I’m starting to get sick of feeling pressured by people telling me I need to or should get my degree.  First thing, it’s expensive and I’m broke.  I have to pay off bills before I could consider that it and that will take years.  By then finishing my education will be even more expensive!  The thing is I’m not really sure why I need it.  I’ve never not had a job, other than the two or three weeks after Team went out of business.  I’ve had jobs where you need a degree and multiple of years in the industry (neither of which I had).  I will (eventually) make more at the job I have (which I don’t need a degree for) than I have at any other job.  2 years and 2 and a half months.  The only degree I’m close to getting is an English degree.  What on earth am I going to do with that?  I don’t know what else I would do.  Medical transcriptionist has been suggested.  Do they really have degrees for that?  I thought that was a certificate thing.  *shrug*  Melissa says to get a degree to move up in my job.  Um…I don’t know what degrees you need to become a pharmacist, but I bet it’s expensive.  Not to mention that I don’t really want to be a pharmacist.  They have to talk to people.  Melissa thinks I should go into management.   I don’t understand why.  I don’t really want to.  I don’t really want to have to deal with all the things that managers have to deal with.  I like what I do now.  I guess there’s something wrong with me because I’m not that ambitious.  I don’t understand why I have to be.  Can’t my goals just be to be better at the job I have?  I have room for improvement.

Another thing I don’t understand is the pressure on me to date.  Why can’t I just not date?  Melissa spent 20 minutes telling me I should date.  I should find someone at work.  I should meet guy’s eyes at coffee shops and bookstore cafes.  I should join eHarmony and find someone online.  There are difficulties with that.  Most of the people at work are in relationships or are married.  Not to mention that they don’t talk to me.  And the fact that most of them like to go out and drink and I don’t.  I don’t like coffee.  When I go somewhere with a book I’m basically focused on the book.  I get lost in it unless I have to be aware of the time.  I don’t look at the people there with me.  Meeting people online isn’t exactly the most safe of things to do.  I know plenty of people who have done it, but I’m very wary.  Melissa pushed eHarmony on me, but I know that’s expensive.  She said look for a free weekend.  She doesn’t want me to “waste my cuteness”.  I didn’t know it was wasted because I wasn’t going out with anyone. *rolls eyes*

Why do I need to date in the first place?  I don’t want children so I don’t really have to worry about a biological clock or anything.  I have depression which can be quite difficult and most people, especially men, don’t understand.  Even some of those who claim to understand have negative prejudices about depression.  I also don’t tend to trust my judgement when it comes to men and relationships.  I’ve dated 6 guys.   2 of the relationships were extremely short.  1 of them was okay, but we just weren’t right for each other.  2 of them were very unhealthy.  2 of them drained me completely financially.  (1 of them was both unhealthy and draining.  That’s why the numbers don’t add up.)  The later ones seem to be worse than the earlier ones.  5 out of 6 is not a good record.  I’m sick of going through it.  I seem to end up giving too much and getting too little.  I don’t want to do it any more.  I also don’t go anywhere where I would meet people.  Melissa suggested I ask my friends if they know any single guys.  Yeah, so not me.  Not going to happen.  Oh yeah, it’s only been about 4 months since I broke up with the last guy.

I know these leaves me in a bad place for the future.  I know it will end up with me alone with no one constant in a few years.  I don’t know what I’ll do then.  I’m focusing more on what I’m doing now.  I don’t understand why that’s not good enough for people.  I’m content where I am, for the most part.  I’m not thrillingly happy, but I’m not horribly depressed.  I can stand the former and I love the latter.  People who don’t have depression don’t understand how wonderful the absence of sadness can be.

