unreasonably rational

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

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

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 peop

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.

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.

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 besi

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

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 tod

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 w

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

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 st

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 w

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 techn

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 i

Will the computer let me publish this?

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