What is it about today that makes me want to write? In the time since I’ve blogged regularly, a lot has happened – I’ve lost my job, I’ve gotten married (and so Husband is introduced), I’ve lost about 70 pounds and participated in a triathlon, my grandmother’s been hospitalized for a few weeks, my cousin’s developed acute social anxiety, Friend YJ has gone to a different part of the country for in-patient treatment, and I will move to my husband’s house at the end of next week. But I’m not gonna write about any of that. Instead, I want to tell you that I don’t want to do anything today. Nothing.
I saw my psychiatrist last week for the first time since June. She prescribed my Xanax for the increased daytime anxiety/symptoms I’m experiencing as a result of all the life-changes noted above. I haven’t taken any. The thought of taking a new medication (with unknown side effects) is itself inducing anxiety. The thought of leaving my apartment (for any reason), packing, eating, or looking for jobs is enough to bring tears to my eyes and have me curled up on the floor in a corner of my closet. Rather than doing any of those, I’m in my living room in bright sunlight writing here about nothing.
Last week, Husband met Melody, one of my youngest alters. I haven’t been that dissociated (where there was virtually no co-consciousness) in a long time, probably on the order of years. And having increased symptoms – that’s anxiety inducing too.
Last night, I had a long session with Therapist. Upon leaving, I thought everything was ok. It was the first time in weeks I walked from his office to the train station without being afraid of my surroundings. I got home, Husband and I spoke a bit about my session and alters, I took my Gabapentin (to help me sleep), and then I went to sleep. And all night I had dreams of Abuser or Brother. I’d wake up from one, realize it was a dream, calm down, go back to sleep, and then have a dream about the other. All night this went on. The dreams about Abuser were slightly different than the usual ones (from years ago) in that he wasn’t really doing much of anything. He was silently there, following me wherever I went. I’m not one for dream interpretation, so I’ll get right back to the short chronology – when I finally woke up to start the day, I felt scared. Staying in bed under the covers was safe, so I did that for a few hours. Eventually I decided that getting out of bed, even if I continued doing ‘nothing’, was a step in the right direction (of having a somewhat structured day, of decreasing my fear, of not falling farther into despair, of not staying in bed all day, etc), so I forced myself to come into the living room.
Here I am, in the living room. Bright sunlight. Newly planted and newly seeded herbs, some growing hydroponically. Our new road bikes against the utility closet. Packing material to the left, to the right.
What is one small thing I can do to change my situation, even by 1%? I can brush my hair and put it in a ponytail. That will get me off the couch and moving.
Ok, done. Moving was good. Heh – moving. I went for a 15 mile run on Sunday, the longest and farthest I’ve ever run. Yesterday my legs were aching and I was having a lot of trouble moving, but today everything seems like it’s back to normal – so yeah, moving just now felt good, and I probably can do a bit more. 35 minutes on an elliptical + my usual free weights for arms for ~25 minutes. I can do that. My hair’s already up. Next step is changing. Sports bra – the black Nike one; workout t-shirt – the brown UA one; shorts – yeah, those; socks; pink ripped Sauconys. And my iPod for my Teaching Company lectures, pink headphones. I can totally do this. Keys to apartment means I’ll have to go out of it, but that’s ok – I can keep us safe outside and it is unlikely that anything dangerous will happen. All I’m doing is going downstairs and down the hall to the gym. That’s all.