Friday was rough.  I moved stuff over to Mom’s.  I left the apartment at around 4:30 pm.  I returned around 8 and got Tom to go and change the phone plans.  I did not go into the apartment.  After changing the phone plans we return.  I walked in and found the lights on.  I got angry.  No one was home so there was no reason for the lights to be on.  I went straight into the bedroom without looking around.  I don’t know why, but I wasn’t feeling very good and I was tired.  Tom said he was going out several hours later and asked me if there was anything I wanted him to do.  I didn’t get up and look.  I was working on the computer.  I said no.  I still had stuff I wanted to do and I planned to get up around midnight and spend an hour to an hour and a half cleaning and packing before I went to sleep.  When I did that Tom was not there.  The living room was a mess.  All of the things which I had not packed for him before he got home were lying around the room.  So I had to pick all of that up.  I put it on the couch.  I was furious.  I could not believe that he went out without finishing his own packing.  He had about 5 hours to do it in and there’s no way it would have taken that long.  he came home while I was doing it.  He yelled at me, telling me it was my fault because I hadn’t told him to pack his stuff.  He also said that it didn’t matter since my dad’s fiance had just said anything that wasn’t packed wasn’t going.  Excuse me, but we had to go through the living room to move stuff and move items that were covered with his stuff.  He didn’t get home until after 1 am and we had to be up early in the morning to get the truck.  Also, I didn’t know I was supposed to tell him to pack his own stuff.  I didn’t realize that it wouldn’t be obvious that the rooms and furniture had to be clear in order to do the move.  I didn’t realize that I had to tell him to do it before he left to go out and have fun.  I didn’t go and one of the reasons I told him that I couldn’t go was that I still had packing left to do.  I didn’t know I had to be his mother.

Saturday was worse.  I set my alarm late because I was so upset the night before that I messed up.  If I hadn’t called Mom we would have been late.  The guy I picked the truck up from told me I could change the drop off, but when I called she said I couldn’t since I had the truck.  Tom and I argued and he told me that if I didn’t stop yelling then he would not help with the move.  I was falling apart and had been since we had gotten the truck.  I was crying.  I told him I didn’t have a lot of control.  I cried for at least two solid hours then I finally took half a xanax.  It took about another half hour but I finally stopped crying.  I was carrying stuff out to cars when I could, but after taking the medicine I was unsteady and the fact that due to an argument with Tom I could not finish the hot dog I tried to eat for breakfast.  I was shaking and exhausted, but I kept going.  I got food for everyone who wanted it because I knew I needed to eat.  The Maracuja called when we were finishing up.  Upon finding out we were finished she offered to come over and help clean. I told her I’d call her when I got over there.  I got Tom in New Brighton and as we’re driving close to Ambridge he asks me to drop him off so he can get pizza.  Instead of going back to help me clean, he decided he wanted to get pizza.  I was completely pissed off at that point.  I left him there and went back to the apartment.  I called the Maracuja, but didn’t get her.  I left a message and started cleaning.  I cleaned the bathroom completely, I vacuumed the entire place, and started sweeping.  The Maracuja called and came over.  She helped me finish up cleaning, took me over to ENP for dinner (for which I will be eternally grateful), listened to me whine and complain (another thing for which I will be eternally grateful), and helped me finish getting stuff out to the car.  I left my key and never went back.

The next day I had was all over achy and had a fever.   Luckily, I was on vacation for the week.  I have felt horrible all week.  I’ve had cramps, especially today.  Dad worked on my car and fixed the rotors and brake pads.  I need to make an appointment for an inspection.  I went to sleep yesterday at after 5 am. I woke up in agony at just after 7 am.  I took pain killers, got Mom’s heating pad to use with mine (I had extreme pain in both front and back), and I have no idea how long it took me to finally get back to sleep.  I don’t even know when I woke up.  I had to unplug my clock to plug in the other heating pad.  When I went downstairs I discovered it was almost 4 pm.  I was in pain on and off for the rest of the day.  Still am.

