Tuesday, April 6, 2010

A Better (and highly medicated) Day

I fought through what I wanted to do today, which was lay helplessly in bed safe from the world, and did what needed to be done.

I had a 9am doctor's appointment, a checkup of sorts, about how I am doing on my two anti-depressant medications I am taking. One is more geared for anxiety; we kept that dose the same, but we increased the dose on the other medication. My doctor thinks it will help to get me out of the house, to get me up and moving and doing and living. Considering I only work part-time and sometimes miss work because of how I feel...I felt a little relief knowing some extra meds will be running through my body.

I know that medicine is not the answer, and everyone has their own opinions on taking meds for depression versus not taking meds for depression. Coupled with therapy, medicines have been shown to do wonders for people suffering with depression. I have been in therapy regularly for about 3 or 4 months now, and I intend to remain in therapy for quite some time. Exercise is great for mental health, and I do that as well. I average about 2-3 runs per week, but have plans to double that beginning this week, with the hopes of dropping some weight - literally and figuratively. I started taking a multivitamin a few days ago, and today I started taking glucosamine. When running long distances, it's so important to give your body the right nutrients. As great as running is for you, it can wreak havoc on your joints and immunity without the proper diet, and I want to keep healthy so I can continue to get "back where I was" physically and mentally.

The appointment was uncomfortable, the doctor asking me questions, sizing me up in her analytical brain. "Do you have thoughts of hurting yourself?" No. "Do you have thoughts of hurting someone else?" No. I am curious who would say yes to those questions? I'm even more curious as to what happens if you do. "How is your drinking?" Eek. I tell her I had a few incidences of drinking a little too much, a downplayed way of saying I was out of control. Drinking while taking medications is a big no-no. She gives me a 5-minute "why you shouldn't drink alcohol" lesson that I've heard many times before but have yet to internalize. I leave the office, pay for my ticket to the shit show that is my life, and schedule my next appointment.

Then I went to run. It was so cliche - girl stressed with her life, girl leaves the doctor's office knowing she's far from being "cured", girl goes to track and runs, and she runs, and she runs some more, and when she can't run anymore, she walks.

the track

I left the track unfulfilled, unsuccessful, knowing that no matter how many miles I log and how many milligrams of meds I take, nothing can fill this void in my life.

The void is my life. I am in a static state of waking up and going to bed with meaningless crap in the middle. I have been taking steps to change that, applying to jobs around the U.S., and I have an interview on Thursday. I am looking for a full-time career where I earn a good paycheck, get benefits, and have a little stability. My job now is crappy, and I was either too blind or too fearful, maybe a little bit of both, to see that my position is going no where and my boss is set on getting the most work out of me with the least amount of money. No benefits. No mileage. No overtime. No problem - I'm out. And I can't wait to tell him.

This interview may or may not lead to a job, but I have high hopes. I'm a smart girl with a lot of ambition that got a little lost this past year. I've given this town a chance, mourned my losses, and I am ready to move on.

The weeks ahead will be filled with more of doing what I don't want to do, more doctor and therapy appointments, more working for less than I'm worth, more forcing myself to run the track when I really just want to run away. But somehow I know, eventually, forcing myself to do what needs to be done will slowly come naturally to me and without question or hesitation. And somehow I know I will be okay.

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