Desperado

(by the Eagles)

Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
You been out ridin' fences for so long now
Oh, you're a hard one
I know that you got your reasons
These things that are pleasin' you
Can hurt you somehow

Don't you draw the queen of diamonds, boy
She'll beat you if she's able
You know the queen of hearts is always your best bet

Now it seems to me, some fine things
Have been laid upon your table
But you only want the ones that you can't get

Desperado, oh, you ain't gettin' no younger
Your pain and your hunger, they're drivin' you home
And freedom, oh freedom well, that's just some people talkin'
Your prison is walking through this world all alone

Don't your feet get cold in the winter time?
The sky won't snow and the sun won't shine
It's hard to tell the night time from the day
You're losin' all your highs and lows
Ain't it funny how the feeling goes away?

Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
Come down from your fences, open the gate
It may be rainin', but there's a rainbow above you
You better let somebody love you, before it's too late




I feel like this song defines me right now, nearly the same way it defined me a dark winter 10 years ago. I'm off to bed, praying I see the rainbow tomorrow.

Total Eclipse of the Heart

...Every now and then I get a
little bit tired of listening to the sound of my tears

This morning I got to my car at 6:20 and it wouldn't start. Ross had already been at work since 6:00 (yes, we both work weekends and holidays) so I had to call him, make him leave work, drive him back to work, and then drive myself to work. I surprisingly wasn't that upset about the car thing in the moment- I'm sure I wasn't fully awake yet. And I was only 10 minutes late to work.

I spent an inordinate amount of time preventing fussy babies from reaching the meltdown point.

But it really wasn't a bad day at work, all things considered (that phrase always makes me think of listening to NPR in the car with my dad: "...and I'm Linda Wortheimer").



...Every now and then I get a
little bit nervous that the best of all the years have gone by

I probably shouldn't blog when I'm this tired. I'm not sure why I'm still awake (these days, 10:30pm is SO past my bedtime). I just got done with 3 shifts in a row. Certainly not terrible, but not great. I'm afraid I'm already getting "burnt out" on my career, considering 4 or 5 shifts in a row sounds impossible even though it's only been a few months since I've done something crazy like that.

I've still been working a lot (big surprise... 60 hours this week) but I'm not totally dead on my feet. This must mean I'm adjusting to the day shift schedule again.  My healthy lunch habit kind of falls apart after the third shift in a row, but I did manage to run 3 times this week in addition to working 5 shifts! And I have a much-needed and long-overdue vacation coming up soon, with 2 actual vacation days off-- not just some travel crammed between longs stretches of work. My first time off in 10 months!



...Every now and then I get a
little bit terrified and then I see the look in your eyes

I was drinking a canned Starbuck's espresso this morning, looking at the break room calendar and thinking, "why does this seem like an important date?"  And then it hit me like a ton of bricks. Or a ton of feathers (well, 2000 pounds is 2000 pounds, but you know what I mean). It was so significant, yet so... not. July 25, 2008 was supposed to be the day I married my college boyfriend. It would have been a long engagement (over a year and a half), and it ended after 2 months instead.

I married Ross on September 19, 2008 instead.

When I think "Brian," my mind somehow remembers him as a high-schooler when I just had a crush on him, instead of picturing him as the Brian I dated for so long. Is that odd? Maybe it's my brain trying to protect me?

Ross and I started dating 3 years and 1 month ago, and even a month into our relationship, I found it hard to believe there was ever a time I didn't know him. Even then, I knew we were never not meant to find each other. Imagine how weird that's going to feel after 50 (God-willing) years!



...Every now and then 
   I fall apart

Thank you Ross, for holding me together.

