full circle

. . .from an upward battle of struggles and emotions to a journey of healing, growth, and laughter. . .

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leave my meds alone

I have a hard time taking my meds. Well, except for my (mental) life-saving drug, The Anti-Depressant. I never have a problem taking it or (generally) remembering to take it. But my drug regime is like that of an 80-year-old, and I’m only in my 30s. I hate taking pills. And while that sentiment started when I was 16 and attempted suicide, now, it’s just a matter of inconvenience.

high blood pressure
high heart rate
low thyroid

Prescription Medication Spilling From an Open Medicine BottleThe above equals eight pills plus three supplements—that’s 11 pills EVERY DAY. Not that I take them every day because that’s ELEVEN pills. How can my doctor expect me to tall all those pills every day without missing a single dose? I don’t know, but she does.

I don’t notice any physical symptoms from not taking them, but I get my blood tested every three months, and that’s when it’s noticeable. And then I try and get back on track. But the in-between time, i.e. NOW, is freaking hard. I thought going vegan and losing some weight would help the diabetes, but my glucose level actually went up .7 points instead of down (it’s really high now and needs to go down 4 points). So, that means work even harder. But eating better and going to the gym is the easy part. The hardest part, which ironically should be the easiest, is taking the pills. Why can’t I do it?


life is made of moments

i’ve been back on my meds for almost eight months now. i don’t cry myself to sleep every night anymore. i feel like i can function quite well – both at work and at home. i am actually excited about things, like my sister and the kids’ visit next weekend and getting my kittycats. and i think maybe {maybe} i am slowly {slowly} getting through the pain of losing T and missing him every night.

but despite moving forward in these small ways, i have regressed to binging on junk food. the last time this happened during one of our breakups, i gained 30 lbs in three weeks. a year ago, i was so depressed about my weight that i took action. i cut out my two favorite carbs (pasta and potatoes) for a month, cut out junk food entirely, kept a food diary, and went to the gym 3-4 times a week. in four months, i had lost 25 lbs. i was so proud of myself. my goal was to lose 45 lbs, so i was well on my way. then a trip interrupted my fitness routine, and i couldn’t get back into it. earlier this year, i started gaining some of the weight back. and in the last few weeks, i started binging on potato chips and mircowave popcorn {damn, i never should have bought a microwave at christmas, lol}. i’d eat a whole bag of chips instead of dinner every night. and when i ran out, i would make sure i stopped at the store on my way home from work and pick up another bag… or two. last week, i switched to popcorn and ate two bags at a time soaked with extra butter. i know this is wrong. i know this is messed up. i know, i know, i know. but i can’t stop. what has happened to me? i forced myself to get on the scale – once last week and once this week. i am now 6 lbs away from being at my fattest again. after all that work i had done last year. it’s like i fell off the treadmill and broke my legs. i understood why i binge ate last time – a direct consequence of the break up. but why now? i’m functioning at a reasonable level. why now?

~ ~ ~

i’ve been chatting online with an old friend of mine in australia the last couple of weeks. we go through periods of staying in touch and being distant, usually because he’s always in some kind of relationship and forgets about me. but he has a “window” at the moment, and i’ve allowed myself to connect with him again to distract me from the sadness. it’s been really good – we’ve mainly been reminiscing about our time together eight years ago. he has been making me smile and laugh, which feels really good. i wish it could last, but i know he will start another relationship and forget about me. i told him about my depression, which he never knew about when i was in australia, but while he acknowledged it, he was quick to move on to a lighter subject. i have been talking about my depression for so long that sometimes i talk about it too freely for others not to be uncomfortable, whether it’s because they are scared or just don’t understand it. i wish he would be open to me talking about it and ask questions, but he doesn’t. that’s ok.

after last night’s conversation, i headed to bed and felt sad again. i wish i could maintain my moments of happiness, but they are just that. moments. i can only hang on long enough until it passes.

i started thinking about letting go. and i mean really letting go… of T. i don’t know how to. i have always relied on time… in time, i will be able to let go… it’s not something i can force myself to do. as i drifted off to sleep, words formed in my head. words that T might say to me… a new song about letting go. a song that T might sing to me. i haven’t written a new song in a year. i was confused but content. maybe it will teach me how to let go.