Running

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April 26, 2013

On Coping. Or Not.

Posted by Unconfirmed Bachelorette under Addiction, Alcoholism, Death and Grief, Intervention, Leukemia, Running, Sobriety, walking | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |
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I'm smarter. No, I'm smarter. You're both dumbasses compared to my brilliance.

I’m smarter.
No, I’m smarter.
You’re both dumbasses compared to my brilliance.

I’m on a flight to Chicago. It’s an all weekend work rah-rah session. That means 48 hours with hundreds of lawyers. Lawyers drinking, bullshitting, and pontificating. Each one playing the power role, trying to impress. Needless to say, I’m not in the mood. But I missed the rah-rah session last year because my oldest brother’s memorial service was the same weekend. No way out of it this year. My damn plane was even on time. I plan to hide away as much as possible and spend some time in contemplation.

I haven’t spent a lot of time thinking lately. I’ve been in avoidance mode. I had a post recently on my “About” page expressing alarm at my coping mechanisms of choice: ice cream, wine, and mindless tv. I’ve watched the entire season of House of Cards, all three seasons of Downton Abbey, and now I’ve begun Homeland. I tried a couple of episodes of Game of Thrones. Complete and utter crap.

But I’ve strayed from my point. The poster was concerned about my wine drinking as a coping mechanism. She explained that addiction can be inherited, and that alcoholism is a progressive disease. My first thought was, “No shit.” My second was, “You must not be a regular reader of my blog.” Then I got angry. So what if  I’m sharing a bottle of wine with my neighbor nearly every night. Three people in my immediate family have died in the past eleven months. All the male members of my family are dead. I thought I saved the last one with the intervention. He was sober. Three months sober. And then he goes into the hospital, gets diagnosed with acute myelogenous leukemia, and dies within six days. Fifteen minutes before I get to the hospital. The last time I saw him, I held his hand on the way to rehab and sat with him as I helped him check in. You tell me how you cope with that. How in the fuck does anyone cope with that?

That reminds me of my eulogy when I started off saying how much this sucks and what a cruel and merciless place this universe can be. Afterward, the deacon told me it’s okay to express my anger. Anger is normal. I said, “I’m not afraid to express it. I’m pissed off.” He seemed taken aback. I suppose he’s used to a bit more reverence.

So back to my coping skills. Or lack thereof. Yes, I’m eating too much. Yes, I’m drinking too much. Yes, I should turn off the tv and meditate. But god damn it, this grief is an iceberg.  I know when I break down crying in the middle of the work day, in the shower, while I pet the kitty, when I look at his photos, when I tie my shoes; I know that’s an infinitesimal piece of what lies beneath. How in the fuck do you cope with that? There are years of this ahead. Years. Decades, even.

But the poster was right. Wine isn’t the answer. Or ice cream. Or mindless tv. I suppose I was trying to take it in little tiny slices at a time. I’m trying to control it, lest it control me. I know I need to let it go. Running helped me connect with it, but somehow feel like I wasn’t going to die from the overwhelming pain. It’s been a month (yesterday). I want to stop coping and start grieving. I did some research last week to find a grief support group. I’m on a wait list for one and got a reference for another that might be a fit in the meantime.

And after this stupid trip, I’ll keep lacing up my shoes and head out for a cry. And a run.

 

June 2, 2012

Anticlimax

Posted by Unconfirmed Bachelorette under Abilify, Antidepressants, Blogging, Chemistry, Deplin, Depression, Getting Unstuck, Living Life, Mid-Life, Moving On, Running, Starting Over | Tags: , , , , , , , |
[5] Comments 

After a fabulous vacation in Tuscany, I am back to the mundanities of life. I’ve spent the past week and a half digging out at work (and getting behind on my blogging). I traveled to Chicago for meetings this week, and while I love Chicago in the summertime, the last thing I wanted to do was get back on a plane. My reward was accepting my neighbor’s invitation to drink bubbles by the pool last night. (Much to my chagrin, I think I may actually feel the stirrings of a requited crush.) The combo of the bubbles and all the recent travel finally hit me, and this morning I stayed in bed until 11:00 a.m. catching up on sleep and recharging.

Okay, okay. I won’t skip over the requited crush topic. My neighbor has been crushing on me for years. The trouble is, he’s nearly fifteen years younger, and wants babies. (“But not tonight,” he said, the last time he made a pass at me.) Despite the fact that he’s charming, sophisticated, well-traveled, single, stable, and has a job (the opposite of my last foray into romance), not to mention a sexy Latin accent, there’s just no point in going down that road. And then there’s the fact that it’s a terrible idea to have a fling with a neighbor. So I shall keep it as a flirtation, and enjoy that. But still, there is a stirring in my girl loins that I haven’t felt in months.

