Expansion!

Expansion. What a concept! I'm honest to god thinking about going to WQAD and being like, "So, dudes. I've got this story, and I think it's cool. Wanna run it?" I'm emailing the general thingy tonight, so I'm expecting a reply by the middle of next month. (lol) I wanna know what you guys think. Should I go for it? Do I need to develop the blog more? I'm really needing your help figuring this stuff out. This blogging thing, as cathartic as it is for me, isn't for me. It's for you, the people who routinely come here and read this shtuff. So, let me know what you think, please. I'm begging for comments, suggestions, ideas, opinions, and everything inbetween so that my blog can reach as many people as possible. If you have my number, feel free to text me, send me an e-mail, FaceBook me, whatever. I'm going to update my profile to have some more contact info so you can get ahold of me easier. I know the comment things don't always work.

I was watching the news tonight and it really hit me: this news station is devoted to this area. They cover Galesburg news on a regular basis. The thrilling idea of me being on TV aside, I really like the idea of Spreading the Word. That is what the blog is called, after all. I want to get the news to people everywhere.

Now, for the spilling-my-guts part of today's post.

I'm kinda worried. Boyfriend and his best friends aren't getting along, and one of his best friends is my brother. Family trumps boyfriend, so I'm kinda nervous. I really don't want to break up with boyfriend because I really really like him. I'm leary of using the word love, becuase of the negative connotations it carries with it. Hm. So, I'll say this: I love him. I'm not certain that I'm IN love with him, but I love him. There's a difference. Anyway, brother and boyfriend aren't on the best of terms and I don't want to get rid of either of them. But! Brother trumps boyfriend. Gah. )): I think they're going to tryyy to fix it. I dunno. I hope so.

I'm going to write "Song about Grandma". I've got this idea as she lays in the hospital, and I need to write it out. It'll be here before too long, promise. Hell, I may sing it at her funeral. *sniff sniff*

Guys. I gotta go. My brain isn't functioning well. It's late, I'm tired and.. I don't know. Goodnight. =P

Hospitalizations... Too Many of Them D:

Some updates before I start in on the topic of "Hospitalization":

1. Friday - Horrible. Panic attack, freak out, heard voices, etc. I would've scratched holes in my hands if I had been alone. Don't wanna think about it or go there. Sorry, that's just too much.

2. Saturday - Saw my great-grandma who is starting to go nuts. My great-aunt or something has Parkinson's and she's... *sigh* Not well.

3. Sunday - Pure, unadulterated boredom. Gahhh.

4. I am FINALLY getting ready to beat Metroid Prime on GameCube if Trevor would ever get his butt home and send me the help I so dearly need. However, since I'm on the internet, maybe I should just look up a walkthrough...? Nah. I'll let Trevor do that. I'll play guitar instead.

5. I've been playing guitar a LOT. :D It's fun.

6. I'm not going to be in band next year, so Mom says I can get lessons in an instrument of my choice... One that we already have. I have plenty of options though... Piano, guitar and flute being the most obvious choices. However, I do believe that I'm going to ask for voice lessons as soon as we get settled in. Or maybe voice and guitar alternating weeks. That would be cool. :D

7. I have been taking my meds, so another breakdown shouldn't happen anytime soon.

Err. I think that's it for right now.

On to hospitalization!

My mom is an ICCU nurse, so I'm comfortable in a hospital setting, because when I would have a bad panic attack, they'd take me up to Mom and I'd sit in the waiting room or the office until she got off work.

However, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's go back to last October.

It was U of I weekend. Anyone in Marching Band at Galesburg knows that U of I weekend is BIG. It's the largest and by far the most important band competition we go to. I was, currently, suicidal and majorly anxious. I was having three or four panic attacks a day. At least. Well, I got really suicidal. I was like, going to do something, except like, ending my life is totally permanent and I didn't really want to be gone forever, I just wanted the pain to stop. However, making that distinction at that point in time was really not happening. I saw "End of Pain = Death". Not exactly the correct equation, but hey. I asked for help. That's more than some people do.

At any rate, I knew that "End of Pain = Death, Medicine" (That was a math reference. Kudos to whoever got it.) In layman's terms, End of Pain was accomplished by death (the easier method) or medicine. I decided that I would rather take meds than die, if only because if I was dead, then I wouldn't have my music. Like, I know there's music and stuff in heaven, but iPods? What about Linkin Park? I don't think so. Maybe! That would be uber cool. Linkin Park is da shizzzzz. lol (Had to throw that in there for randomness sake. =P )

So, getting back on topic, I went to a hospital. Not only that, but Jason broke up with me on the same weekend. Bad timing, dude. Anyway, Monday, October 19, 2009 I was admitted to Lincoln Prairie Behavioral Health Center. The only reason I know the date is because it was David's birthday and I felt horrid that I was being admitted to the hospital down in Springfield on his birthday. ): I was there for a full five days, and that was long enough for me. Those people didn't have the same problems I did. They were drug addicts who had sex and kids and smoked cigs on a regular basis and lied to their parents and got in fights at school. I was a sheltered, suicidal kid who wanted to get away from home. Home was better than that hellhole. Gahh.

