unreasonably rational

I was doing an online training thing that was supposed to take about 30 minutes. Took me an hour and a half. Like the OCD said, "You can think you've got the best of me, but guess what? I still know how to make some of your schoolwork take three times the length it needs to. I just easily ate up an hour of your time - which re-qualifies you as having clinical OCD just in case you thought you were under-qualified." How have I gotten along up to this point? I have a great memory (which is useful to the OCD). I can learn things the first time around, often. Otherwise, who knows how long I'd spend on schoolwork. Maybe not that long. My brain still has it's limits (attention-wise and motivation-wise). I take this exercise dance class that has almost continuous but slow movement. Only they like to talk about things like freedom. Meanwhile, I feel un-free, un-happy, un-whatever positive emotion I'm supposed to feel. Maybe I'm still a rebel (okay, sometimes I

Sometimes I wonder how to keep going. Like this morning at church. Well, if you can't cry at church, (at least silently), then you might want to look for a different one. Actually, I don't really worry about permission; I just figure people should be allowed to cry at church, and I go ahead and cry sometimes. Hopefully in such a way that is not obvious. And then prayer.  This one couple has been around helping me through this mental illness stuff, usually just by talking, praying, and being there , which means alot. Letting me be there with them, which is one of the most helpful things. But the husband is on the prayer team, and I'm not too scared of him, and his wife is my friend, and I went to ask for prayer. The good old, I'm having trouble talking because I'm crying, kind of requesting. It was good, though. He asked somebody else to come, who does another kind of counseling. And this is the neat thing. I thought he'd be judgemental about my being on medica

According to my counselor, my ocd will continue to pop up at different times, regardless of the state of my depression. I just have to exposure it back into place. So far, that's true. At least with the depression. Handwashing - suddenly the maybe-not-clean-should-wash-now state returns. It must be fooling me, because I let myself wash my hands. And another area, but I'm not willing to give that one back to ocd, so exposures have been lived through. I guess the moral of that story is I've learned more about dealing with ocd, and I have room to improve. But the germs... :). Maybe someone is allergic to the coating of my antidepressant medication, which I touched. So if I go to a picnic without washing my hands, maybe I'll touch their food with the exact spot on my hands that has(?) residue from the coating of the medication, and then they will die. You know, peanut allergy type allergy, except it should probably be a little faster, because even a peanut allergy case mi

circumstantial happiness; it throws everything off! Well, really, I'll just be thankful for happiness, but whether or not my meds are working right...? It did suddenly occur to me that my knee jerks less often. Maybe getting off Seroquel is good for me. My sleep is unpredictable - except that I can sleep. The quality of the sleep and dreams, that varies. Friday, I decided to enter something in the local fair, so I made a practice edible house. I really enjoyed making it. I'm thinking maybe that helped Saturday's cheerful morning. Yesterday was not fun. But when I made my actual edible house, I enjoyed that. Maybe I should do art more often. Now it's at the fair. Which means that I for sure do want to spend the dollars to go this year (okay, I was already planning on it). Thankfully, entering was free (ignoring the cost of all my ingrediants and an icing tool).

Yesterday was great. Really great. I woke up happy to be alive. Note that amazing sentence. Happy to be alive. Then I cleaned my kitchen, part of my room, and did laundry - all the way to putting my clothes away. It's amazing how much one can do when the depression takes a vacation. I did discover that being actively excited to finally be happy to be alive was still emotionally draining. I also found that I tired more easily than that phantom time when I lived a "normal" life. I went to the NAMI picnic. I ended up playing the guitarist's guitar when he wanted a break. Spontaneity. I like it. Oh, and there was just one person I particularly knew still there then. That helps. And people mostly ignored me. That helped, too. Then I crashed for 30 minutes at home. Then exercised at the gym with a friend. Then went to my dad's b-day party. Stuck my foot in or near my mouth a few times, talked alot (I do, sometimes), ate food, petted the stinky goats - oh, wait, I di

The psych ward was interesting, because of it's implications. No plastic containers? My therapist's office. Ah, the tears (when the depression is having a party). And the "the tears are just under the surfice and why do we have to discuss this and why did my brain come to such an unhelpful conclusion and how do I change it and it hurts not to cry" moments. The Psychiatrist's office. No, right after being in the Psychiatrist's office, when I'm leaving and crying. Church/religious issues or paperwork to fill out and sign my name to (yes, I have to verify my FAFSA information; suffering through the initial form was not enough). Scrupulous OCD, you're like the princess and the pea. But what really seems crazy to me? Working with six to eight toddlers by myself, or with help, and liking it. Why on earth do I like it? Changing diapers, contemplating the misteries of healthy discipline (that nobody's really figured out, but some moms are probably

The doctor mentioned something about my possibly needing help to sleep again on this new medication. I wasn't really surprised when I didn't sleep well last night. That could likely be "normal (for me)" worrying. I think the nausea might actually be from the new medication. And maybe part of the tiredness? But maybe not, 'cause I've been pretty tired lately. A bit of advice; don't read a book about people having upset stomachs when yours is upset already. So the medication testing continues. Switching from Seroquel to Abilify. Yes, I'm scared. What if the Seroquel helped more than I thought it did? What if I have a bad reaction to Abilify? Yawn. I'm a bit too tired to worry very well today. I skipped excercising today. I'm a bit too tired for my most hazerdous thoughts. That's convenient. Back to my oppinion last fall; if I feel like a zombie (in the not-horror-film-art sense of the word), there are some mistakes that I wont make. I w

