Friday, October 8, 2010

Wading In

Today I went wading.  
Three or four days into an Abilify trial
'Abilify' - if only it can deliver what it promises!
Three weeks (or so) back onto Prozac,
   my first SSRI love.
When people ask me to explain the impact of selective serotonin 
reuptake inhibitors on my life, I tell them this:
Prozac gave me my first 'B' 
I had straight A's from K through junior year at Stanford.
A few months into Prozac I relaxed enough to get
          a 'B' in Organic Chemistry
What will it do for me this time?
Too much, and my legs are constantly begging to run, 
         but the muscles are so shortened so that 
          it hurts to even gesture toward my toes
Too much, and the same vibration migrates 
       to my mind, where a series of propellers spins in different directions
   lots of wind, no useful motion
Too little and I'm sobbing all the time
especially at the high school music numbers on glee tv

With this small amount of chemical insulation around my over-sensitive nerves
I went wading - 
I got in up to my thighs at the United ticket counter
I thought I was doing OK and
            then the waiting, the noise, the enormous family with too 
         many multicolored suitcases and crying babies and the man
        trying to get an earlier flight to check in for
       National Guard duty got to be too much...  
I felt the urge, the demanding need, to run away, to scream, 
     which I have done several times in public places recently but
     since I knew we really needed to change this ticket I 
just sat down on the floor, put my hands over my ears, and pictured 
each breath dislodging some of the rocks stuck inside my head.

We were in the world today more than I've been for the past 2 months, at
a cafe - not so hard.  I know what to order before I walk in 
Costco pharmacy - terrifying.  a million things begging to be looked at, dodged, listened to, all piled high              over my head. had to discuss insurance, always a mess.  
video store - also hard - way way way too many options
second-hand clothing store - high level of difficulty, YET I succeeded in purchasing a few things for my fashion experiments
silkscreen/embroidery shop, where I actually placed an order
 to get my Palmer Fishman logo sewn onto my superhero costume! and we
 chatted with the Greek owner about the relative 
misery of his country's economy vs. Spain's. 
 Put off selecting the color of thread, but the guy was way cool about it 
"don't worry about the color yet, just think about rolling over those eggs and it will come to you"
sushi restaurant - seemed OK, yet the noise level rose with the sake intake and in the end I had to flee.
I'm so lucky Otto was willing to wait for the check.  
This was a very good day.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

4 years ago - how pretty I was

I just discovered these photos on my brother's computer.  They were taken at his wedding and the day before.  I'm horrified at how much better I looked then than I do now.  I look so much more alive.

Check out my muscles!  Granted, I was teaching breakdancing and actively using my body 20+ hours a week.  But still!  I haven't danced like a joyful fool in such a long time.  From 1998-2006 I experienced multiple deep depressions, but I also became a hip hop dance teacher, of all things.  I lived for the exhilaration of moving to house music in the middle of the night in basement clubs full of amazing dancers.  Now I never dance.  I almost never go out at night.

I've been trying to get this haircut back.  What's so hard about it?  I wonder if my hair is dry and brittle now from all the pills, or from the botched bleach job I got after the accident in Managua.  I was afraid of people recognizing me as the killer gringa.  I thought if I turned blonde I might be mistaken for a different gringa - from the Peace Corps, or one of the evangelical churches.  The pink stripes looked wicked cool with the oversized sunglasses.  My brother looks pretty happy too.

I know I was having a lot of trouble with depression then as well, so what's the big difference?  Just age?    Or being more physically active?  Or having hot pink stripes in my hair?  
I got the pink stripes to match a costume for a huge rave I was performing at.
This was also around the time when I dated an emotionally competent drug dealer who drove me around in his Escalade and only wore brand-new shiny white Nikes.  I discovered he was a drug dealer when he left several thousand dollars in one of his show boxes at my house.  He was emotionally competent because he learned to be a peer counselor in jail.
So one could argue I'm more stable now - no late nights, way less drinking, a stable relationship, a great dog.
But also no dancing, not much exhilaration.  It shows in my skin.