The Catastrophist

Queen Virgin: The Catastrophist. It's my new sub title. You like?

It has been quite a windy road these past few weeks...months even. Therapy is going...well it's going. I don't have anything to compare it to so I'm not sure if it's great, so-so or completely unhelpful. I still cry during every session, most of the time for reasons I cannot place, but I'm not depressed. In the past around this time I've gone down, recovered somewhat for Christmas and the New Year but then fell right down again when the winter took its hold on me. I suppose because I am feeling mostly normal right now that it's a start in the right direction. One of change anyway.

K calls me a catastrophist. I'm always thinking about how things explode in the end before I even attempt to begin them. I've known that I do that concerning guys and dating, but I've recently realized that I do it almost across the board when dealing with emotional issues. I have the habit of downplaying things because I don't want them to blow up. That is to say, I never make a big deal out of anything, I lessen my importance in my friend's lives by clamming up and I run from any sort of disagreement. I didn't know how big a part of my life it played until my doctor said, "it sounds like you have a tendency to put your own feelings last". Like when I make plans for my birthday and go to a restaurant everyone can afford rather than the one I want to go to that's a little more because I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable. Or not calling a friend when I really need to talk because I know they're busy and don't want to interrupt them. Or when I let people treat me badly because I don't want to say anything that would make them feel bad. Across the board.

So I don't make a big deal out of anything and I end up getting hurt because I don't let anyone know what's important to me...but, and here's the kicker, if I did let them know what was important to me and they disappointed me I would end up getting hurt. That is the latest gem I learned in session.

And really all this does is oil the self-loathing fire I had managed to get to low simmer.

At some point I felt the walls going up and the urge to just block everything out coming on strong again. Almost like I was holding the anchor of depression and I could just let it go and sink or I could tie it up. I decided to reach out to a friend who I've sort of been to hell and back with (who oddly enough is not K) because I know she of all my friends is the most like me and knows me about as well as I know myself. I told her how many times I wanted to call but didn't because I know she's busy, but admittedly more so because I couldn't take it if she answered and actually said she couldn't talk right at that moment. She could not grasp how that would be just as crushing to me as if something tragic happened and I called and she said she couldn't come. Though I am aware that not being able to talk on the phone and not physically coming to help a friend in dire need are at opposite ends of the spectrum, the emotional result for me would be the same. She kept saying there's no way in hell any of my friends wouldn't come if I called, and the chances of me needing someone like that are pretty low anyway, but I couldn't get her to understand my...my catastophist'y. I couldn't tell her how every time she rescheduled our dinner my heart sunk. A great example of a) not letting her know how important she is to me and b) putting my feelings last. I didn't want her to feel bad about hurting me, though she was completely unaware of it and had legitimate excuses to reschedule. See I know how irrational my emotions are so I bury them. I count only on myself and loathe any form of needing someone because needing someone ultimately leads to getting hurt.

Oh there is so much more, but I'm tired. Hopefully I'll have some more time to write soon-

So Many Things!

"Well, I'm finally a real New Yorker. I have a therapist now!"
-QV

This is pretty much how I told my friends about my latest venture into the mess of my mental health. Only one said outright she knew something wasn't quite right with me, but probably never said anything because, well, what can you say? Why are you acting weird, but not in a constant, definable way? They all understood though and gave me props for taking the steps to try to help myself. A few of them felt bad about not being able to help which made me feel good and bad at the same time- good because they care, bad because that was not my intent upon telling them. How could they help when I hid it all from them?

I still don't like therapy, but it's a little easier now that I've gotten a handle on myself and my emotions. I'm not quite sure the latter is a good thing because I need to remember how to be emotional without breaking down, but at the moment I'm not involved in anything really emotionally driven (outside of work which is causing me frustration) to test it. I still feel awkward at times because I don't know what to say and I don't want to repeat myself every session. It actually makes me laugh to think in literal terms about how I'm basically shelling out a ton of money to someone to listen to me talk about myself for 45 minutes.
It's weird.

