R-e-l-i-e-f
So I got sooo down this weekend I wanted to cover the mirrors in the house, because everytime I saw myself I would cry. This CANNOT be a good thing. I also had two more migraines, the second and third in a two week span. This, too, sucketh. Soooo...Mike made me go to the doctor, who promptly put me on anti-depressants.
A word about anti-depressants and the people who take them: It's sad. It's a disease. It's a chemical imbalance. MOST IMPORTANTLY: it's necessary. I can't STAND it when people who don't have depression talk about "snapping out of it" or "cheering up" or "thinking happy thoughts." That's why it's called depression, a**hole. There's no such thing as a happy thought.
I came across the perfect analogy this weekend when my beloved boyfriend, who became public enemy no.1 on my sh** list (okay, it's not as bad as ALL THAT but I am none too happy), when I told him that it was similar to if I were to take his asthma inhaler away for a few days. Mike's a terrible asthmatic, needs two puffs of the strong stuff in the morning and evening just to breathe. At which point he said, "That's ridiculous, babe, asthma is a real physical condition."
Okay, I'm generally not a physically violent person, but I reckon I could have slapped the crap out of him right then and he knew it. He immediately apologized and when he got home there were roses in tow. We had a long talk, I told him I'd had this "affliction" all my life but mostly chose to ignore it or self medicate until it got so bad I wanted to die, and then I would start the pills again until I got through the rough patches. You never want to tell someone you love how much of a mess you really are, I guess it makes you scared they'll finally figure out you're not that great and they'll run screaming. In the end he said he would be there for me, support me, and that we were in this together. I couldn't have asked for more than that, it just took some time to get to that point.
Which makes this part of the story that much sweeter: turns out, after some careful research on my part, that the birth control pills I started a month ago are COMPLETELEY contraindicated for someone with my health history. The "very rare" side effects include: severe depression, migraines, seizures, and vomiting, especially in people who have a history of these symptoms. I've never been so PISSED in my life. HOW COULD THEY GIVE ME THOSE PILLS KNOWING MY HISTORY!? I was livid. Unfortunately, I have to finish these out before I can start my new ones, which means one more week of headaches and general crappiness. My doctor said I should still consider staying on the anti-depressants, I mean, I AM supposed to be taking them anyway. We'll see. Something must be going okay with them cause I ate a normal dinner last night, and when I woke up this morning and checked myself out in the mirror I didn't scream :)~
So I had a dream the other night in which _____________ committed suicide and left me a suicide note of encouragement for my future, and all I remember about the note was that it had the numbers 16 and 4 written all over it. After I found out about it, my Mom came home and sat on the bed and cried with me over the note, telling me how sorry she was. It was the first dream I've ever had about my mom where I didn't know she had died. So she comforted me as I said goodbye to my old friend, and despite the fact that I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep and was generally feeling terrible, I know it was a positive thing.
A word about dreams: My net's been down at home, but when I get pixietrick.com up and running I intend to have a page for my interpretations of my and other people's dreams. I think they're CRUCIAL in understanding and naming the emotions we ignore in our waking lives.
General stuff: Mike's friend from South Africa had his heart broken so bad by an American girl (a single mom from North Carolina), that he's going BACK to South Africa. He literally cannot share the same continent with her and has to put an ocean between them to be happy again. As such, he's having a going away bash tomorrow night and since I don't have Liam, Mike and I can go and get crazy. If you ask me, the entire country full of single women should be mourning the loss of this guy. He he, I have to watch how I talk about him or Mike will know that I have a lil whisper of a crush. Which we decided was fine, as long as he doesn't have to hear about how South Africans sound better than Australians :)
OHHH. So I'm browsing around online and I see an ad where Kings of Leon is the freakin' opener for U2!!!! I'm dying over here!
To bring you up to speed: I saw Kings of Leon on Nov. 2, 2003 at the 101X fest in Austin where they opened for Staind. They were nobody at that time, and therefore easily accessible for a girl with my feminine wiles. ;) AS SUCH (and this is a true story) I spoke with the (bass player?), a really young kid who ended up trying to pick me up for the night. I asked him how old he was and he said "18...in two weeks." To which I said, "well then, come back in two weeks cause I'm not into jail. bait." And now he's the bass player for the band who's opening for U2. Genius Andrea, woweeewoowwwowooow. Cuhlevvver. And to think, I coulda been on that website where the groupies tell ya who buys you breakfast in the morning and how they're...stacked?