There’s one more thing else that bothers me.  I have a friend who said she was planning on doing the zoo on Saturday morning.  I was thinking  of going despite the fact that it was in the morning because she’s one of my favorite people.  She decided to change it to the children’s museum.  She said she’d email me her schedule so we could make plans.  That was Monday or Tuesday.  I didn’t hear from here and it was Wednesday.  I saw her making plans with at least one other person.  I messaged her and asked if she was going to send me her schedule or if she just wanted to forget it.  She said no, that she’d send her schedule that night.  That was Wednesday.  I still haven’t received it from her.  I commented on one of her statuses and she commented back saying that she loved me for many reasons.  I have a hard time believing it.  I still haven’t heard from her. Except for that comment.

What’s wrong with me?

I have already been feeling like there’s something wrong with me. People at work do not talk to me. Not unless they have to. When I was in training, the other two trainees ignored me. Only the leads and supervisors talk to me most days. Sometimes people nod at me or will say hi as they pass me in the hall way. The van drivers talk to me more than my co-workers. I spend usually less than 15 minutes with them. I keep wondering why they don’t like me. I wonder why I’m beneath their notice.
It doesn’t stop there. My friends. My RL friends rarely talk with me. I’m on Facebook with many of them. It’s rare that they respond to anything I say. I comment on their posts and they’re basically ignored. I try to talk with people and get ignored. I ask if things are okay and I can see that they’re online, but they don’t bother answering till the next day, often when I’m asleep or at work. I try. I try to cut back on my depressive posts. It’s hard, but I really don’t say anywhere near as much as I could. There are a lot of times when I don’t say what I think about things because I don’t want to upset them. I try to interact. I was making plans. I did last weekend. I went to F Cubed. That’s hard for me considering the spiritual and emotional place I’m in right now. I expect them all to be angry with me for what I did to Tom. Especially after my appointment only two days earlier. I don’t know that they’re not. Whether or not it’s necessarily factual, I *know* I’m less important than he is. I *know* I’m less important than everyone. I *know* I don’t matter. Emotions aren’t rational. I want to be there for people, but I’m not good enough. I’m only good enough when there’s absolutely no one else.

It’s hard. My jaw hurts most of the day every day. It’s extremely hard to eat and last night it made it extremely difficult to sleep. That constant pain can be difficult. It’s draining. Only reading and listening to my audiobooks seem to block it. I also had bouts of nausea on Thursday. I’m going to have to work next Friday. That’s depressing. At least my shift doesn’t normally work on Fridays and those that do tend to work in the morning. Why, I don’t know. Of course, they don’t normally work till 230 the same morning. *shrug* I’m wearing myself out and I know it. I know I’m pulling in. I can feel it. I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t know that it matters that I do. I just keep asking myself and God what’s wrong with me?

My stomach’s not happy.  Since Wednesday I’ve been having on and off nausea, normally accompanied by sweating.  I was so sick when I got home from work Wednesday night that I just went to sleep.  I took Zofran to get through Thursday but I was still sick when I got home.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t sleep.  I was starving.  I ate a hot dog (something which actually did not turn my stomach, strangely enough), but I was still starving and had a very hard time going to sleep.  I had to go to therapy today and went grocery shopping.  I was able to eat a hot dog this morning, but not the donut I tried.  Even now, I’m fighting it.  And of course, I was so depressed after therapy that I went and had lunch at Long John Silvers.  Not something my digestive system tolerates very well now that I do not have a gall bladder.  I didn’t go out to see people, even though I wanted to.  I don’t know that I’ll go see Mom tomorrow and F Cubed…well, I just don’t know about that.  It’s more than sickness that would keep me away.

Therapy was hard.  We talked about me having to take breaks on time at work.  Someone spoke to my supervisor about me specifically so I have to now.  I don’t know why.  No one wants me around there.  Other people take their breaks at off times.  But I’m not allowed to.  People don’t talk to me, and I don’t think they ever will.  Luckily, for the most part, I can do my job with no assistance.  If I have a problem I go to a lead or a supervisor.  Or I throw the order back so I don’t have to approach anyone else.  No one says hi to me or good morning.  The van drivers talk to me more than my co-workers and I see them for approximately 5 minutes a day.  One person congratulated me on getting my yellow belt.  One.  And that’s only because she was walking by after the presentation.  It hurts.  I’ve been spending over 50 hours a week in that building, though it’s been a little less than that in the past two weeks, and no one talks to me unless they absolutely have to.  It hurts.  The few people I did talk to no longer sit with me.