I decided to start taking medication. It's been three weeks and I have to say I think it is working. My irritation level has decreased and I think that because I started feeling better before I started the meds it's done its job to keep me from falling back into a depression. My last wedding was last weekend and I still feel pretty good. After the previous three weddings I felt sad and down on myself. It was a destination wedding which lasted three days- I met a ton of new people and was stuck in the position where I had to be social with a ton of new people every night...and I actually enjoyed it. I had fun all three nights, days too! I'm finally feeling little bits of my old self coming back.

In other news my decision to get over myself and stop making excuses has lead me to take a baby step and sign up for a dating site. I'm a little worried about the fact that the first group of guys interested in me are all over 40. Not that there is anything wrong with that, I just have a lower number as my cutoff and it sort of strikes me as either careless or desperate. Don't start yelling, I'm still looking at their profiles and checking them out, I'm just saying. A lot of the older guys I used to work with had puppy dog eyes for me too. Odd.

I did get one email that just said 'sexy as hell'. I'm not being sarcastic when I say it was nice to read, especially because none of my pictures have any element of sexiness to them. My question to you guys is, should I respond to the nice emails I get if I have no intention of continuing emailing? I'd like to say thanks, but I'm afraid it will it send the wrong message if I'm not interested in them. What should I do?

One last note of thanks to all of you who sent good comments and thoughts my way and who are pulling for me. It means more than I can say.

xo
QV

But What If Drugs Cause Hugs?

“After ten years in therapy, my psychologist told me something very touching, he said, “no hablo ingles.””
Dennis Wolfberg

I have to wonder myself if it actually mattered who I first talked to when I finally worked up the courage to call for an appointment. Which by the way, I got as far as calling the number my insurance card said to call and then became paralyzed. It took me a week to make that call and I induced a reflux attack for nothing: the voice on the other end simply gave me my insurance information and told me to look up a doctor online. I was too overwhelmed to be angry that the stupid benefits book didn't just say that. K actually ended up making the call for me and the doctor called me back to make an appointment. I'm extremely lucky to have her.

After the fourth appointment I was much calmer though still anxious, and finally separated my feelings about therapy from my feelings about the therapist. My first appointment with the Psychiatrist went by and after speaking with her it became clear that I was uncomfortable with the Psychologist. I decided to stop seeing her and wait until I received the Psychiatrist's evaluation before finding another Psychologist.

Her recommendation is that it isn't urgent but I would benefit from medication. The decision is mine. I go back and forth daily.

I caught myself singing to myself the other day. In what feels like a past life it was a sign of a good mood and relative happiness. I tried to remember the last time I actually felt that way and was already two springs back before I kind of gave up. Even though I know what I'm feeling now is only a slight lightness of being after unloading years of packed in emotional turmoil, it's a wake up call to just how low I've been feeling and how very long!

I am amazed at how I couldn't see it until that moment.

This makes the case for getting on the happy train. My hate for big pharma and aversion to ingesting chemicals pulls the case back.

My next appointment is next friday. Where's my little black 8 ball?

The First Step...So I'm Told

Well...the inevitable finally happened I suppose. I had what I can only describe as an emotional meltdown and I'm now in therapy.

A couple of weeks ago I was visiting K, she just had her second baby, and we started to talk a little bit about how I was feeling. She works in the industry (so to speak) so she recognizes my depression before I even realize I'm in one, but this time she also introduced me to the word dysthymia. She explained to me what it was and it struck me as being true; Chronic mild depression with sleep disturbances and fatigue. That pretty much sums up my existence. I had myself convinced that because I was not unhappy, I was happy. (I'm sure I could just skim some old posts as proof.) She opened my eyes to the fact that they are not exact opposites. I still laughed and took pleasure in small things here and there, but most of the time I just felt blah. About everything. A switch went off, but I didn't really know it until my Psychologist asked what brought me to her. She kept asking what happened to make me call for help. I kept saying I don't know, I just knew I had to come, I've known for a long time and I just finally got up the courage. She said something specific happened to spark it all. Then suddenly that conversation came back to me and I remembered thinking that I had to get over myself and ask for help or I'd be depressed and alone for the rest of my life.

