Time to Dance

Slightly more than a week on Symbyax and I’ve already gained three pounds. I really don’t need anymore weight on me; the psychiatrist didn’t want to put me on this medication for that reason. Heart disease, obesity and diabetes run in my family; anymore weight over my now 221 lbs. is like a death sentence.

But Symbyax works for me. It works better than any medication I’ve ever taken. I don’t hear voices or hallucinate smells. I actually sleep at night without interruption. I’m more congenial. I have energy to actually interact with my environment. It brings me as close to normalcy as I’m going to get.

I’ve recently taken a blood test to see if I have a malfunctioning thyroid, but in the mean time I’ve been looking into joining a nearby gym to try to lose weight. All of them have convoluted contracts and ambiguous cancellation requirements. The one I like the most is actually at the nearby hospital. It’s cheaper, more straightforward and the patrons are diverse. The upfront membership fee is still more than I can handle at this moment in time, so I have to wait for my next paycheck or two to join.

Why join a gym? It’s air conditioned. I happen to live in Florida, where the heat and humidity are intolerable. I also get a rash if I stay in the sun too long. It also increases the chance my pale ass will get some form of skin cancer. There’s no room in the apartment for any form of activity that isn’t computer related.

Edit: John offered to foot the bill for a joint membership, and I went to the gym today for the first time in three or perhaps even four years. I had a blast. Since I’m totally out of shape, I started slow: I did ten minutes on the elliptical machine, ten on a treadmill, and finished up the day with an hour of beginner’s yoga. Yoga was one of the most physically difficult activities ever. I was covered in sweat by the time it was done. Yoga takes a lot of strength, flexibility and balance, all of which I have lost over the past few years. I’m trying not to take it that hard. Hopefully, I will regain those skills after several months of practice. Yoga was difficult, but fantastic, and I’ll be returning to for next week’s class.

A Song to Say Goodbye

A few days ago, my father, the king of nightmares, died. I was one of the people who signed the papers to take him off of life support. I made sure that I wasn’t doing it out of vindictiveness or for my wellbeing, but because he wouldn’t have wanted to live like that. The man was manic most of the time. Part of the reason he was in the hospital in the first place was because of his mania, he would have balked at spending the rest of his life in bed.

The rest of his family refuses to believe he had any mental illness. Depression and anxiety are women’s diseases, something shameful for a man to admit. When my mom told my uncle I had bipolar disorder he said, “No, she doesn’t. She’s too smart for that.” As if mental illness is something only stupid people get. Some of the most gifted minds to ever walk the Earth have and had some sort of mental illness. Anyway, my father was clearly manic the last time my boyfriend and I saw him. He was in the hospital for a quadruple bypass, and he wouldn’t stop talking about conspiracy theories and even tried to do one armed push ups on the floor. The psychiatrist he saw diagnosed him with schizophrenia and gave him Seroquel, but his energy level was clearly manic. At the time, I had wondered where I inherited bipolar disorder from, after seeing him, I had no doubt.

The last visit also put things into perspective. I used to worship my father when I was younger, but that soon turned into fear, hatred and finally apathy. I don’t love my father. I haven’t loved him for a long time, but at least instead of someone who consciously abusive, controlling and manipulating… someone almost totally evil, I now understand that he suffered from a mental illness and couldn’t control how it influenced his actions. I know in his normal times he loved me, not so much as a person, but as a possession. Perhaps, if he had taken his medication and received treatment I could have discovered if he was capable of seeing me as an individual and not as an extension of himself.

Special Needs

It figures that I only seek catharsis on the verge of a total breakdown. I can feel it trembling inside me, threatening me. I remember long ago when I foolishly used to push that presence aside; back then it was a flutter of wings, nothing more.

Now, I know better.

Time and pressure have morphed it into an earthquake. Sometimes, when I'm lucky, it takes the form of an anxiety attack. It begins with chest constriction and trembling hands and ends with a frantic phone call, or worse, me running or hiding in fear, thinking that finally my father will make good on his word and come and kill me.

As much as that frightens me, it is the other option, depression, that is far more terrifying. It possesses me slowly. Thoughts start to dim and my brain turns to sludge. My extremities leaden, then eventually start to ache. Few things bring joy. Many things bring tears, and for me, tears usually bring the dark thoughts. Luckily, this time around all I feel is a pervading numbness. Nothing is interesting. I cannot cry. Personally, I don't know whether I should be joyous or sad at the moment.

After six months of searching, my fiance finally has a job. My cat has been missing for a week. I haven't been to college in over a year. I'm obese. I have bad acne. I've been suffering from an allergic rash from something in my mother's house for over a month. I might be getting medical insurance for the first time in my life. Some of my relatives have been pestering my mother and me to take my abusive father off of life support. They expect me to give a damn. I am unable to work on my fiction. I was finally able to afford to see a psychiatrist and against his advice I am going back on Symbyax...the last time I was on medication was in November. It is hot as hell in Florida. I do nothing except work, sleep and sit in front of my computer listening to the same 73 songs over and over again.

I want to get my life back on track. I want to start exercising. I want to finish my degree. I want a better job. I want to be healthy and lead some semblance of a normal life.