My heart hurts.  People tend to only contact me when they want something.  Even my parents.  Mom called me at work last week because she needed me to figure out how she had to send her resume to someone on the computer while I was on my 15 minute break.   On a computer that I couldn’t see, on a web page that I was not familiar with.  Dad called me today because both of their cars are out of commission and they wanted me to take them to a book sale.  And get my step sister on the way over there.  Raz called tonight because the Maracuja was concerned when I didn’t show up for the presentation tonight.  I appreciate that.  I do.  I really wish I hadn’t been too sick to go.  It was on an interesting subject and I could have seen Mocha and Mango as well.  I know, I know! I expect too much.  I’m not a very good friend.  I talk about myself too much (although considering that this is *my* blog, I feel okay doing it here).  I have to make all of the effort. I have to take the initiative.  I’ve been trying.  I’ve pestered people into seeing me.  Except for the Pens game last Saturday, I’ve driven all over the place to see people.  And yes, I know that all of my friends are busy people with lives of their own and families of their own.  So, I try to suffer in silence (except on here) and realign my thinking so that it’s more in line with reality.  I post my pains and sorrows and triumphs, and try to focus on supporting and encouraging others.  Because they are the ones who matter.

The other reason my heart hurts today is that I was told I was too rough on Tom.  That I should not have been at all irritated with him asking me questions over and over that I didn’t want him to ask because things weren’t going to change and I didn’t want to think about it while I was on my break (ie how the people at work are treating me or if they are talking to me) and that I specifically asked him not to ask me.  That he listened.  Of course his way of listening was being completely silent while I’m talking so that I start feeling stupid for saying anything or feel like I’m giving a monologue or a lecture, despite the fact that I explained it to him several times.  But he was kind, caring, and did listen so he’s not a bad person.  I never said he was a bad person. But I was too rough on him.  And apparently I’m lying to myself.  It may make me a cold-hearted bitch, but I don’t really miss Tom.  I don’t.  I’m not broken hearted about this.  But M tells me that I’m lying to myself.  Another one of her gems was that the fat lady hadn’t sung on the relationship and that there was no period at the end of it.  Um, excuse me?  You think I’m going back with someone who makes me carry all the weight for the finances, all the burden in conversations going beyond the typical how is work going, who says he loves me but does nothing to show it even when I ask, who can’t remember to do anything that I ask of him that matters to me?  But hey, I’m a bitch so what’s it matter how I feel?

So now I’m hurting all over, basically.  And wondering what the hell is wrong with me.  Maybe that’s one of the reasons why I miss high school and college.  They sheer fact that I was constantly in the same place as people for often extended periods of time made me feel like I actually belonged.  At least from time to time.  But that’s gone now and I’m alone.  I’ll be staying that way, too.  I’ll fill my free hours with books and Facebook games, reading LJ post’s and Plurks.  Maybe I’ll start writing again.  And I’ll work on making that enough to make me happy.

