Tuesday, May 31, 2011

OCD launches a new attack

Scrupulosity. I'd been doing better. I think. I stopped appologizing to God all day long, trying to limit it to once a day, preferably in the evening. I think I'd even pretty much done that, but now, the pressure is back.

(Meanwhile, I hear a speaker at a woman's retreat say that she didn't always ask for forgiveness from God every day, but doing it every day was her goal. People without my OCD are amazing.)

But the prayers have picked up. All of them. The appologies. The begging for help from my troubled mind. And begging again, in case that would help. And again, it feels good to ask for help. Okay, that's sounding compulsionish. But I felt more "spiritual" when I was praying more. And the praying for others. I think that has not reached compulsion measures yet.

And another old OCD tactic has regained force to bother me at work.

And then, my brain is still funny. Like when my brain was thinking nasty thoughts about myself and being angry with myself. And I thought, I have an angry, mean part of myself. And then, I thought, I want to take that mean, angry part of my self and step on it and smash it. As if we could take a set of thoughts and squash them with our feet. But then I had to laugh, because even though I'd tried to "seperate" the angry part of me and put it on the floor (figuratively speaking), more angryness popped up to attack the first angryness. So much for that solution.

Sunday, May 29, 2011

the problem with light purple nail polish

The problem with light purple nail polish is that it makes your fingernails look like easter candy.

This morning was bad. Then it got a bit better at church, and even more better. As in, I engaged in talking with people and forgot to think my disturbing thoughts. Now, they have at least been interrupted. Hopefully they'll stay that way. Another valley, but hey, I've made it through others. That's what my friend reminded me. I said, It'll get better, more to sound cheerful than because I was deeply convinced. And she said, "Yes, it will. It always does. For you."

Rats, now I feel like an over-reacting ______ insert word here, only therapy and friends would say it should be a positive word. So I'll leave it blank. My bad mood hasn't all the way left. I know I'm going to miss counseling this week, because my therapist already canceled it. There was a possibility of another time, but I'd have to take work off for it, so I said no. Now I wish I hadn't. I want to see her! And vent? Have another unfocused session?

Oh, wait. I'm supposed to keep my thoughts from going too deep into depression. This probably isn't helping me.

Sometimes I just get tired out and frustrated. Want a pause button. Movies can sometimes help - but I've done great at picking disturbing ones while trying to pick happy ones. Two days ago, a main character died. One day ago, the main character half sold his soul to an evil man/_____. Really? Cheerful? Well, at least that one ended with him being free of the evil man.

Today, I get to watch a play.

Tomorrow? Oh, dear. A whole day. No plans. Maybe I'll go to a movie. Maybe I can sleep all morning. I can exercise.

But wait, stick with now. Right now, I'm okay.

And in heaven, I want to paint my finger nails when my hands are not quivering from medication/anxiety! So there.

Saturday, May 28, 2011


I can tell that my anxiety is up, because I'm having trouble typing. It's getting better now. But when I first got here, what a lot of added letters.

I went to the mall. Our mall is so tiny it should be called something else. Or a country mall, that might work, too. I was returning a dress. I kept one and wore it and now I've returned the other.

But there seemed to be more people there than last time. And my brain was bugging me. "You shouldn't look for something right after returning something." No, they'd be glad for the opportunity for me to give them money. "It's somehow quite wrong to try on a dress." (haha, typing it I get more nervous again.) It's fine to try 0n clothing. I can't remember if my brain got into the, if you don't buy the dress then you are wasting a sales person's time to put the dress back. I think it didn't, but that might have been subconciously in there somewhere.

Feeling anxious with all the people and whatever else, I went to another store. I saw something cute - ok, it was a monkey soap dispenser - that was really cheap, and then to get the best sale, I had to get ten things (i.e. to get the most for my money. It would have been cheaper to just get the monkey). So I looked and looked and my brain said, "you're a sinner! How could you be spending money like this when you aren't sure how you're gonna pay for things when your savings runs out. Soon." And I kept looking. "You idiot, it's wrong to buy stuff like this. You should at least find something to give away as a gift. Don't get all ten things for yourself." Blah, blah, blah. Finally, up to the cash register. Then the person there switches with someone else, and I felt like I was a burden or had made some mistake. The second person rung it up.

