Caterwauling

When I left D.C. seven months ago (*cry*), I was diagnosed on the way out with hyperthyroid. No meds or anything like that were administered — just a panicked, “Go find a doctor ASAP! Get treated!”

So, seven months later, they tell me I don’t have hyperthyroid and I’m overal actually pretty damn healthy and functional.

But …

Yeah, now I’m (probably not-so-unexpectedly) armed with a pile of prescriptions for anxiety and depression.

I mentioned that I used to work in mental health, and we had a lovely discussion about SSRIs and the trade-offs when it comes to side effects. Lord. I got to pick my own medications — whee!

I haven’t gotten the scripts filled yet, though. Still trying to determine which high school to go sell them behind. 😉

When we were wrapping up, my doctor asked whether I wanted a flu shot. I said no. It was the first time she was surprised at something I said.

“No?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t care if I get the flu. I need a week off!”

She looked at me strangely and crossed out something on my paperwork. “Upping my dosage?” I joked.

“Yep,” she said.

(She really did!)

Midnight of a New Moon

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

If I didn’t have this view, I’d have already jumped off of this damn building.

I’d give anything to have never rented two condos in Amityville. ANYTHING.

I just can’t afford this anymore. I thought I could do it. But with the ongoing anxiety attacks (O HAI those weren’t blueberries in my cereal this morning — THEY WERE ANTS), I’m ready to give it all up and just plummet seven stories. Or something.

I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. (I think — maybe it’s this coming Wednesday instead.) I have to remember to behave and not say things like, “I’m about to jump off a building” or “Yeah I take care of my mom; she’s lucky I haven’t shot her yet.” Because I DO say things like that and I know NOT to let medical personnel in on those discussions!

I picked my doctor based solely upon the fact that there is Steeler garb in the office. And so what if I’m 35 and my primary-care physician is a pediatrician? Dude, STEELER FAN!

I actually have two appointments — I’d originally called someone else and the staff was so appallingly rude and careless with me that, after mulling over it all day, I decided that I wanted to go elsewhere.

I mean, the people you talk to are the support staff, and if you don’t like them, it doesn’t matter what you think of the doctor. (I don’t think I ever met my “real” PCP in D.C.)

But at the second practice I called, they were conversational and wanted to make sure I knew where I was going and really just acted like they were glad to take me on.

Anyway, I’m looking to get medicated — for hyperthyroid, of course. Although Xanax wouldn’t hurt. 🙂

Actually, I don’t want anything mind-altering. I think back to Sunday at church when my (very attractive. Yes, someone’s hot for preacher) pastor said that the same people keep coming to him to ask him to pray about the same things.

And he does but he wants them to remember that they already have their answer — praying about it doesn’t change that. “You know what you have to do. So do it,” he said generally, to all of us.

I know what I have to do. Which is not to burn down the building, tempting though that may be. I need to suck it up for a year. I can do anything for a year. And I need to run screaming the second my leases are up.

But just as importantly, I’ve got to find some joy in the meantime. I’ll have disposable cash again. Someday. But the apartment’s downright hopeless at this point — I should just buy an air mattress and camp out on the balcony.

And maybe I’ll try not to roll over and plummet to sea level. Maybe. Can’t promise anything at this rate! 😉

In my last apartment, I refused to turn on the A/C till the Over-Extended Houseguest got a job. That was “never,” for those who are keeping score at home. But it was nice and breezy there so it didn’t matter much.

In my new apartment, A/C has been mandatory (as heat rises), although the $500 electric bill ensured I shut that shit off right quick. I’d only kept the apartment on 83 degrees and it’s about 90 outside on any given day.

So now I just don’t sleep because I’m up, drowning in a puddle of my own perspiration. Not only have I not had a good night’s sleep in three months because A) Maddie’s gone and I can’t sleep without her and B) I can’t stop fretting over bills, but now I don’t even have an opportunity to at least cool down and snooze for a few minutes.

I am taking a brief hiatus from trying to find the bright side because, frankly, I’ve got too much else to do right now. I cannot believe I was so desperate to get rid of my mother that I took on two apartments. OMG, did I honestly think this was the first step toward my happily ever after?

Ultimately, I think I made the right decision, although this adventure in Amityville (seems the 1,000-year-old air conditioning unit is the cause of my electrical woes. Do ya think anyone will fix or replace it, though?) is adding more stress than enjoyment to my life. I wouldn’t mind paying all this money if it were paradise. But it’s like wiping your ass with a hundred-dollar bill each day and there’s not a shred of food in the fridge.

I used to believe that even our mistakes were good — that wherever you are, is where you’re supposed to be. But it was once I became 100% responsible for someone else’s well-being that my nerves got all shot to shit. Every decision I make affects her. What if I want to go back to D.C.? Guess who has to come along. What if my dreams actually come true and I meet a handsome stranger who sweeps me off my feet and takes me to Paris? Yep, gotta figure out what to do with Mom. And I won’t even think about what if it all goes completely to pot and the income spigot stops flowing, as I’ve been in that situation before. Who can help me then? That’d be a big fat “no one.”

No wonder I’m riding the anxiety train here. My Aunt Lenna used to always tell us that things would look better in the morning. But that was provided that you actually got a full night’s sleep. No wonder sleep deprivation is an effective form of torture … I’m halfway to nuts and gaining speed!

Triangle

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Church hurt today, which means it was good. It was all about walking the walk as a Christ-follower, how we can talk a good game but fail miserably in the execution.

There was a good analogy given today, that people play the lottery on the 1 in a billion chance of winning, but the odds of dying are 1 in 1, and we’d better be ready to have our lives judged. Ergo, where is our time and where are our efforts better spent?

And it got me to thinking about the terrible bargains we make not just as women or whatever the group, but also as Christians … when we judge others … when we hide our faith … when we associate with people who don’t emulate the same characteristics that we ourselves espouse … when we worry about money and security and all the things we don’t have.

I simply present this without comment today, as I have a lot to think about when it comes to how angry or frustrated or despondent I become over what boils down to absolutely stupid crap.

Church hurts when I see myself being very far from God and Christ and seeing a long uphill battle to get there. It doesn’t mean I won’t — it just means I have a lot of work to do to get there. And that means a lot of hard choices to identify — and make to get to that ever-elusive sense of peace that I so desperately crave and that I so very righteously deserve … or, will deserve, when I finally “get it right.”