It started out innocently enough.  I though it was my PMS acting up.  You know, getting me down, etc.  It wasn’t all that bad, though it was noticeable.  The next week I got sick.  I mean really sick.  I left work early on Monday, January 4.  I was definitely sick because going home that day cost me my the holiday pay from New Year’s Day.  Medco has a rule that you have to work 9 hours and 55 minutes the day before and the day after a holiday to get the holiday pay.  (Although if you do have the day scheduled off  ahead of time you do get the holiday.  Same if they offer VTO that day.)  I thought that caused the downess (is that a word?  Spell check says no.  Oh well, I’m using it anyways!) that week.  I saw my psychiatrist that week on Thursday and told her things were pretty much okay although we did raise the Celexa (or citalopram, if you prefer the generic name) for the week before and of my period and we added trazodone since the Celexa was causing me to twitch when I tried to go to sleep and wake up several times in the morning.  However, by the end of the time I saw my therapist on Friday I was not doing so great.  The following Monday I saw my psychiatrist again.  We decided try canceling the trazodone and start Ambien.  I saw Melissa again that Friday.  I still wasn’t doing well.  I was cryey (yes, another made up word!), lacked self confidence and self esteem, and was much more sensitive.  I’m generally a sensitive person, but it gets worse when the depression gets worse.  Then I got my period.  Oh God, the pain.  Nothing seem to help but heat.  I was unable to do taxes Saturday night and spent all day Sunday in bed on the heating pad.  I can’t take ibuprofen so no Advil, Aleve, etc.  *sigh*  I tried etodolac, but it didn’t seem to help.  Luckily the worst part was on Saturday and Sunday, both days on which I do not work.  I’m actually thinking of asking for something stronger for next time.  Vicodin, maybe.  Yeah, it’s that bad.  That was the weekend.

Monday was great.  I was feeling fine (okay, I had some residual pain, but nothing like the weekend) and was feeling better.  I never got the Ambien so I figured it wasn’t the trazodone that was causing the problem.  (I had wondered about that, considering how my symptoms disappeared once I stopped taking certain medications on a regular basis.)  Wednesday I saw Melissa and discussed it and we agreed that it didn’t seem to be the problem.  It was a hectic week.  On Monday they made an announcement that overtime was desperately needed and that if they didn’t reach the 20% mark that they would have to mandate overtime.  So I signed up for 11 hours that week during weekdays and was considering working on the weekend, especially Sunday.  Why Sunday?  They give doubletime on Sundays for any week you work 8 hours of overtime Monday through Saturday on.  When I found out that Tom had decided to work that weekend so he could get more money and 2700 miles (a record, legal high for him) i thought great! Extra money!  It would really work out.  It didn’t.

Thursday started out as an okay day.  I was more stressed than usual since I had worked 4 hours of OT already.  Then we had Wow awards.  A lot of people diss the Wow awards but they do mean something to me.  Two people who don’t like me both got awards for something I do all the time.  One of them I do several times a day, even several times a shift.  I, however, don’t have tons of friends so I don’t really get nominated for a Wow unless I ask for it.  I even do more than that to help the customers get what they want.  It kinda made me angry which of course got suppressed and turned into depression.  By my 8:45 pm break, I was starting to stutter.  I’ve stuttered with my depression before so I knew it was that.  All week (and the week before) I had been escaping from my seat to the bathroom to spend a few minutes reading.  No, not the most diligent, but when you’re trying to keep from falling apart on the floor with people who are mean and don’t like you a few seats down, you do whatever works.  After my last break at 11 pm, I went to the bathroom and texted Tom. I basically asked him (okay, begged him) if it would be okay if I didn’t do OT the next day.  My ability to make decisions that may upset someone goes down to almost nil when I’m depressed.  Okay, that might have been before my last break.  Actually, I think it was.  My memory also suffers when my depression gets worse.  I also tend to have problems finding words, although that hasn’t really shown up this time.  After my last break, I started shaking.  I had been jumping, but it got worse.  I was starting to lose it, so I headed to the private bathroom to call Mom.  We decided that I definitely shouldn’t work on Friday and that I shouldn’t work post shift ot that night.  Mom told me to call her when I got home.  Then I called Tom. I was scared and feeling alone and just wanted reassurance and love.  Big mistake that I won’t make again.  He was sleepy and almost immediately told me to go to the hospital.  *sigh*  I didn’t need a hospital.  I needed support.  I managed to get him off the phone, cried a little bit more, and went out to find a lead or supervisor to cancel my ot.  I felt like such a failure.  A complete failure.  I hate it when I can’t do what I said I’d do, but I couldn’t help it.  I really couldn’t.

I’ve been stuttering on and off all weekend.  Sometimes I can force myself to not stutter, but it takes a lot of work.  I’ve never stuttered this bad before.  I was hoping a weekend of relaxation would cure the stuttering and I would just have to get through another week.  Hasn’t happened.  I’ve done a couple things to make me happier.  I got nails put on with a really cool prismatic purple polish.  I also got a haircut. I want to get contacts, but I chickened out on Friday.  I’ll have to try again next week.  I don’t see either Melissa or Dr. Cutlip next week.  I will be calling Dr. Cutlip.  The downward turn might have been caused be the cessation of the risperidone.  The doc told me it takes about 3 months to get stuff out of your system.  I stopped it in the middle of November.   It’s about 2 and 1/2 months now.  That could definitely be it, but I don’t want to go back on it if I don’t have to.  I lost between 15 and 20 pounds in about a month when I went off of it.  It took all summer to lose the other 15 or so pounds, just as a comparison.  I don’t know what we’ll put me on or I’ll get just an antidepressant or both an antidepressant and an anti-anxiety medication.  I’m scared. I don’t think I’ll talk to anyone at work until I stop stuttering.  Well, if I can help it.  I’m miserable.  I’m lonely.  I’m not very fond of life right now.  I hope this improves. Quickly.