Photo from June 2010

Jagged Little Pill, part 2

I recommend getting your heart trampled on to anyone
I recommend walking around naked in your living room
Swallow it down (what a jagged little pill)
It feels so good (swimming in your stomach)

Wait until the dust settles 

You live you learn
You love you learn
You cry you learn
You lose you learn
You bleed you learn
You scream you learn

I left Nebraska for college. I wouldn't have wanted it any other way, because I did make (and even keep a few) good friends there and, of course, moving to Texas allowed me to meet Ross. But I didn't know that freshman year. I just knew I was homesick, and school no longer came easy to me. Anatomy and Physiology was a Junior-level class and the School of Nursing used it as a weed-out class from freshmen. I loved A and P in high school, and I loved learning in the classroom in college! But I had no discipline and the sheer volume of information combined with my habit of procrastination overwhelmed me. I spent time on the phone with my long-distance boyfriend instead of studying and meeting people beyond the first few weeks of school.

Dissecting a pig in our Anatomy lab

One afternoon (late fall or early spring of my freshman year at TCU), I ate almost an entire bag of Oreos by myself on my top bunk and realized I needed help. I made an appointment with Student Health and the doctor there put me on 75 mg of Effexor XR. Zoloft is a Selective Serotonin Re-uptake Inhibitor (SSRI) which means that it allows serotonin to remain in your nerve synapses longer, therefore enabling it to last longer and act as if I had more serotonin circulating. Effexor is an SNRI, meaning it works on norepinephrine in addition to serotonin. It worked better on my dual symptoms of depression and anxiety.  I started feeling better again and was able to meet new friends. Best friends.

Our "group" fall 2004 at a TCU football game

I was so happy! Yet somewhere in there I'd turned my 75 mg of Effexor XR into 150 mg to quell anxiety.  And there I remained. I was literally maxed out an a very strong drug and my mood and attitude started to worsen again. Notice a pattern here? Short of switching to sedatives, I felt there was nothing else I could really do (although that my have been my warped all or nothing attitude talking).

I recommend biting off more then you can chew to anyone
I certainly do
I recommend sticking your foot in your mouth at any time
Feel free
Throw it down (the caution blocks you from the wind)
Hold it up (to the rays)
You wait and see when the smoke clears

You live you learn
You love you learn
You cry you learn
You lose you learn
You bleed you learn
You scream you learn

Some people hate being on antidepressants because they "don't feel anything" or "can't cry" when they want to. I did not have this problem. I had 1,000 thoughts swirling around my head at any given moment and couldn't focus on any of them. I had terrible mood swings (not manic, but definitely swinging between "life is great" and "I hate my life" day in and day out to the point of exhaustion). I still cried, often on the phone to my boyfriend or my parents. I quit trying for months at a time. If not for the Effexor, I probably wouldn't have been able to get out of bed and go to class some days. Even with the meds it was a struggle.

I was so focused on the idea that my eating disorder in high school was the root cause of my problems, not realizing that every day I burrowed a little deeper into myself was compounding the real root of my problem: depression. I thought I was still running from my high school problem and it took me a while to realize I was adding to my list of regrets as I stumbled forward while focusing so intently on what was already behind me.

The best of times were when I reached OUT of myself and made friends.

I miss college for the sheer fact that it was a built-in community of people with like interests, and most lived within walking distance! No parents, no curfews, and not even 8 hours of class a day like high school! But I rarely took advantage of this. More than not studying abroad, more than not earning the grades I know I could have, more than anything my biggest regret from college is not making many friends and not keeping the friends I made. I either lost touch with friends I made the first two years of college, or I burned those bridges through stupid, selfish decisions.

I graduated college still taking my Effexor XR and found a great doctor in Fort Worth. We talked about the possibility that my anxiety could possibly be stemming from ADD as well. I seemed to fit the criteria-- not the sterotypical hyperactivity, but the more subtle symptoms: a terrible memory, a reputation as a scatterbrain, lack of organization, procrastination, shutting down when I was under too much stress... the symptoms fit me to a "T." However, after trying 2 different medication with no success, I quit. One psychoactive drug at a time was enough for me!  A little niggling thought had been worming it's way around in the back of my head and I realized I'd been medicated for my entire adult life. I didn't like that.

