the good old days

Bear with me tonight; I am a bit nostalgic.And I ramble.

There have been years (three or four straight at a clip) where I felt actual happiness and didn't think much about each step I took in my life. In those years, I traveled wherever I wanted to whenever I wanted to. I worried a lot, but I also had a lot of fun. I dated men and those relationships ended (duh, as proven by my being engaged to a wonderful man today). I watch the Duggar family on TV all the time; while I don't agree with the vast majority of their life views, they may be on to something in their idea that romantic relationships are best pursued in a spiritual and non-physical way before getting to the next steps, many of them occurring after marriage.

I finally found a funny, kind, handsome and Godly man and I bring to the table a lot of baggage from relationships that weren't his fault, things I didn't deal with in full after they happened. I am thankful that the "baggage" is just the feeling of failure and with the exception of my ex-husband, I really did date a good group of guys who just weren't meant to be life mates for me. But the baggage is there and the fear that I will fail this great man looms. I never assume the future will be as good as it was; having depression/anxiety issues lends itself to a bleak outlook that one must combat and fight against in an effort to retrain one's way of thinking.

And that is the tip of the iceberg, honey. The fear of failure in the future runs deep and I blame only some of it on my being wired to be hard on myself and be anxious. I was talking to my oldest friend from elementary school on the phone for the first time in over 15 years and we talked, in real time, about how no one really is "present" anymore. We're all in our smartphones, too busy posting life on our social media accounts to actually sit and breathe in the smells, hear the sounds, etc. I have also discussed this topic with a dear friend from graduate school and we've talked about the therapeutic benefits to disengaging from all of the technology and just talking, reading a book, meditating, etc. We discussed the good old days of grad school when we'd all get there early (if you're in grad school chances are you're an overachiever of sorts, so most of my buds were at class 10-20 minutes before class start time, raring to go).

We talked about how, even though I only graduated five years ago this May, we used to all sit around and bullshit with one another before class. I had a smartphone then, but it didn't feel like a part of my body and it was easily silenced. I went out to bars and taverns with friends and we talked about all types of good stuff. My second year of grad school before I got married, I went on tried-and-true dates with a few men. Does dating exist anymore? Like, the non-boyfriend, seeing-what-happens thing?

This was even more common while earning my B.A. I used AIM and my flip phone to stay in touch. Texting was only for instances where a phone call wasn't possible and AIM allowed me to go "away" to spend time in real life with my friends at res hall programs, restaurants, or just walking around campus talking about everything and nothing at the same time. I met most of my long-term boyfriends through shared interests and social events with mutual friends. It's how I met my Mikey, it just took us six years to get to now :)

When I visited my family at home, I stayed in the know with what was going on in my social life and regret that in hindsight. All of my buds would have still been there after I spent a day or two immersed in my familial routines. But I was never really "there." Always on to the next thing mentally, even though physically I was at the dinner table or putzing around in the kitchen making salad or guacamole. Wondering what tomorrow would look like. And when it came, wondering what the next week looked like. And that is the essence of where I am at now. Always wondering when the panic will happen again to a debilitating point. Always looking over my shoulder.

I not only came to terms this past year with my mental health and the fact that I don't have just "phases" of bad feelings but an ongoing condition...but I also realized that I am a highly sensitive person. Don't mince words; this does not indicate that I am any less strong than someone who lacks sensitivity. Rather, things affect me profoundly. It's why, though I am SO much better this year than I was last, I am still not where I want to be. It's why all of my failed relationships that led me to Mike each took a piece of my heart because with each person, I gave of myself in a very holistic way and when things didn't work out, I felt like a piece of me would never come back and I would never feel whole.

