Homesickness, Anxiety, and Other Ailments

A thousand years ago, I promised you wonderful peoples a post about my anxiety and stress and how I've been struggling to keep hold of my wits lately. And then I never wrote it because when I'm battling my stress levels, I tend to neglect the things I love to do most. I let the necessary obligations rule (because, what choice do you have?) and any free time is spent trying to recuperate and rest. The last thing I want to do after being anxious and stressed all day or all week is use up any more brain space I might possibly have left. 

The sad part of that is if I'd make myself write or take photos, I'd probably be happier. Thus is the constant dilemma of the creative person who needs to pay the bills. I never even posted the gazillion photos I took of the snow. They're just sitting on my hard drive, forgotten and lonely and cold (they're cold because they're of snow. duh). 

And it's not even my job per se. It's me. I can't seem to handle the smallest amount of lately, though this isn't the first time I've been through this. The last time I had major issues with stress and anxiety, it was due to other things that I hadn't dealt with. I'm fairly certain that's the case this time as well and one can only overanalyze herself so long before cracking up. 

I really do need professional help sorting through it all and I've been looking for a therapist, but, so far, nobody is taking new patients. Do we just not have enough therapists in Portland? There's certainly a surplus in LA, so what's the deal? I did get a couple of recommendations from friends and I'm waiting to hear back if they take my insurance. Cross all your appendages, people!

It often feels silly that I'm struggling when all seems to be going well in my world. I'm with the best man I've ever known and he's been impossibly supportive and patient through all this, something I don't always know what to do with because I've never been treated so well. I have a decent job with many duties that I truly enjoy doing. And, of course, no work is without stress and I've been wondering what's wrong with me that I can't handle any sort of stress. Maybe, even though I'm capable of a lot, even though I'm creative and intelligent, maybe I can't handle putting so much of myself into my work. Does that make sense? I'm the type of person who does her work 100%, but what room does that leave for any personal happiness? I really struggle (and have always struggled) with how to maintain that balance. 

At any rate, it's easy to fantasize that a mystery relative with bequeath me a fortune and I can be self employed and just write and take photos and travel. Wouldn't that be the life? Le sigh. 

I'm sure a lot of this stress and anxiety is due to issues popping back up again, my childhood abuse, my adoption. Certainly a major part is that I spent most of my youth trying to earn a love that my mother would never give and I've found myself in a loving relationship and I think, deep down, I'm scared as hell of fucking it up (you know, because it was always "my fault" that my mom beat the shit out of me). I'm running ragged trying to keep it all in place. When it's most probably not that fragile at all. But I can't help but revert back to past fears because that's what one does. 

Hello, therapists! Hello? 

And, I have to say, I'm really homesick. When I moved from California to Oregon, I never anticipated that I would get homesick or that it would be such a production to go back to visit. It's a long way! California is a long-ass state, yo! So not only does it take a pretty chunk of change, I have to make the most of it and see every person in every city in the LA and San Bernardino area. It's a production. 

We are planning a trip down there this summer. We've been talking about it forever and, dammit, we have to make it happen. Boyfriend hasn't met anyone really and I need to see them too and, of course, we must go to Disneyland. Obvi.

I don't miss most of it. I still maintain my reasons for leaving, namely the heat and smog, but also a faster, more shallow way of life. 

Would YOU miss that? COUGH COUGH

I love Portland in so many ways. But it's truly difficult being so far from most of my friends and family. At least one of my best friends is here! I don't know that I could deal without her, because I don't actually have all that many good friends here. Sure, I have friends and I have my boyfriend's friends and we hang out and have a good time, but that doesn't compare to the lifelong friendships and connections I left behind, people who just know me so well. I miss them like mad.  

It doesn't help that Portland traffic is making me crack up. Honestly, I never thought that, after battling the Los Angeles freeways, I'd complain about traffic in sleepy little Portland, but I am. It's not the gridlock of major cities - it's the people. 

It's the drivers, the bicyclists, the pedestrians. Either people don't know the rules of the road here or they just don't give a fuck. There's no zoning out on the drive because you never know what someone will do. I have near misses every single day, no exaggeration. I'll almost hit a pedestrian who runs in front of my car. I'll almost hit a cyclist who runs a red light. I'll almost hit many many many cars who cut me off and drift into my lane and run stop signs and do crazy illegal things you would never think someone would do. EVERY DAY. Just this morning, I was cut off three times by cars and had to stop for two pedestrians sauntering across a 4 lane highway. Sauntering. Like they owned the goddamn world. 