I realized that I needed to finally admit that my attempt to fix myself all these years was not working. Watching that tiny newborn asleep on my chest didn't exactly start the biological clock ticking, but it did get the desire for a shared life into the fire.

I have actually only had three sessions so far, but after the first two and before the third I was incredibly anxious, had stomach aches and couldn't sleep. I cried almost to the point of hyperventilation the first session, slightly less the second and kind of just quietly cried the third. I suppose that's progress. Most of the time I couldn't even tell you why I was crying, I just couldn't stop myself. (I've since come to the conclusion that I've been burying all my emotions for so long, now that I've opened the well it just keeps flowing.) I feel less anxious now, but I wonder if it'll come back before my next session. She actually recommended I see a psychiatrist for a consultation for medication after my second session because apparently most people feel relief after opening up. I bee-lined in the opposite direction. I am not thrilled with the idea of drugs but if the Psychiatrist also recommends it I won't fight it. At this point I might just do anything for a decent night of sleep.

I don't like it. Talking about myself (out loud to corporeal people, as opposed to you my dear readers). For many different reasons it makes me uncomfortable but K keeps telling me it's supposed to be hard. My therapist says the same thing, go figure. I knew it would be I just didn't realize how hard. Your own emotional health is a hard thing to be objective about. But in so many words, they both tell me that I'm doing well. Like a good friend K promises it will get better and I have no choice but to believe her. She has been on both sides of this therapy thing. I just hope it's relatively soon, I'm so emotionally exhausted right now I don't know which way is up.

Notes In Passing

Well, two weddings down, two to go. The first was full of family friends I've known forever so it was fun (though no prospectives) and the second was full of people I didn't know at all so I kind of sat alone at a table all night. Truth be told, the sexy little dress I was wearing required pasties and I FORGOT TO PUT THEM ON. So I really couldn't get up and dance, for modesty or class I don't know which. (Don't ask me how in the world I forgot something as important as that. I didn't even realize it until I was half way up the thruway!) I chatted with people don't get me wrong, it's not like I relegated myself to a corner refusing to look anyone in the eye. I'm not that bad. But it seemed everyone there knew and were friends with a lot of people, and there definitely weren't any single guys. I was just kind of the odd one out knowing only the bride and her family. Funny how things work like that sometimes. I lived with her for four years!

I have no new realizations about myself. The art class was a lot of fun but full of only females. The work was kind of intense so we didn't end up chatting a lot which in turn means I'll never see any of them again. I still haven't met up with the guy I'm interested in. My friend has to kind of set something up and she's in the midst of wedding planning so I can understand why my dating needs are not at the top of her list of priorities. I'm meeting with the friend of mine that lent me the book about the guy with overwhelming defense mechanisms so we can chat about it. She had to read it for school so I'm sure she'll help me understand some things or at the very least put them in perspective. I have to skim it again because since I've read it my brain has filled up and emptied twelve times with other things. I find my retention level decreases with each passing year.

Anyway, hope you all are enjoying the summer, if that is what season you are in :) or staying warm if it is winter.

I wonder what Lady Ga-Ga would think of me....

Brain on Fire

Luckily I've been so busy it hasn't dragged me down, but a lot has been going through my mind lately. It must be due to the book I'm ready about this 40 year old guy so isolated by his own defense mechanisms it took him almost 8 years of therapy to break out of them. I identify with a lot of his thought processes and it is freaking me out. Of course, he suffered abuse as a child and I did not - but that makes it even weirder. More on this when I finish the book.

Then I read an article about "the introvert". This article could have been written about me. The only difference between me and the woman in the article is I was not pathologically shy as a child (or have ever been divorced obviously).

