"Don't You Try to Tell Me That Love is All you Need..."

The last couple of months have been a long and winding road that have lead me on a soul search. I’m certain I’m not done with this search yet, but it has led me thus far to the conclusion that love is a Catch-22.

Love makes life worth living. And when I say love I don’t mean romantic exclusively. I mean any love. Love of a child, love of a pet, love of family, love of a job, love of a hobby, and yes, romantic love too. That being said love gives us something to live for. I honestly believe the answer to the age old question ‘what is the meaning of life?’ is ‘Love’.

The problem with this is that with great love comes great pain. When you give your heart to something wholly and fully it leaves you open to immense pain that is bound to leave holes. I haven’t figured out yet how to feel these holes once they exist. The loss of a love…or someone or something you love…it colors your life. It shadows every happiness that comes after it.

That brings me to my next point, is love worth it? If love is the meaning of life then does that mean we’re destined to go through life acquiring more and more holes? Does that mean that we’re all doomed to pain or shadowed happiness? I suppose the answer is not to love, which is where I’m at now. Avoiding those close attachments. Avoiding loving anything too much. The problem here is that when you stop loving you also stop having a reason to carry on. At least that is the case with me.

By putting up walls and making it so that I don’t let any love in I also have effectively made myself little more than a shell of everything I was. Those holes of what I lost persist but now it’s a shell with holes. That sounds weird. Let me try to put that another way. In other words the happiness I feel is tempered. I feel like I’m going through the motions of life but under the smiles and bubbly exterior I show the world is a very deep emptiness.

If the answer is to love wholly again I’m not sure I can because I’m not sure I can go through more holes when I lose what I gave my love to. Then again without that whole love I don’t feel like life is worth living…thus the Catch-22.

I’m sure this journey is far from over. I still have self discovery to come to, of this I am sure. I am also sure the two biggest holes in me cannot be filled and will continue to haunt me for a very, very long time to come. That is to say that the moment I’m alone and not busy with work or chores I think about those who left those two holes. The pain is overwhelming sometimes.

I guess I don’t really know what the answer is, but I do know this…I’m discovering things about love, pain, and myself that I wish I never would have had to find out.

And so dear readers I leave you with this (which couldn't be more fitting if I wrote it myself...sorry for the foreign ads): "Bones and a Name"

New Blog

Check out my new political blog "The Vocal Middle"

Occupy: For the People or Against the People?

Post Moved: For political postings check out my new blow "The Vocal Middle".


This post may be found at http://vocalmiddle.blogspot.com/2012/03/occupy-for-people-or-against-people.html

2012 Resolutions

The time has again come! Time to recount last year’s resolutions and make some for next year. Let us begin.

First, let’s recount the resolutions for 2011

~Get in shape. Year 4, I know. This time I have a better plan. I want to be in shape my October 31st because of my next resolution… (I normally call this an epic fail…this year it’s only a minor one. I did lose enough weight to get back to my average size and maintain it. I also worked out more this year than in years past and I spent more of the year eating healthy. It’s a good start anyway.)

~Dress like Stephanie Brown for Halloween (Batgirl or Robin, I’m not sure yet) (Success! I dressed as Robin for Halloween! There’s pictures to prove it. Little did I realize when I made this resolution that DC would lampoon Steph again and this would be so meaningful.)

~Find an artist for the podcast art and ramp up traffic (Minor success/minor fail. I did ramp up traffic when we actually did podcasts…but not as much as I wanted. And I did kinda find n artist…I’m just still waiting for the finished product.)

~Do well in school (Neither success, nor fail. I had to drop classes due to medical issues. It happens.)

~Find a balance in my life and find a way to be at peace (MAJOR success. The first half of the year sucked, but the second I got a job I love and I’m happier and more at peace than I’ve ever been.}

~Learn to play my guitar (Didn’t happen, but oh well…someday.)

Now for 2012’s resolutions:

~ Year 5, get in shape….specifically get to the size I was when I came to Austin.

~ Get my own place (with a roommate).

~ Continue to live life my way, on my terms.

~ Do my very best at work and remain grateful every day for my awesome job.

~ Max out my character’s levels on WoW and DCUO

~ Pay off most of my credit card debt (first and foremost all of the money I borrowed from Mom’s CC)

So that’s it! Wish me luck! Happy 2012!

Insight into Depression

First of all I think it’s important to understand why I’m writing this. I know everyone’s experiences are unique and different. I am hoping, however, that my experience is relatable and can perhaps help someone else or offer them insight into themselves.

My story starts when I was 15. This was the first time I realized something was off with me. I was never happy, even when I knew I should be. I had a lot of pain bottled up inside and I didn’t know how to verbalize it. This is when I turned to cutting. It started with smashed tin cans with jagged edges. I couldn’t stomach cutting myself with a knife at first. I found that the cutting ‘released’ the pain. It gave me a sense of control I otherwise didn’t have. It also allowed my internal pain to be visible externally. I’ve often been asked if it hurt when I cut. At the time I was doing it, no. It felt good. It would hurt in the days after at times, but during the act it was almost a relief…so much so that the tin cans did eventually turn to knives. At one point I had a knife hidden under my mattress for easy access.