It occured to me perhaps 25 minutes into shopping for the right gift bag for a babyshower gift, that people actually wouldn't be analysing my choice of gift bag (too girly, too boyish, wrong animal, inaccurate baby when it's for two babies, too big, too small, etc.). I did finally choose. Oh, and I didn't spend the whole 25 minutes on gift bag shopping; I got a few other things, too. Hehe, and I went to a whole different store before that to get the gift. Trouble finding the registry. Checking to see if I could have gotten a better deal on a lawn chair at this store than the chair I've already purchased on clearance at another store. Yes, I knew it was checking to make me feel better. No, it still didn't solve the pressing question, should I or should I not have bought said lawn chair. I like it, but maybe I wasted money on it. Maybe it's a sort of stealing since I've gotten some financial assistance in another area of life. But chair aside, I found a bab

I saw my counselor yesterday. I gave my suggestions for why I was depressed, but she wasn't convinced. Maybe I have a tiny sinus infection really close to my brain... Um, no. Maybe it's because one of my medications last month had funny spots on it (seriously, but I've already taken them, so it's too late to change that. This months still look fine). Um, no. So why? Why the stupid depression? Maybe if I did this, maybe if I did that, maybe... oh, please, I just want to sleep (she doesn't particularly like me using the sleep answer to what-will-I-do questions). I said, I felt like I came to counseling and got told what I'm doing wrong. She said, no, if I'm getting that impression, I need to let her know. Her final position was that I was doing the right things. She still wants me to be less judgemental of myself and had mercy on myself (particularly in the area of figuring out my own understanding of religion in relationship to what I've been taught).

One of my friends invites me over fairly often, and I invite myself over occasionally (okay, maybe I only did that once). I love to watch her make cookies, with help from very young helpers. And she peacefully ignores the loud bang of measuring cups on the counter. Doesn't care when a child decides to try raw oats, seems unconcerned about the raw egg, and definately eats the raw cookie dough. She might rinse her hands in there, but I don't recall a good, solid, with-soap handwashing. I just watch kind of amazed (and very rarely help, after I wash my hands with soap in an acceptable way). I think, this is how people live on the other side of the ocd barrier. (My family had ocd-ish tendencies in cooking and cleaning.) I feel uplifted by the insane possibility of sanity in the kitchen. And I feel a bit jealous. And I sort of almost kind of start to understand, but at the same time, it never really makes sense. That's my non-ocd glimpse through a friend. This same friend has

The Sunday meltdown. Usually, I don't actually cry in the morning. Wait, didn't I say that another time not so long ago? But I was discouraged, even though I kept telling myself it was a new minute in a new day (new days restarted every minute). That helped, but didn't completely erase the muddy waters swirling beneath me. I asked for prayer. The one word "health" on the paper thing that the church collects. The multiword having thoughts I don't want for the lady available to pray with people that I talked to. I didn't want to say depression, because I didn't want her to judge me. I guess I feel like unwanted thoughts are more acceptable than an ongoing, yet-to-be-ideally-medicated depression. I continue to not understand the whole Christianity versus legalism versus laziness versus scrupulous OCD thing. Earlier this week, a friend asked if the OCD was why I had so many questions about that. Yes, I'm pretty sure it's nicely embedded in the

Sometimes I think that (other) people with mental illnesses who are still fighting, I think they are so brave. I forget to apply that to myself; personally, I know how un-bold I'm feeling. How sick of everything. How it's hard to keep going. I know more of the tears I've cried, more of the times I've indulged in coming up with bad solutions. I know more of the hours of "un-needed" sleep I've enjoyed, more of the therapy homework I've left undone, more of the meals I have trouble bringing myself to eat. I don't feel bold. But really, I am part of their group. Maybe they don't "feel" brave, either. It's amazing how much sympathy and care other people with mental illnesses can give to each other. Never mind - or perhaps especially in mind - of their own time in deep dark holes. Them there telling me to take care of myself. Me promising to see them next week. I'm glad I go to some support groups here locally. They aren't spe

"I'm not freaking out, I'm not freaking out, I'm not freaking out, Okay! I'm freaking out." That is the way I drove into the center of town. Ha, and I live in a small town. Immagine what I'd do in a big city (simple, I wouldn't go there unless there was a compelling enough reason). My rough days got rougher. Sunday and Monday were pretty bad. I can't remember much of Saturday (I did sleep a good part of it), so that could be good or bad. But today, I was more hopeful, having survived yesterday. Now I just have to finish out the evening and get through tomorrow. Thursday, I see my counselor. Yesterday, I went to a book store that was closing (my afternoon plan was to wander stores until I needed to get home to eat something in time to get to the gym for the excersize class. After that, I was free to go to bed. Ahhhh. :) But back to the book store. My weekness in buying books is actually for board books. And preferably not the lift-the-flap kind,