Who i am hates who i've been

What I've learned Wednesdays...

Whenever I stay at Dave’s (which less face it- that’s 90% of the time) I have a 30 to 40 minute ride to work depending on the traffic. Never before have I had road rage quite like this drive has made me develop.
I’m almost to work this morning when traffic starts slowing down. I’m going 20 in a 45 and my good temper is fading fast.
I really just want to yell. “Seriously people can’t you just drive. How hard is it? Foot on the pedal and… Oh!”
I look to my left and there in the median is a flock of geese. There must have been twenty of them at least. They had managed to cross my side of the road and now appeared to be stuck, because unlike the good Samaritans that I had just previously been yelling at in front of me, the oncoming traffic didn’t appear to be pausing or slowing for any type of geese crossing anytime soon.
So there they were, huddled in a pack, sticking together like geese do. Bobbing and weaving around, looking confused and out of place, stuck on the median of Atlantic Blvd. Three lanes of traffic behind them. Three lanes of traffic ahead. They knew their destination. They were determined to get across that road. The flock would advance. The flock would retreat. Over and over it seemed. I’ll never know whether they all made it safely across or not. Traffic started up again, my lane finally began to move and I drove away the geese slowly get smaller in my rearview mirror.
I admired their ability to stick together so faithfully.
I admired their determination to arrive at their destination.
Yet all I could think of was – Why don’t they just fly.
They want to cross the road. The traffic is bad. The cars aren’t stopping. Why walk when you guys can fly?
More times than not I know I find myself stuck just like those geese. Halfway there but with huge obstacles still in my way. And just like those geese I am so stuck on the destination that I fail to see that there is more than one way to get across.
Sometimes all you need is a little road rage and a flock full of geese to help give you answers to some of life’s biggest questions. The important decision is the destination, once you’ve got that figured; there are a million different ways to get there!

my SNRI

Venlafaxine hydrochloride.
Brand name Effexor.
A Serotonin and Norepinephrine Reuptake Inhibitor.
A SNRI.
Works by boosting serotonin and norepinephedrine levels in the synapses of the brain.

Effexor- the drug I both love and hate.

I've taken Effexor since I was in highschool.

75 milligrams. 150 milligrams.

Red or orange capsules.

225 milligrams. Round little white pill that I take half of each day.

Whatever this little pill does to the synapses in my brain seems to help me. It calms my brain down. Allows me to control my thoughts. Mainly the anxious thoughts that overwhelm my mind. It calms my symtoms. Racing heart. Shaky hands. Nervous stomach.

Almost completely prevents the panic attacks.

It doesn't illeviate my fears but it takes the edge off. Helps me to think rationally enough to know that my phobias and fears are irrational. As long as I can remember that simple thought I can function with the fear. Push through it.

I hate that it takes a little pill to accomplish that. That I can't seem to accomplish normal thoughts on my own.

I hate myself for that.

Hate that I depend on a pill

A pill that makes me sick if I forget to take it. Makes me sick even if I'm a few hours late taking it. Headache. Stomach sickness. Severe dizziness. Cold sweats. Nausua. And this indescrible feeling like little electric shocks firing in my brain. My head feels like it's way too big and whenever I turn my head it's almost as if I can feel my brain sloshing around. It's the strangest feeling ever.

Makes me feel like an addict going through withdrawals. Only it's a prescribed drug. And I only take the prescribed dosage.

I've been off of it before. I simply have to slowly dose down and I'm good. No horrible sickness. But eventually, a month or so after the last of the medicine is out of my system, I'm slowly overwhelmed by fears, phobias, depression and anxieties again.

I know I'm better on the medicine.

I know I have to take it.

I know others will think less of me for taking it.

I know that atleast some others will understand.

I also know that the best thing I can do is to be honest about my little orange, red, or sometimes white pills.

Honest with myself and honest with others.

So feel free to ask about my serotonin and norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor and I'll be honest with you to.

Dancing In The Mine Fields

Wishing life and love could have turned out different and saying goodbye to how I wished we could have approached our "promise." But like I've said time and time again -

it's impossible to save a marriage all on your own.

Putting the finishing touches on our divorce makes me think of things that I haven't thought of in a long time. I've come to the realization that a part of me is always going to wish that I could have made it work. Pretty soon our marriage vows will be null and void and that's a hard pill to swallow. I'll always be sad that I didn't get to keep my promise.

At the moment I love this song.

At the moment this song makes me incredible sad.

And at the moment this song leaves me in awe of those who year after year are still...

"Dancing In the Mine Fields."

blood and fishing

Why am I making this horribly unattractive face and giving the camera a giant thumbs down?

Because after driving over an hour to Fort Clinch and hiking about half a mile to get to the jetties our fishing trip ended very abrubtly about thirty minutes in. I just can't take this guy anywhere, lol!! Somehow David managed to step on the only rock on the entire beach and sliced his foot open in three different spots. Looks pretty gnarly and even he had to admit that it hurt like a "son of a B#$%*" when we cleaned it out with peroxide.

I better be winning the girlfriend of the year award though because I carried all of our gear (two fishing poles, tackle box, cooler and chairs) the 1/2 mile to the truck and then walked back to help him limp out. (Not to mention the trip I had to take back again because the keys had fallen out of my pocket somewhere along the trail! But of course I can't blame anyone but myself for that trip!)

Atleast we finally made it back safely. I doctored up his foot as best as I could and tried unsuccessfully to talk him into going to the ER for stitches. Now we are relaxing in front of the tv with a pizza, watching the fifty some year old self proclaimed "sex surrogate" on Taboo. An uneventful end to an eventful day!

June 12, 2008

Many will chastise me for dwelling on the "what could have beens." While others will say I should put the past behind me. And perhaps they would be right.

Yet part of me is always going to hold out and assume they are wrong. I don't count these tears of rememberance as wasted tears.

June 12, 2008 was my due date.

A due date that never came to be.

My sweet baby was taken from me when I was three days shy of fifteen weeks pregnant.

I know many people have had miscarriages before. Many people have even had to say goodbye to their sweet babies at delivery or shortly thereafter. I'm not the only person to ever lose their baby, I'm not the first, and I certainly won't be the last.

But I will be the person who stands up and reminds others that it is okay if it sometimes still hurts. If once or twice a year you still shed a tear for your "what could have been" or take a moment to relive the sorrow of a day long past. It's okay to remember. It's okay to relive the sadness for a moment. That's what makes us human. I don't dwell on it. Most days I don't even think about it. I for one feel blessed for the moments that I do stop and remember. Because sometimes all life chooses to give you is a memory. And if all I have been blessed with is a memory of a child, I refuse to give that memory up even if it does have the power to bring me to tears.

Conquering my fear of ducks!

Dave loves to remind me of last year when I attempted to feed the local ducks but promptly turned around and fled in fear as fifteen or so grown ducks chased me down. Technically they were chasing after the bread I was holding, so fleeing with bread still in hand probably wasn't the best plan of action but hind sight is 20/20. Anway! This year we've watched this group of ducklings grow from little babies to, as we call them now, "teenagers" I've petted these guys and even let them eat out of my hand.

Who's afraid of ducks now? Not me. Thanks to these little sweeties!

Now geese... that's a different story!