I hid my cuts under long sleeves, no matter how hot it was outside. No one questioned me…until they did. A friend of mine eventually put 2 and 2 together and later my stepmother did. It was then I was forced to ask for help. I lived with my father at the time and I went and told him I thought I was depressed.

Before I continue there are two very important things to note here. 1) I never told him about the cutting specifically. It’s only been in recent months I’ve told him that part. 2) To this very day he denies the following ever happened. I know for a fact it did. It was in January of 2000. I have the event written in a diary I kept at that time. I’m not sure if he truly believes this didn’t happen or if he’s trying to convince me it didn’t, regardless, this is my account of how *I* KNOW it happened.

I went into my father’s room and explained how I’d been feeling and that I was depressed. I told him I needed help. He responded by telling me I was too young to know was depression was and that this was a sick cry for attention. I started to cry and plea for him to listen. In retrospect I’m not sure how clearly I was even speaking at this point. His response was to tell me if I was going to act like a child he would treat me like one. I was sent to the corner to face the wall for a ‘time out’. I sat there and cried until I was sent to my room. Once I made it to my room I cried and cried. I wanted to die then and there. I remembered the knife stashed under my mattress. I knew if I grabbed it at that point I would go too far. I knew I would kill myself. To this day I’m not entirely sure why, but something in me fought against picking up the knife that night. I literally clung to the corners of my mattress as I battled myself against digging out that knife. I cried and clung to my mattress until I finally crashed from exhaustion.

In the months that followed I continued to cut but I took even more care to conceal it. I suffered through the depression alone. At some point I actually managed to convince myself I was fine. I convinced myself I wasn’t depressed.

In my senior year of high school I moved back in with my mom. She saw clearly I needed help and she tried to get me help. But I was convinced I was fine. I did not want to be on medication for the rest of my life. It took months or arguments and battles but I finally did go to the doctor. I was diagnosed with depression and put on medication. For a couple of years I was fine.

At some point I got it in my crazy head I was cured and that I didn’t need medication anymore. I took myself off of it. Let me say that again. I took MYSELF off it. Anyone that knows anything about medication knows you should never take yourself off any med. If you are going to go off any medication you should always consult a doctor.

Fortunately I was fine, for awhile. For quite awhile. Until I wasn’t.

I was 23 and it had been six years since the last time I cut. Something in me snapped I sunk to a level of depression I had never before seen. Quite simply, I was out of control. I started having horrible anxiety attacks to the point I couldn’t even deal with going to work. I started cutting again. I got to the point that I would flip out and go hysterical for almost nothing at all.

One night I got so bad that I grabbed an almost full box of sleep aid. I was going to down them all. My life was a mess. I had pushed away everyone that mattered to me. I had single handedly trashed my life to a point I felt was beyond repair. I saw no silver lining anywhere and I was convinced it would never get better. I wanted out. I was done. I would have taken those sleep aids if my older brother hadn’t walked in. He literally had to tackle me to get them out of my hand. He took them and disposed of them then he talked me down.

At this point I realized I needed help in the most severe way. I went to the doctor the next day. I didn’t have a regular doctor. I just took the first one that would see me. I went in and explained my situation to her. She was worried I was a danger to myself and she sent me to a mental hospital for evaluation. As I was sitting in the waiting room filled with other psych patients it was then I realized how far out of control I’d actually spun out. I made a conscious decision at that point to get better…to get my life back.

It was that decision that kept me from being committed that day. By the time the doctors saw me I had made up my mind that I didn’t want to die. After evaluations from three doctors they decided I wasn’t a danger to myself or others and they released me on the condition I go back for outpatient treatment. And I did. I saw a psychiatrist on a regular basis and we went through different medications until we found one that worked. I also started therapy.

I want to pause and make a very important point here…we had to try different medications until we found one that worked. Too many times people try one and give up when it doesn’t work. I’ve been on Celexa, Zoloft, and Paxil CR in various doses. None of those worked for me. Do they work for some? Absolutely. I know someone that is doing very well on Zoloft. It didn’t work for me. If you are having issues with depression stay in contact with your doctor and adjust your medication until it works. This is a very personal process and one you should be very active in.

I finally settled on Paxil. Just normal Paxil. It took a little dosing adjustment but eventually, after months of trial and error, we got it right and life was good again. I moved back in with my mom (I’d been living on my own after college) and started to get my life back on track.

A couple years later I noticed some of my symptoms coming back. I went back to the doctor and my medication got adjusted and I got a higher dose. This worked, but not for long. The next step was to change meds again. This time I got switched to Efexor. Like with Paxil it took some dose adjustment to get it right, but we did. This is the medication I remain on today.

