Drowning in Velveeta

The depression can be so consuming. It is thick like Velveeta only it's getting thicker. Somehow I manage to pretend that everything is alright. She knows it's not. She hasn't "seen me laugh" in days....I am distant. I say that I am fine and continue to find mundane things to bitch about. The wedding decorations, the favors, the guy who cut me off in traffic, my job, my weight...the list goes on and on. Richard likes to say, "What it's about aint what it's about." So what in the hell is it about?!

Laying in bed the tears force their way through the dam that I have so carefully constructed. They come spilling over, forcing me cry out in ways I never want to hear again. Em's hearing aids are out for the night, so if I am careful she won't know. I sit in the bathroom in the dark...muffled sobs.

Begging God...for what I don't know...just begging.

Then a more sensible Amanda comes forward to "clean up this mess. You don't have time for all of this. You have work tomorrow. Plus you are being overly dramatic." So I did, then back to bed. But damn-it! The tears are back and in full force. The pain is overwhelming, the anxiety...I am on the verge of a panic attack. So now what do I do?! My mind is racing for a solution. Burning myself, cutting myself, gorging my face until I am sick...all are reliable options for making the tears and all of the emotions that go along with it disappear. I don't want to cut, so I settle for nail clippers...cutting my nails so short until they hurt...cutting cuticles. It's not working. Tonight I have two options; a razor or the cold mac-n-cheese in the fridge.

The brutal hiccups that I have as I type this should help you determine which path I chose. And I am at peace. The feelings have been stuffed. I will survive one more night. But this can't go on. In the last 2 months I have gained 20 lbs from all of the food-stuffing I have been doing. It's like I am trying to destroy myself, but if I am destroying myself who will save me? No one. I have no one. My mother, father, and brother are no longer capable of being there for me...I'm not sure they ever were. I was the mama there.

I am so scared that my wedding day is going to come and I won't be able to feel the love and excitement that the day will most definitely be filled with. I will be stuck in this fog, crying for my mother...wishing she could be there healthy and sober to help me choose my dress, and to tell me how beautiful I look, and how happy she is for me that I found someone to love me unconditionally who takes care of me the way my dad wasn't able to take care of here. She will cry a tear at our beautiful ceremony and dance to "We Are Family" by Sister Sledge. Smiling...happy...healthy. But that will not be. So as I work to plan this wedding into perfection with the hopes that it all will be just enough to distract me from the one thing that will be missing. My mother...my Mom. My family has ruined so many things in my life and have taken and taken until I have nothing to give...how do I keep them from taking this too?

Sorry for the somber entry, but it truly feels like sumo wrestler has be lifted from my chest. Until next time friends.

Love-

The Sparkly Queen

Snow in Houston and Other Miracles

After four full days of of being trapped inside the hell-hole of my head, I am finally back. Tuesday morning I called Dr. "P" and told him of my misery.

"Yeah, Dr. "P" I'm feelin' real cray-cray and apparently gassy."

We increased the Celexa to 60mg, and by about 9:00 P.M. I started to notice a difference. Then today, at approximately 1:39 P.M., during Days of Our Lives I sort of woke-up...the fog was lifted. I was no longer watching my life from some distant place inside of myself. No more withdrawals. Of course nothing is perfect, I am somewhat hyperactive and still can't stop eating despite the never-ending irritation that is my tummy-ache...but all in all things are good. I am happy and totally present.

Me in reality. Present. Happy.

In addition, it is SNOWING here in Houston! And not that piddly-ass-sleet shit that folks around here like to call "snow", but real, legitimate, stick-to-your-car-and-eyelashes, fluffy flakes of snow. It is like a miracle! Makes me want to run through my apartment complex like Tiny Tim on crack yelling, "Merry Christmas One and All...even that girl in apartment #45!" But in an effort to avoid arrest, I will just quietly thank The Baby Jesus for the miracles of Dr. "P", Celexa, Texas Snow, giving Em the will to stick it out and for saving me before I lost anymore brain cells trying to understand how Patrick became Brady on Days of Our Lives.

"Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!"
P.S. That white car is in the controversial parking spot of apt. #45. You know we almost threw-down, but she was too scared. I think she could sense that I took one semester of Hopkido freshman year of college. I'm just sayin'.

The Red Rabbit frolicking in the snow. She is cold but very happy!

The view of our upstairs window through the falling Houston Snow.

Attempt #1 at a self-portrait. Apparently still gassy.

Attempt #2. Whatever, I was having fun!

Ok, I'm totally tapped out.
Until next time...Peace, Love, and Hair-Grease~

The Sparkly Queen

One more thing...the word "frolicking" has the word "lick" in it. Awesome...am I right?! (You know you wanna chest-bump me.)

