The time has come.

Well, my friends, the time has come. 

Last year I lost my shit.  I went nuts.  I had some wicked panic attacks and some flashes of miserable ideas.  I took a month off work.  I started seeing a shrink, and when that didn't work (fast enough), I started popping the crazy pills like peanut m&ms. 

First a small dose, then a medium dose.  And after about six weeks I began to breathe again.  Not every day.  Not all the time.  But the breaths came easier and the panic attacks were fewer and farther between.  The pain - terrifying crushing immeasurable intolerable pain - began to subside. 

Huh.  Well, that's a relief, isn't it?

I finally had room to get my life back on track.  I tried to get active (even if I almost killed my friend v in the process).  I diversified.  I got VOCAL. 

And then I got better. 

Not perfect (what the fuck does that even mean?), but better.  Softer.  Calmer.  Safer.  More aware.  Happier.  Gentler.  More honest.  Less ashamed.  Just... better.  Not only better than the bad days, but better than before. 

A better me.  A new me.

Still a lazy fucking bum, to be sure, but at least willing to acknowledge it and admit why.

Still a crazy wack-bat on more than one occassion, but at least able to limit my outbursts to a more opportune time (such as after Hubby falls asleep in the foreign hospital). 

Still weak sometimes.  Still working on it.  But stronger.  Wiser.  More... hopeful. 

So, the time has come.  The time has come to try stepping out without the crutch...  *cue doomsday music*  ...to slowly reduce my meds until I can hopefully function (reasonably well) without them. 

Holy SHIT I am terrified.  What if the bad days return? What if I want to sleep all the time? What if amazing Spring weather isn't enough to hold me up?  What if I have to go back to relying on Hubby more than I ever thought I would?

What if...?

Christ I'm not sure if I can do this. 

But I have to. I have to at least try.  I'm not the same person I was when I started boosting myself up with pills.  But how do I voluntarily give up the one thing that I knew would save me if I could just be patient enough for it to kick in? 

I want to.  I need to.  But how?


This song.  This song is me, speaking to myself. 

But I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again

I'm a mess. A mess with a dirty mind.

I don't like busy weekends.  I much prefer to sit on my ass with my kickass iPhone and blame my boredom on the illusion that I have nothing interesting to do. 

This weekend, however, I booked myself solid.  For two reasons: 1) I do kinda hate being bored; and, 2) I have to get out into the world, diversify, have something other than work/twitter to look forward to. 

Friday night I went for drinks with coworkers.  My friend / former boss didn't stop me when I tried forced me to guzzle my beer, so it's fair to say I was a little giddy during the walk back to the bus station. 

Imagine my delight when we stopped at the beer store and I. GOT. CARDED. 

Carded, people.  Like, as if I was 18 or something. 

And then I laughed hysterically like a serial killer off her Ritalin for at least five minutes, thoroughly humiliating myself and my friend / former boss. 

I continued to giggle all the way to the bus stop. "Oh, Hubby will be so glad I bought him Guinness!"  And then I looked at my friend, and then into my bag, and then at my friend, and then into my bag...

Me: "Fuck."
Him: "Fuck.  I'll wait here.  You run!"

Dammit.  I had to run all the way back to that damn beer store to pick up the beer I was so blatantly gleeful about that I then FORGOT ON THE COUNTER. 

And then I ran back. 

And then I couldn't breathe for 20+ minutes. 

The rest of the weekend was in some ways an improvement from there. 

Saturday I waited 32 obnoxious minutes for my optometrist, who was EATING LUNCH.

But then I had dinner with my amazing friend LB and played with her two adorable babies.  I also cuddled her drooling cat, which is always a highlight for me.  But then our outing somehow caused the end of the world because her babies got fevers which can only be blamed on me. 

Sunday required a drive out of town for my best friend.  I'm her MAID (don't ever say matron) of HONOUR (don't ever say disgrace) and we went to a bridal show and lunch.  It was super fun and I even got Christmas/birthday gifts INCLUDING wine and peanut M&Ms, so there.  

Sunday night I studied for my French test which I later decided to delay until Thursday because I'm stupid.  Also, I'm unproductive because I spend way too much time laughing at crap like this:

Only you, my dear readers, will not judge me for my childishness here.