When I left, I decided I'd made myself live through enough enxiety, so I went to my car. Then my brain got even more rediculous, so I'll keep that too myself. I made it here to the library, and I did not. did not open the bag and make sure that the ten things I got were worth the ten dollars. Ha! I don't think the blah, blah, blahing my worries was a compulsion. Not yet. But if I had opened the bag and checked...

So how am I gonna get the stuff out when I get home? Try not to think about how much money I wasted? Think about it on purpose to torment myself (no, wait, that's called Exposure Response Prevention). That might work, because I'm pretty sure my brain has more to say about me spending money like that.

Now I want to get a really great fun movie (not like the one that made me cry last night that I thought would be happier). The really fun movie can be the carrot at the end of the ERP. But maybe I should excersize first, too... They say it's a good thing, in proper proportions.

Oh, I forgot that renting a movie could restart the wasting money arguement.

Friday, May 27, 2011

approaching the weekend

It is really interesting to reconnect with someone after about nine years. Especially when I remember the kids more from 11 years ago. In eleven years, babies and preschoolers really change.

I guess I've changed, too. 11 years does that to people. So does nine.

My plan for the long weekend is to get the cold/virus that's been threatening me (or maybe it's just allergies - to nothing, of course. But the allergist didn't check if I had spring allergies to pollen, so maybe I'm allergic to that). I want to get the bug and sleep and sleep and sleep and feel healthy by Tuesday when I need to go back to work. Alternatively, I can sleep and sleep and sleep for depression instead. And watch movies. That's on the list (either for the cold or the depression). And read book(s). That's just on the list anyway, because I like to read a bit in the evening. And clean. :( And ...? Who knows. But the libraries are closed on Monday, so I can't do that.

Happy Friday.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Mr. Psychiatrist still holds the goal reaching a point of no symptoms. I'm becoming a doubter (no, wait, I'd perfected that when I was little, this is just a new application). No symptoms of OCD? Really? That's a foreign concept. No symptoms of depression, though, sounds good. I switched to this Dr. because I wanted one who wouldn't give up before I did, one who would at least work towards no symtoms, not just tollerable or somewhat improved symptoms. I think I'm still glad I did, and even more glad that he can remind me that no symptoms is an okay goal.

Then today I saw my counselor. My overreaction was a misunderstanding, as I suspected. Now I just want to move on and not get sidetracked by that jumble of words I got upset in.

And after talking to Mr. Psychiatrist, I was determined to be "more focused," as he described it.

We were, I suppose.

Talking about an "event" (that happened over several months) in my life that still can leave me crying. Like really annoying!! It's been eight years or something. Nine or more, actually. Nine years of trying to "get over it." By the way, so far I don't posess the PTSD label.

Usually I try to forget the friends I lost and how hurtfully my world was shaken (okay, I'm sure there are plenty of people who've experienced much worse; I don't mean to disrespect them at all). Usually, I try to forget the look in my Dad's eyes as he tried to do what was write in a messed up situation at the church we then attended. Usually, I try not to bitterly recall how it even effected who would play with my 4-year-old brother! So, since I'm still angry, have I not forgiven? How does one forgive that? Sure, my brother is turning out great. I'm a grown-up now, and attend a "normal" church and work a "normal" (but not lucrative) job. But that doesn't make ostracizing a 4-year-old okay!

A counselor said when I asked him about my issues of that time that he didn't know the solution, either; please e-mail it when I find it. I thought I found it, at least once, or part of it. But I still cry.

Another counselor said to me (about my issues more generally), "You know all the right things; I don't know why it isn't helping you more. Maybe you just need more time." (And I was like, duh, I have ocd; we make a habit - unintentionally - of knowing the right things but still struggling in life). And that counselor's comment, well, it doesn't hurt so much anymore. But I still cry about the other thing.

Annoying! Crying in front of my counselor. Or at my Psychiatrist appointment (make that both, if you count almost crying, which I count).