I also realized that I can't help how out society is now. I can't help the existence of stupid articles about Bruce Jenner that I see posted everywhere, but I can stop being pissed off at the ignorant journalists who won't leave well enough alone and let a person (albeit a very public celebrity) live privately. I can't help that social media changed the landscape of how we interact with people and how we perceive things in a very profound way. But I can control how I utilize it and use its powers for good. I also can't control that I have a mental illness, but I can work on changing how I let it affect my self-esteem and stop worrying first and foremost about how my condition makes others feel. If I can rest knowing I have done all I can at the end of a day to educate, advocate, explain and work to help others understand and feel comfortable around me in a time where I feel like an alien in my own skin, then that has to be enough. And it is. Though I wish I could get some of those others to feel the same. Losing friendships in a time when you feel like you're just plain losing it is hard. Luckily, I've reestablished ties with more people than I have lost contact with.

But those good old days...I can't get them back. And while I can control whether or not to wallow in that fact, I ultimately do because life goes so slow and so fast at the same time. A workday drags on, but before I know it, we're one-third through the year. I wish, in years past when my legs felt sturdier and my heart lighter, I had taken the time to breathe in the smell of my old dorm rooms, find comfort in the sound of my Aunt Roseanne's voice and her Easter cooking, took time to talk about life and dogs on grocery trips with my mom, and savored my dad's antipasto and his wisdom over the past 15 Christmases. Or taken the time to visit my brother more in college and congratulate him on how much he did to make his way through school. Or enjoyed my courtship with my life mate rather than wondering when we would move in, get engaged, have babies...

It's like Andy said in the finale of The Office..."I'm still just thinking about my old pals. Only now, they're the ones I made here. I wish there was a way to know you're in 'the good old days.' before you've actually left them."

Reflections from 2014

I haven't written in a very, very long time so I thought it fitting to take some time this weekend and write for fun. I should, of course, have done this while business was slow (because everyone was buying Christmas presents instead of resumes)...but now is as good a time as any.

Well, for anyone that knows me personally or who follows me on Facebook knows that I had a severe panic and anxiety episode that showed symptoms as early as October 2013, exacerbated right after the holidays in 2013 and stayed really bad until I got linked together with the right care providers and medicines in late January 2014. I don't really remember much of the month prior to that. I spent most of my days trying to sleep or eat. I lost 10lbs during that time.

From there, it was and has been an uphill battle to get back to feeling like myself. I spent most of 2014 being scared of things. Being afraid to eat (which my medicine not only cured, but caused a 30-pound weight gain, which hurts the self-esteem pretty badly). We are, however, in the process of starting to diet and eat better together thanks to some good books from the in-laws. The "we" I am referring to is me and my now-fiance Michael. He spent a good part of 2014 serving as more of a caretaker than a partner and I am happy to say now that he has effectively been able to return to a more "partner-in-crime" capacity. Still, it's been a transition going from being almost wholly dependent on him to learning how to spread my own wings. Sometimes that comes naturally and I almost feel 100% again. Other times, the bad days still rear their ugly heads. Nevertheless, each day is ultimately a little more normal and farther away from what I went through a year ago. Others strive for excitement and worldly adventures. I strive to watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine, eat a cheesesteak, see friends and shop in Dollar tree without having any moments where my confidence in my stability is shaken to its core.

Outside of my major GAD/Panic Disorder and Depression flare-up, it was just a difficult year overall; even the most even-tempered individual would have wigged out a little. My aunt died in late October after suffering for over a decade with numerous health issues. The worst part of that is that we spent most of that decade not talking, for reasons none of my immediate or extended family members recall anymore. When someone dies in an untimely manner (no matter the state of their health), it's hard to grapple with the anger and the resentment over losing someone too soon. It's also been continually difficult, as one of the many left behind, to think of the what-ifs. I wonder if she'd still be here if I visited more, called more, spoke up on her behalf more when she didn't have the strength to in the presence of her (incopmpetent) care providers. I should have been her care provider. I used to be able to swoop in if you knew me two years ago. I lost my helping tools when she needed them the most.  It gets better with the passing of time, but it never really stops hurting when you love someone that much. She was an integral part of m childhood, adolescence and early adulthood and it's been very hard to go on in the world knowing that she isn't co-existing here with me. Plus, my mom lost her great-cousin Al and he was a pretty steady fixture in my childhood and a great man.