Everyone there had a corn cob shoved up their ass, I swear to God. Like, no one freakin' relaxed! And one chick especially was like, really fat and bitchy. Gawd. I'm not one to be rude like that usually, I promise, but it was obscene almost. Blech. We weren't allowed to breathe without getting special clearance and when we went to the bathroom, the doors had to be unlocked for us. And then there were "time out" rooms. Two of them. And ya know what? None of the staff had ever heard about panic attacks. -.-" They totally didn't understand how imperative it is for me to have MUSIC when I'm PANICKING. Erg.

And then the therapist... Gr. She wasn't nice. She misinterpreted and thought I was giving textbook answers. No, thank you very much, I just have a vocabulary unlike the rest of the people who come through here. I care about getting better and I'm telling you just like it is. No, you don't have to read between the lines because I'M TELLING YOU THE TRUTH. Grr. We didn't have a very good family session.

Oh, and I couldn't do any of my homework. -.-" They had it all locked up in a cabinet they couldn't get to so I was like, weeks behind on my homework. That's when I just dropped all my classes and went to home study.

Anyway, I was realeased after five days (which was relatively short, compared to some of the girls. They'd been there for weeks). When I got home, I had a bit of an OCD problem. I chopped off all my hair, was acting very strange and ended up in the ICCU with Mom. Oh, and for those of you who are scratching your head going, "What's that extra 'C' doing in there?", it stands for Intensive Cardiac Care Unit. =P

So, I was in the room waiting for mom to get off work. I was stuttering, I had to walk a certain way and I had to take a certain type of number of steps. If I didn't take a certain type of number of steps, I had to walk around the elevators or around in circles or something until the amount of steps was the correct type of number.

I ended up in the ER, where they did nothing. They made me pee in a cup (which I didn't know only had to be a quarter of the way full. If they wanted to, they could've retested me like, twelve times. Oh well. The more the merrier.) ( o_o")

Then, they got Bridgeway to talk to me without Mom in the room. By that time, it was fairly late at night and I was done with the panic attack thingy. Bridgeway is like, 92.8743% useless. Therefore, our meeting was uselsess and I got to go home. Home. Not somewhere I wanted to be.

That was the last time I was in the hospital for something. Then, Grandma Catharine (the Grandma that I'm closest to by a long shot) wound up in the hospital. Blerg. Not good. She had a stroke and she's pretty much unresponsive. Sometimes I can see a little spark of recognition and she responds by gripping my fingers or something, but she hasn't talked and she can't move the right side of her body. It's really quite sad. )): She's probably going to die soon, and for all the pain she's in lately, I hope she does. She knows where she's going and its a happier place than is here. Selfishly, I want her here. I want my Gramma. However, I love her and if I love her, then I'll want what's best for her. And if what's best for her is to move on, then I'll be glad to see her go. I'll miss her like hell when she's gone, you can be sure of that.

Grandma is an amazing person; I've never met anyone who is so peaceful and who has the compassion or the ability to love so completely. Grandma is a sweet, sweet person who has had a hard life. She deserves the best and I hope she gets it soon. There is so much to say about Grandma, but no words are even close to just how majestic of a person she is. When she giggles in her special Grandma way, it makes my heart feel warm and full, even if I've been having a bad day. We've never been close enough that we were like friends, but I absorbed her knowledge and wisdom and we shared jokes and soda. And Grandma gives special Grandma kisses that I'll miss. I think today is the first time I've seen her sans lipstick that I can remember, except when she broke her hip and had surgery and we went and visited her in the hospital. Grandma Mary Catharine Baker-Brown, I love you. You will be missed dearly when you go. <3

I think I'll leave you with these tidbits: What do you believe? Why? Now, think of the most precious person you know. If they believed the exact opposite of you, would they go to heaven? I believe there are many paths to God or whatever you want to call Him, him, her, them, she, whatever, and only you can find the one you're supposed to travel on. Grandma has found her path. Have you?

