I'm a guinea pig!

Okay, so I'm not really cute, fuzzy, mammal often procured as a household pet. I am, however, a test subject in the study at Vanderbilt! So I decided to do what every self respecting blogger would do, and start a new blog for it!

Go here if you want to read all about my mental, emotional, and physical things that I record so that I can answer all sorts of questions honestly at my clinic visits every week. If you don't care, that's cool with me, I'm really doing it more for myself than anybody else. But if you're curious, and want to see what being a guinea pig does to me, you are more than welcome to do so. :-)

This will still get all my random ramblins/discussions/ideas/etc, so fear not.

That's it for now, I have to get up early in the morning for orientation at Chili's!

It's never too late to change lanes

I think some of my favorite moments are little gifts. Little serendipitous gifts the universe throws your way. Sometimes they are just gifts, happy moments to make you smile. Other times they are signs. Little reminders or suggestions to get implanted in your brain.

I guess I use "the universe" as my way of attributing things to God without sounding like the religion major that I am.

But I've gotten three this week. And it's kind of hard to ignore that.

It's been a rough month. moving into a new place. getting situated. dealing with all the quirks that go with living with new people in a new place. job hunting. hating job hunting. sucking at job hunting.

Let's just say that I needed some gifts from the universe.

The first was in Starbuck's. I went in friday to fill out an application. The guy who handed me the application starts telling me how great the benefits and stuff are and how it's a good time to apply. Then he takes my filled out application to the back...and the guy who walks out went to high school with me. Graduated a year ahead of me. Interviews me and tells me he's going to call me monday. I leave smiling and feeling really good about it.

I also filled out an application at Chili's friday. They told me to come back on monday. I went...and they had me take this test. So I'm sitting in this booth, taking a test (which involved MATH. omg. I was not happy.), and all of a sudden the beginning of a song over the sound system caught my attention. It was one of my favorite songs by one of my favorite bands, Stereophonics (gift #2). So that makes me relax a bit, and not worry so much about the ridiculous MATH involved in this test. (have I mentioned I HATE math??) So I turn my test in, and one of the managers comes back and tells me that I passed it (huzzah!) and to come back Wednesday to talk to a different manager and probably get a job offer. sweet!

Starbucks called today with a job offer.
I may get a job offer form Chili's tomorrow.

I LOVE options. and gifts from the universe.


The third came today. I was watching AMC and a commercial came on for a study being done at Vanderbilt on depression. It was advertising for people to take part in the study. I've been off my Prozac since February, and haven't seen anybody about my depression since some time before then. I really needed somebody today.

So I just e-mailed the lady about the studies (there are actually two going on right now). We'll see how that goes.


I wonder how often I don't notice things like a song on the sound system or a commercial on tv. How often I don't listen to what the universe is trying to tell me. How often the worry and the stress overshadow the provisions of the one who dresses the lilies of the field so lavishly.

it's just an ordinary morning, just an ordinary day

Beth wrote a post about how she found out about the events of 9/11/01. It's pretty poetic, and includes a hazy feeling that I think signifies how a lot of people felt on and after that day.


My account of that day isn't nearly as poetic.


I was in 1st period Shakespeare, Sophomore year of high school...

and I was being hit on by the girl sitting next to me.



After we found out about the first plane, and watched live as the second plane flew into the second tower, all I could keep thinking was "but it's Steph's 16th birthday!"



She's 23 now. Happy Birthday, Stephanie. I hope it was a happy one.


To be honest, I miss that friendship more than those two towers in New York City.


Maybe that's selfish.
Maybe that's insensitive.
In fact, it probably is.

But it's the honest to God truth.

RagamuffinTop Challenge: Update #6

I'll just cut right to the chase...I stayed the same again.


195.
0 lbs lost this week.
8lbs lost overall.


I'm trying to keep myself upbeat about it by saying at least I haven't gained.
But deep inside it's kind of fueling my depression. kind of fueling a desire to eat more just because eating less isn't working so I might as well have something to make me happy.

