Annabell copes with stress by making statements of grandeur

There is so much life, and so much to life, sometimes it's hard to bear. But it's incredible and I love it and I have to remind myself so it doesn't hurt.

It makes me a writer. I will be a great writer so long as I don't get struck by lightning or anything terrible too soon. I'm never sure how much I buy into all the "meant to be" crap, and it doesn't really matter one way or the other if I believe in it or not. But I can and I will take everything I am and see and experience and use it to be a great writer. Maybe I won't live to see my own success, but I think that's ok, too. My parents and grandparents are almost entirely responsible for my current financial status, so I suppose it's fitting that any wealth or grandeur achieved be visited upon future generations. Not sure I believe that, but it sounds right. I still have the guilt about not supporting myself. I want to support myself. But I also want to accept who and what I am and be happy.

I am not my parents.
It is not my job to appease my parents.
Everything is relative.
Everything is a matter of perspective.
There are no absolutes*.


*mmm...paradoxy...

Countess

I went to a psychiatrist for the first time in a few years. No more Effexor! Yay! Switched back to Prozac (which worked well for me back in 2000ish) as of today, plus he's going to talk to my neurologist about just how high and terrible my stroke risks are to see if I can get on birth control after all. I still think birth control would help all kinds of non-pregnancy-related things in my body, like the friggin' ovarian cyst that I had and my evil evil periods and my migraines in general and my cyclical swinginess.

He asked me about the last time I was happy. I have happy moments and hours and days all the time. Then he asked me the last time I was happy for a whole week. Um, summer of 1999? And even that's questionable. I also think I sound like the whiny over-privileged child of a doctor and a social worker with no valid reason for a lifetime of negativity. Then again, that's a very negative thought and doesn't help matters.

I have been feeling better emotionally this past week, for whatever reason. I camped out at NBF's for a number of days with ouchy brain, this time prepared with clean underwear and plenty of my medication. I've been to the gym five times since I joined January 31 and that's certainly helping emotional matters, since it's a place I can go and I only have to be a certain level of functional and I don't have to talk to anybody but I can if I want to and then I get to feel all pleased with myself for having gone to the gym and doing something productive and self-lovey. One of the boy people who works there (I've only actually seen him twice) is cute and sarcastic and makes me a little girl-stupid, but in a good way.

There's another maybe boy who clearly likes me a lot and/or really wants to get in my pants and I'd love to say more here about him but I don't actually know who reads this thing anymore and I don't want to hurt anyone or anything along the way, so email me if you are a reality friend and entitled to details.

Head is pressury distracting hurty.

The whole "tackle the big projects first" thing does not work for me. I have to start off doing something that's technically somewhat productive but I don't mind doing to get myself geared up for real work and the "big" projects. I never was one to jump into pools, but rather start with my toes and slowly lower myself in as I got comfortable until I was ready to duck my head under.
Yay ten billionth water metaphor.

Anyway, now I tackle. Or, more acurately, begin dipping until I am ready to tackle. But just writing is a start for me, and I made myself a headache journal template so it's easy and has exactly what I personally need to track. Two semi productive things! (cue thunder crack and Count Von Count cackle).