Hospitals are great for certain things, but for me at least, when it comes to depression and needing help, family is better than any hospital could be. If you're feeling horrid, get help. Somebody, and usually more than one person, loves you enough to bend over backwards for you so that you can feel better. Trust me, it's worth it. I can't begin to imagine how drastically different my life would be without Mom, Kristen, Panda, David, Mommeh, and Becky. Every one of those people have helped me to learn life lessons that are extremely important. I love every single one of those people.
To sum up my random rantings above ^.^, Get help if you need it, from the hospital to your family. Just ask someone for help.

Today, A Rant

I have a rant today. There is something that really bothers me that I can't wait to write out and share my feelings about.

However, I have some announcements first. Business, then pleasure, right? Yep.

First off, thank you for reading. I really appreciate the time it takes to read and process what I have to say.

Second, I'm going to be doing a lot of adding and experimenting with my blog page. I'm going to do some research and add a fact page, maybe a message board or chat room. I don't know, though. You're the ones who will(would) be using it... Would you use a message board?

Anyway, point being, I'm going to add some cool stuff that you oughta check out when I get it posted.

Finally, I don't know if the comment thing is amended yet but I'll get there asap.

Now, onto the fun stuff.

Today I was in Drivers' Ed. My teacher showed us a very disturbing video. In fact, I found it on YouTube. The video is here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQo64mlNExU

For those of you who may not be able to get this video, I'll describe it for you. You see a car coming toward the camera and it has a red light. As the car reaches the intersection, a motorbike comes flying in. The scooter thing gets blown to bits, the guy goes sprawling up in the air, twisting in various painful-looking ways, spinning, landing on the roof and sliding down to the hood of the car before falling to the ground and landing on his back. It is encouraging to see him move his arms toward the end of the video, but the real stuff happens in the first ten seconds.

I want to know your first reaction when seeing this video. Did you cry? Laugh? Stare in shock and watch it again? Pass it off as one of those things that just happens and exit out of the YouTube tab?

The first reaction of my classmates was to laugh. People were making comments about it and others were chortling, and some were even laughing just at the craziness of the situation.

I had a panic attack.

That guy had to have been in so much pain, and the dumbass who hit him was on his cell phone. Granted, he may have been calling the authorities to get some help for the poor guy on the scooter, but he ran a red light, for goodness sake! The guy on the scooter had to be in so much pain. I could see him move a little later, but he really could have died.

Maybe I'm overreacting here, but laughter is so innapropriate. And before you stick up for the kids and say "Well, maybe it was one of those situations where you don't know how to react so you laugh,", that wasn't it. They were cracking jokes and laughing, like, full out. That disgusts me.

I was thinking about how much that man must've hurt, and they were laughing at the way his body was contorted as he flew. That infuriates me and sickens me to no end. Mirth is not the correct emotion to be feeling when another human being is suffering, no matter who they are!

So I had a panic attack. It wasn't horrible, but I learned that Adavan doesn't work for me at all. )):

This panic attack wasn't really "panicky". I had adrenaline pumping through me, so I couldn't stop shaking. I was freaking out about the poor guy, but I didn't feel scared. Sometimes, that happens. I was nervous and jittery, but not scared. Eventually, the shaking got to the point where it was going to start in my midsection. When I start shaking in my midsection, things get crazy.

Last panic attack I had before this, I shook in my midsection. My body didn't like it, so instead of shaking, I would involuntarily arch my back, twist this way and that, clench my stomach and back muscles so hard it hurt, and basically flail around like a fish out of water. An amusing analogy, but if you picture it, it's quite disturbing.

This one wasn't near so bad. I concentrated on my breathing, which is key. A little later (I'd give a time reference, but when I'm having a panic attack, time is somewhat irrelevant), Mitch came out and sat down next to me. I was still shaking at this point and he gave me his mp3 player to listened to, which helped. I breathed along with the phrases of Linkin Park's Minutes to Midnight CD. Linkin Park is my panic attack band. If I need to calm myself, I listen to them. It's a habit I've cultivated for probably three or four years.

I calmed myself and went back inside. I was able to work the rest of the time on our worksheets.

This really bugged me and I honestly wanted to cry... Really hard. (Instead I had a panic attack... Oh, the life of an anxiety-ridden teenager -.-")

I hope with all my heart and soul that if you're reading this, you're mature enough to see that someone's pain is not pleasureable. Put yourself in their situation. How does it feel good to make someone else suffer? I will never understand.

Driving, Cobbler, Computers and Karaoke

Just a little note before I get started: I cannot comment for some reason. If you leave me a comment, I will get back to you some way or another, even if I have to resort to answering you via post (which I really hope doesn't happen).

I've been driving... a lot. I enjoy the task immensely, although I have much room to improve.

