Friday, July 24, 2009

The Present

So, things are good. I think my doctor and I have found my own special cocktail of meds that are keeping me from sliding into a funk. I am consistently operating at a 7 or 8, rather than a 3. I am able to get out of bed nine days out of 10. I am not spun into a frenzy then flattened out by anxiety over and over throughout the day. I haven't gone over the edge in weeks. Many, many weeks. A disorienting spiral into hell had been a daily occurance. I cannot adequately convey how FUCKING AMAZING it is to be on an even keel. To have both feet in reality. I am feeling around for solid ground. I trust myself to recognize the solid ground and to plant my feet firmly to it.

It is just. so. good.

I am so, so grateful for those around me who encouraged me to get help and who have been so very awesome in supporting me. My family has stepped up and rallied around me. My friends take each new day that comes right by my side. A. is here with me, always. He stayed. He didn't leave me. (I don't think he had considered leaving me, and I think that is amazing. And humbling. And so full of grace.) He looked me in the eye, clearly seeing all that I am, and stayed.

I have no doubt that these people will accompany on my journey, however long it may be. I can only hope to be as good to them as they have been to me.

I just may be the luckiest girl in the world. Really.


I am feeling better about the idea that I am on meds. I may be on them for a long time. I may not. I may have to adjust the dosage, even the type from time to time. And I really am okay with that.

The difference in the quality of my life is profound. And it isn't just the meds that have cleared the fog. Knowing my diagnosis and working to understand it has helped me reach into that fog and grasp the hand of the person I once was, the person I really am, the person I remember and pull her through the haze to the present.

I am starting to look myself in the eye, and see all of who I am more clearly. I don't think my road to recovery would be nearly as fruitful had I not included therapy. I am getting far enough into it that the sessions aren't just about getting to know each other and were I am, but about digging into those things I have kept so very carefully hidden from view. From mine, my family's, my friends, strangers. The hard, dirty work is about to begin.

I would be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. I want to heal, but I am not at all excited about the pain and work it will take to get there. I am scared.

It is like the notion of history and the present. History as a process, not the past. You can only really understand the present when you trace back the current conditions to a particular time in history, to a certain set of circumstances and structures that made it possible for the present to be produced. Then, you trace those steps forward again, back to the present. This is how you understand, annunciate the present. This is how you know the present.

Hmm. The present.

+++ UPDATE: And thank you to you, my bloggie friends! You guys have been more help than you will ever know.


  1. This makes me feel so happy. I'm so glad for you. And excited about your present and your future!

  2. I'm so happy you found the courage to confront your anxiety and make those changes, including medication. Obviously something about the chemistry in your body was changing and twisting the real you, and now you're back to life! And I think that is fantastic and brave and a gift indeed.

  3. It's such a relief, isn't it? When I finally decided to try medication for my anxiety disorder, it was as if a miracle had occurred. Yay for modern medicine.

  4. I'm a few days late, but SO GLAD to read this, to hear you're feeling better, more YOU. You are super brave!


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