By 2009, nursing school was far enough behind me, I was on day shift at a job I loved, my wedding had come and gone, and I realized I was using my medication as a crutch. My doctor (thankfully) said that stopping my Effexor was a bad idea since we had a big move coming up and just because I was done with school didn't mean I wasn't in the midst of a number of stressful events.

We decided to compromise by weaning me from 150 mg (which I'd been on for 5 years) down to 37.5 mg.  This took about 6 months of gradual weaning accompanied by nausea, dizziness, and vertigo every few weeks. But the encouraging thing was that my mood wasn't necessarily worse. Yes, I cried easier the weeks I moved to a lower dose, but my day-to-day functioning wasn't affected. This supported my suspicions that Effexor was a security blanket for me by that point. Even as I remained at 150 mg, my symptoms went up and down over the years and the medication seemed to have less of an effect as time went on.

I was so proud of myself for lowering my dose so dramatically (Effexor is one of the hardest prescription drugs to come off of, and the risk of lifelong dependence increases after 5 years). When I was comfortable on 37.5 mg, my doctor and I decided I'd stay on that low dose through our move. Then I stayed on it because being back on night shift was so unbelievably stressful.  This spring when I turned 25, day shift was near and I felt that it was time to grow up. I really need to be crutch-free and face my issues upfont. No more denial!

A week before my birthday this past April, I started taking my 37.5 mg pill every other day. Two weeks later I moved to every 3rd day, two weeks after that it was every 4 days. After about a month and a half, I was off mood-altering drugs for the first time since my 18th birthday!

As long as I can still get out of bed in the morning (a fairly obvious litmus test for day-to-day funcioning), I will remain off of my medications. I'm focusing on exercise as if it were a prescribed medication and I'm eating more plant-based foods. A huge percentage of serotonin is produced not in the brain, but in the intestines. Clean food has more to do with a good mood than we originally thought.

Yet I am still facing an inordinate amount of anxiety and melancholy. And it's scary to face these things head-on and alone. I have a sneaking feeling that this is all one big life lesson. Indeed, it's THE big life lesson. God has taught me that I cannot rely on medicine for happiness. He's currently teaching that I cannot rely on myself, either. Although this one's taking a while to learn thanks to my stubbornness (Can I ever do just one thing right?! No). I suspect that the big secret here is that I don't have to face it all alone. I know (I've always known) that He is the answer, but I'm wasting so much energy trying to prove to myself and others that I can face my own fears and get through them, even as I'm coming to the realization that I can't.

Augustine says, "Thou hast formed us for Thyself, and our hearts are restless till they find rest in Thee." I know God has taught me that I cannot rely on medicine for happiness. And He's currently teaching that I cannot rely on myself, either. Although this one's taking a while to learn. I know (I've always known) that He is the answer, but I'm wasting so much energy trying to prove that I'm a big kid. We all know I'm not. I'm nothing without Him.

A. W. Tozer says:

God made us for Himself: that is the only explanation that satisfies the heart of a thinking man, whatever his wild reason may say. Should faulty education and perverse reasoning lead a man to conclude otherwise, there is little that any Christian can do for him. For such a man I have no message... I speak to thirsty hearts whose longings have been wakened by the touch of God within them... Their restless hearts furnish all the proof they need. 

...God formed us for His pleasure, and so formed us that we as well as He can in divine communion enjoy the sweet and mysterious mingling of kindred personalities. He meant us to see Him and live with Him and draw our life from His smile. But we have been guilty of that `foul revolt' of which Milton speaks when describing the rebellion of Satan and his hosts. We have broken with God. We have ceased to obey Him or love Him and in guilt and fear have fled as far as possible from His Presence.

If you've stuck with me for this entire post, thank you! Please continue to stick with me as I face my fears and anxieties and learn to give them to God, one by one. It's time to face some healing that's about 7 years overdue.