"Matsuoka...is open to romantic relationships, but "whomever I'm with must know that at least one day a week I need to lock myself in my room and stick feathers on a sculpture," she warns."

My bff makes fun of me because I won't visit her on Sundays. Sundays are queenvee days. Lately it's actually been more than just Sundays because I have a lot of art/music projects going on and with being a slave to corporate America in order to live, there's never enough time. I have to have time away from work and people in order to clear my mind and create.

Anyway, it was nice to read something that validates instead of pities the way I live. Social interaction, though not hard for me, is a definite drain. I don't really enjoy being around a lot of people at once- I don't like having to make small talk which means I usually get pushed to the periphery for not participating which I also dislike. And it's not like I want the attention of the room either- there is a time and place for that. I'd just rather be with one or two friends chatting or doing whatever it is we do to entertain ourselves. I feel a little guilty because I told a lie to get out of a bachelorette party this weekend. It was after the shower which I did attend, but I knew I'd never last through an evening of bar hopping with girls I'd really just met. And I didn't want my friend to feel bad that I wasn't having fun so I came home. No harm, no foul and I got a little extra time for my latest art project.

Anyway, the weddings begin in two weeks. Come what may!

PS. There is someone I'm interested in, but until I see him again and find out if he might be interested in me mum's the word. I don't really know him (met him once and have heard things about him from mutual friends) but I can't stop thinking about him. It's making me feel like I'm 14 years old. Gaaah.

(In)Sane and Mortal

It's kind of funny how fleeting the feeling or mortality is. Every once in a while my body freezes up with the realization that an absurdly large amount of time has passed since I last thought about it, and yet it feels like only days. Which also means death has gotten that much closer without my knowing it...or changing the things I'd like to about my life. Then it passes and I'm lost in the oblivion of my daily routine again.

Unless I've taken a nose dive while frozen and ended up in a dark hole for months. But that hasn't happened in a while...

However I'm beginning to see how the definition of insanity attributed to Einstein, Rita Mae Brown and a Chinese proverb is suddenly applying to my life:

"Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results."

I get up, I go to work, I occasionally hang out with friends, I come home, I go to bed. And yet I expect to meet someone who will change my life. Granted I don't get up and think today's the day I might meet someone! I still think it will eventually happen. Maybe that only makes me half insane.

But you cannot discount the fact that there are people who end up meeting people who change their lives in the course of their daily routines. It happens. I still can't help wishing, after all these years and against all knowing better, it would happen to me. And like, today.

I signed up for an art class in an attempt to do something fun and try to meet new people. It starts in April. I used to make new friends so easily...I know it's the only way I'll ever meet anyone. I've just fallen into such a comfort zone with the friends I have. New ones take so much energy. And by energy I mean going out and making small talk and getting to know people in the most painfully slow manner. When did I become such a recluse? Oh right. I spose I've always been one to some extent it was just easier when I was trapped in certain learning institutions with others in the same situation as me.

Maybe I can blame alcohol. Maybe it would easier if I could just drink like the rest of the people in this culture. It's a cop out but hell, it's legitimate. It's an enormous pie piece in the chart of how people socialize in this city. I feel like I've been left off of invites because of it and I refuse to believe it's because of me. I don't make people feel bad about drinking or guilty because they are and I'm not. Whenever I am out at a bar I just quietly decline a drink for myself like it's no big deal. But in the end apparently it's enough to not want me around. Or at the very least forget that I'd like to be invited just to hang out. It sucks. But I'm getting whiney so I better stop.

So as you can see things haven't really changed, and I haven't written lately because of it. I'm hoping this art class at least gets me going in terms of leaving the apartment when I don't have to and maybe finding out about other things I can do around my neighborhood.

I have four weddings to attend this year. Have I mentioned that? The good news is only one of the brides is younger than me. I am taking part in two of them which is awesome because though I consider them both good friends, I did not expect them to ask me to participate. AND I found this sexy little dress to wear to hopefully more than one, if not only one of them.