Throughout this process I learned I will never be cured. I will likely be on some sort of medication for the rest of my life, and that’s ok. Depression is an illness, just like diabetes or any other life long condition. Some people take insulin everyday to maintain a normal life. I have to take pills. It’s just the cards I was dealt. I also learned I am not a “former” cutter. I am a recovering cutter and I will be forever. Cutting is a vice like drinking or drugs. It’s an unhealthy coping mechanism. There are times I still do get the urge to cut and I fight it. I am always at risk of “falling off the wagon”. All I can do is maintain awareness of this fact and take it one day at a time.

I’ve also learned what to look for in myself. If my symptoms start to creep back up I go to my doctor right away and get my medication adjusted. Whether it’s a different dose or a different medication altogether there is a way to balance it out. It’s a constant work in progress. I have to stay very aware of my moods and determine if what I’m feeling is normal depression for a reason or irrational depression that is part of my illness. The longer I deal with this illness the more self aware I become. I also rely on those around me to tell me if I’m acting abnormal. I’ve learned to trust their comments. I may not see what they do. If I have those closest to me tell me I’m not myself then I go to my doctor for evaluation.

Again, everyone is different. This is my story. This is what I went through and how I came through it. I don’t proclaim to know your story or what will work for you. I can only offer up my experience and hope it helps in some way. The most important thing to know is that you are not alone. Millions of people suffer from depression. Some are on medication for a short time, others are lifers like me. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It is an illness, but a treatable one. You can over come it. Look within yourself and fight it.

Review: "Green Lantern"

- FX were not as bad as I thought. They were really good actually with the exception of the Lantern costume which was awful.

- Blake Lively was really good as Carol Farris. I expected her to suck but she rocked it. I hope we get to see her as a Star Sapphire in the sequel.

- Ryan Reynolds was a poor choice for Hal Jordan. I like Ryan just not as Hal.

- I totally get why Kara has a crush on Hal in the comics.

- It was obvious the writers were trying to find middle ground between apeasing hard core fans and the general public. They never found that middle ground and it hurt the pace of the movie.

- The writing wasn't bad...just could have been better.

- Mark Strong rocked it as Sinestro.

- Overall pretty good first installment. Set up potential for a GREAT second movie.

- If you go see it STAY into the credits. It is beyond worth it.

- Next point is the only spoiler, you were warned






SPOILER BELOW!!!!!!





- After the end credits start Sinestro puts on the yellow ring and the Sinestro Corps suit appeared on him which was really cool and set up the sequel.

My Dream Job!

So if you have been reading my blog, LiveJournal, Facebook, Twitter...or really talked to me in any way, shape, or form then you know I've been out of work for the last 4 months because I've been suffering from TMJ.

Slowly but surely it's getting better. I will ultimately still need surgery, but I'm functional again.

That being said I had to go back to work at some point. My FMLA was up and so it was time. Now, my job is 1/3 of the reason I was having TMJ issues. The stress and constant talking of my job was just not really good for my jaw issues.

The again there is also the fact that my job was abnormally stressful. If you happen to have worked with me there you know what I'm talking about. I knew going back would be a bad thing for my stress level, thus my jaw. The mere thought of going back was giving me panic attacks.

Then, a few days ago I had a brilliant idea. The company I work for has on site child care. I'm a major in early childhood development. If the on site daycare had a job opening well...

So come to find out they did have two job openings. I went and interviewed, impressed the daycare director, and got the job! My dream job!

So today was my first day. It was amazing. I got to work with the 18-24 month olds and the 3-5 year olds. It was exhausting, but amazing. I'm sore from head to toe and I care barely keep my eyes open I'm so tired. I thank the goddess for naptime. It was 2 hours of recoup. I don't think any daycare teacher could handle the job without naptime. My only complaint about the job is outside time and that is only because it's too damn hot to be outside right now. This is a really hot, dry summer and it is too hot for man or beast out there.

I loved working with the kids. This one little girl in the 18-24 month class just stole my heart. I adore her so much. The was the little 3 yr old that was being disagreeable with everyone. By the end of the day he didn't wanna play with any of the teachers but me. I managed to win the little guy over. There was this other little 5 yr old that tricked me into letting her take food out to the playground, which is a no-no I found out. After that I had my eye on her. She's a little con-artist in the making. I saw two little girls team up against one little girl. It was like Mean Girls Jr. I realized how evil little girls can be to each other. It starts young. If I ever see Savannah (my future daughter) treat someone that way she is gonna get her little bottom smacked...oh wait....can't do that anymore in Texas...explains so much.

I digress. The point is I had an amazing day at work and I LOVE my new job. If I never sit in a cubicle with a headset again it'll be too soon. I have my dream job! Thank you Goddess. Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!!!

So that's my happy ending to this FMLA tale. Unfortunately the TMJ story is just beginning.

But for now I'm going to enjoy getting my life back and working my amazing new job.

~Cilla