Thursday, July 29, 2010


The theme of the day is changes.

1. Meds:

I am having a love-hate relationship with Luvox.

Love: B/P is down a little, and cravings are much more manageable. I am at my lowest weight since last summer.

Hate: Brain dead. You know those oh-so-famous Effexor brain zaps? Well, I have been getting them on Luvox, only it's every time I try to read a book aka try to make progress on my thesis. FTW!!!

I really hate how so many med decisions seem to force me to pick between two important things. I will have to call my psychiatrist tomorrow for advice.

2. Therapy

I guess the state can't fund my sessions forever. My therapist hinted that it's likely they will force him to give me up soon since I am not making any measurable progress. He suggested I look into the Rosa Parks Sexual Assault Crisis Center to manage my PTSD.

I don't know how to or who will deal with all the other stuff.

3. Totally unrelated (or perhaps related in a weird oblique way)

Tuesday, July 20, 2010


A friend of mine on Facebook posted this video a couple of days ago. Brandi Carlile sings about her emotions surrounding the suicide of her best friend at the age of 16. The song got me thinking about all the hard years of my life, but in particular, the ages of 16, 19, and 23. These have been the most difficult so far. I thought back to being 15/16 and it wasn't so much a pity party as it was feeling empathy for the young girl inside me that is still attempting to recover from a life of pain. And I felt overwhelmed with sadness for her.

The 5, 12, 15, 19 year old me still resides in the depths of my 24 year old heart, and once in a while something small like this song reminds me of this interesting yet difficult parallel that runs between this ungrown part of me and the part of me that feels that I am much, much, older than my years. Midway through the song, I began crying, remembering being 15, wanting to run away from it all so bad, planning to go up to the Bay, planning on working the streets to make money.

It hurt me to think that a girl of 15 thought the only way out was to become a prostitute. This became an even more realistic possibility when I thought I was pregnant at the age of 16, and it was obvious the relationship that my then-boyfriend and I at the time could not provide a supportive environment for a child. I planned secretly on running away once she was born and providing for my baby by living and working the streets.

I am so lucky to be where I am right now. My temp. therapist here told me (and I agree) he was surprised that with the past I have, that I've managed to come this far and did not fall through the cracks, become a juvenile delinquent, etc. Life is still hard, but I am choosing to stick it through. And yes, I am still lacking a Ph.D. after three years of grad school. Yes, I am still struggling immensely with my mental health, which is honestly like a full-time job. Yes, I have no work and am broke as hell, and am thus living with my parents. No, I don't know of anybody in academia who has had these thoughts as a teenager to relate to (Uhm, and if you're out there, will you let me know? It would be nice to find my kind out there.).

But you know what? I never successfully killed myself. I wasn't left for dead in the gutter at the age of 16, 350 miles away from my parents and friends, baby in tow, in an attempt to survive. I have graduated from high school, have managed to be the first generation in my family to finish college, to go to grad school. I am in a safe relationship. I have a roof over my head. And well, I guess that's more than where I thought I'd be when I was 16.

P.S. Two words since then: birth control.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010


Hi all,

Sorry I haven't posted anything substantial in a while. I haven't been feeling too well, and have had work to keep up with on top of that. Apologies beforehand for the non-cohesive rambling ahead.

A lot of the weekend after my boyfriend left (last Thursday), I spent contemplating if I needed to be in the hospital or not and trying to stay out. My sleep has been pretty horrible and so has the eating, but mood-wise I've been mostly okay. For a couple of days I was sleeping around 8 or 9 A.M., and after drawing blood yesterday I was done. Since I've been dehydrated due to the eating, that was enough to exhaust me. I crashed out for a record 20 hours! I think I was too tired for the past two days to think about my mood. Today's been the worst day since last Tuesday or so.

I've been trying to do work for the past couple of hours, but with the mood and anxiety today, looks like it's a no-go. Also quite tired. I will try again in an hour or two, but as for the questions that need to be posted for every seminar by 10:30 P.M.... there goes 10:30. I was stressing about it for a second, but I just decided it's not worth the chaos of emotions coupled with impulsive self-destructive behaviors for two goddamn questions that need to be posted. My professor has also been notified about my on-the-brink-of-hospitalization-health, so I'm hoping she doesn't hold it against me too much.

Oh! I've also finally got around to seeing someone here starting last week. I've been seeing the pscyh and therapist 2x/wk since, which has been helpful. I'm debating if I need the hospital for just a day or something, but I'm worried if I go in tomorrow, I won't be discharged by Friday, which of course means discharge on Monday, and I really don't wanna miss class again (since I overslept again on Monday, yesterday). I will see how I feel after class tomorrow.

Anyways, nothing amazing to say. Just thought I would drop a line about how things are going.

Sunday, July 11, 2010


Sometimes it's just as easy as being able to read. But if it's so easy, why isn't it easy???

I am so frustrated that my conditions cause decreased cognitive functioning when under stress or when depressed. Seriously? It's just the motivation an emotionally challenged grad student needs. Oh, you'd like to kick me while I'm down? Please, really, my pleasure.

Sunday, July 4, 2010


I first heard this song on Sober House (which I LOVE), season 2 and the words really reminded me of recovery (and trying to maintain sobriety). So without further ado, this is dedicated to those of us who have and do struggle with substance abuse or addiction:

I'm lucky to say that I've been clean for 1 year and 7 months, since my last relapse. I wish for others the same luck, strength, and most importantly, sobriety.