Being Amber Rhea

This morning I find myself fighting off the symptoms of the depression I’ve lived with for nearly two decades now.

I need to resolve, once and for all, FOR REAL, to stop going to things that make me feel like I have to act like someone I’m not in order to be accepted.

I need to stop thinking, “Maybe this time it’ll be different from the five thousand other times when it was all the same.”

When I lived in Texas, my ex told me I wouldn’t meet people if I just sat at home all the time. She said this very derisively. She said I had to “go out” if I wanted to meet people.

My closest friends, who really know me and care about me and love me, never say things like this. I know a red flag when I see it.

Never mind that that’s not in my nature, and I argued, what’s the point in forcing myself to do something that I wouldn’t naturally do only in the name of “meeting people?” I’ll just end up meeting people who I don’t really mesh with on anything more than a very superficial level.

But I tried it. I took a ceramics class. I went to a “new in town” meet-up. I went to a party thrown by a coworker’s coworker (yes this makes sense, just trust me). All of these things sucked.

And what happened when I moved to Atlanta? Sitting around at home is EXACTLY how I met people - and that translated into GOING OUT and spending time with the people I met, in real life. Thanks to blogs, I met: Jen, Thomas, Nikki, Alyssa, Joseph, BJ, Sherry, Grayson, of course Rusty, and many more, too numerous to list. And thanks to them I met people they knew - and on and on it went. I already knew a few people from grad school (Garrett, Josh, Mary, etc.) so that helped as well. And thanks to sitting around at home reading blogs, I reconnected with Dacia after four years and with Dipika after nearly ten years.

When my ex said, after I’d moved back to Atlanta and started hanging out with bloggers IRL, “I think you take this blog thing a little too seriously” - that was another big red flag.

This morning Rusty said you can’t have the same expectations of things like the tweet-up as you can with your friends, because those people won’t act like your friends, because they’re strangers. But if that’s true then why did I never get this feeling of having to be someone I’m not when I went to the very first blogger trivia night before I had ever met Rusty, Jen, Nikki, Thomas, Tony Simon, Joseph, Mae and whoever else was there in person before? Why did I never get that feeling from any of them at any of the get-togethers we had, even when I didn’t know them on more than a very casual basis? And why would I stick around hoping that the people who I am getting a bad feeling from will suddenly change their tune after they know me? What does that say about them if they act so completely different around a “stranger” versus a friend?

These are rhetorical questions, of course, but once again it all comes back to trusting my intuition. Whenever I trust my intuition, things go well; and when I ignore it and think, “Well, maybe that’s not fair… maybe this will be different, I just need to give it a chance…” things go poorly. I should know this by now. I do know this by now. And yet I keep fucking it up! I need to stop that, for real this time. Let’s call this an early New Year’s Resolution for 2009.

There’s nothing wrong with who I am, the way I am. I was tempted to say last night made me feel like a loser, but that’s not entirely accurate. I do not believe that I’m a loser, at all. But certain environments make me feel like I’m being put into a box and that if I don’t act differently than my true self, then I’m not wanted. If I don’t make a good prop then I might as well go away.

I should know all too well by now that I don’t need to give people the time of day who have a problem with who I am. So now I just need to stick to my guns and not let the self-doubt creep in. I keep coming back to what Dacia said on Twitter a few days ago (can’t find the actual quote now), something like, “I just hate feeling like my personality isn’t a good way to be.”

Too bad I don’t have any Klonopin here at work because I might need it today, just to get back on my feet after reeling a bit from last night and wondering if anyone understands. I felt very alone and I tried to talk to Rusty before I went to bed but I still didn’t feel 100% better. I can’t let this get me down. I need to remember that the people who really matter do understand. That truth is what I need to stay focused on.

—
* You know what, it’s more than good, it’s GREAT. The power of self-talk, right?

Update: Taking a quick glance into my archive, I see that I wrote about this very topic five years ago almost to the date, when I was living in Texas and feeling that pressure I mentioned above. I really need to listen to myself!

Not sure where to start or what to say… but alas most of life isn’t a nice consistent narrative. But then, when I was going through my archives to tag old posts (I gave up ’round about 2004) it reminded me that I used to blog more freely before I didn’t feel the constraints of titles, tags, potential audience, and a million other things. (I’ve told you a million times not to exaggerate!)

