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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 3 of 3. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by Shay Sweet on April 17, 2006, at 18:28:30
The subject line is actually the title of a book by Irvin D. Yalom; I just borrowed it because it seems appropriate. I have tried several times over the past three years--yes, I said YEARS--to post some kind of plea for advice, help, answers, etc. But my three year old daughter doesn't let me type, and at night time, I slump over in the chair in exhaustion when I try.
It's now 48 hours since I started this post/thread, so that in itself shows the utter lack of time management skills present here. Notice I didn't say time, but time management. I'm sure I have all the time and resources in the universe to make my daughter's and my life spectacular; it's the cognitive function in my brain that keeps me from achieving any real, measureable goals.
That and whatever damage I added by allowing myself to become dependent on Opioids, Benzodiazapenes, Antidepressants and Phentermine (aka Adipex--a diet pill for short term aid in obese patients for which I far exceed time limitations).
I have always felt despondant though. With or without medications/self-medicating, I have had these feelings. The meds simply push the feelings down and torture me instead with horrible side effects, the worst of which is weight gain. Because if you take all of the other things about me that are screwed up, they could all be overlooked if I were 50 lbs lighter. And I'm not just fantasizing about some unobtainable false reality; I actually got by being nearly incoherent before I gained weight. And I was a bit overweight before that too, so I've seen every side of the coin. Only now, I will be turning thirty in August, and mentally I feel stuck at twenty something. It's true that we cease maturing as adults at the age we begin stifling our feelings with our compulsions. There is no room to grow if we suppress the inevitable. We simply slow down and fall behind, becoming shadows of our former selves.
Family members take notice but are too afraid to say anything to your face because it just makes you feel worse about yourself.
So on and on I go in this pointless race, refusing to see the truth, which is not what I would like for it to be: a picture of my former physical self, free to hop in my unaffordable car and feel the breeze blow through my fingertips while songs of stomping on hurt and beating the ugly demon that held me back for so long blare on the radio or CD player, creating a high that no chemical could touch.
I feel so trapped!
If I could just taper off of Methadone somehow, without feeling miserable, I could enjoy a beer again! Maybe even go to the bathroom! Now I really am fantasizing.
Anyone know what I'm talking about? Anyone care? Feedback is so welcome.
I am actually going to finish this post! I don't know where my parents took my little girl after supper, but I know they're pissed that I wasn't home from work in time for supper. My job is so hard...I've been there for nearly three weeks, and I can't seem to stop asking the same questions, which is no doubt tiring to the girl I replaced who just wants to dig in to her new position without me chained to her ankle every three seconds.
What's wrong with me? Why is it so damn hard for me to pay attention to directions and absorb them? Shoot, even in kindergarden I had to see a shrink for 'daydreaming,' who told the school I was too smart for kindergarden. Either the good talking doctor's assessment was way off, or my mom made that up so the neighbors wouldn't think she raised a dummy. Always so concerned with what other people think. I wish she would let an emotion spill once in awhile.
Peace Out--
Shay
Posted by ClearSkies on April 17, 2006, at 21:17:32
In reply to Mama and the Meaning of LIfe...Patterns, posted by Shay Sweet on April 17, 2006, at 18:28:30
Hello, there. I saw the title of your post and I'd just seen it on a website for a rehab clinic as recommended material.
Ain't that strange. You said
"I have always felt despondant though. With or without medications/self-medicating, I have had these feelings. The meds simply push the feelings down and torture me instead with horrible side effects, the worst of which is weight gain. ....
and
"It's true that we cease maturing as adults at the age we begin stifling our feelings with our compulsions. There is no room to grow if we suppress the inevitable. We simply slow down and fall behind, becoming shadows of our former selves."
I tend to be depressive too, and have been as far back as I can remember. I didn't start drinking seriously (like I was practicing before??!! lol) until I was 16, and it's true - I got stuck right there at that age, and didn't "wake up" until I was 37. I'm 43 now and finally feeling better more days than I don't.
I wanted you to know that I read this, and I can identify with it.