Monday, May 23, 2011

Truely, truely, it was an accident. I didn't intend to take my Seroquel twice last night. And the result? A little extra tired, a little extra offbalance, a little extra irritated? Nothing huge. I hope it stays that way. I didn't want to double my dosage. But I will use it as a reason to take a nap this afternoon. Seroquel is my problem medication right now. I forget it or overdose about once a week. Alas, my chart on the refridgerator isn't working well enough; I may have to fill one of those pill organizers, putting each day's medication in the corresponding box. Grr. I don't like to do that. Why? Because it's too much work, because maybe the medications will chemically combine when left together that long (yes, I know that isn't too likely), and because I have this mistaken belief that I should be able to remember which medications I have taken and which I still need to take! Maybe one of the medications is messing my memory up (blame it on something besides myself).

So, I'm not very good at talking with people that I don't know. In fact, I'm somewhat bad at it, particularly if I am already anxious. This definately affects my performance in my job. I'm fine at talking to the one-year-olds, but not so good at talking with parents. But I need to. I need to. If I say that enough times, will I do it?

Friday, May 20, 2011


It was the sort of day at work that I kept getting angry. Angry that I was requested to have a "helper" in my class (i.e., a slightly older child playing in the novel-to-them toddler/baby yard). I finally ate my snack and wasn't quite so angry any more. Oh, and then there's the, I'm just sure they wont pay me today, and today is payday, and I'm just angry about not getting paid. Then, of course, I was given my paycheck.

After leaving work, I came to the library. Anger now shifted onto myself. I'm angry! Angry at myself. Blah, blah, blah. And/or just plain Angry.

Some of it is probably financial worry; more is going out than is coming in. And that's a normal fear, not restricted to the mentally ill. (The, I'm not sure I could work forty hours a week because of my stupid brain, that does come from my lack of mental health and bad experiences.)

Change topic (or angles). Yesterday, I saw my counselor. And I know I over-reacted. I know it. But it still bothers me. We had our usual conversation. But she also mentioned that if I wanted to only come every other week or something as the summer goes on, that would be fine. She thought it was good for us to keep in touch, but she thought the OCD was doing pretty well, leaving me just with GAD issues and issues from my past (Ah, Freud, how I am frustrated by thee!)

That should be good news, right? But then I'm there ready to cry, saying, "This can't be as good as it gets." It just can't be! Okay, I'll try and be good and let go of the worst of the depressive thoughts, but don't tell me this is as good as it gets, because I just don't have that much energy and endurance. Or maybe I do. Maybe I'm lazy. Maybe I hope for something that doesn't even exist. Maybe it's just like Christians say about the hole inside them that only God can fill (I am a Christian, by the way, I just get irritated with us sometimes). But then why can't/won't God fill it? Am I a "bad" Christian (which technically doesn't even exist since all Christians are saved only through grace, not by being "good")? Do I just not believe enough? Not pray enough? Not read my Bible enough? Am I not content enough? Is this God's judgement on me? Did I bring it on myself by indulging in stupid thoughts that I had no right to think?

Okay, so I do know that eating lunch might help my mood.

Then there's the subject of accepting my mentil illnesses (assuming they aren't just religious behavior problems). Accept that I may struggle with OCD, anxiety, and depression for the rest of my life? That's disheartening. But is "denying" it any better, or does it hurt more in the long run? But I was assured yesterday that I was allowed to take years instead of days to figure out the answer to that.

Are the words "irritated" and "irate" related, like variations on the same word? I think I'm too hungry to be irate, but plenty hungry enough to be irritated.

Did I tell you that I got a microwave? I did. Now I expect to be eating more warm suppers. Yay.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011


Shopping is a new hobby. I shop really slow, buy very little, and enjoy looking at things and/or laughing at prices, etc. I don't fight OCD. Because it's a hobby!

Actually, I just don't fight OCD much at all. I haven't gone on the offensive (premeditatingly, intentionally doing ERP) for a little while, and my defense (dealing with problems that land in my lap) has slid, too. And I don't really care.

How about I think about a new paragraph. Like about my attending a tap dancing class as part of an interview for a position teaching dance. That should be fun or not fun, or those two swirled like chocolate and vanilla.

And I have shopping to do. Legitimate shopping. For a bridal shower and a wedding. Excuses to spend money on what I probably wouldn't feel right about buying for myself. oh, but I will still look for a microwave. I have not found one for less than 44 dollars. Again, don't worry; I did forget how many cents.

