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Ask me anything
May 24, 2012
On Monday I went in for a check-up with my doctor. I told her how specifically I’d been avoiding alcohol and caffeine (in large doses - sodas and coffees), feeling exceptionally proud of myself. I asked her if it was truly necessary that I continue avoiding the drinks. Alcohol - yes. Caffeine - avoid taking right after the medicine, some people get anxiety from it, some don’t. It was up to me to figure it out. But I didn’t need to worry about seizures! All I had to worry about was anxiety.
No big deal! I was going to get coffee again! Yeah! My first drink back happened yesterday at LaMill, this ridiculously over-priced coffee place in Silver Lake. I couldn’t wait to welcome that sweet vanilla latte back into my life. Oh joy! Oh rapture!
I drank the coffee at 2:30 pm. Plenty of time after I took my dose of daily med, with still plenty of time for it to clear out of my system. I started writing. All of a sudden a few hours had passed, and I had two things rewritten, some stuff for work set-up for the following day, and two meetings scheduled. I was a working machine. I was so focused.
The rest of the day followed with me being in a lighter mood. Coffee is amazing! I didn’t get any stupid baby anxiety. I was a professional. I got shit done! I’m listening to what people are talking about and laughing! I’m reading full articles on the internet on the first attempt! I’m actually pulling information from these articles! I’m the fucking Queen of Business!
At midnight, Doug and I went to bed. Ehh, I’m not that tired, but Doug is asleep. I’ll just turn this light off and work on a crossword puzzle on my phone.
One a.m. - I’m still not that tired, but I’m not really trying to go to sleep. Turn off the phone and close my eyes. The Queen of Business just needs to put her mind to it.
Two a.m. - Ok well how many more things are there to think of? I’ve thought of death and improv and world news and Mad Men, earthquakes and solar storms, camping and work. Each of these things I diligently tried not to think of. Trying to focus on my breath, relaxing my body. All that stupid yoga bullshit to make yourself relaxed. Maybe if I just let myself think of everything, my mind will get tired.
I fell asleep.
4:59 a.m. - Dream land. Oh hey I’m at a hotel. Oh there’s someone shooting some type of music video at this hotel. Oh they need my help with the video. Cool! What do you need me to do? You need me to take this old metal lunchbox with a spider in it and help this spider make a huge web? Nope. Fuck you. Not doing it. Come on, the cool girl says, you just have to stick your hand in and move the spider around and then come over here to this tank of spiders and put more in the lunchbox.
My shallow breathing, racing heart, and INTENSE FEAR OF SPIDERS, woke me up. That dream was so rude. WHY WOULD YOU PUT SPIDERS IN A LUNCHBOX????? WHAT TYPE OF CRUEL JOKE WAS THIS???
Ohhhh…… this is my version of baby anxiety that only babies get. I am not the Queen of Business. I’m a tired individual who things coffee should just shut up.
But the good news is that if I got to sleep once, I can do it again.
5:30 a.m. - not asleep. I just had the thought, “What do you think a murder sandwich is?”
“Oh definitely a couple of pieces of meat and cheese between two butcher knives.”
“Who would order such a thing?”
“Someone who wanted to murder. Duh.”
“Hey Murder Sandwich would be an awesome three-person improv team.”
“Maybe it can be a whole form, ask the audience for a suggestion of murder and then murder a person on stage.”
“Oh wait, that’s a horrible idea and someone already does a better version.”
So, I thought if I’m going to be up I might as well write. Maybe after I’ve proofread this a few hundred times*, I’ll be tired. I mean that’s what the Queen of Business would do, right?
*Editor - I’m currently looking at other applicants for your position. You should just pack your butcher knives and go.
One of the major symptoms of depression that’s not covered in those black and white depression commercials, is the ADHD of it all. I get distracted so easily. It’s really hard to complete any project. I started reading a National Geographic magazine this morning, skipped through to the pictures and abandoned it on the dining room table, half open. Then I opened my computer, half read some emails which caused me to look at Facebook only half way through, while clicking on links to articles people have read, which I have only half read. (Side-note, if I tell you about something I read on the internet, don’t ask me to many in-depth questions, I probably only read the first few paragraphs - missing most crucial points.)
I decided I needed to write a post and even while reading this post, I’ll check seventeen other things on Facebook or Jezebel. I find myself trying to do fifty things at once because I get bored by just sitting on one site at a time. I’ll be watching an episode of Mad Men and get bored, so I’ll start reading another blog. I’ll watch a movie and start doing a crossword puzzle. I’ll be listening to an audio book, and I’ll start checking tumblr.
Reading a book is torturous. I’m currently reading Clash of Kings and I’ve had it for over a month, but I’ve just cracked the one hundred page mark. Also, I can barely tell you what the book is about. I have to read and re-read the same pages over and over again and I still don’t know what it’s about.
Even writing that last paragraph I can tell you what my thought process was -
Ooh, I have the day off, and I CAN DRINK COFFEE AGAIN! I should go get a coffee! Oh! I should take Game of Thrones to LaMill to drink coffee and try and read. I wonder if I need to change out of my shorts. What’s the weather going to be like today? It’s supposed to start getting hot this week. I bet shorts will be fine. Oh yeah, I’M TRYING TO WRITE SOMETHING.