But I will do better. I will get my YMCA membership and start swimming laps and doing some weight training. I will.

I will start losing weight again.

How did you other RagamuffinTop participants do?

like the rain in a downpour

Today is really hard.

I'm in the middle of sorting through 22 years worth of stuff. pictures, programs, tickets, momentos, some memories happy, some sad, and some painful reminders of what used to be and now is gone.

Took puppy out this morning...and she got sick. Apparently I asked the vet for medicine for the wrong worms last week, so instead of catching them early they have had a whole other week to grow and multiply and now she's sickly and tired. Got and gave her the right medicine today, so hopefully she will feel better soon. It's just frustrating to worry about my puppy and frustrating that something I thought I took care of actually didn't get taken care of and now is worse.

My dad isn't coming home this weekend to help me move. Not his fault, but it's still a hassle and disappointing. Just means I have to find other people to help. I don't like asking other people for help. It's ironic, because I just realized I feel the same way about asking for help as Chelle as developed recently. I feel like if people decline to help me it's because I'm not worth their help. Because they don't like me enough to help me, or don't think I deserve the help I'm asking for. Chelle expressed the same thing to me and I told her she was being silly. That if people can't help you it's because they can't. It's a problem with them, not with you.

It's a problem with them, not with me.

I need to ask.



But all this combined with certain other things that are floating around in my head have converged to call out the depression monster. He's in rare form today, seeing as I've been so happy the last few. He wants me to break down, cry, give up on packing and puppy and life in general. He wants me to think that things that aren't my fault or my problem actually are mine to worry about. He wants me drinking Mt. Dew and eating everything I know is not good for me and my weight loss goals. He wants me frazzled, overwhelmed, and paralyzed by sadness.

Not today, sir.
Not today.

"In the Cathedrals of New York and Rome...

there is a feeling that you should just go home, and spend a lifetime finding out just where that is."
~Jump Little Children- Cathedrals


Yes, yes, I know, Jon already gave props to this song on SCL, but I like to title posts with song lyrics and this is the first song that came to mind and seemed to fit. Plus, maybe if I get enough people to love JLC as much as I then they will get back together. hey, a girl can dream.

anyways, on to the purpose of this post:


I went to church today for the first time in quite a while. Yeah, I know, I'm the world's worst religion major, and on the "bad christian" list. whatever.

I'm in this weird place where I don't feel like the type of church I grew up in suits my belief system anymore. like it's not my spiritual home anymore. Last time I went I sat through a sermon on the evils of abortion that made me want to scream (not because I like abortion, but because I think the church should preach towards things like love, service, and charity instead of preaching against specific sins). At the same time, I haven't taken the time or energy to seek out a church that DOES fit...so I don't go.

But I went today. Mostly because my mom gave me this very loving look last night and said "I'd really like it if you came to church tomorrow." And how can you say no to that? Especially when it's my last weekend living in her house? so I went.

The service was great. They are doing a series on brokenness, and during the last song we sang before the sermon a lot of church members walked across the stage with signs. On the brown side of the sign was written statements like "Addicted Alcoholic" "Sexually abused by 2 family members" and "Abortions" and then they would flip their signs over to a white back side that said things like "Jesus Addict" "I forgave because I am Forgiven" and "Mother and Grandmother." It was really powerful, made me cry like a river, especially since some of the people who walked across the stage were former sunday school teachers and friends of mine.

But that is another one of those things that gets to me every time I go back to that place.

I'm "going back" to who I was before college. I go back to the little girl they watched grow up. Watched come every sunday. Watched sing in the youth choir, youth ensemble, and youth praise band. Watched go to camps and mission trips, do Evangelism Explosion, and dedicate my life to serving God. Watched be the "perfect Christian girl" who never cussed, never smoked, never drank, and signed the True Love Waits commitment card. I'm going back to that girl who was completely ruled by fear, guilt, insecurity, and completely uncomfortable in her own skin.

