I am so not a morning person. I'm still nauseous from getting out of bed at 6:30AM and getting to a meeting ON MY BIKE!! by 7:30 AM. Boy when I do something, I sure do it but only for about two weeks and then I have to switch it up. Ugh. I thought I was going to barf on the floor. I shared even though I was going to listen more. You know how you start to live your life in facebook status messages? I'm finding that I'm starting to live my life in my head of crafting a blog. Seriously, the last two days, from the moment I woke up. I don't want to make an ass of myself on the inteweb. So self-conscious. And while there is a benefit to this of looking critically at my self and crafting something that is somewhat coherent, I'm finding that it also makes it a wee bit harder to do my "work" and that my making a conscious effort to not think about the fact that I'm writing a blog. So I will do my best to "keep it real" and not talk about that part of that too much.
I went through a period in my early sobriety when I was waking up at 5:30 AM to do yoga, meditate and lifting "baby weights". Ambitious I know. This was way before I started going to meetings mind you. And it felt good and I did it consistently. Time was on my side. I had so much frickin time! And no idea what to do with it. I was detoxing and felt empty inside. I felt so outside of myself that suddenly I was getting up at 5:30 in the morning! Seriously, any one who knows me knows that you really can't talk to me (or rather I won't talk to you) for at least a half hour before I wake up. I'm good at faking like I do mornings. But I have to wake up mad early to be functional. I think about 3 hrs is the amount of time it takes.
In order to get into the rooms, I had to get back on anti-depressants. This was not an easy task. I had to come to terms with the fact that my 10 yr depression was not gone and indeed may never be. And when I first went sober 18 months ago, I couldn't believe how shitty I felt. I was so sad. And even 6 months ago, my friends that drink were like, Dude, you seemed way happier when you drank. And I had to agree! This sobriety thing stunk! I was crying and sad all the time, angry and uncomfortable, bored and lonely (I was even dating someone!). I also had to come to terms with taking pharmaceuticals. For the entire span of my depression, I have been reticent about taking prescribed anti-depressants. The last time I took prescribed anti-depressants was to get out of being locked up.
I was involuntarily committed in November 1995, I was 18, and then again in November 1996. Must be something about a New England fall or S.A.D. Almost a year to the day later. Ha. I didn't do anything to warrant it the first time except freeze out the therapist while silently crying and shaking a bit. So she didn't feel like I was safe. I figured out that to get out, you had to start taking meds. The second time, I overdosed on Naproxen, a muscle relaxer prescribed to my mom, that now they sell in low doses as Aleve. My parents were out. I just wanted to get out of my body, unzip my skin and stop feeling the way my brain was making me feel. I took like 10 or 15 or something, 800 mg maybe. Frankly, I don't remember. I remember waking up to go pee and not being about to feel anything or see and my tongue was super fat and dry. I guess when I got back in bed, I had a seizure and ended up underneath the bed with the mattress pulled over me. I woke up in a hospital bed and pretty much at that point you've signed yourself up for at least a week of "wellness" in a locked ward (not sure how wellness equates with locking and the word "ward" but ok). Part of me believes that stopping and starting my meds several times really brought on my ability to follow through and attempt to take my life. But the minute I swallowed, I didn't want to die. Luckily, my number wasn't up yet. The pain and darkness from depression is just so fucking unbearable.
Woo...moving on. So... where was I, oh yes so taking Prozac now and loving it! I don't know what I was thinking not being on meds. I started taking it in May and a few weeks later, the meeting schedule wasn't sending me into a tizzy when I looked at it and I got myself to a meeting. When I was sober and not on meds, I can't tell you how many times I looked at the schedule and could not figure out how to get to a meeting. I saw addresses. I know how to use Google maps. I have a Berkeley degree for cryin out loud! But could not for the life of me get to a meeting. I was so totally overwhelmed with the thought~ALL the thoughts that it brought up for me. And so, one of the side effects of being on copious amounts of Prozac which I love by the way, did I tell you how much I love it? is being groggy. Holy shit. It's like waking the dead every morning. And while I'm less mean in the mornings (I cannot tell you the weight that has been lifted, really I had no idea I could feel this good and I can't believe how long I felt like shit refusing meds), it takes herculean efforts to get to work and do my morning non-routine every day.
So this morning. I did it. I got to a meeting. And that totally feels good. And I got some exercise which also feels good so, check, check, for the day so far all before 9:00AM. Now for some lunch. Oh look, my nausea's gone. Maybe I'll write more about the meeting itself.