Mike and I have the weekend to ourselves...dunno what we're gonna do yet, but I think I owe someone some "artistic" pics so I guess that's on the agenda.
Pixxx :)
A word about anti-depressants and the people who take them: It's sad. It's a disease. It's a chemical imbalance. MOST IMPORTANTLY: it's necessary. I can't STAND it when people who don't have depression talk about "snapping out of it" or "cheering up" or "thinking happy thoughts." That's why it's called depression, a**hole. There's no such thing as a happy thought.
I came across the perfect analogy this weekend when my beloved boyfriend, who became public enemy no.1 on my sh** list (okay, it's not as bad as ALL THAT but I am none too happy), when I told him that it was similar to if I were to take his asthma inhaler away for a few days. Mike's a terrible asthmatic, needs two puffs of the strong stuff in the morning and evening just to breathe. At which point he said, "That's ridiculous, babe, asthma is a real physical condition."
Okay, I'm generally not a physically violent person, but I reckon I could have slapped the crap out of him right then and he knew it. He immediately apologized and when he got home there were roses in tow. We had a long talk, I told him I'd had this "affliction" all my life but mostly chose to ignore it or self medicate until it got so bad I wanted to die, and then I would start the pills again until I got through the rough patches. You never want to tell someone you love how much of a mess you really are, I guess it makes you scared they'll finally figure out you're not that great and they'll run screaming. In the end he said he would be there for me, support me, and that we were in this together. I couldn't have asked for more than that, it just took some time to get to that point.
Which makes this part of the story that much sweeter: turns out, after some careful research on my part, that the birth control pills I started a month ago are COMPLETELEY contraindicated for someone with my health history. The "very rare" side effects include: severe depression, migraines, seizures, and vomiting, especially in people who have a history of these symptoms. I've never been so PISSED in my life. HOW COULD THEY GIVE ME THOSE PILLS KNOWING MY HISTORY!? I was livid. Unfortunately, I have to finish these out before I can start my new ones, which means one more week of headaches and general crappiness. My doctor said I should still consider staying on the anti-depressants, I mean, I AM supposed to be taking them anyway. We'll see. Something must be going okay with them cause I ate a normal dinner last night, and when I woke up this morning and checked myself out in the mirror I didn't scream :)~
So I had a dream the other night in which _____________ committed suicide and left me a suicide note of encouragement for my future, and all I remember about the note was that it had the numbers 16 and 4 written all over it. After I found out about it, my Mom came home and sat on the bed and cried with me over the note, telling me how sorry she was. It was the first dream I've ever had about my mom where I didn't know she had died. So she comforted me as I said goodbye to my old friend, and despite the fact that I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep and was generally feeling terrible, I know it was a positive thing.
A word about dreams: My net's been down at home, but when I get pixietrick.com up and running I intend to have a page for my interpretations of my and other people's dreams. I think they're CRUCIAL in understanding and naming the emotions we ignore in our waking lives.
General stuff: Mike's friend from South Africa had his heart broken so bad by an American girl (a single mom from North Carolina), that he's going BACK to South Africa. He literally cannot share the same continent with her and has to put an ocean between them to be happy again. As such, he's having a going away bash tomorrow night and since I don't have Liam, Mike and I can go and get crazy. If you ask me, the entire country full of single women should be mourning the loss of this guy. He he, I have to watch how I talk about him or Mike will know that I have a lil whisper of a crush. Which we decided was fine, as long as he doesn't have to hear about how South Africans sound better than Australians :)
OHHH. So I'm browsing around online and I see an ad where Kings of Leon is the freakin' opener for U2!!!! I'm dying over here!
To bring you up to speed: I saw Kings of Leon on Nov. 2, 2003 at the 101X fest in Austin where they opened for Staind. They were nobody at that time, and therefore easily accessible for a girl with my feminine wiles. ;) AS SUCH (and this is a true story) I spoke with the (bass player?), a really young kid who ended up trying to pick me up for the night. I asked him how old he was and he said "18...in two weeks." To which I said, "well then, come back in two weeks cause I'm not into jail. bait." And now he's the bass player for the band who's opening for U2. Genius Andrea, woweeewoowwwowooow. Cuhlevvver. And to think, I coulda been on that website where the groupies tell ya who buys you breakfast in the morning and how they're...stacked?
Mike and I have the weekend to ourselves...dunno what we're gonna do yet, but I think I owe someone some "artistic" pics so I guess that's on the agenda.
Pixxx :)