Been having a weird week so far. Sometimes I have these “lapses”… not sure what else to call ‘em. Oh and first of all, if my mom reads this (which I don’t think she does lately, she’s been so busy with other things) DON’T GET ALL WORRIED ABOUT ME. It’s a characteristic of depression, unfortunately; sometimes, even though I’m taking my meds and doing everything I’m supposed to do to take care of myself, I have bad days or weeks. Often I can’t put my finger on a particular “trigger,” but that doesn’t stop me from trying.

I really need to find a therapist that doesn’t suck. Truthfully, I haven’t had a good therapist since I lived in Texas. She was one of the only good things about living there. Her, and my apartment. And being driving distance from Niki. That was basically it.

Anyway, one thing that I’ve identified that has been bothering me is that I’m just so ready to find our house and move out of our apartment. For the longest time I was not at all worked up about home-ownership (unlike a lot of other people who just seemed to jump into it because it was “the thing to do,” even though they hadn’t done any proper planning) but I always figured when the time came for it to be right for me, I would know. And now it’s here, and I know. I’m not living paycheck-to-paycheck anymore (fingers crossed that it stays that way!), Rusty and I are together, I don’t want to leave Atlanta, etc. - it all makes sense. I think being mentally ready to move on - mentally already having moved on, in some ways - heightens my frustration. I feel like things are breaking all the time. Like this week, our garbage disposal broke twice (and as of now isn’t fixed for good yet). I try not to complain because I know about having it better than a lot of people, blah blah. But this is my blog so deal.

It’s very important to me to have a “home base” where I truly feel at home, and where things are clean, organized, in their place, and feel comfortable. For a long time that place was our apartment, but increasingly I don’t feel that way about it - I just feel annoyed. I want furniture that isn’t made out of particle board. I’m tired of concrete floors. I hate that there are marks on our walls from where the movers banged shit around when we moved in. All these things didn’t used to bother me (well, the marks on the walls always did), but now they do, and I can only conclude it’s because I’m ready to move on to the next stage. I’m annoyed with nothing feeling “settled.”

I’m sick of: strange noises coming from the upstairs neighbors’ apartment, as if they’re running a wood shop (seriously, we’ve heard sawing noises); the kid in some apartment somewhere that I can always hear from my bathroom, who screams and wails all the freaking time; weird smells in the hallway because apparently some of our neighbors are disgusting; the Phantom Pooper.

Don’t get me wrong, I have no sparkly illusions about home-ownership being the solution to all problems oh except for the part where if anything breaks you have to fix it yourself and buy your own HVAC unit etc. etc. But I am ready.

I felt a little better last night after talking to Rusty about some of this. But I still feel kind of out of whack (<– correct spelling?).

Here are some photos of houses I like:

(as seen here)

(as seen here)

More later.

I don’t overuse the “pin” feature in Bloglines Beta; I use it strictly to keep track of stuff I want to read later, re-read in while paying closer attention, or blog about. So whenever I have more than 3 or 4 pinned items, I start to get antsy.

Currently I have 7, and they’re all posts that I’m brimming with Strong Opinions about, but at this rate I don’t think I’ll have time to write in-depth responses to each of them. So, link round-up cop-out it is!

• Antidepressants don’t work (from Uncool)

  Yes, once again, some Very Important Organization or other has released a results of a study that supposedly proves that anti-depressants are worthless. Hmm, if that’s true, then why are there so many people (myself included) who, whenever this shit happens, stand up and say very loudly that anti-depressants most certainly do work?

  I don’t understand why anti-depressants’ effectiveness needs to be proved or disproved. Tons of people are living proof that they do work. (Sure, we can study how or why - but if? That’s not a question.) I can say with 100% assurance of no hyperbole on my part, that if it weren’t for anti-depressant meds, I would not be alive today.

• Teenagers as Sexual Beings (from Miss Nomered)

  I found this blog a few weeks ago, I think via Ren’s, and reading it makes me feel hopeful about the future and the up-and-coming generation. When I was in high school, blogs didn’t exist, but I did keep a journal (I even kept it on my computer for a while, in SimpleText!) and I wrote about all kinds of stuff. I like to think that if I’d had a blog, it would’ve been similar to this.

  Anyway, the post about teenagers being sexual beings reminded me of my fourth year at TIP. There was a girl in my class who just seemed to exude sexuality. I think she was a year younger than me, which would’ve made her 15. I remember her talking in class one day about being frustrated with how adults don’t want to admit that teenagers are sexual beings and are not children. The rest of us in the class were nodding in agreement.