ClearSkies
Posted by Shay Sweet on April 18, 2006, at 22:49:15
In reply to Re: Mama and the Meaning of LIfe...Patterns » Shay Sweet, posted by ClearSkies on April 17, 2006, at 21:17:32
Well thanks! I wasn't sure if anyone would see it way down at the bottom, but I guess people are used to the way this forum is designed. I automatically look for new posts at the top of the page...anyway...
I am stealing time again, letting my stepdad pick up my toddler while I take a moment to vent.
I really love(d) my latest effort at a career; granted, I was less than perfect and felt I would never catch up with all of the billing and check posting that went along with the position, but the staff is great--like being on a sitcom--I had my own private area shared with one other girl who's really great to work with; we have good chemistry. I could go on and on about it, from the 100% medical/dental coverage, for which I just received my benefit cards in the mail yesterday, and yada yada yada. But I shouldn't have let myself get attached, as I knew the inevitable would happen.
Back in 2001, I was newly pregnant but didn't know it yet, shopping for groceries in a less than ideal part of the town I was living in at the time with my fiance. We had stopped there only because it was near his father's office, and he had to use the bathroom, so I hesitantly pulled in. Rather than wait in the car, however, I doddled in and began getting some things for the house. While I shopped, I opened a package of Entermen's doughnut HOLES and ate ONE out of the package.
I realized I needed a cart once I got to the juicy juice aisle, so I set the few things down on the shelf to get one--there was no one around, no cashiers, shoppers, anyone. As soon as I set the basket down on the juicy juice shelf, I spun around to face a heavy set manager who eyed me like I was a hoodlum. He said heartily, "You gonna pay for them doughnuts?"
Clearly a misunderstanding, I giggled at the ridiculousness of it all, but before I could explain, the manager was already angry and snapped, "You think this is funny?" Then, turning to a suddenly present cashier at the cigarette checkout, he ordered, "Call the police!"
Long story boring, I was arrested, spent the night in jail, and by 9:30 a.m. was having panic attacks from hell and just wanted to get court over with. It was decided that there was no sense in spending all the money to bail me out when court would be in the morning and I would be leaving anyway. That was dumb; I had never been in trouble with the law, though, so like an idiot, I trusted everyone's advice.
Minutes before we were escorted to our bench, shackles clanging as we shuffled our feet, what I supposed to be a public defender advised me to plead "No contest," which would ensure that Adjudication would be withheld. So I listened. When it was my turn to shuffle over to the microphone, with my in-laws watching through a glass window in the back of the courtroom, I muttered the words, No Contest, which meant nothing to me other than I was supposed to be able to zip on out of there with only bad memories to blemish my reputation.
The judge ordered two days in jail, which to my relief was considered "time served," and eventually I was a free girl again.
So fast forward five years, I'm filling out dozens upon dozens of applications, held a good job for two years who supposedly did a background check, and did several temp jobs, also consenting to background/fingerprint/drug screenings. NO PROBLEMO! So why would I suspect anything was on my record when A)I was instructed by an attorney to plead no contest and have adjudicationi withheld, and B) No other checks had turned up any convictions? Hell, my degree is in Education! You can't be a teacher if you have a blemish on your criminal record! Petty theft! For eating a flipping donut hole for which I had the money but was never given the opportunity to pay!!
Suffice it to say, my current job, aka my former job, works with an agency who does background checks, and this turned up as a misdemeanor charge. Since I indicated "No" on my application in reference to having had any charges, they had no choice but to let me go. If I had known about the charge I would have done something years ago to contest it, or at the very least, I would have shared the story with my employer! I told everyone else I've worked for, and up until today, it has been known as "The Donut Caper" evoking nothing but laughter.
This SUCKS.
I leave at 8 a.m. for Miami for three days b/c my little one is having surgery on her left eye. I was just beginning to feel hopeful again, like I belonged to something, had broken through that new stage of a job where nobody knows you. I had that. And now it's gone.
I don't think I will ever have a normal life. I always wonder if God just keeps pulling the rug out from under me so I'll be forced to buckle under the pressure and admit that I can't handle life without giving it all to Jesus Christ and freeing myself of dependency on anything else, ie pills...
This is the end of the thread.
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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
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