What else? Bible study at the end of today (late. This is my big problem with this bible study. it's late). maybe dinner with friends. I guess I should eat an afternoon snack with the goal of avoiding that wonderful light-headed feeling during the dance class. It has come back, if i haven't mentioned that yet. But I'm not positive which doctor I should call, the Psych doctor or the whatever-is-wrong-during-the-week-but-preferably-not-with-my-brain doctor (he refered me on to a psychiatrist for that). So if I can, I'll just wait until my appointment next week with the Psychiatrist. i don't like trying to explain unexplainable things over the telephone.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Oh, Joy; Depression

Most of the time, I'm doing pretty well. Feeling cheerful (and sarcastic), wearing a new dress that I bought (that was sin a few times over, once because I wasted time looking/might have coveted some dresses, also because buying a dress I didn't need was wasting money, and thirdly, it is a cute dress. Cuteness is almost certainly wicked when it is applied to me, though you can be dressed cute and I'll enjoy it. The skirt of the dress is too short. Like, above my knees. Oh, so sinful.). Okay, now I'm off track. But most of the time, it's mostly anxiety and not so much depression, or at least I feel lighter.

But then on occassions, my mood plummets and the depression then is worse than the slow steady kind.

I've been trying not to land there today. Part of me wants to. Think about depressing things, give in to the monster trying to drag me down. I'm just so tired of this! And to make it more frustrating, my life is going well. At least if it wasn't going well, the depression would make more sense!

But I keep trying to remember my counselor's comment about thoughts leading to feelings leading to actions leading to thoughts and so on, that they all influence each other, so changing one could change the others. So trying not to let my thoughts enter the downward spiral, ignoring the feelings (it seems they have already slid), and acting in a way that is beneficial to my health. Like skipping the free concert this afternoon because I feel too lazy and want to watch a movie. Really, that was sarcastic. I'm pretty sure the "best" thing would be to go to the concert, but then again, I don't have to do the "best" thing all the time. "Okay" is fine, too.

My research indicates... that OCD is not a Thought Disorder, but rather an Anxiety Disorder. Wish I'd known that last week.

Now, off to watching a movie and/or shopping and definately eating. (I agreed to live here another year, and I want a Microwave! I know that they might have an unhealthy influence, but they might help me eat better since the time required in oven cooking is much longer.)

Friday, May 13, 2011

Ah, the internet is working against me! I wanted to read those other three posts. Of course, it might eat this posting as well...

It's Friday after work for me. Which makes me feel happy (or does it just influence me in a way that I decide to respond to with happy feelings?).

Yesterday I saw my counselor. Sometimes I feel like I talk too much and don't let her get to the real counseling issues (yes, since the two cases of extreme depression that lasted a few hours twice in the last week aren't real counseling issues). Okay, got myself there. I'm happy that at least my mind was creative enough to come up with something she hadn't heard before. For all of which, those to periods of crazy depression were scarey, not to mention annoying.

Anyhow, we talked, very little about OCD, more about the stupid depression. Why did that take a whole hour? How long did it take me to say what I wanted to say? (And I still missed things from my list.) And what's the whole avoiding eye contact thing? I've been seeing this counselor for about a year. Do I really think that something I'll say will be that problematic? Mmm, maybe. She did send me to the hospital once and to stay with friends another time. And logically, my self esteem was down already. Still down. I get annoyed when my counselor tells me, you talk as if you didn't deserve to eat popcorn and candy. or, You sound as if you don't think you deserve to eat food. appearently, I have trouble treating myself well.

Oh, and isn't OCD fundamentally different that shopping "obsessions" and such? Because I heard a conversation, and I didn't like being grouped with people who just want more of this or that thing that they love. Incidentally, I don't want more germs, nor do I want more people to become sick or worse, nor do I want to cheat on a test, etc. And I don't actually do those things I don't want to do; I just worry about them. But to outsiders, is that what they see? Me as a person with something like a shopping problem? Is buying another dress because I like dresses really in the same category as not buying fingernail polish because it would cost too much and be a sin and somehow be aweful? I don't think so. Of course, I'm not a shopaholic or anything like that (that I know of). So maybe I don't appreciate the pain of buying dresses I like. i guess it's the "with money I don't have" part that makes that problematic, or something like that.

