Sighs.

I've been keeping a close eye on the comments from the article I posted about yesterday.

Most of the comments have the same theme: Why do you need medicine? Why can't you just get better on your own? Why don't you just do yoga? Or breathe differently? Or exercise? Or take walks to get fresh air?

These comments make me uneasy.

While I was never formally diagnosed with anxiety or depression, taking an anxiety medicine (the same one featured in the story, as it so happens) has helped me in a huge way.

You can't get over it on your own. It's not possible.

No one deserves to live in a prison they create for themselves in their own head.

I've had people say hurtful stuff to me for other health problems in the past.

Stuff like:

If you keep going back to doctors they're going to keep finding things wrong with you because they want to make money.

You don't want to get better.

You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?

These comments are ignorant. To some they might be harmful.

I'm old enough and wise enough now to ignore them. When I hear people talking in public, or online, about a specific problem I have, I don't get offended and go home crying.

I used to.

Like the author said, I take Sertraline because it makes me feel better.

That's it.

In 2015, we shouldn't be having the discussion of whether depression/anxiety medicine is worth it or not, and we definitely shouldn't be having that conversation with people who've never experienced depression and anxiety.

Sigh.

-----

On the subject of health, I had just about the grossest flu ever last week.

And I got it after I Lysoled everything in my casa after the rest of my family had it.

You don't realize how amazing drinking water is until you can't. I had a big glass of ice water beside my bed, and I remember laying there thinking, you know, when I can actually keep stuff down, I'm going to drink water like there's no tomorrow.

Some people want world peace. Some people want power, fame, a ton of money.

I just want ice water. I'm pretty easy to please, I think.

Anyway, I'm still rocking the crackers, water, and 7UP diet at the moment.

Solid food doesn't sound appetizing, still.

Another sigh.

NPR story

Worth a read:

The Medicated Woman: A Pill To Feel Better, Not Squelch Emotions

In particular:

"I owe it to Sertraline for quieting my brain just enough to hear my own voice"

And: "I take an anti-depressant every day to quell my anxiety simply because it feels better. I feel better."

Baby Update: The First Year

The babies are one year old.

Technically, they're 14 months old. I have a feeling I'm going to be that obnoxious aunt that answers with a specific number when people ask me how old they are. Like, 24 months old, or 27 months old.

I used to hate it when people did that.

Back to the topic at hand, these kids are pretty awesome. They give high fives. They try to feed you their food, and sometimes the food has been in their mouth first.

Today, one of them tried to give me a high five after eating mac and cheese with her hands. No thanks, baby, an air high-five will have to this time.

These babies are fun. They laugh. When they smile, their little teeth show through.

One of my favorite things to do is lay on the floor and let them crawl all over me. Who knew that aunts were just human jungle gyms?

I'm not sure what else to say, except the only thing better than babies is babies who are growing up.

One year olds are pretty cool. I wonder what the next year is going to be like.

You have green beans on your tutu.

Things I said in the span of about 15 minutes today:

"You have green beans on your forehead."

"You have green beans on your tutu."

"We don't eat shoes."

Oh, babies. I love them.

I couldn't be more normal if I tried.

A few months ago, after going through a particularly stressful time, I went to a couple of doctor's appointments for minor things I'd been noticing.

We talked about blood pressure during these appointments. My blood pressure had been fine for about two years - maybe a year and a half - and during an appointment a few months ago we talked about me getting off blood pressure medicine.

It didn't seem to be an issue for me anymore.

But in December, it was high. Like, really high. I explained that I was going through some stressful stuff, and that I wanted to give it some time to see if it would go away on its own.

In January, I had another doctor's appointment. It was still high.

Blah. I knew I didn't feel good, but I didn't know why.

We talked about a solution. I mentioned anxiety. The doctor (well, technically nurse) asked me if I wanted to try taking anxiety medicine.

Meh, I don't know, I said. I'm open to anything that will help me, but I didn't particularly want to add one more medication to my list.

She explained the pros and cons. I thought about it.

She said something to me that made me finally make a decision: "You're too young to have a stroke."

Um, this is true. I kind of like my life and I need to live it for a while longer.

She called in a prescription and I was on my way out the door that morning.

I've talk to doctors in the past about possibly needing anxiety medicine. No one had ever really taken me seriously. One even told me all I had to do was breathe differently.

Maybe that works for some people, but not me. I need something a little stronger than pausing to take deep breaths.

So I started taking anxiety medicine. I was told it would take up to six weeks to take effect. I followed the instructions and told a few people, because the instructions said that people need to know you're on it in case your personality changes.

I was ashamed at first. The morning that I was prescribed it was not a good morning. God, I thought, what's wrong with you? You can't handle life without drugging yourself up first?

I have a job, a paid off car, a roof over my head (even though it's not my roof - I'm working on that), food to eat, a pretty cool little dog. Is my life really that bad that I need this?

One of my co-workers stopped my line of thinking that morning. Who cares if you need it, she said. It's nothing to be ashamed about, and if it helps, then so be it.

I started taking it that day. Call me crazy, but I noticed a difference right away.