Remember September 11, 2001?  Did you know that the majority of the employees of Morgan Stanley got out alive?  We’re talking over 80%.  Why did they get out when so many people didn’t?  Experts say that it was due to the fact that over the past three years the gentleman in charge of security put his colleagues through a consistent and fairly rigorous series of fire drills.  The employees, especially the long time employees, knew where the exits were, where the stairs were, what it was like to go down the stairs, and where to meet after they got out of the building.  That man, who’s name I do not know, is credited with saving many lives.  Does your employer do drills?  When was the last time you had one?  Do you know the emergency plans for your company?  They should have them.  You should know them.  I encourage you to talk to the people you work for and encourage them to get this knowledge out.  It may just save your life.

It’s the first day of the new year.  Many of you have new homes, new family members, etc. Make plans. Check your escapes. Check you fire alarms.  It’s a proven fact that having some sort of plan and having practiced that plan can make the difference between life and death in a serious situation.  It’s a pain and can take time away from other things, but if you ever have to use it, it could save your life or the life of someone you love. Do you really want to deal with the possible consequences of not knowing what to do?

Have a healthy, happy, and safe new year!!

There are days when I don’t really like my life. Well, it’s not that I don’t like it, it’s that I don’t find it all that impressive. It usually happens around the time I see my sister. She showed up on Thanksgiving and wouldn’t you know it, I’ve been cry-y all day. She noticed that I had lost weight, but freaked when she found out I was off of my low carb diet. She asked me if I was engaged yet and then proceeded to tell me that I should wait six years before getting married. I guess she really doesn’t want me to have children. I’ll be 36 by then. That’s a little old for that type of thing. Mom had us when she was 30 and 32 and was the oldest mom at the bus stop. I guess it’s a good thing I don’t want kids. Not that I know when I’ll every get proposed to. Tom is insisting on buying me a diamond even though I’ve told him that I’d be perfectly happy with an Epiphany engagement ring. Then again, I don’t know how I would afford a wedding. I have so much debt. And I never could afford one that could compare to my sister’s. I do have a gorgeous wedding gown that I love with all the trimmings (though I would have to find the shoes), but…I don’t know. She had her’s at Phipp’s Conservatory. I could never afford a place that nice. She had everything so nice. Our CA relatives (and their children from various parts of the US) flew/drove in for her wedding. Including our 92 year old grandfather. I don’t think they’d do that for mine. Debbie flies out and sees all of them all the time. She knows our cousins and our cousins children. I don’t. They would come out if Grandpa was coming because we all know our time is short with him. If he came to this coast for anything (cause most of the cousins are in MA area) they’d come for it. I don’t think he’ll be around in 6 years. Of course, it may be six years before I can afford a wedding. Tom wants a big wedding, too. I’m thinking more of sneaking off to Vegas or Fl or one of the Carolinas and getting married. Maybe on the beach. No pressure. I’d fail, but I wouldn’t fail in front of everyone else.

I feel so lonely these days. I rarely see anyone. People are too busy to see me. They have families and children and lives. I don’t think I have much in common with them anymore. We have memories, but they all are from years gone by (think high school and college). They don’t invite me places (though the Steel City Knitter did invite me for Thanksgiving). Once again I feel like I don’t belong. Tom loves me, but he’s away for most of the week and goes to bed before I get off of work every night. Mom loves me, but she’s an hour away and again, goes to bed before I get off of work. Dad and Kathy love me, but I think they are the busiest of them all. Kit Kit and Jack love me. I get kisses from them. But I’m having a rough day and I don’t feel loved right now.

All through growing up great things were expected of me. I was an honor’s student, in GATE clases and advanced science and math courses. I sang, which I don’t do anymore. I was in musicals. I performed. I took part in things. I was in advanced classes in college as well. It was expected that I would go into math or science and do great things, make money, and make people proud. I didn’t do that. I changed from meteorology to English in college and then dropped out. I started temping and fell in love with data entry. I got a good job at a bank downtown earning a lot of money and I didn’t like it. I hated it, in fact. So I went back to data entry. I moved up in my data entry position and am now making more than I did at the bank job, but come on – it’s data freakin’ entry. Not complicated. Not difficult, unless you count reading handwriting as difficult. Although, it’s not. I love my job. I do it ten hours a day, four days a week. I’m fairly good at it, too. But I don’t do anything special, or complicated, or important. Debbie went to college, learned to fly, graduated early, got a job as a pilot, moved up in the ranks, married a pilot, has a house, makes money, is not in debt, and doesn’t have a huge list of failures in her portfolio. The only ones of those that I’ve done is gone to college and moved up in the ranks. Not especially impressive. And apparently I’m bossy, too. And know-it-all. Both Mom and Tom said I was. No wonder the ones who truly want me around are Tom, Mom, Jack, and Kit Kit. I don’t think I would want me around either.