Also, Mom made blackberry cobbler that is orgasmic and when paired with ice cream, it's simply sinful.

Speaking of Mom, she wants on the computer. When I have something more interesting to say, I'll post again.

Oh, I've become addicted to YouTube karaoke. Don't ask me why, I just love singing to the stuff. Teehee.

Just A Little Update

I enjoy writing on the blog because it's so cathartic. I also like feedback *cough*hint*cough*. When the people who read give me their opinions or questions, I can explain what they don't understand and what they're curious about.

Anyway, I've been in a bad mood like, all day. Actually, for the past couple of days. I'm on the verge of being depressed, yet I'm not quite there. I've been very touchy about what people say and I find that I've been walking with a chip on my shoulder. One of the most horrible and loathsome behaviours I've been indulging in is a behaviour that I've cultivated since I can remember.

I do a lot of harm to myself in my head, and this is probably the worst way I harm myself. I set people up to fail. The behaviour starts with a feeling that is difficult to discribe, at best. The feeling is close to self-hatred. When I do hate myself, I want myself to die, go away, just don't exist. I do realize that it is permanent and when I leave, I can't come back. However, that is okay with me when I hate myself. All I want is darkness, solitude, and for the nagging little thoughts in the back of my head to go away.

I digress. The feeling this usually starts off with is smaller than self-hatred. It starts with thinking I do something wrong or being told I'm wrong or have misbehaved and it snowballs from there. Because I did or said something wrong, I am imperfect. Not only am I imperfect, but I'm about as far from perfect as anyone can get without committing a felony.

This is when things get tricky. See, now is when I start pulling back. I feel myself withdraw. I hardly smile unless I'm forced to, I either eat anything unhealthy (like right now I'm drinking a Dr. Pepper and eating Lay's Sour Cream and Onion potato chips) or eat nothing (like I was doing earlier today). For the most part, I feel like a disgrace to my family, especially to Mom and David.

Once again, there are two actions I chose from and sometimes I chose both. I either withdraw and plead inside my head for someone, usually someone specific, to do just the right thing or I try to do good deeds to be as good of a person as I can. As I'm thinking about it, I realize that I either do the first or both, but never only the good deeds.

I'll give an example, and this happens often. There will be someone important to me (usually not an adult, but sometimes... hardly ever my mom) who notices that I'm withdrawn and sullen. They ask me if I'm okay, and I say I'm fine, or okay. Most of the time, I want them to ask again so I can say, "No, I'm not okay." I want them to ask me what's wrong and I want to be coddled. It's kind of a shot to the head when not only do they not respond correctly, they do exactly what I want them NOT to do.

Do you see the problem with that? Not only am I expecting someone to do something completely boundaryless, I'm also setting myself up for failure. This is not healthy at all and I know it. I honest to god hate myself for it sometimes. I hate that I feel like I have to lean on other people for my self-worth. I hate that I long so desparately for compliments. I hate that even though I realize I'm doing wrong, I can't or won't change it. Scratch that. I can change how I feel. Why don't I? Because I can be an idiot sometimes, and this particular thing is hard to give up. I've tried, but not very hard.

Odd as it is, this thought process is comforting in a way. I set myself up for failure and the familiar sensation of acute pain because someone didn't tell me I looked beautiful when I was having a bad hair day or because nobody noticed when I worked hard on my hair, make up, and clothes, and worst of all, when I worked on something big and achieved a large goal and the only person to recognize it is my mom is comforting because I expect the pain. I am used to the emotional stab and, in a sick way, I kind of like it.

So this is why I've been in a rotten mood.

As I reread the last full paragraph, I realized that my behaviour isn't much different from the people who cut or burn or bite or any cause any other sort of injury to themselves. I suppose you could say I had an epiphany. Like I've said a lot lately, though. Physical abuse is, in my opinion, not nearly as horrible as emotional abuse because when you're physically abused, at least you can see the scars. With mental abuse, you're left with all these problems and nobody to see them except you and the few people who care enough to look deeply into your personality.

I know a lot of people are battling depression, and yet I feel so isolated. Frankly, I'm surprised at how many people have come up to me and said, "Hey, I read your blog. This helps because (I/someone I'm close to) (am/is) dealing with the same stuff. Awesome. Totally cool. Depression is so isolating, though, and even though I know a couple of people who understand, I still feel alone.

It sucks.

Next time I post, I'll probably write about driving and band because both are making me extremely nervous. *sigh* Oh well.

Btw, tell your friends, coworkers, family members, etc. about my blog, please. The idea of it is to "Spread the Word", like the title says. ((: Thanks!