Doctor "P", Puppies, and Did Somebody Say "Brain Shivers"

Finally, I met with Doctor "P" on Saturday. After a 2 hour session, I walked out with new prescriptions in hand feeling hopeful (Insert Canned Laughter). God knows I can't laugh myself.

We are doing a "direct switch" in order to get me off of the Side-Effexor and to minimize the withdrawal symptoms. What this means is that I substituted my 150mg of Effexor with 40mg Celexa to help with the SSRI Discontinuation Syndrome.

This experience feels more like an exorcism, and I am worried that when everyone yells "Praise Jesus!", "Hail Mary, Mother of God.",or "Long Live the Flying Spaghetti Monster!" and I open my eyes, soaked with sweat, dried vomit on my chin..I will discover that the body count I have left behind will be too many for me to bare.

PUPPY! After doing a quick Google search for "exorcism" images to insert here...I was so damned disturbed I had to Google "Puppy". So yaaay...Puppy!

I am a heinous bitch (aka "agitated"), exhausted, irrational, dizzy, tired, experiencing some depersonalization, having "brain shivers", having shock-like sensations that involve me actually seeing lightening-bolts behind my eyes, I can't focus, my nightmares are more graphic and violent than ever and the thoughts of cutting...burning...eating until I explode are starting to run my life.

On top of all of this comes the guilt I feel for putting Em through this. She deserves better...much better. I made her cry last night. Not good people...not good at all. As a result of the guilt, I dream nightly of my engagement ring crumbling and Emily telling me she has other plans for August 1.

So....yeah...still super-disturbed by my Google search (Seriously...super fucked up). So yaaay..PUPPY TIME!

Side - Effexor

Night 6 without Prince Ambien to sing me a sweet lullaby, and I am back to being a certified Insomniac. Not only am I suffering from insomnia, but I am also suffering from a bad case of the crazies. This, my friends, can be attributed to 3 things:

1. I have slept a total of 24 hours in the past 6 days w/out a nap to speak of.
   
2. I have a pretty good case of depression with a healthy dose of "generalized anxiety disorder."
3. In an effort to treat problem #2, I take a little daily pill known as EFFEXOR.

For the purpose of today's blog. I would like to focus on item #3. If I could kick Effexor's ass I would. I would beat his fugly ass until he went cryin' home to his mama. Why you ask? One word...

SIDE EFFECTS

When taking Effexor you should "call your doctor at once if you have any new or worsening symptoms" such as:

• mood or behavior changes: I am a cunt-ass-whore 92.7% of the time.
• anxiety: Uhhh...yeah! I have generalized anxiety disorder. Damn Gina!
  
• panic attacks: So that's what that was a few nights ago when I woke up, thought I was dying and going to jump out of my skin.
• trouble sleeping: Ummmm....Check.
  
• if you feel impulsive: Would an example of this be when I went around our apartment complex at 7:00pm knocking on doors to discover whose mother-fucking car was blocking me in?! I didn't need to go anywhere...it was the principle of it.
  
• irritable: Please see "impulsive."
  
• agitated: Constantly.
  
• hostile: Wanted to bitch-slap the owner of said car mentioned above. Was actually upset that I showed restraint.
  
• aggressive: See "hostile"and note my constant use of the word "Fuck"
• hyperactive (mentally or physically): I've loaded the dishwasher, made some tea, planned a Meetup for my 200+ members, brainstormed the process for starting my own book-club, and am blogging like a maniac and it's only 5:00 am...what do you think?
• more depressed: This one just makes me chuckle.
  
• have thoughts about suicide or hurting yourself: Maybe this is where my new urges to burn and cut are coming from.
• nausea: Yep.
  
• dizziness: Word.
  
• sexual side effects: This is a nice way of saying, "you'll still get super turned on, but good-luck with that cumming thing."
  
• sweating: My face...oh God...the sweating of my face.
  
• dry mouth: Like I've been talkin' to the Ganj day and night.
  
• loss of appetite: Of course...this would be the one side-effect I don't have.
  
• constipation: I wouldn't know a turd if it slapped me in the face and called me sweetheart. (TMI)

WHAT THE FUCK!

Well, at this point my options seem to be limited. I have tried just about every drug on the market and not one of them has worked. I was told by my doctor that this was my "last hope." I assure you, this is not hope. This is a one way ticket to jail or hell cause I am going to end up killing somebody or myself. I've tried not taking it. Within 12 hours of a missed dose the withdrawal symptoms are so intense I can hardly function. Fear not my friends. I have an appointment with a new psychiatrist who we'll call Dr. P. He's coming in at 8:00am on Saturday just for me. Until then, I'll be sure to have Emily keep my straight-jacket straps tight and pray that one day soon my Prince will cum...I mean come.