Then and Now.
I’ve been living in Conroe with my fiance since, um, about September? That makes my time spent in my home town about nine months–and my time spent living with just Meg and myself in our apartment…. 5 months. That’s a good number of days to decide how this recent autonomy is affecting our relationship…
Well, it isn’t.
We lived together since March of 2010 in a 1100 sq ft condo with only one roommate–who was barely there. Then, in August we moved to Plano to her parent’s condo in Plano. That didn’t work out well. I fell in love with the city. I found a great place to work. But, her dad and I didn’t really, um, mesh well. So, we moved to my parent’s house. This was fine. I think my family, extended and direct, are among the most honorable and selfless people on earth. However, that does not mean they are without their flaws.
So, we stayed throughout January, which far surpassed our welcome, and moved to an apartment in southern Conroe. I love our apartment. It’s small, yes. It’s outdated, yes. But, it’s ours. And that’s important to all of us. We have one of my pups here: Raleigh. We have Meg’s cat here: Starbuck. And they coexist amicably enough. They don’t interact, but they don’t fight… and what more could we ask for?
I’m not happy here, no.
I miss people. I miss my friends. Meg and I hang out all the time–every night and morning. We share inside jokes and keep each other rolling on the floor in laughter and tears. But, that’s all we have. Both of us having extreme anxiety is not exactly conducive to forming new friendships with the outside world. Megan has been popular since she started attending A&M and entered the Corps of Cadets, but I think that I have dragged her into my world of avoidance and hermitism. Sad day.
In recent months, since quitting Hastings Hell, I’ve grown to become afraid of the outside world. I’ve become conditioned to believe that drinking all day, sleeping, communicating with my cat and dog, alienating myself from friends and family was normal. But…uh, it’s not.
So, I’ve been forcing myself to get out and face the scary outside world. Unfortunately, it’s been difficult. I started with visiting my parent’s home every day. And that’s helped more than I would have thought. I anticipate it now. I go to bed thinking how exciting it is to go interact with my family.
I know that to those who view the world in a “normal” way think that this seems absolutely insane. And to be quite frank–it is. No one is supposed to have these kind of insecurities. Trust me. I get nervous walking the dog. I get uncomfortable getting the mail. I tremor having to check my mail next to someone else. I wasn’t even brave enough to stay at my own apartment when my FIANCE’S brother and girlfriend stopped by our apartment yesterday. I’m a big hot mess.
I’ve been spending my days lamenting my past, watching re-runs of tv shows, and napping the hours away. I’ve been wasting everything. But, I’m twenty-five. I’m twenty-five freakin’ years old. I’m not a kid anymore. I’ve been saying that for awhile, but every day it becomes more and more evident. Sure, I’m never going to be a rich person–and that’s something that doesn’t matter to me. We never go out to eat, we never spend more than 25 dollars on groceries, we don’t spend any money outside of rent and food. That means nothing. I don’t care. I won’t have a fancy degree to hang in my home.
That doesn’t mean I’m not smart. I’m very intelligent. I’ve been told by countless people close to me that I’m among the smartest people that they’ve met. I’m very sharp. Very sharp. You can’t graduate from a 5-A High-School in Texas only taking AP classes without having a degree of intellect. I’m smart. I know it. Whatever. I keep seeing my friends or peers statuses switch from student to graduate on facebook and can’t help but laugh. These are people who were absolutely ridiculously stupid in elementary, intermediate, junior and high school. People that I looked down upon even then…. they are now graduates or going into grad school…
It’s insulting. Instead of inspiring me with a will to go back and get that degree–it makes me sad for what a diploma has grown to mean. It doesn’t mean anything but the willing to have money and perseverance. It has little to do with intelligence at this point. My parents tried to pay for my education, but I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready for high school, but I had no choice. I had someone pushing me to class at 7 something in the morning. In college I had no one to look after me and I wasn’t ready for looking after myself. I routinely skipped classes, I hated my coursework, I viewed everything as inane and unnecessary, and NEEDED someone to whip my ass into SHAPE!
I made the Dean’s List as a freshman. I never read the books. I never went to class. I never could. I got my first “C” in College–and after that I quit. I quit caring. It’s like in “talladega nights,” — If you aren’t first you’re last.” That’s my philosophy. If I’m not the best–I’m the worst…and by then…what’s the point?
I view athletics the same way. I’m a phenomenal athlete. I’m fast, I’m nimble, I’m shrewd, I’m skilled, etc. I’m a wonderful basketball player (among other sports,) but even as a kid I could never capitalize on this because I’m so afraid of failure. I’m in no way content being the 4th top scorer on a team. I need to be the best because I’m capable of being the best. I see these dumbasses playing basketball on the court at our apartment…who are clearly TERRIBLE– and I say to Meg, “I am so much better than these douches.” And she urges me to join the games. But, I’m so scared of not being the best on the court that I abstain altogether.
That’s weird. I know that.
I’ve been seeing a psychiatrist for over a year now. Ever since my stint in a psychiatric hospital back in April of 2010 I have been heavily medicated. I have been put on so many meds that I can’t even remember all of them. Only recently have I decided that it was too much. It clearly wasn’t working. I had quit my job, withdrawn from friends and family, and sequestered myself from…well…everyone. At this point I was on 600mg of Lamictal (mood stabilizer), 20mg of Buspar, 20mg of Lexapro, 1000mg of Campral, and 70mg of Adderall. Well, technically I still am. But, I stopped taking this ridiculous menagerie of drugs about a week ago–and only kept up one pill of adderall, one pill of lexapro, and campral as needed.
I feel so much better now it’s unbelievable. I’m starting to believe that I know better than the nurse practitioner I see once very two months. I thought I knew my issues. But, it wasn’t until I started taking all of these drugs that I figured out what my real issues are.
I lack confidence. Yes.
I hate my appearance. Yes.
I think I’m unskilled. Yes.
People’s opinions frighten me. Yes.
I trust other’s opinions over my own. Yes.
I let old relationships cloud my opinion of my current one. Yes.
I hold onto things and never get over old relationships. Yes.
I am too literal. Yes.
I expect too much of myself. Yes.
I think I am worthless. Yes.
I think I am worth too much. Yes.
I think I am destined for greatness. Yes.
I am conflicted. Yes.
My heart is too big. Yes.
I’m too smart to not have a degree. Yes.
So, these are things that plague me constantly. It’s frustrating. But, I have to admit that once I dropped some of those drugs I started to realize that I am better than mediocre. It’s not a delusion of grandeur. But, it’s an acknowledgement that I’m not satisfied with the life I have. I’m trying to get out of the house. I’m not Howard Hughes. I’m making plans one day at a time. Even if it’s just to go pickin’ fruit with my sister and my niece at an Orchard. It’s a plan. Even if it’s going to the Mall with my Fiance. It’s a date. Even if it’s dinner with my Parents–it’s a night out.
I’m trying. I’m working. I’m realizing that medicating the youth might actually be counter-productive (thanks Garden State for the insight!). Anxiety pills and ADHD pills might of been all I needed the whole time.
I haven’t felt this confident or able in a long time.
I’ve realized that if you are “suicidal crazy,” the results might be hospitalization, over-medicated, over-therapied, and over-observed. When really all you needed was a supportive partner, family, and enough stabilization to let your brain catch up to the rest of your desires and aspirations.
Even my GF can tell that my eyes are brighter, my movements lighter, my sentiments happier, and my actions healthier.
All I needed was stability. All I needed was stability and love.