And that's not even counting how many times I've nearly been roadkill by cars or bikes while I'm walking. I understand why people jaywalk here because crosswalks offer no protection. It's no wonder Portland is known for its great mass transit. They have to have reliable buses and trains because nobody here knows how to FUCKING DRIVE. Don't get me started on merging. 

Deep breaths. I'm getting all worked up just thinking about it. 

Clearly the answer to all my problems is money. I need to be rich so I can afford a helicopter to take me places (or, better yet, teleportation). And if I'm that rich, I won't need to work so I'll have less stress and I can afford any therapist I want to deal with my issues. AND I can afford to travel anywhere I want and bring anyone I want along. 

See? Money really can buy happiness. 

Admissions

You may have noticed that I've been having some anxiety lately. I haven't been totally happy and I've come to think that's my fault because I've let go many of the things that make me happy. Amateur move right there.

So it's been a slow crawl into crazy town, lemme tell ya.

For one, I'm not in therapy anymore so it's not like I have a coach in my corner keeping an eye out for any stumbles. Not that I want to need a therapist for the rest of my life, but I was maybe not ready to lose that help. When I was in therapy, I was doing great! I was making progress and healing and learning and growing. I had cut my visits down dramatically. Also, I used to take anti-anxiety drugs (more on that in a minute), which my therapist helped me taper off of. By the time I moved to Portland, she was confident I'd be fine.

Except I didn't keep up all the good skills I learned there. I wasn't nurturing myself. I wasn't continuing my personal growth at all. And my anxiety just popped right back up.

I have to say it was a bad sort of manic feeling. Not manic exactly, because I wasn't swinging from the rafters one minute and then hanging myself from them the next (sorry to make light of that). But my anxiety episodes would feel sort of manic, like out of control. Once I felt it, I couldn't stop it. And the more I tried to stop it, the worse it got.

I'm positive, too, that a lot of this is due to once again putting my heart on the line and really letting myself fall. Now, we can't blame any of this on him, because he is a fucking trooper for dealing with my array of shit and I wouldn't blame him if he ran the other fucking direction, leaving flaming tracks in his wake. But he seems to love me, so he pushes back. Which, in the moment, makes me feel awful, but in truth, is probably good.

Nonetheless, heart outage is scary yo. And he'll meet my family in like two weeks which is MAJOR scary. Not that I'm worried they won't like him, because they will and even if they didn't, I wouldn't care. It's mostly that I just want things to go smoothly, but also because this is a big deal. Big. For me, anyway.

So yeah, I can't believe I didn't see all that anxiety coming and that I was arrogant enough to think I could just manage it on my own.

And yeah, the drugs. Xanax helped me in the past. A lot. I could never take a full dose anyway, because I felt like a damn zombie. Plus I never wanted to stay on it because, HELLO! my mother is a prescription drug addict and putting chemicals into my body for extended periods of times scares me more than I can express. But I haven't taken any in almost two years and I was doing splendidly.

Until personal demons and twelve o'clock!

Yeah.

And I've been acting irrationally for absolutely no good reason and out of the damn blue. Well, not totally out of the blue. There's always a trigger, but it's never anything to get worked up over. The real me would just get annoyed and then decide whether it's worth worrying about or just letting go. I'm a big fan of letting things go because life is just too damn short and I spend enough of it worrying anyway.

But last night, I was a crazy bitch. I flipped out on Hot Pants because he fell asleep. Yup. Criminal right? Sleeping is bullshit. How dare he. Sarcasm font.

I can't believe he didn't dump my ass right then. Who needs a crazy bitch flipping out on them for stupid shit? Nobody, that's who. But he didn't.

And I didn't see it right away, but after an insomniac night of sort of loathing myself and wondering if I'd gone off the deep end (Which I'm told is a sign of sanity. Crazy people never wonder if they're crazy right?), I sort of had enough. It wasn't quite an epiphany, but more of a feeling of being fed up with my own behavior.

So I called my old therapist today (lard love her) and had a long talk about everything and she reminded me about what I used to do to find outlets and feel happy and creative and nurture myself. She also talked me into trying some herbal remedies that have worked for some of her other patients for controlling anxiety and mood. So I'm gonna try that. Everyone cross your fingers.

Plus, I'm getting benefits at Le Job and so I'm going to find a new therapist ASAP.

And of course I apologized to Hot Pants and he forgave me, like the awesome guy he is. I only hope he acts crazy one day so I can return the favor. Wait, I take that back.