I missed yesterday so this is a two for one special. :)

Day 3 is a song that makes you sad.  This song always does it to me, especially when I learned the story behind it.

Eric Clapton ♪♫ Tears In Heaven

Day 4 is a song that reminds you of someone.  And I don't feel the need to explain this one.

Snow Patrol ♪♫ Chasing Cars

Day 3 is a song that makes you happy.

Mindless Self Indulgence (MSI) ♪♫ Get It Up

I love fun groups like MSI.  This song in particular is one of my all time favorites.

Day 2 of the challenge is your least favorite song.  So, here is mine.

Toto ♫♪ Africa

I'm not sure exactly why I don't like it, but it causes me to cringe every time I hear it. I even stopped it so I wouldn't have to hear it when I grabbed the link. LOL

Music has always been *the* one thing in my life that has kept me moving. It has saved me so many times. So, I decided to do this challenge because of my love for music. I am posting these on Plurk daily as well so feel free to follow there also.

Day 01 ♪♫ Your favorite song

Starlight ♫♪ Slash featuring Myles Kennedy

This is actually my second favorite turned new favorite.  My original favorite song was introduced to me by an ex boyfriend and when I hear it now, it doesn't have the same effect it once did.

I am nothing but your dream;
writhing, twisting, turning,
spinning around in your mind
as we torment each other to death.

I have nothing but a curse;
boiling, growing, burning,
awakening your desire
as you hold me in your grasp.

We are nothing but the lust;
heat, passion, presence,
diving into the deep end
as we wrap each other in erotic emotion.

You are nothing but love;
pulsing, pounding, rushing,
flowing over my skin
as we find each other barely hanging on.

We are everything but alone;
living, breathing, aching,
begging to live this way forever
as we find the end to our chaos.

©2011 Kis

This story is going to reveal a little more about me. I'm not so sure I'm ready to do this, but I know I need to. So, as always, open mind and heart when you read this.

In December, I was laid off from work. It's nothing new really in this economy. There are so many people who have been laid off, fired, etc because the companies just can't keep up. But this time, it was me. Oh yes, it's devastating, but you don't realize how much so until it happens to you. So I get laid off and my panic attacks ... disappear. This is an opportunity everyone says, and I agree. So I file unemployment and I start looking, finally, for the job that I can turn into a career.

So much has happened to me in the few months I've been without a job; emotional highs and lows that I'm surprised I've muddled through. Okay, so, what I am getting at? Get to the point right? Ok, here we go ...

As I have mentioned, I have been diagnosed with Clinical Depression. I have been clinically depressed since I was 18 (no, I won't tell you how old I am). :p In all my years of dealing with depression, I have never been manic ... until this morning.

I currently take Cymbalta ... the highest dosage one should take. I have been on many meds, but this one seems to work well, other than the withdrawals. You see, my memory has suffered horribly in all this. I forget important things down to the very minuscule. Therefore, remembering to take my medicine daily is a struggle, but I've managed because the withdrawal symptoms are horrifying.  This morning, I woke up to the 4th morning without my meds. I am fighting with Cobra because I elected to continue my coverage, they gave me until 3/29 to get paid up, however, they didn't bother telling me they would not cover me until I paid.  I struggled 3 days last week to get my doctor's office to fill my prescription although I missed my appointment ... they finally did. The pharmacy gave me 3 days work of meds to tide me over until we got that resolved.

So the refills are in and I call to make sure I'm covered ... $363, no coverage.  Insurance wants $600 before they will cover it. So to say it in the simplest terms, I was screwed. Each day becomes a downward spiral into the next day. Only one person is keeping me sane ... one ... because this person has latched on and refuses to let go. It's wonderful actually, to finally have someone that knows so much about me and still is there, day by day. 


This morning I awaken to a manic episode. Manic ... I've never been manic.  I log in SL and begin talking to one of my closest friends ... and I can't stop.  I can't type correctly. I'm all over the place.  I want to log out and go run, but I want to stay in.  Finally, after realizing how completely unstable I am, I call my doctor ... they have samples ready for me.  I run off to the shower, start bathing ... and break down in tears. "No one cares. No one cares. I'm a joke, a fool. They lie when all I want is ..."


Another mental break. I'm insane right? Many of you may be staring at the screen wondering if this is truly the woman you know. Maybe some of you are stepping back thinking, "Damn, she's messed up."


I have my meds now, 2 weeks of samples. I'm desperately waiting for my dosage to kick in. I'm staring at this blog thinking how it most likely makes no sense because I'm still slightly manic. So, here's my question ... all the anger, pain, shivers, night sweats, nausea, aches, dizziness ... in all of this I found something interesting.