I See Music

Please, hold all sarcastic remarks until I finish explaining.

I see music. Of course, I see sheet music, but I "see" more than that. When I look at someone... No, scratch that. When I get to know someone, I see their song. Granted, their song is only my perseption of them, but I like to think that I can perceive people fairly well. For the people I know really well (and so far it's only Mom and Kristen... Maybe Panda and Chris), I see their True Song. To me, seeing someone's true song is very private, intimate, and precious.

You're probably thinking, "Okay, but seeing music? You hear music!" This is not the case, actually. My definition of seeing is more along the lines of divining or understanding. You see, when I see music, I see a pattern. I see certain sounds, certain rythms. I don't hear the melody of the music until I look really hard, and then I may find something.

Personal songs are private, and something that I don't feel I have the right to share with other people. I say this because I want to give you an example. This is nobody's song that I know of, but I want you to understand how I work this.

When I know somebody well, I take their personality and translate it into music. Someone can have a rough, angry melody with pretty, tinkling bells underneath. Sometimes, the music evolves, showing growth or change of interests. Your song can change from jazz to punk to classical to jazz again, because it's you. There are no rules for your song, there are no boundaries for what it can be.

Just like people have songs, animals, feelings, situations, and places have songs, too. Everything has a song; it's up to people like me to write it down. Feelings and situations, depending on what they are, aren't as private as animals, places, and people. It's very complicated, and it sounds made-up. I assure you, though, it's real.

I will never know my song, unless somebody else writes it. The reason why is twofold. First, I don't want to know that much about myself - the thought scares me. Self-awareness is good, admittedly, but I really don't want to face all of that information. I'm scared of what I'd find. The second reason is that I'd never perceive myself correctly. Ever. Nobody sees themselves like they truely are, and that's a fact. It would be up to someone else to see me for what I am and put it on paper.

My view of the world is different from everyone else's. It makes me unique. I love my odd little gift and I wouldn't trade it for anything. I hope I explained this well enough. If you have questions, please, feel free to ask. ((:

<3

Amazinggg Dayyyy

A lot has happened in the past 24 hours. Among the highlights are my mom and dad made the divorce final, I got a new puppy, and I've driven... a LOT!

I'll go in chronological order. First, I drove to Drivers' Ed. Thaaat was fun. ;) I made a horrible, horrible right turn and swerved way into the ditch. ...I got nervous because a car was tailgaiting me and I didn't wanna get hit... Yay n00bn3ss. I endured Drivers' Ed and afterwords, Mom told me the news. :D I was uber excited.

After that, Mom and I met Uncle Bert and Josh (my cousin) for Chinese. All they had that was meatless was Vegetable Lo Mein, rice, and these little fried macaroni triangle things. Well, and desert but that's beside the point. It was good stuff though. ((:

After lunch, Mom and I went to check out some supplies at Menards. We spent an hour there and talked about going to the animal shelter and look at pets. As soon as we walked in the door, Sierra jumped up in her cage and said, "You're mine you're mine you're mine you're mine!" However, she didn't bark. It was amazing! We looked at the other puppies and decided that Sierra was ours. Mom was reluctant, but I was in love. <3

We did some other boring and mundane stuff before we went home, but eventually we went home with Steven and Sierra. (Steven isn't a dog... He's a stray human we found on the side of Henderson street who needed a place to crash [; )

After we were home for a while, Uncle Bert asked if I wanted to be his chauffeur. No duh! I drove from North Henderson to the spillway at Lake Story to Walmart (including some interstate and main roadway time) to the spillway to home. It was eventful and fun. :D

I'm sleepy, though. I'll post more tomorrow because I've got some more shtuff to say. G'night. ((:

One of My Worst Days...

So yesterday was one of my worst days evarrrrr. It started off nicely but soon went downhill.

Drivers' Ed was good. I sit next to this chick named Aurora (I freakin' love that name) and she's cool. During the class, I did a wonderful thing. I'm an outgoing person and I like to meet new people. The chick who sits next to me and the guys around us were working on our worksheets together and I was randomly throwing my two-sense in, giving and asking for answers. Nobody was talking to me and they didn't respond when I talked, so I thought to myself: They have their group of friends and they don't know me. I'm outgoing and insert myself into social situations. I'm going to sit here and do my homework because I'm not part of their group of friends. It's not that they don't like me, they just don't know me.

You may think this is kind of like, "Duh?" but for me, this is a big thing. I used to think: I'm not in their group, so they must not like me. They didn't try to include me so I must be ugly and a bad person.