 Wear it out (the way a three-year-old would do)
Melt it down (you're gonna have to eventually anyway)
The fire trucks are coming up around the bend

You grieve you learn
You choke you learn
You laugh you learn
You choose you learn
You pray you learn
You ask you learn
You live you learn  

("You Learn" by Alanis Morissette)

Jagged Little Pill

In my psych nursing class in college, we talked a lot about the "F" word. That's f for functioning, by the way. Everyone has their own personal neuroses and even shadows of various personality and behavioral disorders. But when a certain thought process or chemical imbalance overwhelms you and affects your day-to-day functioning, you're officially beyond being "quirky" or "in a mood."

Now this post is going to be a little deep. Possibly even too much information for some of you. But it has a happy ending, and I feel it's time to share it.

I have fond memories of childhood. In fact, most days I wish I could go back to those carefree days of playing outside until the streetlights came on. I remember being generally happy. I mean, I'm sure my parents can still tell you horror stories about the alien-looking baby they came home with who wouldn't eat and wouldn't sleep, but they loved me all the same.



My earliest memories (the few memories I have of living in Independence the first 2 1/2 years of my life) are bathed in love: watching lightning storms with my parents but never being scared of the thunder because I was with my mom and dad. Playing in the driveway while my mom went out to get the paper.



I oddly remember a huge fabric ball that our elderly neighbor made for me and I remember her having a huge organ/piano in her house (Mom, am I making this up?) I remember stumbling down the stairs during what felt like the middle of the night and eating a bowl of Rice Krispies with my dad (in retrospect, it was probably just 5:30am before he went to work).

When we first moved to Omaha, I remember baking with my mom and wearing scrub pajamas to bed and pretending to go to work like my dad.



Of course, I have many more childhood memories as I progressed toward school-age, but I'll spare you. They are almost all good memories, though. The more I learn about the "real world" and its harsh realities, the more grateful I am for having escaped childhood unscathed and un-jaded. (Thanks Mom and Dad!)

We moved to Kansas City after second grade and I was a little scared (I asked my mom if they spoke another language there), but it was just another adventure and I was too busy watching my baby brother learn to walk to notice much else!



In 5th grade, though, I hit a snag. I still don't know why. Maybe I was starting to outgrow being a tomboy and I didn't fit in as well when I played with my brothers and their friends. Maybe it's because I had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad teacher that year. Maybe its because the other girls were starting to wear makeup and do their hair for school. I, on the other hand, started wearing huge wire-rimmed glasses. But even being able to read the chalkboard again couldn't help me through the misery that was adding and subtracting fractions.

Whatever the cause, I remember a terrible period of insomnia that year. I spent hours listening to Disney music and praying the Rosary in an attempt to fall asleep. I often ended up waking my parents up to cry about the fact that I couldn't sleep. Once the school year was over, I recovered a bit and had fun on summer vacation.

During 6th and 7th grade, I suffered your typical junior-high angst regarding development, popularity, and boys. I eventually learned to blend in a little better but I can still recall a wistful feeling I'd get when I was alone... I didn't want to be growing up so fast!



Just when I started to "fit in" in Kansas City, we moved back to Omaha. Eighth grade was rocky and I certainly walked home crying from loneliness the first few months. But I made the "A" team in volleyball and was no longer the benchwarmer that I was in KC. Kids didn't "date" at my new school like they did at my old one, so I didn't feel so left out with my unrequited crushes. I was the heroine in the 8th grade play and had 3 best friends by the year's end. One was going to the same high school as me and we were so excited!


I could regale you with the dramas of high school, but that's (maybe) another post for another day. I had ups and downs, but certainly none of the stereotypical drama with boys, drugs, or alcohol. Most days, I loved high school (at least when I look back now and compare it to the mess I made of college).