Furthermore, OCD doesn't strike me as a balance issue. Sure, with dresses, maybe I need to balance the cost with the product and the amount I'm spending on dresses versus everything else in my life. But an irrational fear? What kind of "balance" issue is there in that? Am i supposed to "Balance" my fear of germs and obsession with handwashing with something else.(it's just easier to admit to that than some of my other issues, even though this one isn't very strong for me right now). Sure, my handwashing is moderated somewhat by my great fear of my skin cracking from being to dry (blood contamination and AIDS fears, come right on int). I don't think that is "balance". Two wrongs don't make a right. Or balance my fear of having driven over something with my fear of hitting something ahead? Or am I supposed to balance fears with confidences; I'm afraid of germs but confident that antibacterial soap will get rid of them (which I'm not, by the way). Or, I'm afraid of sinning, but confidant in God's forgiveness. Oh, if I could just figure that one out. If I didn't have ocd, then they might balance out, but I think OCD issues don't balance out. It's not choosing the best pieces of two acceptable options. It's an anxiety disorder.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

I'm waiting for a video to download, so that I can watch it (or part of it; I'll see how time goes). I had a rough middle of the day today, but now my brain is temporarily silenced - the part that was bothering me, I mean. And so, I can put off calling my Psychiatrist. :) Unless it is waiting for me outside of the library. I have an interview this evening. I think I should ideally wear make-up, but I haven't done that in months. Who knows? I've never had an interview for this type of job before.

Yesterday, a lady was talking about how she was afraid of dying and had had to dreams about it and she's getting older... And I thought to myself, "Meanwhile, I've been praying for lightning to strike me." But I didn't say that. I don't know how the people would have responded.

I think the raised dosage of one of my meds is messing with my brain. It should get better soon. It really should. Okay, maybe I should still call my psychiatrist. Tomorrow. I still don't want to today. Procrastination, we'll see.

Monday, May 9, 2011

If. Or a short essay on playing handbells

If. I read one Hotmail email and one Yahoo email everyday and didn't receive any more, it would take me more than a year to catch up.

If. ?

Anyway, I got through Sunday, always a good start. I have a job interview tomorrow. I'm trying to remind myself, this is the closest I've gotten to this kind of job, so even if it doesn't work out, it is still a success. It won't overlap with my other job, just in case anyone from my child care center reads this.

Now I think I want to sleep. Maybe it's a good thing after all that I agreed to play handbells for the next few Monday evenings. They are, um, not my favorite instrument. They sound really neat if an advanced bell choir plays, but earlier level players, well, it's not unlike early level piano. So it is a test of my patience. The highest bells hurt my ears. The lowest bells hurt my wrists (heavy to play). The middle bells? They are probably my favorite. And they tend to play more often. Nothing like those songs where you play three times, half way through the music, and hold the bells still for the other ninety-five hundredths of the song. Now maybe I should make some nice comment in case a bell player from our choir reads this. But I'm pretty sure they won't. And loosing my bell playing job (that pays no money at all) wouldn't crush me. Offending people might, though.

And better yet, being a behind the scenes bell player. You position yourself behind the child learning to play handbells but not reading music well at all. Then you touch which ever shoulder is attached to the arm which is attached to the hand which holds the correct bell. That's pretty simple, except for the delayed reaction. So then you get the extra fun of trying to tap their shoulder the correct number of milliseconds before they are to play, so that their bell plays on time instead of late or early. Yes, there is bell playing challenge. That's, well, fun, for a time. Oh, and if playing bells gets you a break at the end of the semester from working with little children who have worn your patience thin, that does make bell playing more attractive. I liked being a substitute, sight-reading music in front of an audience. Now there's an interesting challenge. Watching pages blow to the wrong page is interesting, too. If I've heard the song often enough, I might do okay from memory until I got too nervous or too confident.

And this is how, at least in my own mind, I develope a picture of myself as a naturally talented, but a careless, selfish, and stuck-up music player. The simple solution? Don't play music when people can hear you. Okay, so that's avoiding, which might not take care of the problem. Now I'm the naturally talented, selfish, stuck-up, and secret musician who only makes snide comments in my head or on my blog (or occasionally, I actually speak them). I've been doing this for the most part for a number of years now, which means that a decent number of people don't even know how much of a musician I am or could be. Well, I did achieve being known for something besides my musical skill. That's nice. But I do miss playing. With people. And I do like it when people compliment my playing, especially my compositions (because, yes, I'm a secret, selfish, sarcastic, stuck-up, and composing -though not for about a year - musician). Well, I have entertained myself at least.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

When I was in the psychiatrist's office, it was so clear to me that I actually knew I hadn't driven over a person, I just felt compelled to check anyway. Somehow, having left his office, that clarity has drawn away as well. I'd been fighting the main compulsion for this, and made some progress, but now I've regressed to worse than before my recent progress. Is it because I've been weaker or the compulsions have been stronger or something else?