  I don’t know why adults tend to get so weirded out at the idea of teenagers having sexual feelings. Do they not remember being a teenager themselves? And ya know, admitting that teenagers are sexual beings doesn’t mean you’re saying you want to have sex with them! Get over it!

• Media and a Sex Worker (from After Hours)

  My heart goes out to Amanda, with everything she’s been through lately. And this post, just… well, at the moment I can’t really put my feelings about it into words. But it really struck me, maybe because I feel like I can relate to Amanda after reading a lot of her writing and identifying with some of her experiences and feelings? You should just read it. Here’s an excerpt:

  A definite downside is that I’ve attracted the attention of every shock-jock in the country, it seems. I’m a chance for them to use as many dirty words on the air as possible and a chance to score points off me. Seems women are only fodder for men’s lame sex jokes. I’m done with these shows. No more. ‘Course, it’s actually easier to screen clients than screen radio stations (they tend to be misleading about the nature of their show, of course).

  Or there’s an accusatory tone that would not be there if I were a client. Men get a “wink wink nudge nudge” thing when paid companionship is discussed. Women are branded and I bring out the self-righteous prig in everyone. The only explanation is that there must be something wrong with me. Being female and openly sexual means I’m off my rocker; something to be either pitied or reviled.

  More infuriating, they think they know everything about sex work (escort work in particular) because they believe every stereotype they’ve ever come across. This makes them an “expert.” Which makes me wonder why they bother to have me on. None of my interviewers have yet to actually admit to having experience as a sex worker — only me. Yet apparently I’m not to be believed.

• 5 Tips for Hot Menstrual Sex (from Naked City)

  I’m so glad Dacia wrote about menstrual sex! And I have immense respect for Furry Girl and Trixie for their menstrual sites (well, and for their general awesomeness). This post is informative, sex-positive, body-positive, menstrual-positive… all-around positive! Which is really something, since menstrual sex is typically either not talked about at all, or talked about with “OMG ewwww!!!” histrionics that you would expect maybe out of middle schoolers but certainly not adults, and yet here are adults acting as if getting your period is the most disgusting thing that could ever happen to you. FAIL.

  This post, however, gets the WIN stamp.

• “Please, anyone can do what you do…” (from Renegade Evolution)

  I hate when people act like sex work isn’t real work. Especially when they use snark quotes - “sex work.” Here’s what I said in a comment on Ren’s post:

  I think this whole “anyone can do it” thing is totally reactionary and full of projection. Because the same people who say that are usually the ones who are talking about how awful and degrading it is… so, therefore, NOT anyone can do it, right? It’s a contradiction, which leads me to believe they don’t have an actual argument.

Okay, there are two others I have pinned, but they both deserve longer write-ups… especially Caroline’s post about the new UK porn law. Holy crap.

Yesterday I went to see a psychiatrist, recommended by the therapist (a licensed clinical social worker) I’ve been seeing. The last time I saw a psychiatrist was when I was in college, and he’s the one who originally prescribed Wellbutrin for me. I don’t remember who prescribed it for me when I lived in Texas. When I moved to Atlanta, my primary care doctor started prescribing it for me, and admonishing me to see a therapist, since I wasn’t going to one at the time. A couple years ago that doctor stopped working after she had a baby, and the doctor’s office assigned me to another primary care doctor for insurance purposes, but I’ve never actually met the guy. Nevertheless, the office keeps refilling my prescription every time I call for refills.

All of this is to say, I’ve been on Wellbutrin now for about 5-6 years, and it’s been working great the whole time. But I knew that sooner or later I would have to see a real live doctor for med maintenance, as it’s called.

And more importantly, for the past several months - okay, going on a year now - there have been times when I’ve felt as if I might be sliding into depression. I can spot the warning signs, and I want to do everything possible to make sure I don’t end up there again; it’s not fun (obvious statement of the year). After talking with my therapist though, we both think it’s more anxiety than depression.

Oh, I should back up: a few months ago I started seeing a therapist again. She’s up in Dunwoody, and it takes two hours out of a workday for me to go see her (her office hours are exactly the same as mine). The office doesn’t file insurance, which pisses me off, because I have to file it myself, and so far I haven’t gotten any refund checks (the first time I mailed in my claims, and later called to see if they’d been received, and was told they had “no record” of the claims… no surprise there). Anyway, I really like this therapist, and I’ve been seeing her every other week; but I don’t know how long I’ll keep it up, with the travel time and the insurance pain in the ass.