You may think that way of thinking is stupid, but it's honestly how I thought about things. No wonder I had panic attacks, right? Well, anyway, that was a major success. ((:

I went to Panda's house and was hanging out. I'd been a little anxious all day, but not horribly. However, I had a humongo-jumbo panic attack. It lasted a full three and a half hours.

I started having a panic attack around three thirty and it lasted until like, seven thirty. It was freakin' horrible. I couldn't control my body. I was almost convulsing and it hurt like hell. Long story short, I was exhausted when I got home. I was having it rough.

When I woke up this morning, I was all better, even if I was a little tired.

Now, I have some Adavan (sp?) and when I have a bad panic attack that I can't control, I can take an Adavan! :D

But I'm like, multi-tasking on an epick

Late Night Ramblings

Rejected, dejected, she writes her pain in the form of a score. Seven instruments, three voices, and eighty-six sheets of paper later, she still feels like shit.

Not gonna lie, stuff like this pops into my head at random times. Yes, I see a story forming from those two sentences. Yes, it could be big. No, it will never be written. I don't have the time or effort to write stories about all the little blurbs I think up.

I was writing a story not long ago. As I'm writing this post, I'm searching to see if I still have it saved somewhere. In many ways, this story was my own. A girl had panic attacks, became home schooled, and found refuge in a guy on the internet. Just to make things clear, I never found refuge in a guy on the internet... Just so ya know. ;) But anyway, the story was gonna be good, but I stopped. The reason why for this story is simple: I started dating Mitch and had a hard time putting myself in the mood I needed to be in to write. Sure, it sounds silly, but it's true. I can't write something unless I have the feeling behind it.

Another project I've somewhat postponed is a musical detailing the effects of depression and anxiety. The reason I've stopped this one? Dunno. Probably just laziness. Will it get finished? Eventually. I just dunno when.

It's funny how attuned to adrenaline I've become. I can feel the slightest amount weaving in and out of the muscles of my arms and legs and even the slightest amount of adrenaline can put my stomach in knots. I don't know what I was thinking to have that tiny bit of adrenaline pump into my limbs. The adrenaline is enough to make my hands shake just the slightest bit and my mind jump from one topic to another.

The adrenaline has a very distinct feel, and after all these years of learning how it feels to have even a drop of the stuff coursing through my blood, it's no wonder I can feel it when I least expect it. It feels like a slight burning in my muscles. Right now, the burning is so trivial that it's hardly there. The burning doesn't really hurt, per say. You know in the beginning of summer when the sun has just begun to heat up the blacktop and you're walking on it barefoot? You know the feeling of the blacktop on your feet, where it's hot enough to keep moving, but not hot enough to really burn? That's how my muscles feel right now.

Now, I've already made this connection a while ago, but for those of you who haven't, I'll show you the link now. The sensation I described above is the reason that I sometimes shake when I have panic attacks. When I shake, there's enough adrenaline in my system to disrupt something, and I have to get the extra energy out somehow. So I shake. Sometimes taking a walk or riding my bike helps, but sometimes my muscles do funny things and I can't stand up, let alone do any sort of activity.

I'm drifting off to sleep because it's almost 1 am. I want to go to church in the morning, but I'm thinking it'll be tomorrow evening when I get there. Oh well. I need to sleep anyway, and it's not like I believe in the same God they're talking about. xD Yay paganism.

Anywhoozle, good night. ((:

Btw - I hope Germany or Spain wins the World Cup. xD

I dun' feel good.

Today has been quite the day. ...And not in the good way.

Well, this morning/afternoon was OK. Then I started to feel hungry. When I got home, I was really really hungry, so I ate ice cream to tide me over until dinner. Bad idea. I started feeling queasy, which soon turned to anxiety. Or maybe I was anxious and that turned to a queasy tummy. Either way, I've had a couple of panic attacks, I keep shaking off and on, and there's no way in hell I'm sleeping alone tonight.

Right now, my tummy is anxiety and pukey. Which makes me more anxious, because I don't like to feel nauseous.

Pretty much every anxious person has that thing that if they do that thing or have it happen to them, they have panic attacks. For me, that's getting sick. Like, flu sick. Everytime I get the flu, I have at least one panic attack.

I feel like crap, so I'mma go try to not feel like crap. Bye.

Dear Readers: Please Take Note

Today was pretty good! I rode in the semi with Uncle Bert, had lunch at B&B in Alexis, and chillaxed the rest of the day. I got to drive, twice! It was greaaaaaat!

I've been trying to decide on what today's rant should be, and I've decided on one that bugs me often. People with mental disorders are PEOPLE!

