Changing a Life. Part Two.

A lots happened in the past few months. I've already been through my first med change. The Zoloft began to wear off, so why continue taking something if it's not doing a damn thing. So immediately I was switched to Prozac with a Xanax chaser. With my increasing panic attacks I decided that it didn't sound like a bad idea. It didn't take long for me to find out this med switch was gonna be difficult. It was miserable. By this time I had finally given into counseling due to a mother induced intervention and an appointment set in the books with my name on it. And lucky me I got to have my first session right as it felt like my mind had fallen to shit, confused and cluttered with chemicals, drugs, alcohol. I was at an end. Counseling is not easy. I'm not the type of person who just opens up. It's difficult, but sometimes relieving.
Thankfully I found out that the Xanax makes me want to kill myself when I'm coming down from it. Haven't really touched that bottle since I figured that out.
Really the best thing to calm me down is weed, so fuck the doctors that are trying to keep me from getting my med card. (think of your patients for just a minute).
But one of the Techniques my counselor is making me try is that lovely "count to ten" method. It does work, i tried it, and as i was going into a panic attack, I found out I couldn't count, it always made me get side tracked and the deal of the game was to not be thinking of anything at all. I'm pretty sure it's safe to say that I never made it past 6 when I counted.
What really did helped me though was just telling myself to breath, no counting, no thinking, just breathing. It helped my mind get sidetracked, my heart rate slowed and I finally calmed  the fuck down, because we all know how hard that is for me.
I am glad that the Prozac has set in it seems to be doing okay now. I'm sure I'll get a dose upgrade soon so hopefully I don't flat line with it like the Zoloft. My counselor seems impressed with my change in composure in these past few weeks. I have warned her though that some days as good as I'm up, the harder I can fall. I guess this is was makes me feel so insane some days. I just would like some sort of stability in life, but it never seems like we'll have that comfort.
But I also love the spontaneity of life someday's. Though I might not always have the money, friends or support I need at the time, I know I could always uproot somewhere and work things out as they go.
As long as life is an experience.
 I'm tired of this average Jane stuff and everyone trying to be this perfect picture image. List all the things in a perfect image life, a family, kids, career, home. That's not a necessity for me. If it happens, then hell yeah, you know. But if it doesn't happen, then it doesn't. I just hope I have the drive to keep chasing the things I love. But I trust my passion. I've never really been the 'sell out' type of person. I know I can design and I believe I can go far. Never stop dreaming, and never believe your dream is unreachable. If you truly dream of a brighter future, you are the sun that will make it happen.
You must make it happen.  

Changing a life part. 1

Things have been changing. Everyday the layout of my life is changing , present and future changing so rapidly I get anxiety just typing about this. A few months ago I convinced myself I really needed help. Like really needed help.
It took me a while but I finally talked about my depression with my mom. It was hard for me to do this because I knew it would be hard for her. It's always difficult for me to show my imperfections with my parents. She got upset but I felt like it was very helpful to talk with her to compare and contrast our own conditions, she having bipolar, helped me feel safer going to a medication.
First doctor appointment:  My doctor is a girl and seems very nice. Asks your usual questions and recommends Zoloft 50mg for depression and anxiety and counseling.
I begin my medication immediately and work my way up to the dose. As the first few nights roll by I don't notice too much besides some wicked vivid dreams. My mind felt more active during my rem then during the day. After the medication set in I didn't really feel sad, maybe like one day out of the week I was depressed but the other days were different. I can't say I was happy because I didn't feel happy. I cant say i was sad because I didn't feel sad. I didn't feel anything. I barley even thought. For 8 hours a day at work I would listen to music and pace without having a normal human thought. This panicked me because I've never experienced my mind running this slow. I was in this confused state of whether this is normal and that I needed to adjust to it or if I couldn't handle it. It got to the point where I would have rather had felt pain than nothing at all but after some more time on my meds that feeling mellowed out and then eventually I began to get depressed more often and so on. All during this time the counseling center has been trying to contact me while I ignore calls due to stupidity, money and an underlying fear of it.
Second doctor appointment: After a very short question filled visit the Doc decides to up me to 100mg of Zoloft and still recommends counseling.
Right now I'm working my way up to this dose and I know my body feels different. I still get depressed. I feel like a little more often than before as well. 8 hours at work can seem like hell when your mind is against you for the moment. One thing I have noticed since upping this dose is that I haven't cried, for a while. It's not that I expect myself to cry every so often. There's just a lot of things happening in my life right now and so much I miss and regret. It's not like I ignore these feelings, it feels like they're building up somewhere and I'm leaving it for me to deal with later. But they're still there and they're still dwelling and I know it's only a matter of time when things come up.

Won't Forget You

I didn't know you long.
Hell I didn't know you that much at all.
Somewhere mixed between inter-webs and loneliness we found each other.
Nothing crazy, I guess we both just needed someone to talk to.
As days passed it was clear you wanted a little more and I wanted a little less. I guess life was just crazy and I'm not the type to try and get close with someone I've never met. So our conversations dwindled, but they never stopped. Everything seemed to go in waves. But for a while there was silence. After a week I finally got a message from you. You apologized. You had tried to kill yourself and stopped messaging while you were in the hospital. It took my breath away. Still stuck in a pit of depression you chose me to talk to. I stayed up with you until 5am saying anything I could to help. Anything. I was terrified. I mean, what are you supposed to say? Am I saying this right? How do you show support? I barely knew him. It wasn't like I was being an ass but I tried to be blunt. You needed friends and I said you needed to go out a make them. We talked for hours. Then finally I said goodnight because I had to be up in an hour for work and you messaged me "I know I don't know you, but I love you." I didn't know how to react because I wasn't sure the context you were using it as, but it made me think I said something right because you were still there.  Days went by we chatted a little things seemed okay.
One night I got a message from you, all it said was "hey". I remember seeing this message clear as day, right when you sent it, I got it. I put my phone down and didn't reply. I don't remember why but I chose not to answer at the moment and as the night went on my bad memory got the best of me. While driving to work in the morning I remembered, pulled out my phone and apologized.
No response. Not for hours. Not for days. Not from you.
Three days later I finally got a message. But it wasn't from you.
You were gone.
Not even two hours after the message you sent me your parents found you. Now here I was, I didn't even know your name and I have your parents looking to me for answers of why they're burying there son.  Preston. I was broken. I looked for every reason why I shouldn't feel guilty but even in my position I couldn't help but have my own world crash for a while. I wish I could have helped.
Then here I was in my own apartment not even a few days later and the expression on my face went from stoned to numb when my close friend told me he tried to kill himself three times that month and I couldn't even find the words to respond because I was scared. I was so scared. Every generic sentence I pushed out felt like a lie because I can't even keep my own shit together. I thought I was going to loose you too. I thought I was going to loose myself. I used to be able to help people with this stuff but it's gotten so hard lately. I don't know what wrong with me.