I feel like I’m in a spiritual wasteland.  I don’t know which way to go – I feel paralyzed.  I feel empty.  I feel afraid.  I feel ashamed.  I want so much, probably too much.  Everything has fallen apart and I don’t know how to get it together again.  I know God needs to be an essential part of that, but I don’t feel like I know how to reach Him anymore.  I’m not sure He wants to be there.  I know He loves me, but He must be awfully disappointed.  Intellectually I know that there is forgiveness and the He’ll accept me back, but emotionally I feel like I have to do something to earn it.  I don’t know how to reconcile the two.  One step would be to go back to church, but again, I am afraid.  I have trouble with groups.  I never feel like I do or can fit in.  There are two churches I might go to – Church of the Savior (COTS) in Ambridge, PA and Seeds of Hope (Seeds) in Pittsburgh, PA.  I don’t feel comfortable at either of them.  COTS would be harder to go to since it is in the morning.  I don’t do mornings very well.  Knitting Mama and her son go there along with her niece, who was recently baptized there.  Seeds is more casual and has a greater sense of community, IMHO.  There are more people my age who are willing to talk to me, something I’ve never found at COTS.  However, I feel like an outsider.  I feel like I have black marks against me there.  Terry, for one.  Another would be that kids intimidate me and I don’t know how to deal with them.  Kids and youth are the main focus of a lot of Seeds ministries.  There’s also the fact that a lot of them, including all the ones I was close to, are paired up and many have kids.  Multiple kids, in some cases.  I don’t have a problem with kids; they just scare me.  I feel awkward around them and am not sure how to relate to them.  Those are some of the reasons why I don’t want them.   I guess I almost feel like I don’t belong because of that.  Also, I’m afraid the people at Seeds are angry at me for disappearing.  There are other reasons why I don’t exactly feel right going.  I don’t feel like I have the money to give.  I know I should trust Him and let go, but if there’s one thing that scares me most, it’s running out of money.  I also cannot be involved during the week.  Most church activities are in the evenings on weekdays.  I can’t do that.  I work in the evenings on 4 weekdays and recently for part of the 5th as well.  I know I need to breach my comfort zone and just go.

Of course, the things going on at work don’t help.  I really feel like I’m back in 5th grade when all the popular kids decided to hate me and the rest of them either joined in or avoided me to avoid their ire.  I feel like that’s what is going on at work.  People don’t talk to me, especially the people on my shift.  Some of the have been rude or passive aggressive and make me uncomfortable.  Someone, I don’t know who, but someone decided that they didn’t like the fact that I didn’t take my break with them and complained to my supervisor so now I have to.  It’s not like they want me around and I’m not hurting them.  My supervisor knew I did it and said nothing, so why should it bother them?  But no, someone wants to make me miserable.  And it is just me.  The other people who take their breaks late still do, as do the people who take their breaks early.  I just wanted some peace, some time away from them and it was taken away from me.  There is one person who will talk to me, who isn’t upset and doesn’t hate me for typing harder than the average person, but I only sit with her on Thursdays.  Thank the Lord I can just put on my headphones and listen to whatever is on my iPod.   It has gotten easier.  Some people have broken the wall of silence and asked little things about my wrists when I was wearing my braces and one was asking about overtime.  I talk to security on the way up to my car and Thursday night I talked with a pharmacist who was riding up with me.

I know it’s my fault.  I’m awkward.  I’m uneasy around people.  I’m used to being left out or pushed out.  I almost expect it.  I’m not outgoing.  I’m not pushy.  I don’t speak up.   I don’t grab the spotlight or insert myself into conversations. Unless I truly feel what I have to say is vital, if the opening for my snippet passes I don’t bring it up.  I’m quiet.  I think.  I’ve been told I come off as a snob.  I’m not.  A lot of times I’m scared.  I’m not comfortable around loud groups of people.  The better I think the people around me are, the less comfortable I am.  I’m too serious and too literal.  People don’t talk to me and they don’t start conversations unless they want something most of the time.  This includes my mother.  I don’t talk about me unless someone asks most of the time.  People don’t care about me and don’t want to hear about me.  This is where I talk about me the most.  I keep so much inside.

I want what I see my friends have, but I no longer think it could happen to me.  I’m not sure I can ever be a strong Christian.  I’m not sure I’ll ever belong. I’m not sure I’ll ever find someone supportive who won’t take more than he gives.  I give too much.  I’m not sure there is someone who is willing to accept me and not take advantage of it.  I don’t know that I’ll ever take that chance again.  I’m sick of starting over.  I’m tired and overwhelmed and I will stay that way for at least the rest of the year. I see no other choice.