That feeling of 1,000 bricks on my chest is gone. I sleep at night. Well, most nights, anyway. Pre-medicine I don't even remember the last time I slept through the night.

I wake up in the morning, roll out of bed, and go about my day. I don't lay there thinking about the 1,000 little things that could go wrong in life.

And when things do go wrong? Meh, I think, who cares. This won't matter a week from now, let alone a year from now.

Why am I writing about this now?

I read this recently:  The Top 9 Reasons I Hate Anxiety

Among the ones I can relate to:

Anxiety tricks you out of the “now” as you obsessively replay and regret the past and worry about the future.  Anxiety loves to wake you up at 3:00 in the morning, so you can nurse past grievances and worry about future catastrophes.
Anxiety feels dreadful. When anxiety has you in its clutches, you will want to move out of your body and inhabit some other space—anything to escape that awful feeling. Regrettably, there is no place to go. You can’t vacate the premises.

I always wondered if I need anxiety medicine, but I didn't think it would happen like this. I expected my doctor/nurse to stand on a rooftop and shout something like "CONGRATULATIONS, YOU HAVE PROBLEMS AND YOU'RE A LOSER."

That's not what happened, though. It was very nonchalant. Like, oh, you need this? Okay, let's try it.

And that's that.

By the way, my co-worker was correct. There's no shame in admitting you need help with something.

Another by the way: I stopped in to said doctor/nurse's office a few times after I started taking it. My blood pressure was normal. I couldn't be more normal if I tried.

So take that, body. I fixed you.

(Note: The irony in having anxiety about taking anxiety medicine is not lost on me. I told a few friends that. They laughed, which made me laugh. It was a stupid thing to worry about.)

(Another note: There are a few things that are off limits that I don't blog about, and health stuff is on that list. I think it's important to write about, though, to let people know that it's okay to get help if you need it. Seriously, all you need to do is ask. It took me a few years to learn that.)

Clean

It started as boredom.

I was flipping through channels on Monday night. Nothing was on. As I flipped, I can across an episode of Hoarders.

It was gross. Both episodes I watched were gross, actually, but I wouldn't change the channel. It's kind of like looking at a train wreck - you don't want to stare but you can't look away.

Anyway, in the first episode a lady collected cats, both alive and dead. Another lady was so angry at how her life turned out she said she wished she never had kids. Mind you, her adult children were helping her and seemed like perfectly normal people.

Wow.

Two women did not have their houses (or their mental problems) fixed. The episodes ended with houses full of trash still there. One house had holes in the walls and was going to be torn down by the city.

Jesus.

After watching that, I felt the need to clean.

I put up shoes, organized books, shuffled things around in my closet, put laundry away and threw away a bunch of old stuff I'll never use.

I feel better now.

That show is gross.

Also, I'm going to dust tonight. Ahem.

Warm fuzzies

Here's a feel good story that doesn't involve Oklahoma or racism: Doo-Dah Diner waiter debuts his new smile

I'm proud of my home state.

:)

Fancy pants!

This is important.

This is a big deal.

I bought a new tv over the weekend!

Before I provide more details, I'll tell you a few things:

1. If you want to steal it, I'm not going to tell you where I live.
2. It's really not that fancy.
3. It wasn't that expensive.

Now that I've discouraged potential vandals away, I need to give you a few more details. 

I've been without a working tv for a while now. Well, kind of. My old one worked when it wanted to. When it didn't want to, the picture would either shake violently or show up as a single line that was about a millimeter wide.

Stupid tv.

I decided last week I'd had it with my old one. I went to college. I have a degree hanging up in my office. 

If I want to watch a movie, I should be able to, dammit!

So I went shopping on Saturday. In the process, I fell on my butt on the ice (ouch), but thankfully I wasn't carrying my new tv when that happened.

If you want an idea of how I shop for big purchases, this is from a previous blog post of mine: 

They started off by saying that they needed to price every single material used, at different stores. Then they wanted to compare prices, then they needed to spend a while thinking about it before they made a decision.
Um...that's exactly what I would do. Actually, I'm pretty sure I've done this exact thing multiple times. Blog post: http://kansasmusings.blogspot.com/2015/01/on-introversion.html

Anyway, it took a few hours, but I finally made a decision. After some furniture shuffling, I got it all hooked up and ready to go. (And by I, I mean my dad did all of it.)

Cool, I have a tv that works! The best thing of all: It does what I tell it to. When I tell it to change the channel, it does. When I tell it to turn on or off, it does.

And, get this: It has a remote!

Fancy pants! I don't even remember the last time I had one of those.

It's the simple things in life that make me happy. Electronics that follow my directions are one of them.

The interesting thing, I think, is my tv stand. I had to switch shelves, and my tv stand now is an old record player. 

I've loved that record player ever since I could remember. When I moved out of town last time, I took it with me because my parents didn't want it.

How could you not want that? We tore the record part out a long time ago and put a shelf in there. There's a radio, too (that no longer works) and there's some shelves on the bottom, perfect for holding books and DVDs.

The contrast of old and new technology is not lost on me.

It's a beautiful piece of furniture, that now holds a beautiful new piece of technology (that isn't fancy or worth stealing, potential thieves reading this).