I've noticed, and so have other people I know, that when you say something like, "I have a panic disorder," or "I've got depression," or "I'm bipolar," people start treating you funny. Or if you have a panic attack in someone's class (and notice, I'm targeting teachers in general). We are still people, goddamnit! Our brain chemicals are messed up, that's all. If someone had a broken leg, you wouldn't shun them like the plague, would you? Hell no!

If you know someone who has a mental disorder, or meet someone with a mental disorder, don't feel like you have to censor yourself or be really cautious around us. Our problems are in our heads. I mean, obviously don't criticize us a bunch, but don't be fake with us either.

Teachers: Be understanding, but don't make big exceptions for us.

People with mental disorders need stability and reliability, and we also need understanding. I probably will have other stuff to add later, but this is a good start.

The Best Medicine

People say "Laughter is the best medicine." Normally, I'd have to agree. Laughing has, for me, been healing. I'm going to have to say that laughter, in fact, is not the best medicine.

My uncle is. When I'm feeling really anxious, Uncle Bert (or Bob as most people call him) is the best. Like, I don't know. I feel really really really safe around him, and when I'm anxious, safety is a big thing.

I'm not going to expound much further, and therefore leave you with a very small post. I will say that Uncle Bert is amazing and I love him a lot. He is waaay better for me than clinazipam ever is. ((: If only he was able to be injested, pill style...

I Can't Sleep

I didn't take my meds tonight. I was talking on the phone with Mitch. Our conversation was kind of odd. It got me thinking about myself.

Then, I had a panic attack. )): First one in a really long time, too. *sigh* I was thinking some... not so nice things about myself. Plus, with moving to Uncle Bert's and the loss of a routine, I've been feeling anxious and stuff anyway.

So, I'm here to tell you some stuff about anxious people because I can't sleep.

Anxiety and depression often go hand in hand. In fact, if you have any sort of mental disorder, you probably also have depression. It's like geometry: A square is always a quadrilateral but a quadrilateral isn't always a square.

Symptoms of anxiety and depression vary. For me, when I get depressed, I get really quiet and withdrawn. My grades never showed my depression. I immersed myself in my school and books for the longest time. I treasured my privacy because I could have panic attacks and nobody would notice. I could plan out my death and think about how nobody would mourn me.

For anxiety? Good luck figuring out the symptoms without having full blown panic attacks and rushing to the ER going "WHY AM I SO SCARED?!" ...But I digress.

The symptoms of anxiety are rather subtle. Perfectionism, worrying, etc. WebMD it if you want more. The main symptoms of my anxiety are panic attacks and, of course, feelings of intense anxiety.

Let me delve deeper. When I feel a panic attack coming on, my heart rate speeds up, I get really warm sometimes, my pulse gets really heavy and hard, my breathing becomes erratic, and worst of all, I'm scared for no reason whatsoever. Some people feel a tightness in the chest that can hurt pretty bad.

It's story time. Once, I was in band. I had like, two or three mini panic attacks earlier in the day and I was still feeling anxious. That happened a lot; I'd have several mini panic attacks but still feel anxious. The solution? A ginormous panic attack. I'm going to attempt to tell you how I felt, but no words can come close to the true feeling.

I remember all of this vividly. We were cleaning something I hadn't learned yet. I was confused, and Mr. B (the head director) was yelling at us. I felt bad because I thought it was my fault. He was yelling at us because we weren't putting enough effort out. It was hot and sticky. We were tired; it was the end of the week. We weren't putting enough effort into it. I was, of course, so exhausted I could hardly stand. As he was yelling at us (and I mean yelling), I started to feel my heart race. My pulse was pounding so loud I could hear it in my ears. I got dizzy. Anxiety pooled in my stomach. It was a metallic, tight feeling that balled in the pit of my stomach. I tried to ignore the symptoms. My breathing became erratic and I couldn't step on beat. That's when I decided to go sit on the sidelines.

As soon as I sat down, I was scared. I was so terrified. There is no word that can describe just how afraid I was. Picture this: Someone had just came into your house at night and killed your family before you and was gonna pull a Hannibal Lector and eat them right in front of you and then eat you alive, piece by piece. Just imagine that for a minute. Feel scared? Multiply that by 100 and you get close to how I felt.

I was sitting there, so scared. I was sobbing. I had a hard time breathing. I was so scared. I forgot all about the band in front of me. I forgot all about Mr. B and Ms. Shadensack behind me, or the drum majors to either side of me. All I could think about was how scared I was.