So yay for good things! Fingers crossed I will stay on the high road and these weddings won't chill my mortality bones.

The Year Begins

Well that was quite a ride. I'm still a little dizzy but I'm back on the optimistic track, at least for now. It's funny how I can recognize the pattern and yet when I get to this stage it always feels different, like this time it will be true. This time it will happen.

I went down pretty hard this time, but without being totally aware of it. I mean, I knew I was feeling sad but I think I slipped into a kind of depression I've never felt before. This is a self-diagnosis of course so its inaccuracy could be phenomenal but I digress. Let's start at the beginning shall we?

I found some old emails from Jean. Actually, all of them. I'm a pack rat, what can I say? I saved them all to those old school floppy disks, along with everything else I ever wrote in college. When I finally found a drive that could read the disks I was inundated with what I had forgotten about my former self. I didn't have any of my emails to her, so I could only glean snippets of myself through her responses. It was very disturbing. Every email was like a love letter to me. I wondered if mine were the same to her. When we became friends the bond was so fast and so tight it seemed like we'd be friends forever, but I can't remember exactly how I worded my feelings. I can only hope it wasn't like hers to me- declarations of everlasting friendship and perfect soul mates with undertones of possession I never could have seen at the time. All of this sounds like a romantic interest, and it was in a Victorian sense. We did not have sexual feelings for each other, at least I didn't for her, but there was this romantic notion that our friendship was above any other, the kind great epic stories are made of, and we just knew we'd always be there for one another for the rest of our lives.

I should never have saved them let alone read through some of them again because it sent me back into a mind space I did not want to be. I still haven't thrown them out. I don't know why. I can't seem to let go and I know it's really screwing with my head. Anyway another round of analysis began and I realized that she was just the last in a line of much lesser betrayals that finally broke something in me. Since I ended that friendship I learned how to be friends with people while not letting them anywhere near my heart. I knew how overly sensitive I had become (or have always been) and in order to cope I just built walls everywhere. How do you stop a defense mechanism? How do you stop protecting yourself even though you know you're overreacting and shouldn't be hurt by certain things? This is my dilemma. I started thinking that I'll never fall in love because I'll never be able to let down the walls. All because of her. The hate and anger and pain all came rushing back.

By the end of December I couldn't stop thinking about how broken I felt and it manifested in tears. I was crying at the drop of a hat but at the same time didn't feel the usual heaviness I feel when depressed. While the tears gushed all I could think was why am I crying so hard? Just stop! This is ridiculous, cut it out! But they wouldn't. One morning I was 3 hours late to work because I literally couldn't get out of bed and when I did I happened to get a phone call from K. As soon as I hung up I cried for half an hour. It was getting out of control.

Then something went down with my brother which absolutely sent me reeling. He and my mother have had an unspoken tension between them for years now, but the older I get suddenly the more I find myself involved. To make an incredibly long story short, dealing with him when I was already feeling so down sprung a hysterical leak, and while on the phone with my mom. I don't know how she could understand me between sobs and erratic breathing but she managed to calm me down.

Christmas was hard, mostly because I was still crying a lot. Christmas Eve my mom and I had another talk which resulted in me crying for almost an hour, stifled as it was. That however, was my last cry. I think I just needed to get it all out, and by all I mean my anguish over this family drama as well as the residual pain I guess I'm still feeling from the self-loathing I carry around about how I let everything play out with Jean. I hate how she is still part of my life but I just need to come to terms with the fact that she is my history and always will be. I just can't let her keep being part of my present.

Since that night I haven't cried and have been much happier. I suppose it was kind of like a cleaning of the slate. I started the new year with some ambitions and so far have actually followed through. Work has been great, the apartment is great and I hold hope that I will actually do some new things this year, not just say I will. Life is hard enough as it is, I don't need to keep making it harder for myself. That's not to say I won't go down again, I'm pretty sure it's in my genes, but I can try to prevent myself from dwelling on useless things. Ah the optimism the new year brings.

May it have brought you some as well. :)