My parents also lost two of their three pets this year, each long before they should have died. One was due to an accident (being hit by a car) and the other suffered from epilepsy for most of her life and suffered from a stroke or some other form of trauma before the vet decided it was best for her to be laid to rest.  I am thankful and humbled by the fact that both of our own pets have been doing well health-wise. But I've noticed, both with me and those close in age to me that I talk to, that the older we get, the more we're aware of mortality in general. When my friends and I were in college, we all thought we were invincible.

Though I lost a lot of friends and acquaintances to death (and saw them lose family members, too)...I never really thought about when I would have to deal with that and how I would cope. Then once it started to happen, I went the complete opposite way and I live in fear of losing everything. But I lost my job and survived. I found a gig that perfectly complements my skill set and my current situation. Had this whole messy breakdown not happened, I would still be working in settings that made me feel uncomfortable, underpaid and in some cases emotionally abused. Life is too short and no one deserves that. I  believe that one should feel comfortable and happy in a job. It was a happy accident  that I finally found a writing job that allows me to use the skills I gleaned from both degrees I earned.

Sometimes loss doesn't mean death in the literal sense-I logically know I can't control when people do and don't die. But this year, I did lose or grow distant from a small unrelated group of longtime friends when I got sick. It's unexpected when the people you believe to be most compassionate and supportive suddenly become unavailable or overly self-absorbed during the one time you need them...after all the times you've been their rock.

And in turn, you find compassion and healing from folks you haven't talked to in years, but affected enough that they decided to reach out to offer words of love and encouragement. The friends piece has been a great lesson in setting boundaries. I take the time to care for and nurture those that do the same. Even if my health or schedule doesn't allow me to take road trips or send extravagant presents...I still make an effort. It's been a lonely year and I finally realized that in order to stop being lonely, I have to let love in. And let go of those that don't love me. That process doesn't have to be negative. Sometimes, relationships just need a breather or room to grow. And in that time, I choose to favor nurturing and fruitful relationships in place of the ones that drain me.

Still a work in progress...still hanging on. -L

holiday recap

The holidays have been extra special for me this year for a variety of reasons. Unfortunately, it's a series of "firsts" without my Aunt Roe - it's the first time in my 30 years that she hasn't existed on this planet with me during this time of year. Her being gone is sometimes difficult to fathom but I am told it takes time. Logically I know this, but it doesn't stop hurting.

It's also special because, at this time a year ago, I was starting to unravel and head towards a complete meltdown. This year, I am working to build things back up. A lot has happened over the past couple of months. I continue therapy and medicine and both help. The bad days happen, but they don't dominant me as much. I handled a major family death, a move to a new house in a new neighborhood,...and so on. Friendships were gained, lost, reestablished, strengthened, etc. Lots of soul searching. Lots of alone time. And slowly, I am coming out of my shell, I think.

I was also dreading the holidays this year. It's been kind of a reclusive year, so socializing and being jovial were scary prospects. Thanksgiving, I am happy to say, exceeded all expectations. I was able to celebrate with both my family and my in-laws and hope to see extended family on both sides in the future, as well as friends.

I am a work in progress. We all are. It's important to remember that, especially during this time of year. It is also good to keep in mind that anxiety suffers have to take special measures to get through holiday events that come easily to those who are less prone to anxiety and depression. Practice kindness and show those around you grace. And have a wonderful holiday everyone!

-L

Loss

Coping with the loss of a loved one is hard for anyone, regardless of mental state or whether the beloved was human or animal. This week, my parents' cat Sweetie was hit by a car suddenly. He was a stray that somehow by the grace of God found my mom (no joke...he magically showed up at their doorstep one day asking for food until she caved and bought that first can of Friskies)...and two years later, he went from a wiry-looking, weary little hunter to my mom's smoking buddy and my dad's little grilling companion. He was so happy that he willingly shared his dry cat food with the mouse my parents have been trying to shoo away from their house for months now (no killing traps for the Petrillos, but one would've assumed the cat would do the trick).