All in all, I’m feeling pretty good these days. But the anticlimactic feeling that often comes at the end of a great vacation has me looking for something more. The something more that comes to mind is getting back to my running. But I’m having trouble running in the heat on the antidepressants. The Abilify warnings state that it’s easier to become overheated while exercising, and cautions against strenuous exercise. I live in Austin. I exercise outdoors in the heat. I refuse to spend my life on my elliptical (sheer freakin’ drudgery). So I’ve made the decision to see how I do quitting one of the trifecta (Ability, Deplin, and  Wellbutrin). I called Dr. McEnroe yesterday to get his input on my plan to quit the Abilify, but he hasn’t yet returned the call. Nevertheless, I’ve decided to go ahead and stop it, cold turkey. I’m sure there will be those who protest, but I’m going to do it anyway. When I’ve made up my mind to quit something, I don’t do it by halves. Including relationships and cigarettes. And besides, having quit smoking cold turkey some years ago, I can’t imagine this could be any worse. Just rip the band-aid off and get through it. It’s the best way. In quitting drugs, and men.

Hopefully once the Abilify is out of my system, I’ll be able to run without feeling like I’m going to keel over from the heat. And just to get it out there, I really want to be drug-free within the next several months. I’m feeling better. And with proper sleep, exercise, and Vitamin D (and staying away from abusive jackasses), maybe I’ll be successful in managing the depression without the drugs.

I think I’ve got this now.

 

January 8, 2012

Antidepressants–Definitely More Than a Placebo

Posted by Unconfirmed Bachelorette under Breakup, Deplin, Depression, Getting Unstuck, Love, Motivation, Moving On, Relationships, Running, Starting Over, Wellbutrin | Tags: , , , |
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Today is day 18 of the Wellbutrin/Deplin cocktail. The side effects are calming down (and, alas, my appetite is returning), my sleep is improving, and I don’t feel so damn exhausted. Dare I say it? I’m feeling better. Will it last? Will I regress? Will it get even better? I don’t know. What I do know:

  • I am sleeping so much better.

I’ve slept through the entire night, several nights in a row. I haven’t even gotten up to pee. I haven’t slept through an entire night without waking in years. Usually I wake up at 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. and can’t get back to sleep for hours. Sleeping through the entire night, or waking and falling right back to sleep, truly is remarkable. The fact that it keeps happening tells me it’s not a fluke.

  • While my appetite is returning, cravings are not.

In the first few days of taking the medication, I didn’t want to eat. I thought this was terrific. Now, my appetite is returning, but nothing like before. I’m not craving sugar, or carbs, or “bad food,” or alcohol. I don’t think as much about food. And when I do think about food, it isn’t as exciting as it used to be. The conversation in my head will go something like this: “It’s late, and I’m feeling a little hungry. What do I want for dinner? I haven’t had pizza in a long time. Should I stop for a pizza? No, it doesn’t sound good. How about a burger and fries; does that sound good? Nope, it doesn’t. Pasta? Meh. Scrambled eggs? Maybe. I don’t know.” In the past, I wouldn’t let myself eat pizza, or burgers, or fries. Not because it didn’t sound good, but because it’s “bad.” Now, it’s just lost its allure. Before the medication, I was having crazy sugar cravings. Now, they’re gone. Completely. Remarkable. I know Wellbutrin also is used to help smoking cessation. It’s supposed to zap cravings. Let me tell you: it does. No doubt about that.

  • I’ve been more motivated to get outside and exercise, and soak up some Vitamin D.

I love to hike, and Austin has some great spots. But for months I hadn’t had the motivation to get out of bed, let alone lace up my shoes and hit the trial. Last weekend, the holiday weekend, I did a total of just over 20 miles. My trusty Garmin said so. (I love my Garmin!) This weekend, while I didn’t hike, I did do a 5-mile walk/jog yesterday. Today, I’ll either do a repeat, or get on my elliptical and watch a little Dexter. Also, I’ve been getting in two personal training sessions a week. The medication definitely has made it easier to find my motivation.

  • I’m finding it easier to get up in the morning.

I’m no longer feeling like there are tentacles wrapped around my arms and legs, pinning me to my bed. I’m not awakening at 10:00 or 11:00 a.m., wondering “what the hell?” I’m back to awakening with the sunrise. Today it was cloudy, so I slept a little later: 8:30 a.m. But generally, I’ve been awakening at 7:00 a.m. And since I’ve slept through the night, I feel great. I had been getting up telling myself, “I’m so exhausted.” And I was. I’m not feeling so tired now. Even with getting out of bed earlier. If this keeps up, I might just be able to achieve my goal of early morning “runs.” I want to break through week 6 of the Couch to 5k program, which I keep repeating, over, and over, and over. Patience! I’m getting better.