It makes me feel completely fake. Because I feel like I have to put on my "perfect christian girl" face there. I even feel weird adding anybody from that church on facebook or myspace just because I know some REAL pictures are going to show up...or I'll write something real...and I feel like they'll judge me.

"Look at that girl...she used to be such a good girl...look what Belmont did to her."

It's not that I'm ashamed of who I am now. I'm not. Sure, I may use the occasional profanity, smoke the occasional clove cigarette, have the occasional alocoholic beverage, may have done things with certain boys that would make them blush, and I'm working through this fiend called Depression. But I'm not ashamed of those things.

I'm not a horrible person.
I'm not an alcoholic.
I'm not a smoker.
I'm still a virgin.
And I have people in my life who give me more moments of happiness than any of them ever did.

Even better than all of those things...I'm REAL. I may not be perfect, but I don't pretend that I am. I don't have to pretend. I don't want to pretend.

I know who I am now. Not who they wanted me to be, but who I am.

I'm sure there are a number of people at that church who would more than accept me for who I am now. Who would wrap their arms around me and say they are proud of me, they love me, and God loves me. But I'm just as sure that there are people who would be disappointed with things I have decided are permissable for my life.

And I can't handle the disappointment of people who were giants in my young eyes.

So next Sunday I am going with Chelle to the church she goes to. Because Chelle will be my roommate and it will be convenient. Because Chelle and I have similar spiritual ideas and I want to see what she loves about this church. And because Chelle knows ME, loves me, and people at a new church can get to know me, and love me, and I can get connected into a community as myself. with authenticity. without fear of disappointing them with who I am.

I can worship loud, with hands and heart upheld...and then go have lunch at a pub and discuss the sermon over a pint.

And that sounds like heaven here on earth to me. It sounds like home.

I'm an Alumni.

I suppose a great title for a blog about getting my degree would be "I spent 4 years and 100,000 and all I got was this piece of paper." But it sure is a glorious piece of paper:


I may have done it 3 months behind schedule...but I did it. I actually did it.

For a while I didn't think I could. I wanted to give up and forget that the last four years had ever happened. man. There were a tough four years. The toughest of my life.


Freshman year I entered Belmont University and the Honors program.

Over that year my two best friends in the world decided that they didn't want me to be a part of their lives anymore.

Spring semester freshman year Grandfather on my mother's side had his first severe onset of dementia while staying with my family, and thought my parents were strangers holding him hostage. He tried a couple of times to physically attack my mother. He was diagnosed with lewy bodies.

That summer I got a part time job at Lowe's and one of my uncles on my mother's side moved in with us. He stayed here to work while we went to spend Christmas with my dad's family in Mississippi. We got a call Christmas day saying he was in the hospital, had been found wandering the streets of our town after some sort of mental breakdown at work. We rushed home, he was put in a mental institution for a couple of weeks, and is currently in an assisted living apartment complex.

The next spring my grandmother on my mom's side developed a non-cancerous, inoperable tumor on her liver.

I was selected to be an RA in the Honors house for my Junior year. all Junior year I carried a 17hour class load while working 15 hours each weekend at Lowe's, working 20+ hours a week as an RA, plus extra time spent in meetings, inservices, and planning programs.

My grandmother's tumor kept growing and using up more of her blood supply til she had to have weekly blood transfusions. She decided she no longer wanted the transfusions, and died during the lead up to finals fall semester my Junior year.


I left the day after the first Christmas without my grandmother for a 2 week study abroad trip to London, which came back 2 days after I was supposed to be back to campus to get RA and school stuff underway.

Finals time spring semester Junior year my grandfather died.


I left the day after RA stuff ended for a 2 week study abroad trip to South Africa/Botswana.

I came back to full time hours at Lowe's and papers to write from my study abroad trip.

I burnt out.

I sank deeper and deeper into the depression that I've flirted with since middle school.

Research and preparations I was supposed to be making to write my senior honors thesis went undone.