Needless to say, it was a shock that our family's "retired" cat was motivated enough to dart out into open traffic to fetch an animal or object, having no idea that he would end his own life. I grieve this week. For my mom and dad's loss and their deep sadness. For the way our poor boy went (without suffering though, thankfully). For my own loss exacerbated by my depression. I find myself seeking out my own beautiful feline, Lucky and hugging her a little tighter. I didn't know that the last time I saw Sweetie would be my last. And you never do really know, I suppose.

I also grieve for many other things that have changed since I came to terms with being clinically depressed and anxious. I don't want to mislead. I am in a MUCH better place than I was at year's start. I actually feel human again. Whether or not you personally believe in medicine for the treatment for mental illness...I don't care. That in itself is a feat, to not value others' input so much. But my medicines have singlehandedly saved me. I still panic and freak out, but I can manage it better than before (not as well as a typical person...but baby steps, my friends). The medicine and the therapy, and the conscious decision to change my lifestyle in a number of ways has saved me. Or at least set me on the path to salvation.

But a lot has happened as a result of all this. I feel that I've been inaccessible at times because of how crippled I felt from the sadness and fear...and as a result, I'm left with a small group of dedicated friends and loved ones that have shown consistent and unconditional support in many ways (visits, cards, emails, online messages, etc)...and I've received support from places where I'd least expect. For that, I am so grateful. But I have also experienced relationship losses...one of those "knowing who your true friends are" kind of things when you're at your worst. A valuable lesson, but a hurtful one nonetheless for someone who loves with all she has. I'm learning that relationships that drain and leave you feeling depleted on a regular basis are no good. Better late than never to learn this. No friend or relationship is perfectly supportive. But striving to be your best never hurts anyone. So I continue to. And now, I have come to expect the same in return.

Also, this is the first year since I was five years old (legit) that I am not preparing for the start of an academic year. I literally went from preschool to K-12 to college to graduate school to working in higher education for four years or so. It's a loss, but a welcomed one and a much-needed one. It's nice to be the maker of my own schedule and to be able to take cry breaks. Or PSL breaks (fellow Starbucks fans get me on this). Or to take mental health days (legitimately, for doctor visits and informally when I'm in a bad mood) and not have to gain approval or feel stigmatized. It's definitely weird to not be a part of the buzz of the academic world this fall, though. And maybe someday I'll yearn for it again. But if it continues to feel this good not to be a part of it, then I'm satisfied to applaud my higher ed and teacher friends as they begin their busy seasons. I'll keep my place on the sofa warm as I watch "Different World" reruns and do some editing work on my trusty laptop, PSL in hand.

For now, I'll keep writing away and healing away. And thinking of my beloved Sweetie, lost too soon.

-L

I'm getting older, too...

So the good news is I am still thankful, above all else. Thankful for having a support system in Mike, my immediate family, my aunt, my animals and friends both in person and through the wonder of technology. Also thankful for good physical health and an effective change in medicine over the past couple of weeks. I feel like I'm timidly coming out of another "low" in this journey that's lasted all year so far.

It's weird. I would cut off a limb to not be prone to anxiety and depression. To not have to make a conscious effort to think positively and redirect the way I think naturally. To not be so intentional and so emotional and to feel so depleted at the end of each day. My counseling background drives me to support others and hold them up even when I can't hold myself up. While I will never stop being that kind of person - I am PROUD to be that way - it makes for one tired little woman in this apartment at the end of the day. Antidepressant-induced slumber is always welcomed at the end of each night, along with some good animal snuggles.

And yet, while I'd give anything to be a carefree spirit, I'm wondering how I will live my life without my old pals, depression and anxiety. As I start to feel better (thank you again to my therapist, some good literature and my pills for guiding me through that process) I feel a new kind of anxiety. Because I am so used to living with sadness, crying every morning (because it's so intense to face the day and all the unknowns)...it will be an adventure to live life again without constant fight-or-flight. Freud has a term for this feeling of fearing what will happen when the depression eventually lifts, but it's slipping my mind (thanking the pills yet again, his time for the lovely side effect of memory fogginess)...what if friends and family will care about me and be less interested in me once I appear to be "better"? What if their lives now include traditions and customs that I can't be a part of yet? Or what if they're used to me not being around?