February of my senior year of high school found me in bed one afternoon sobbing for hours for no discernable reason. I couldn't get out of bed to go to school the next morning. I couldn't go running, which was a big stress release for me. I couldn't even focus on a book, and I've always been an avid reader for fun! My parents recognized that this was beyond their comfort zone and took me to a doctor who prescribed Zoloft. I realize doctors these days over-prescribe anti-depressants, but for once, knowing what I know now, I wouldn't have had it any other way. That tiny little pill got me out of bed. I quit Calculus. I started running again. Within weeks, I was no longer on the verge of tears every single day. I graduated high school so proud of myself for having crawled out of a terrible black hole. Little did I know, depression is cyclical.

I will always defend mental illness and mental dis-ease and I believe that a responsible doctor prescribing the right medicine to a compliant patient can be a great catalyst for getting a life back on track if depression has derailed it. But that requires work, and not just a happy pill. I slacked off after leaving for college and learned this the hard way. Zoloft was not a blue pill, a one-time choice to lead an ignorance is bliss life. It actually has the potential to be the red pill... a catalyst that allows you to function in the real world and live beyond it, if I may. Once a humans basic needs are met, you can begin to make progress again, in that realm which we call living.

Maslow's hierarchy of needs (this pyramid) has always appealed to me. I believe that psychiatric medications, when used properly in a people who truly have a neurological disorder affecting their day-to-day functioning, can help re-establish basic homeostasis and lead to achievement, respect, and (if I may) self-actualization. For some people this may mean working through a traumatic event in their past. For me, it meant I was already predisposed to anxiety (what 5 year old has a panic attack about turning 6?) and negative thinking. When I encountered increasing amounts of stress, my normal coping mechanisms no longer worked. I'm still working on my coping mechanisms, by the way.

But I didn't realize any of this when I left for college. I kept taking my Zoloft and thought my problems had been solved.

*If you're still with me, you can read Part 2 here*

Dorm Days

I don't know if it was the fact that it's so darn humid in Kansas City right now or what, but today when I walked into the grocery store I had a flashback to freshman year of college. I didn't have a car then, so I had to walk from my dorm all the way to Albertson's to get essentials like milk, cereal, and peanut butter. I remember it was so exciting to do something like shop for groceries on my own!

Good old Shirley Hall

Granted, I had to be careful not to get too excited and fill the cart since I had to walk back with all my bags. But I loved grabbing a donut from the bakery as my treat for the walk home and strolling up and down the aisles of "my" new grocery store learning where everything was. Maybe college wasn't all bad... Okay, I really miss TCU sometimes!

Zach and Ebie

You know "that couple" right? The one couple in high school who actually has a shot at making it? We had a pretty big "group" in high school, including 3 serious couples. Of course those of us who were single at graduation placed bets on which couples would last past freshman year of college. I won't divulge who placed which bets, and I honestly don't remember what the official votes were, but I can say that we're all so happy to see Zach and Ebie married at last!

Their wedding tonight was eight years in the making. If I may borrow a line from Friends (fitting, actually, because Zach made a great Chandler for Halloween one year):

I've known them separately and I've known them together and to know them as a couple is to know that you are truly in the presence of love. So I would like to raise my glass to (Ebie and Zach), and the beautiful adventure they are about to embark upon together. I can think of no two people better prepared for the journey.

Introducing Mr. and Mrs.

Beautiful dress and beautiful cakes

Ross and me

Mike, Grant, me, Joey

Zach: "You'll put this on facebook, right? With tags?"

I was a little nervous before the wedding. I'm so bad at keeping in touch and it doesn't take long for me to be out of the loop. But once I got there, I realized I had nothing to fear! I was friends with all these people for a reason and I feel better about myself around them! It was so good to be in the presence of such genuine people. Congratulations Zach and Ebie, and thanks for inviting me!