I was actually totally off meds for almost two weeks, but between everything in my life falling apart and the depression, I decided to start taking Wellbutrin.  Unlike the last two it hasn’t (yet) made me more depressed or motion sick.  Nor has it increased my appetite.  I’m actually eating less now than I was before.  I’m thinking that once I get to Mom’s I might start the Couch to 5K program. Although, since I’ll be working at least 50 hours a week, I might not have the time or the energy.  It’s not well lit at night so I don’t know that I can run after work.  I could try doing it before work. Now that I’m not getting up at 4:30 am I have energy in the morning.  Yeah, I do a lot better on a 2pm to 12:30 am schedule.  I could do a video before work then.  Mom won’t be home so I won’t be disturbing her.

I didn’t talk to anyone on the phone between 3/27 and 4/2.  Unless you count the OT line, but that’s a recording so I don’t.  I didn’t have much interaction with people.  I did next two people and made plans for Saturday.  I worked my tail off.  I was alone, but you know what?  I wasn’t lonely.  I didn’t cry all week.  I didn’t get angry.  I didn’t argue with anyone.  I almost feel guilty, but I didn’t miss Tom.  I must be a cold bitch to feel that way.  Friday I had an appointment with Melissa.  She was shocked that I broke up with Tom.  Shocked.  When I explained she said that she was glad that I was standing up for myself.  I was thinking and this is the first time in years that I’ve done that consistently.  I’m not the person I was a year ago.  Getting rid of the over abundance of meds has made a difference.

I feel like I have to learn who I am again.  I have to find out what I like and what I want to do.  I’m actually interested in doing things.  I made plans this past weekend and saw people.  People said I was different.  I am.  I have to find out where I’m going and what I want to do.  I’ve made changes in my life recently and I think I will be making more changes.  I’m not going to put with what I have in the past.  I’m not going to continually go out of my way for people who won’t help me.  Some of the things that go to me, don’t.  Some of the things I let go by, I no longer do.  I’m going to keep going and see where this takes me.

I’ve broken up with Tom.  I haven’t really said anything about it here because I’m not sure what to say.  He stopped acting like he loved me.  I kept having to take responsibility for everything.  He broke promises to me.  We would fight daily, multiple times a day.  I don’t really think we have that much in common.  I feel like I have to do it all with little or no help.  I wasn’t happy in the relationship.  People are shocked that I broke up with him.  Sometimes I am, too.  I don’t want to be with him in that way anymore.  I’m having to train myself not to be quite so concerned, but not calling him has been rather easy.  There are a lot of things I’m not happy with him over.  I’m losing a lot by breaking up with him – my independence, my privacy, my days off.  I’ve worked on 13 of the last 14 days.  I’ve done more than 8 hours of OT during the week along with double time on Sundays.  My wrists are killing me.  The house is a mess and I actually feel like doing something about it, but I don’t have the energy.  I’m planning on working 2 hours post shift every day this week along with 5.5 hours on Friday.  Then I will be work at least 3 hours of double time each Sunday.  Hopefully, this will help with the backlog on the bills and get things straightened out financially.  I’m going to have to work around 10 hours of time and a half in for the next 6 to 8 months to make ends meet and I don’t necessarily know if that when it would end.  I have so many bills and so much responsibility and a lot of it is due to this relationship.  When will I ever learn?

Back to God, I kinda feel like He wants me to suffer.  I don’t know where or how to find the peace that everyone seems to think Christians should have.  I don’t hurt on the inside as much as I thought I would, but I feel empty.  I feel lonely and isolated.  There’s a part of me that just wants to be left alone and there’s a part of me that just wants to connect with people.  It’s hard, though. So many of my friends are moving forwards with with their lives and are such strong Christians.  I feel like such a failure next to them.  I know I’m not supposed to compare myself, but I don’t know how not to.  I’m not satisfied with me.  Heck, I’m not even sure who me is.  It’s been a long journey since last March and it has changed me.  I’m still searching for answers and I don’t know where to find them.

