Take a Deep Breath

I started taking my new medications last night. Took them right around 10, and laid down. It must have only took me 15-20 minutes to fall asleep. And I slept until, 9 am nearly, which makes about 9-10 hours of sleep I think.

The problem is that when I woke up, I immediately felt anxious over nothing. Which in turn, made me more anxious. Worrying my new doctor got something wrong, or maybe it wasn't depression. I don't know. I feel shaky, and nervous, and still a bit tired to be honest. I laid in bed  for some time hoping I could fall back to sleep, but I just couldn't.

I even thought about waking my husband, hoping it may make me feel a little better, but I decided not to, because I know he's not a morning person, and for all I know, he could have gotten up after I passed out and had been up all night. I wouldn't know. I was that gone.

Just to get this off my chest, when I was laying in bed, trying to go back to sleep, I day dreamed I hung myself from the rafters in the garage. I'm not even suicidal. I don't want to die, so why did I think that? Well. It's not the first time I've thought about weird stuff like that. Sometimes in Wal-Mart I imagine shooting myself, just because I don't like being there when it's super busy. But I think everyone has those little moments.

Good news. I feel less anxious now as I sit here typing. I grabbed a banana after I had my morning pee. I know I need to eat. I've never been much of a breakfast person though, even when I was younger. I'd usually wait till around noon on the weekends to finally eat. And when I was in school I'd have a some fruit and some milk. I'm just not a morning person I suppose, and my stomach knows that.

 I can't help but think I should have mentioned to my doctor that in March I as taking water pills to counter act the water weight I gained while on one of my longer periods. I took them for about 2.5 weeks, but after they started making me get nervous, I stopped taking them. My husband says they would defiantly be out of my system by now, but I keep going back to the idea because of the weight I've lost the past two weeks.

I was also taking them because, to be honest, I did want to lose a little weight. But not like this. I was always smaller in HS. I think around 110 lbs. But now I'm down to 108 naked. And the idea makes me so nervous. That I lost 7 lbs in 2 weeks. I'm freaking out again. God.

I don't want to die.

I want to live.

And have babies.

And see them have babies.

I don't want to die. And I don't want to be crazy like my Mom.

Shes dead btw. She died when I as 19 from heart disease. I miss her, and wish sometimes, I could call her and tell her how I'm feeling so she can relate to me somehow. She didn't raise me, but she was still around as much as she could be. You see, she had a lot of mental illnesses that kept her from being a proper mother. But, she was still a wonderful person. A better person than me in some ways. Whats strange is, that when she died, and I got the call from my sister, I did what most people would do. I freaked out. Cried my eyes out. And curled up and cried some more. And fell asleep. Or tried. I was going through one of my insomnia things. So I wasn't sleeping right. My sister would call and tell me she was on her way, where she was, how much longer it would take for her to get there, that she was there to clean out moms apartment, if I wanted some of her things, that things were missing and moms friends must have taken them with out asking...I didn't really care. I didn't want moms things. I did request her record player and records, so I could safely store them away, along with a painting Mother specificly said was to go to me when she passed. I hate that painting. But I took it, because It's what she wanted.

We didn't have the money for a funeral, so we called an old family friend and he got us some time at a local club/bar thing for war vets that he goes to.

It was quiet. Not very many showed up. My grandmother was the only one willing to speak. During this time, I was relatively calm. Smiling even. I had the strange feeling Mom didn't want to see me crying. Maybe I was in shock. I don't know. I kept telling her, praying, or, just thinking,

"Mom, don't bother me. Don't send a sign your okay. I don't think I can handle it."

My fear of death, and anything paranormal or dead kept me from wanting to know...anything. So I pushed it aside. And just recited the mantra over and over.

I later would pray to god, because my mother was religious in her later years, that he give her a chance to be a mother in heaven, to give her a baby there, where she could be happy, and watch over us with her new child. We could all meet when our time came, which for me I hope is in a long, long long time. I'm not ready to die.

It gave me a little peace of mind.

It took the state 2 months to bury her. This upset me. I try not to think about it.

I few months later, a family friend whom I was very close to all my life died from a stroke. She had been battling cancer for as long as I knew her. I cried. Quietly. I even spoke at her memorial, which was something I couldn't do at my mothers. Towards the end, I nearly started to cry, but I made it through it. I go visit her husband when ever I'm back in my home town, just to talk. He likes having company, and I can tell he feels loney in their house. Later this summer, He said hes going to throw a large party for her, and throw some of her ashes into the ivy she spent so long planting. It was one of her requests. I plan on attending.

Shortly after, I learned my ex-step mother had passed as well.

It all seemed so weird. People just kept dropping like flies that winter.

I'm still looking at this banana. The more I look at it, the less I want to eat it.

Turned on some music from youtube. Searched for "Calm, happy music."

Found "The Calm Blue Sea - We Happy Few"

I hope it's happy music and not depressing. I'm not quite taken with it yet.

Dear Banana: Stop staring at me, so that maybe I will eat you.

Hell. Might as well eat it and get it over with.

Okay. That was neither unpleasant, or pleasant. I haven't decided yet.

I'll find out later when my stomach stops turning. If it does. Hoping it does.

And this song is not happy. It's like, post-rock. I'm not sure what I was hoping for, but this doesn't seem to be cutting it.

Searched for "Relaxing Happy music."

Not much came up. And a lot of it is Enya.

God. Enya? Really? Thats the last thing I need.

Yesterday, I made it through the rest of the night with a new mantra:

"I'm not dead yet."

There for, I should be living my life.

But when the anxiety hits, I find it difficult to focus on anything but my own death.

Maybe a lot of this has to do with my child hood. Maybe it's genetics from my family history. Maybe it's somehow my fault.

I know I didn't ask to be this way. I know I didn't wake up one day and think

"I'm going to start letting anxiety control my life."

It just happened. Suddenly.

Perhaps I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

Found a nice song by the way. Given I'm more into rock and alternative music, I do enjoy music like this. It gives me some sort of peace that my usual stuff can't give me.