crabby cause I am so stressed about selling our house in Danville or worried about how slow my week at work might be. I want to be the best I can be at my work, be as attentive as I can be with my clients so our communication is the best it can be. I want to be a good person to work with, not be thought of as being flakey or as someone who can't get there act together. I want to be a good daughter to my mom, and spend more time with her, instead of always procrastinating going to visit her cause I can't manage my time and affairs.I want to move forward and stop living in the past. Does our past really define us?? I don't know... I kinda hope not and  I kinda hope so.  

I don't want to take this drug forever. I have read good and bad... but, I feel like with taking something that I can TRULY benefit from at this point in my life, will be beneficial for me, if ever. If it can help motivate me to make more money til we get the other house sold and help me have better organizing skills so I can manage our money better, then that is a good thing. If it can help make me a better person to live with and save me from another failed marriage, then it is a good thing. If it can help me to make better grocery lists to have better foods on hand so we can eat healthier - good thing. If it can help me to get off my ass and start doing more physical activity which will improve my mood - good thing.  

Me, taking the time to write about some of my past heartaches and joys, something I have been meaning to do for quite some while - good thing. 

We'll see.