Truth is, folks with anxiety and depression are never cured in my opinion. It's always a cross to bear, it just is heavier during certain seasons of life. So when it's a lighter cross, it doesn't consume you, but you learn how to cope effectively and healthily. But the outside world is still a little scary on this end. Making good progress though due to the aforementioned and to Him.

I heard the Smashing Pumpkins' rendition of this song today, "Landslide." Always loved this song, especially the Fleetwood Mac live version. But hearing it from a depressive's perspective was very real and emotional. For those that are experiencing even a smidge of what I am this year, this is for you.

And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills/Till the landslide brought me down
Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?/Can the child within my heart rise above?/Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?/Can I handle the seasons of my life?
Well, I've been afraid of changing 'Cause I've built my life around you/But time makes you bolder
Children get older/And I'm getting older too...

L

The year so far

It's funny how time can go so slowly and so fast at the same time. I know that sounds weird but the days go so slowly...and before I know it, it's July and 2014 is more than half over. Statistically speaking, my anxiety and panic has been chronic/disabling since November but culminated in a breakdown right before the year began, after the holidays. The last fun and stress free day ie remember is December 26. And the road has been full of twists and turns as I navigate the journey through my head and try to return to a stronger sense of self. 

I've gone from trying to find out WHY this happened to finally accepting that it HAPPENED and there is no one reason why. I hit a will emotionally. I hit my limit. I grew tired of doing things I didn't want to do and being places I didn't want to be when I saw so many people around me (many of them close to me) just doing their thing and living their life without apology. Over the past few years, I've gotten into a bad habit of living my life for other people, self-shaming anytime I created boundaries. and completely neglecting myself. Studies show women are more prone to being like this. But in any case, I still find myself doing it, as old habits tend to die hard.

One of the many beautiful things that came out of this event (of which I believe I am on the other side of, even on the worst days) was the care I received from individuals I didn't expect to receive support from. In spite of my agoraphobia, I "came out" regarding my illness on Facebook and through this blog. I utilized social media to reconnect with old high school, college and post-grad friends and acquaintances. Sometimes, just these folks' kindness and the encouragement helps. Others have shared their own stories of struggle and triumph and hearing those gives me hope that, when the time is right, I'll feel like my "old self." My best friend's husband very eloquently stated that my recovery will happen when it happens/how it's supposed to happen. It's that simple. And slowly, I am steering myself into thinking more positively. Which fatigues my mind and my body when dealing with such intense depression and illogical anxiety. But I'm keepin' on keepin' on. :)

The one thing I find disheartening is that I expected levels of support from sources that I assumed to be givens...no one particular person, just in general. Don't get me wrong. Everyone, including me, has their own life to live. I don't expect to be at the center of anyone's universe- I'm not even at the center of my own world. Anxiety and depression are lonely, misunderstood and invisible illnesses. And it's easy for others, when they're happy and life is good, to develop new routines and ways of life that no longer include Lauren. I can't place blame because I don't even know where I fit in my own life sometimes. I'm trying to figure out who I am, what I am comfortable with and what I like because for so long it was on the back burner as I worked to please friends, family members, bosses, you name it. I spent many years celebrating the life choices of others while receiving very little support as I went through some pretty heavy shit, pardon my French. Had I let people in more, it may have been different. It's just hard to feel so intensely for and love others and not have it reciprocated when you need it most. Sometimes we build up walls unintentionally and whoever breaks through and stays with you is worth having around, 

Some people that I least expected have demonstrated great compassion and understanding and I've been humbled by their prayers and inspired to be more spiritual myself. But I wish more people understood the life of someone who suffers from chronic anxiety. I want hugs and love more than ever now, but even taking a shower or getting through my work load can be painful on some days, so it's hard to be around others. But I'm trying. Please be patient, try to understand what I (and so many others) deal with and don't forget about me or give up on me.