Katie, a senior clarinetist, came up to me and tried helping me. She got me some paper towels and the Color Guard instructor's daughter (she was like, four?) came to try and cheer me up but I was past the point of no return. It took forever it felt like, but I finally got to the peak of the panic attack and started deescalating. I'm fairly certain I was screaming by then. Eventually, I was able to be done with the panic attack. I was exhausted.

I didn't know limits back then. I still tried to be an active participant in my after-band guard practice. I know now that I should've just gone home early. I felt like I wasn't trying hard enough, though. I interpreted Mr. B's and Julie (the guard instructor)'s looks and reactions as disappointed or standoffish or something.

The goal of my story was to try to illustrate the horrendousness of panic attacks. Admittedly, panic attacks aren't always that violent. However, if you've ever had one, you never want another.

I think this has been a long enough post. I hope you got a feel for what panic attacks are like. I also hope that you never have one.

So long, farewell, to you my friends. Goodbye, for now, until we meet again. It's been great to discuss these things together (here on my blog) but now it's time to say goodbye. So long, farewell, to you my friends. Goodbye, for now, until we meet again.

Last Day of School

First off, HELL YEAHHHHHHH!

Second, I promised to give you info on how it feels to be depressed and anxious.... Not happenin' today, sorry.

I've been having anxiety problems but I don' feel like talking about it.

So yesterday I spent the day with Trevor. It was fantastic. We were on the internet, talking, and looking through his pix. :D It was great. ((:

Also, last night I went to church. (O_O) You see, I'm pagan. No, I don't worship the devil. However, I do believe in things different from the church I'm now going to be attending. (Their website is www.hbcgalesburg.org

On a totally different note, I'm reading Hannibal. D: Is creeeepy. But awesome :P I <3 Hannibal the cannibal. He's just uber cool.

So, I'm running out of interesting things to say so I'm gunna log off now. TTYL

So long, farewell, to you my friends. Goodbye for now, until we meet again. It's been great to discus these things together (here on my blog), but now it's time to say goodbye. So long, farewell, to you my friends. Goodbye for now, until we meet again.

I'm supposed to be writing a paper... Oh well :D

Holaaaa!

I'm hyper. My nighttime meds make me sleepy, and without them I have a hard time sleeping. Last night, I forgot my meds. >.> Oops. xD Oh well. So I didn't get much sleep and I'm hyper.

Anywhoozle, very eventful past couple of days.

First, we moved. We moved from a good sized town to a rinky dink town twenty minutes away. The reasons are these: Our land lord was being mean and wanted to make us sign a year lease. We don't want to sign any leases, so we moved in with my Uncle. Granted, we have more space, and that is very nice. I want my own place. I miss having a place of our own that we can remodel and paint and make it our own that we'll be there for a long time.

That was slightly traumatic, plus I was on my period. Not. Fun.

Event number two: I tried to break up with Mitch. Note "tried". I was uber anxious ALL DAY. And then after school, I did it. Around six or seven o'clock, he called me. "Do you have a minute?" "Sure..." "Why?" ...Shit.

We talked and I have this problem... When people give me like, good reasons why to do stuff or not to do stuff, I can be persuaded. I like to think of myself as open-minded. I'm not, however, afraid to make my own opinions. All I'm saying is that I can change my mind. And I did.

Go figure tough guy boyfriend isn't really all that tough. Big surprise. I knew he was a softie, but having him admit it was quite nice. ((:

So, we're together. Honestly, I don't know how long it'll last, but I'm sooo willing to try. <3

I haven't talked to Dad recently, but I totally miss him. ): I want a Daddy hug. He'd probably say "Well then, come get one!" but the problem with that is: the hug would have strings attached. )): Eventually, I'll be able to deal with the strings, but I don't think I am right now. Until then, I'll miss him from afar.

I have been making progress, mental health wise. I am (finally) able to separate my emotions from other people. I no longer feel the need to feel what everyone else is feeling, just because they're feeling it. I'm not dragged down by their bad moods, or feel falsely happy when I really feel like shit. Also, I'm able to think through my debilitating thoughts... you know, the ones that cause panic attacks. =P I can dissect those and figure out why I feel that way, the evidence that supports the bad feeling, and the evidence that contradicts the bad thoughts. Is loooovely. ((:

So, I'm thinking my next post will detail some of my feelings that I have when I'm depressed and anxious. Looking forward to it. I guess this is it.

The teary goodbye will have to wait, because honestly, I don't think anyone reads this. ...Maybe they will if I post it on Facebook? :D

So long, farewell, to you my friends. Goodbye for now, until we meet again. It's been great, discussing these things together, (here on blogspot) But now it's time to say good bye. So long, farewell, to you my friends. Goodbye for now, until we meet agaaaaaaain!