I’m debating moving my vacation and moving back in with Mom sooner.  Tom wants to continue on as roommates, but I don’t really think I want to do that.  I don’t want to be his convenience.  I don’t want to be taken for granted anymore, although I know Mom will do that as well, to some extent.  Of course, she’ll love me.  There aren’t clearly defined roles between Tom and me.  So much has changed and I don’t know where it’s going.  There’s so much of my life that I’ve lost, so much of myself that I’ve lost.  I want to get back to God, but I don’t exactly know how.

So you all know about Tom, but you probably don’t know what’s been going on with me.  Let’s start out with depression. I’ve been trying to find something that works for months.   Zoloft was the last one and a week or two ago I started getting incredibly motion sick when I was driving.  So as of last Saturday, I’ve not been taking any antidepressants.  Let me just say that withdrawal sucks.  The withdrawal from the Zoloft in particular.  I think that I’m still feeling some after affects of it.  I did see Dr. Cutlip today and I do have some stuff at the pharmacy, but getting it isn’t a priority.  I’m going to try going without for another week or so.  I’ve been medicated for over 10 years and I want to see how I am without it.  So far it’s been going okay.  I was actually a lot worse on the Celexa.

Of course, that’s not the only thing that’s been going on.  This following paragraph may contain TMI for some of you, especially the males in the audience. (Wait, do I even have males in my audience?  I really don’t know….)  Since I tried Yaz last summer I’ve been having horrible, horrible menstrual cramps – mostly in the back but sometimes in the abdomen as well.  I did go back to the original med, but that didn’t help.  For another reason altogether I switched to a more high estrogen birth control and again, no change.  I’ve complained about it every time I’ve seen my doc.  Last time I saw her she said it can take 3 cycles for the meds to help (not that it ever has taken that long before) and she told me that she would prescribe some Cataflam (she didn’t – I ended up with meloxicam).  For months on her recommendation I’ve been taking the drug of the moment starting several days before the period and cramping starts and it hasn’t helped.  I’ve tried etodolac, meloxicam, Tylenol, and ibuprofen and it doesn’t seem to help.  Only heat or the whim of the uterus seems to make a difference.  Finally, out of frustration than anything else, seh sent me for a pelvic ultrasound.  I had it Friday (oh yeah, that was interesting) and I got the call from the doctor yesterday.  Well, I guess I would have to say Wednesday now though I haven’t gone to bed yet.  I was told that it showed fluid in my pelvis probably from a ruptured cyst and that if I had pain with my next period I should make an appointment with my gynecologist.  Luckily (or unluckily, depending on your view of the world), it’s that week.  I wasted no time and called Dr. Labuda.  Now the practice that takes over a month for a colposcopy and three+ months to schedule an annual exam got me in tomorrow.  Two days.  Yeah, they’re not worried or anything.  Nothing serious there.  So yeah, I’ve been in terrible pain the past couple of days.  My uterus seems to be working incredibly hard at times.  There’s only one problem – I’ve had more blood from paper cuts than I have this period.  Although a little bit more showed up tonight.  Not even close to normal.  Wonderful – another thing to worry about.  And though I don’t know that it’s related, I do know it’s not typical of me that I’ve become very bloated.  As in up a pant size bloated.  I was bloated for my doc appointment and I had actually lost 0.6 lbs.  Someone please explain that to me.  Oh, did I mention that WebMd says next to nothing about ruptured ovarian cysts and absolutely nothing about having severe menstrual cramps but not having anything to show for it?  Nope, not able to put my mind at ease that way.

So yeah, I have to get up at the crack of dawn (for me), drive Tom to his MRI, go to the doctor, hopefully get Tom from the MRI, drop him off at home and then go work for 5.5+ hours.  Not to mention that I might have to make another appointment for something else or even go to the hospital (yes, that was brought up by a nurse friend of mine).  I’m sceduled to work 6.5 hours tomorrow and 3 hours on Sunday, if OT is approved and I don’t have  a health reason to not go in.  Somebody shoot me now and get it over with.

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.