I put in my 2 weeks notice at Lowe's, only to be rear-ended, given whip-lash and having to quit before those two weeks were up.

Fall semester Senior year I went to see a school counselor. After our first meeting she sent me to a psychiatrist's office for a "medication assessment." I was put on prozac.

I gained 30lbs.

Spring semester I took myself off Prozac.

I had to face the fact that I wasn't going to graduate in May, and if i didn't get myself together and focus I wasn't going to graduate in August either. I wanted to quit. I wanted to give up and forget getting a stupid degree.

A lot of times over those 4 years I wanted to die.

Sometimes I think my mother is the only reason I did it. Sometimes I think she's the only reason I'm still here at all. Cause after everything she has been through, all the heartbreak and loss she has been through over these 4 years, I couldn't be another loss. I couldn't be another disappointment. She means the world to me. She's never given up on me. Always reminded me that God has a plan, and that "this too will pass." Always held me while I cried uncontrollably and for no rational reason. Always sent money, text messages, and care packages at exactly the right time.



She's my hero.

And I definitely do not tell her that often enough.

Getting Real.

So I have become a bloggaholic. Meaning I have discovered the world of blogging, started my own, and am building a list of blogs I visit and read every day. Three of them are people I have never met, and don't know if I will ever meet...but they are so inspiring that I went back and read their archives. yup. years of posts. read them all (okay...not all of ragamuffin...but all the "soul essentials" and then from Jan 2007 onwards.). So here are the blogs I read everyday:

My best friend Anna
My friend Allyssa

Jon Acuff- Stuff Christians Like & 97secondswithgod
Christine Moers- Welcome to my brain
Carlos Whittaker-Ragamuffin Soul



Jon makes me laugh at the crazy Christian culture I have grown up in on Stuff Christians Like, and puts a new perspective on the Bible stories I have grown up with in 97secondswithgod. Since I became a religion major I got so jaded with Christian culture that I just tried to ignore/avoid it at all costs. But Jon puts all that back in my face, agreeing with me that some of it is ridiculous, but challenging me to think about why it is and how to change it. Jon also was how I found these other two.

Christine is pretty much awesome...and I want to be her when I grow up. biological mother, adoptive mother, foster mother, wife, earth lover, cheaptofree stuff lover. only I probably won't give up toilet paper, shampoo, and toothpaste like she has. I am, however, considering something else she has replaced. but that's another post for another day. She's struggled with depression, anxiety, and being overweight...all the things I am currently struggling with...and she is showing me that I can live with and through these things just fine.


Carlos is my latest addiction. He makes me laugh. He makes me cry. He makes me take a good hard look at myself and makes me want to try to be as real as he is.


So here is step 1 in my responding to what I have learned from my time reading these people's blogs.

I'm joining The RagammuffinTop Challenge.



When I feel depressed, stressed, or even just extremely bored...I eat. Food is comfort. Food is control. Food is something nice to do.

This past year and a half I have been UBER depressed. I have also been UBER stressed.


I've always struggled with my weight. Being tall I always felt like I was too big. But now I know that I am definitely getting fat.

Last semester I tried getting a personal trainer at school...but after my sessions were over working out became another thing on the "omgsomuchihavetodothisweek" list that got flaked out on so much because I got so overwhelmed. Needless to say, that whole process didn't stem the tide that is my waistline.


I am 5 foot 10 inches. When I went to the doctor Monday I weighed 203lbs (can't do the scale right now cause it's 3am and the scale is in my parent's room). I have been over 200lbs for at least 6 months now...and it is freaking me out.

When I moved into school last August I had about 5 pairs of jeans that fit me. Right now I have 2 of those 5 that I can squeeze in to, and one of those has holes on the inside of its thighs that are getting bigger every time I wear them.



So here are my 2 tangible goals:

1. Get down to 150 (this is a longterm goal...I haven't been 150 since middle school probably)
2. Get back into my other pairs of pants before these two are completely useless. (probably take 20lbs or its equivalent in inches)



Barring craziness I will be done with all stressful thesis/school things on Monday. Which means I will be down to very little stress. So this is a perfect time to get whatever diet/exercise routine I decide on started.