I found an amazing strength inside me I did not know I had. I have started letting go of people who have openly and willingly hurt me. I have never claimed to be perfect, flawless, but I do not deserve the treatment I get from many of those I once called friend. They would abuse me, lie to me and make me look foolish ... and I would excuse their behavior. But I do not want to anymore. I feel selfish ... and where I used to feel wrong for being so, today I am proud. It's time for me to be selfish. It's time for me to stop letting others make me feel guilty for their lies and deceit. It's time for me to stop giving up my happiness to save others pain.


I love this strength I am feeling. The only question is, when I am stable on my meds again, will it stay? Luckily, I have some truly amazing friends holding me up and reminding me of my strength displayed last night. I think it will remain and become stronger. So maybe I can thank the withdrawals ... they also found me an insane amount of happiness that I never thought I'd have again.



....more rambling thoughts to come I am sure


Kis

We sit back and talk. He asks me to share with him anything from my past that may have been a precursor or a cause to all the issues I currently have. "Why are you so needy?" "Why do you crave and destroy yourself in hopes of love?" "What is it that has caused you to be so ... you." The last question did not come from him, it came from my mind. From the first day I recognized I had depression, I wondered why am I me.


At the age of 18, I realized I had this thing called depression. I tried to make my mother see there was something wrong, but she dismissed it. I even left my journal out one day and opened to the most devastating of stories I had written. Being the loving mother she was, she never read it. She closed it and brought it to me, "Baby, you left your journal open in the living room. You should be more careful." She loves me, very much, as does my father. I am sure they hoped their baby girl would have grown up to be more stable. They don't know everything and they never will. I want them to be proud of me, not embarrassed by the things I have done and the predicaments I have knowingly placed myself in.

I was getting my Masters in Psychology when I sat down with my Major Professor and asked him to "non-officially" diagnose me. It was depression. I spoke to my physician who started me on a barrage of medications, hoping something would help.

I remember exactly what set me off and caused me to seek treatment from an actual Psychologist. In 2007, I had joined SL. Late 2007 I had finally landed in a relationship with a man I had crushed on since I first began. We partnered, we married in SL ... we met in RL.  I was ... very deeply in love.  I ignored my RL when I was with him, because in my mind, he was all I craved and wanted. For 6 months it was nearly perfect, he even proposed. I knew he was who I wanted to be with forever.

Then it all came apart. He ended things with me during the week. That weekend was my moment of weakness. *Bear with me, this is hard to tell a group of people who do not know me intimately* That Friday, I woke up, knowing I shouldn't be alone. The entire weekend, I carried around a bottle full of muscle relaxers. And, yes, I mean I carried it around everywhere I went. Every night I took a bath and those pills were with me. Every night I contemplated taking the entire bottle and falling asleep for good in the tub. If the overdose didn't get me, the water would. I reached out to my best friend at some point that weekend. She begged me not to do anything and I said I wouldn't. But that pill bottle slept with me. My 'brother" at the time, the one who said he would always be there when I needed, never answered his phone, never called me back. I was totally alone. 

I got through the weekend without doing it, but only because I knew it would kill my parents to have to bury me. There was no one else in the world I cared about but them. Everyone else would move on, live their lives, and forget about me. I hated myself, and they were all better off without me.

He "took me back" after the weekend because he couldn't stand not being with me. 6 months later, it ended for good, although it was over the day he asked me back. I can only guess as to how many girls he cheated on me with.

I sought treatment when I realized I was going to kill myself. I needed something more than pills. I needed an official diagnosis. I need validation that I was ... sick? He confirmed it, made it official, and my physician and I continued the drug rotation. This one makes me sick ... this one doesn't do anything ... this one gives me hives ...

I've been in talk therapy for 3 years. It helps some, although I still hear disappointment in his words, I still fear doing things wrong, I still fear his judgement. But, I haven't been suicidal since.  I have teased the line of self-harm. I have scratched my skin enough to cause sores. I have dragged a box cutter down my leg. I have drawn welts on my skin with various metallic objects.  I have replaced these all with a marker. When I want to cut or hurt myself, I write on my skin. Although the relief isn't the same, it brings me a peace I can't explain.

My closest friends know exactly when my switch has been activated. Most can spot my depression when I lose my ability and my love to write. But those who are close to me sense it in a way no one can ... and for that I'm grateful.

I think I'll always have depression. I don't know that I will ever be "normal" and I'm not sure I want to be. In a way, I feel like I was given this disorder as a way to cope with the world and it's emotions. If you know me truly, you know why emotions are my devastation. (That's for another story).

So for now, I take my medications and I go to therapy and I share my story. I'm not embarrassed by my depression. It's not the only disorder I have, but it's the only one that many have in common. And maybe, if I can make anyone feel less anxious or stigmatized by sharing ... it's a positive thing.

~ Kis

I welcome any questions about my depression and what I have experienced with it. Feel free to message me if you wish. I'm very open about it.

About My Blog

This is my little corner to share with you whatever I feel at the moment I sit down at my keyboard to write. I simply ask for all to read with an open mind and a gentle heart. All worlds collide for a reason.

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