There are a few psychiatrists at the office too, and she recommended I see one for a medication evaluation. So that’s what I did yesterday. The doctor decided to keep my current dosage of Wellbutrin and also add a small dosage of Lexapro, which is anti-anxiety medication. I’ll be getting that prescription filled this week, and within a few weeks to a month I should start to see results… hopefully good ones. She said Lexapro can cause nausea; I hope I don’t have that problem.

And can I just say, I am really irritated with therapists’ offices (or any doctors’ offices, but I’ve never known any other than psychologist/psychiatrist offices that act this way) that don’t file insurance for you. My therapist said, “There are just too many different types of insurance.” Well excuse me, that’s why there’s an office staff! My therapist in Texas (whom I loved; seriously, when I moved back to Georgia I wished I could take her with me) worked at an office a lot like this one, and they filed insurance with no problem. I think it’s presumptuous and lazy for them to expect patients to do it. I don’t know if I’ll ever see the refund checks for the appointments I’ve paid for so far, especially the $300 appointment yesterday. It just pisses me off, because I’m paying for insurance but of course they give you the run-around. (Again, why can’t everywhere be nice and responsive like USAA? Sad that service like that is a minority…)

Anyway, that’s that. I know I got off on a tangent, so this is partially an insurance rant and partially an update on my mental health situation. I’m publishing it now… without proofreading!

…GriftDrift or Sara, this post could be known as “Songs In My Head” or “Mood Music.”

At first I figured I’d look for the best concert footage to post, but then this video showed up in the YouTube search. It honestly had not occurred to me to look for an actual music video, ya know, like the kind they show on Em-Tee-Vee. (Do they show those anymore? Back when I stopped watching MTV, they were down to about three hours a day of music videos.) Am I showing my age? I mean, I’m not all that old, but I haven’t watched MTV or had any interest whatsoever in music videos in over ten years.

Anyway, back to Heimdalsgate, apparently some people think the song is about drugs. That’s also something that hadn’t occurred to me, but Wikipedia says it’s a common perception. To me it was just so obvious that it’s about depression, that I never considered anything else. I guess people who haven’t experienced depression don’t identify with it. Here’s what Kevin said to some idiotic-sounding reporter from The Stranger:

I went through this chemical depression, and that’s when I was writing a lot of the songs for Hissing Fauna. They’re all songs about that experience. And I was experiencing it in the moment that I was writing the songs, and sort of asking myself: What the hell is going on? Why are you all of a sudden totally paranoid and plagued by these anxieties? And why is everything so distorted and confusing and fucked up? My lifestyle hadn’t changed that much. And then I realized, well, there’s something going on inside of me that I don’t have control over, and then you realize how vulnerable you are to these things, these elements that you can’t understand, or unless you go on medication and get it under control. It’s like you’re being betrayed by your body.

I love this song. I love the whole album (except for one annoying song).

Meanwhile, there are storms throughout the South today, and already 45 people have been killed by tornadoes. :( I’m supposed to go see my new shrink at noon; hopefully the weather won’t be too terrible.

My ex-husband thought that because I was dealing with depression, I was “fragile.” That’s the word he used. I was flabbergasted - and offended - that someone who I thought knew me so well could completely misunderstand something so fundamental about me.

If anything, the opposite is true - I’m strong because I am dealing with depression.

Today, so far, has just been one of those not-so-good days. Nothing remarkable one way or the other has happened, so there’s no concrete reason for it - but that’s depression for you. I’ve been unable to concentrate on anything, and as such my work productivity has been pathetic, and that pisses me off, and the cycle perpetuates. And everyone has seemed combative with me, which I’m sure is at least partially attributable to my fucked-up perception today, but it doesn’t matter, because that’s how it’s all felt, and I do not like that one bit. I can only hope that things will get better as the day goes on. I’ve been taking lots of deep breaths and trying to make my brain focus on one thing at a time.

My therapist said I need to eliminate sources of stress wherever possible, so that’s what I’ve been trying to do over the past several weeks. But today everything just feels like a source of stress. My therapist also said he doesn’t want to “mess with [my] meds” just yet, but I wonder if that’s exactly what’s needed.

Required reading for: 1) anyone who thinks the American healthcare industry is doin’ just fine, or should even be allowed to find new and creative ways to screw people over (*cough* hardcore libertarians); and/or 2) anyone who’s ever made a smart-ass quip about depression, thereby proving that they’re an ignorant S.O.B. who doesn’t know what the fuck they’re talking about (redundancy removed).