Help me do this. Keep me accountable. Make me post an update every week.

Heavy TVs and Salty Pretzels

I think managing expectations is going to be vital in this fight of mine against depression.

I have a vivid imagination. Which means I tend to fantasize about how certain days/events/conversations/outings are going to play out. This gets me in trouble. a lot. Mostly because when I fantasize things I either fantasize them as an extreme worst case scenario, or I fantasize them as these magical things where everything is perfect.

neither is realistic or healthy...and the latter can bring out the depression monster really easily.

I know from experience that there are a few of my friends who are more likely to disappoint me or completely flake out on me. But instead of taking that into account when playing out my little mind events, it suddenly becomes a case where they are magically flake and disappointment free and we have a great time. Which, more often than not, is not the case.

Which means when they do flake...or when they do disappoint me...it opens the cage for the raging depression monster.


So my new goal is to manage my expectations.


I guess it's a case of not expecting an Auntie Anne's pretzel at the Target snack bar.

As you all should know, Auntie Anne's serves a delectible soft pretzel (and if you do not know this, please let me take you to Cool Springs and introduce you.). And if you love soft pretzels like I do, you pretty much crave them anytime you enter the mall. They are the perfect mix of slightly crispy outside, soft and lovely inside, and a light buttery glaze with the perfect amount of salt. Thinking about it is almost making me drool. Maybe I should make a trip to Cool Springs tomorrow...

anyways.

My sister and I went to Target today. She wanted to spend some of her waitressing cash on things for the apartment she is getting when she goes back to school, and I just wanted to get out of the house. Plus, Target is such a nice place to walk around and lust after things you can't afford for the house you don't have. lol

After she had made her purchases she decided she wanted a drink, and asked if I wanted one. I sure did. So we made our way to the Target snack bar, and she saw that they had soft pretzels. Would we both like one of those? um...yes. yes we would. So we got 2 soft pretzels and 2 drinks for 4something.

That should have been a clue right there. At Auntie Anne's 1 drink and 1 pretzel cost upwards of $5...so double that for the same money should have said something about the quality of what we were getting.

The pretzels were pretzel shaped. They were basically pretzel colored. And they had salt on them. But that was where the similarities between Auntie Anne's pretzels and Target snack bar pretzels should stop. And after eating less than half of my butter and salt slathered sponge I did stop. And to "stick it to the man" who served me such a travesty I dumped out the rest of my soda and filled it with delicious white cherry slushie. Take that, Target.

But honestly...should I have expected Auntie Anne's quality pretzel goodness from a cheap superstore snack bar? No. I shouldn't have. I should have expected something of lesser quality. I should have managed my expectations.


I need to do that more both in my consumer life and in my relational life.


So next time I am offered a situation that seems too good to be true...I will try to manage my expectations. Instead of taking steps to try to ensure the absolutely optimum situation, and having a TV try to kill me in the process, I will take things as they come. Anything can be made to look respectable with 30min. notice. Dad would have been here to move the TV for me today if it had been needed.

And by managing expectations I would not have been at all surprised and much less disappointed when none of it came to pass.

Meaning the depression monster wouldn't have reared it's ugly head.

Luckily he just poked his head out of the cave, roared a few times, and then I was able to convince him to go back inside and leave me alone.


I like it when I can do that. When it's controllable. When it doesn't come out in a swift cloud of fury, but instead starts to creep out and I can notice and stop it.


Personifying depression is silly...but it helps sometimes.

Becoming a Big Girl

It's getting scary.


I'm almost done with my research/writing on Islam...the last of my 3 religions in my thesis. Then it's just the intro and conclusion to do. It will be "done" and to my committee by next Monday. Then I have to weeks to finish the artwork to go with the paper. I need to arrange with the honors house to show it...hmmm. put that on the "to-do" list.