I found a guitar pick in the parking lot at church. It was my favorite kind. I was interested in looking at it, so I picked it up and examined it. It was relatively scratched up; parking lot life wasn't treating it as well as it's former owner. Then, I debated between the grave sins of theft versus littering (ooh, sounds like an emotional stage of Erikson! Guess what I've been studying for college.). I had heard that picking up money in the road was actually stealing; you probably wouldn't get caught, but technically it qualifies as stealing. So I speedily concluded that keeping the guitar pick would be stealing, probably from some music leader at church. That left the option of littering. And it had been on the ground when I picked it up. And it wouldn't hurt a car's tire to drive over it. So I dropped it. It wasn't until I got in my car and checked to make sure I still had my identical-but-less-scratched guitar pick in my wallet, tucked away where pennies and dimes (and nickels and quarters) sometimes live, that I remembered that I could have just exposed myself to AIDS by picking the guitar pick up. Maybe there was a hidden needle or something... and my finger's skin felt like something could have penitrated it (microscopic blood full of sufficient HIV virious). But that didn't really bother me, because germs haven't been ruling the OCD so much recently. So there, what a lot of thinking a few moments brought to me. Not that I thought everything out in so many words.

I've probably already said that I got a med increase. Oh, did my brain have fun this morning (to be said in a voice dripping with sarcasm). I made it to church. Some people might not understand how big that accomplishment was, but I did it.

And there was something really wierd about going from my crazy morning thoughts into the crowd of people there for the worship service, and sitting among them. Remarkably enough, by the time for the sermon, I was actually paying attention. That a sermon would do what music would not do, that's impressive. And then I politely lied about being okay when someone asked me how I was after the service. Then I came to the library. I like the library. I like writing. And next I think I will call a friend. And I haven't decided what to do after that. My room desperately needs cleaned, but I don't want to do it.

Friday, May 6, 2011

Okay, it did. I've been having trouble loosing my blog postings because they refuse to post. Maybe I should write shorter.

I made a comment last time I was with my counselor about not having a severe enough anxiety disorder for a year. And then she stopped me. And then I remembered. I've been seeing her since some time last May. I saw someone else a few times before I saw her. So really, I've been intentionally trying to deal with OCD for more than a year now. How sad. Or maybe it means I'm closer to a solution.

My fluvoxamine was raised from 200 mg to 300 mg. Now all my psychiatric medications are at 300 mg. And there are three of them. Oh, delightful symmetry. (No, I don't NEED symetry, not like I NEED to look in my rearview mirror to make sure that a bump was just a bump.)

Anyway, I've gotten really tired again. Funny how I forget the joys (troubles) of changing meds/dosages and then remember shortly after another change how the side effects come before the improvement, and how it can make me tired, etc. At least it hasn't spiked my depression. (Yet.)
Will the computer let me publish this?

Monday, May 2, 2011

circumstancial happiness

I wrote a nice long post earlier today when I was in a worse mood, but the computer wouldn't post it. So I thought, oh well, I feel better just having written it. And I let it disappear.

Right now I have circumstancial happiness again! I finished my Jazz 2 dance class this evening! My shorter-than-a-minute solo that I composed had some neat-looking parts, and if I thought that watching myself on video, I'm guessing it really was good! (Or maybe I have a big head. But you'll never see it, so you'll never know.)

I keep getting circumstancial happiness the day before I see the psychiatrist. Bother! I can be way low just a day or two before, and then something happens that lets me breathe a sigh of relief, and I'm happy for a bit, until I make my long, slow, return to the darker lands. Or quick return. We'll see. I'm going to tell him I was upset this weekend even if my circumstancial happiness lasts through my appointment! Maybe a little panic over the 3 credit class's project due Wednesday will balance out my circumstances. But I'm not panicking right now, because I'm busy being circumstancially happy.