As if you could kill time without injuring eternity

Wednesday night was supposed to be a casual, fun night. I'd had a good day off and I was headed to sand volleyball. I've been to the volleyball courts before. There are approximately 3 turns from our apartment to the main street and then it's a straight shot west. Yet I got lost. I drove for 20 minutes down the wrong (but parallel) street, tried to cut over to the right street, hit construction and a huge detour, couldn't find where the right street started up again, and then quit. I spent an hour in my car and I was in a huff when I got home!

To calm down, I went for a walk around a tiny park by our apartment complex. It's always full of people in the evenings and that night the fireflies were out. Seeing the fireflies sent me from angry to nostalgic. Perfect seasonal weather (any season) always makes me nostalgic. Remember when you were a kid and there was nothing better than a perfect summer day?! No school, no homework, just a full day to play outside and wear yourself out!

Summer is made of sunshine and water. And free time. Little kids always know how to fill free time with fun.

When I was in grade school, my brothers and I could play with the neighborhood kids until the street lights came on in the evening-- that was our "curfew." And that golden hour was what we lived for. We wore ourselves out playing in the heat, but when the sun started to sink and the air cooled, we got one last burst of energy. Just in time to chase the fireflies who were waking up.

It was also the best time for a softball game.

When did we lose that ability to make the most of every single day without even trying? I'm guessing the age at which we started learning phrases like "seize the day" is when we lost the ability to do so. When you think about anything too hard, it somehow eludes you even more. Like grasping sand in your fist, all the pressure does is cause it to slide through your fingers. I can never get a good grasp on time well spent.

Which leads me back to my present nostalgia and anxiety over the fact that I can't just enjoy a day any more. I only know how to be super busy, or kill time. ("Killing time" is a terrible phrase. Who am I to abuse the luxury of free time by wanting it to pass by faster?) I'm not good at living my life. I miss having friends to walk around the park with or little neighbor kids to run around with (as their babysitter now, but still).

I ended the night determined to spend less time on the computer reading about other people's lives and spend more time living my own.  Monday morning, I dug out my copy of Walden. Who better than Thoreau to teach me the art of embracing place and enjoying time? I could quote you paragraphs at a time that apply to my life, but this line jumped off the page: "As if you could kill time without injuring eternity."

Something to think about, certainly, but also something to LIVE.

Reminiscing about BRAN

June always makes me miss BRAN (the Bike Ride Across Nebraska). Now that I'm working day shift, I miss it even more. When I walk out to my car on the way to work, all I can think is that June mornings smell like BRAN to me. It makes me miss being outside all day and wandering around small towns after a grueling workout.

I've done a total of 7 bike rides across Nebraska. When I started, I rode 5 summers in a row: every summer of high school and the summer after freshman year of college. Then I fell into an every-other-summer pattern due to summer jobs, moving, etc. However, this is the SECOND summer in a row that I am not doing BRAN, which means its the longest I've gone without my bike riding, small-town-loving, little-old-lady-homemade-pie-eating fix. I'm determined to go next year.

Somewhere in middle America in 2008

To get a mini biking fix in, Ross and I went out to Shawnee Mission Park for a bike ride this morning. It reminded me of the less pleasant side of BRAN: bike riding! I told myself I would take a week off of running this week. I'm not sleeping well yet and my body isn't recovering from runs. I just get slower and more sore each day. So I thought an easy bike ride would be a nice way to get outside and get moving. I forgot that my KC running woes would also translate into biking woes: there are hills everywhere!

We biked 6.65 miles in 35 minutes. This would be incredibly slow and kind of pitiful on a flat trail, but there were no flat surfaces on our ride! We climbed 679 feet, which isn't a lot to some bikers, but it's a lot when you haven't gone on a long bike ride in a year. It's also a lot when you've promised your legs you will give them a one-week break and they end up begging for mercy halfway up each hill instead!

The elevation on today's ride

It was merciless and painful, yet strangely fun. BRAN in a nutshell. All that was missing was another 40-90 miles of biking, some good home cookin', and a tent waiting to be set up for the night.

Click here to see more BRAN pictures from the 2008 ride.