Anyways...my thesis defense is the 18th of July. Then I have 2 weeks to tweek what they tell me to tweek and get it all printed the way it needs to be to turn in to the Honors Council on the 1st of August.


Graduation is the 8th of August.


I think right now the plan is for me to move in to the apartment on the 23rd. My sister is moving in to her apartment in Alabama on the 15th, so my dad can't help me move until the next weekend. And I need his truck and his muscle to move.


So sometime between now and then I have to find a job. A big girl job preferably. Although having done all the math with all the bills I'm going to have to start paying going back to Lowe's would cover it with more to spare. Sooooo...that's an option.

but in doing all that math I started freaking out.

freaking. the heck. out.


maybe it's because I'm currently unemployed...
maybe it's because when I did have a lot of money coming in I was saving for study abroad trips and blowing it on whatever I wanted. because I could...
maybe it's just the fact that I've never really had actual real life bills to pay...

but knowing that I'm soon going to be responsible for paying people $800 a month (rent, utilities, cable, student loan payment, insurance, etc) not including any money I need to eat, live, or drive on is super scary to me.

cause there's no flaking out on that.

just like there's no more flaking out on my thesis.


I never used to flake out on things. I was always there. always on time. always turned in and did everything and was a huge overachiever.

Then I overwhelmed myself with work. And life overwhelmed me with hurt.

and I burned out.

and I've been flakier and flakier ever since.


I hate that. I hate that I had to push graduation off til August because I flaked out on meeting thesis deadlines while balancing other coursework. other coursework that I also did a bit of flaking on.

I hate that I flake out on my friends sometimes. that I'll express interest or flat out say I'm going to do something with them and then flake out on it. If I've done that to you, I'm really sorry. cause I hate when people do that to me. and I hate when I do that to you, too.

I flake because I get overwhelmed really easily now. and depression rears it's ugly head far too often. it's not an excuse, it doesn't make it okay...but it is what it is.


I can't flake on my thesis right now. And I can't flake come August.


I have to be a big girl.


and it's freaking me out. cause I'm so scared that I can't do it. that I'll fail. again. and the consequences will be much bigger than graduating 3 months late.

Goggle Removers

It's interesting now that I can tell when I put the goggles on (read the first post if you haven't yet), and sometimes exactly what triggered it.

The hard part is figuring out what will take them off.


I tried several things yesterday:

1. I immediately called Anna to tell her about it...because I hoped that she would say something to put things into a new perspective and make me feel better about things. To be honest I don't even remember a lot of what she said about it...probably because she was just as shocked and confused about the situation as i was.

2. I called another boy who has never been the cause of drama in my life (in other people's lives, yes, but never MY life.) and who has always been a nice calming and entertaining presence.


During those conversations I felt fine...but the minute I hung up I felt the fog closing in again.


3. I did some housework. I watered my little potted garden outside and crushed the mountain of pop cans in our kitchen...hoping that the tiny mundane distractions would clear my head.

fail.

4. I made myself cry a little. When all else fails, I try to get myself to get it all out. So I thought about the worst thought the drama brought out, and tried to cry through it and get past it.

mega fail. just made things worse.


So i went back to pretending to work on my thesis while actually surfing the net, playing games, watching television and planning what I was going to munch on next. completely vegging and zoning out dulls the pain...doing mindless things keeps your mind from doing things. lol


I should have made myself get out of the house.


I did later that night. I ended up sitting in a school parking lot listening to music and staring at cloud shapes and stars with the person who helped unveil the assholishness of one boy and the ignorance of two girls. Talked about it about a bit awkwardly...stood together in silence with it for a bit...but then moved on to random and ridiculous topics.


That's when the goggles came off.


By the end of the evening I couldn't stop myself from talking about the most random stuff. I just felt chatty and happy. content to stand there and blabber for hours.


I dunno what that means exactly. cause I know that is not the exact formula to always remove the goggles...but it did the trick that time.