  • I’m not as tearful, crying over every little thing.

Or how about this one:

Yes, I did cry all the way home from work on Tuesday. But I was having withdrawals from a really nice four-day weekend. Other than that, I’ve been less tearful. Okay, I teared up a time or two during the therapy visit with Annie, but nothing like the waterworks two weeks earlier with Dr. McEnroe. (Again, what kind of shrink doesn’t have a box of tissue on his desk?) A little crying is okay. The goal is not to become a stoic. I’m an emotional person. I’d just like to tone it down a little. I think there’s been some improvement.

  • I’m feeling less hopeless. Hopeless – less = Hope.

Maybe there is something beautiful in store for me in the future. Maybe I will find a healthy, happy love. Could it be?

 

December 17, 2011

Quit whining and do something.

Posted by Unconfirmed Bachelorette under Breakup, Getting Unstuck, Mid-Life, Motivation, Moving On, Running, Starting Over | Tags: , , , , , |
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I feel like I’m writing the same thing over and over. And over. I’m tired of looking at the words I’m typing. Mack and I broke up. I’m so sad. I’ll never have another boyfriend. I’ll be alone forever. And on and on. Ad infinitum. Makes me want to vomit the piece of banana nut bread I just ate. Which isn’t a bad idea.

I had a great-grandmother on my mother’s side. She was short and had black and gray hair she wore in a thick long braid, which she’d coil around her head. She was from Croatia. Only it was called Yugoslavia back then. She would say to me, “Pamelita, whenever you have troubles, don’t worry about it. Don’t worry about it; do something about it. Worrying is wasted energy. Use that energy to do something.” I’m paraphrasing here. Maybe she just told me to quit whining about whether the tomato plant we were digging a hole for would grow, and just dig the hole, put it in, and cover up the roots.

Here I am, whining about whether the future holds anything good in store for me. Whining about whether I did the right thing letting go of Mack. Whining about whether I’ll ever run a mile in under fourteen minutes. (I said I was slow.) I need to quit whining and just do something, for fuck’s sake. But what to do? What thing do I want to do to get me feeling like I’m moving toward something? I need a goal. I need a new passion. I need a reason for living. (Yeah, I’m a lawyer, and that’s not cutting it for me.)

There’s something I want to do. But apparently not badly enough, since I haven’t done it yet. Still, I think the perfect way to bust out of this straight-jacket I’m wearing is to get up every morning when it’s still dark and “run.” It sounds so romantic and passionate. And it appeals to the loner in me. I would feel very smug and self-satisfied if I accomplished this. Not to mention I would slim down and maybe break a ten-minute mile.

I wouldn’t have to get up that early. I could get up at 6:00, be out the door by 6:20 (I must have one cup of coffee!), and be back and in the shower by 7:30. I could get in a full hour every morning. Or I could start small and commit to just thirty minutes.

So what’s stopping me? It’s dark. And sort of cold. And there are two purring kitties in my bed. Purring. And fluffy. That’s much harder than getting out of bed when there’s a snoring man next to me. Also, I like to sleep. But often I have trouble sleeping, and so I may have just gotten back to sleep after lying awake for a few hours, when it’s time to get up and run. Of course, regular running should improve my sleep, so upon further examination, that excuse is bogus. I thought I had more excuses, but that’s pretty much it: I want to sleep; it’s dark and kind of cold; and there are purring cats.

Now, why would getting up be a good thing? It’s a test of my mettle. I can drag myself out of bed and be one of those people who’s serious about their running. If I do this consistently, I’ll undoubtedly get faster. Won’t I? I’ll be working toward a goal. I’ll overcome this inertia that has a hold on my ankles and is pulling me down into the black gooey muck of despair. My clothes, which have gotten quite ill-fitting over the past year, will loosen up again. And I’ll get into the goal jeans, buried somewhere deep in the back of my closet. I will be in charge of me. Instead of being a whiny little bitch, I will be back in charge of my life. Which now feels out of control. I’m so damn tired of feeling out of control. (Yeah, I’m a control freak. Any surprise there?)

So when do I start this little experiment? It has to be a real commitment. Otherwise, I’ll just set myself up for failure and self-recrimination. I have to start when the time is right and I’ve got a good chance of achieving my goal. Last week would have been bad. I worked until midnight two nights in a row to meet a deadline. I can’t get up and run at 6:00 a.m. when I’ve been up until 1:00 a.m. the night before. But that’s rare, and I’m just making more excuses.

Do I want to whine about being stuck, or do I want to do something about it? Why is it so difficult to find the motivation to pull myself out of this pile of steaming dung? Damn it! Where has my mettle gone?

Quit whining, put the tomato plant in the hole, and cover the roots.

 

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