Alls I can say is, when this medicine starts kicking in, I’m going to be a fucking genius. My improv will be so good because I’ll be able to focus on several things at once. I’ll read a book and get the actual meaning behind it. I’ll remember key parts of movies because I won’t be thinking about fifty other things like ice cream or pizza.
I’ll probably be so much healthier too. Because I won’t be bored by every type of exercise. I try and walk around the reservoir a few times a week, but, even though I’ll be listening to Harry Potter, about half way through the walk I get super bored. Don’t even get me started on that yoga bullshit.
When I was a kid, my Grandma took me and my brother to Michael’s craft store and she bought me a Spirograph. After ten minutes (if that) of playing with it, I complained that it was boring and she said to me, “Lindsey, only boring people get bored.” I always took that as a warning. Only boring people get bored. I never wanted to be a boring person. I wanted to be an exciting full-of-life person with great tales of adventure. But looking back, I think what she should have said is, “Only depressed people or people with ADHD get bored.”
….
…
..
.
Whoops, sorry, I was just checking my email/Facebook/Jezebel/the correct spelling of Spirograph.
I think maybe I’ve been avoiding writing. I know maybe I’ve been avoiding writing. Last week I was feeling a great deal of nothing. No emotions, no happiness only anger and boredom.
Lots of boredom.
But there is also a feeling that I have not been honest about. Because I haven’t figured out how to make my feelings of loneliness a joke. And I don’t want this to be a blog where I just write all of the sad and depressing thoughts that I have.
It’s like listening to Radiohead, for me, or Elliot Smith. All I want to do is listen to Radiohead and Elliot Smith. But I know, that music is just going to make me so much more sad. And then I think about how stupid that is. You know, just making yourself sad. But there is a part of me that craves hearing such depressing music.
I’m pretty sure that last paragraph could have been a scene from an episode of My So-Called Life.
For every set-back I’ve had in life, there is an album that I played on non-stop loop. That’s the thing about music, it can take you back to emotions and memories in an instant. You guys, even deaf people have music that influences moments in their lives or reminds them of happy or sad times.
A music aside - I hate it when people talk about how much music influences their lives. It’s like, no shit dummy, music is important to everyone. To me it’s akin to someone saying they listen to every type of music, you know, country or even pop. Anyone that’s worked in the music business is probably snarkily laughing with me right now.
Anyway, that’s what I feel writing about sadness is going to do. Just make me more sad. But…
Fuck, I just feel so despondent right now. Lonely. And the worst part is, that there are people I could call or talk to, but I just don’t want to call or talk. And I definitely don’t want to answer the phone. I’m completely comfortable vomiting all of this stuff all over the internet. But I don’t want to talk about it. I mean not out loud. And I hate looking sad in front of anyone. I see myself as weak when that happens. But even if I am talking about it, it’s just like, “Dude, I’m depressed…. So….what’s going on with you?”
Guhhhhh when is this stupid medicine going to start working. I’d like to have fun soon. Depression is bull-shit.
Finally, I wrote a post that really accomplished not being funny.
So Vitamin Water lied a big fat lie to me last night. Or rather, I just assumed that the Vitamin Water called “Attention” would contain some type of natural ginko-biloba-type herb for memory, and not be the she-devil of my caffeine-free nightmares. But, after drinking about a third of the water, I noticed in large letters right next to the name, the word CAFFEINE. I felt so betrayed. Why would you do this 50 Cent / Jennifer Aniston? Why would you create something I will now classify as a “watermelon flavored uncarbonated diet SODA”? It was NOT a Yumm Taste the Fun* experience.
The past few days have been a roller coaster of emotions, followed by stupid mistakes, (i.e., leaving my computer at work for two days rendering me unable to write or buying the sorceress’s poisonous Vitamin Water (just kidding VDub, I’d still love that endorsement)), topped with the desperate feeling of ridiculous sleepiness.
I don’t have the insomnia where you can’t go to sleep. I’m doing that just fine. Well, in a way. I work nights and, for instance, last night got off at one am. This means that when I get home at 1:30-ish, I’m not tired. Even though I’ve been yawning all night and begging for some sleeps! The insomnia I have is a “waking up at 7 after going to bed at 3” type of insomnia, which is a side-effect of my anti-depressant.
Pre-medicine depression, waking up was torturous. I never got enough sleep. I could sleep for ten hours and still feel groggy. I could also sleep the allotted eight and feel the same way, for those individuals who are all like, “you shouldn’t be sleeping that long, that’s why you feel so bad, girl”. I know I shouldn’t sleep that long, what are you, a doctor? Am I paying you an exorbitant amount of money to tell me to drink some water and take pseudoephedrine? No. I am not. You guys, doctors are always telling me to drink water and take pseudoephed.
Post-medicine depression, when I wake-up, I am AWAKE. It feels like when you’re hiding from someone and you’re getting ready to scare them - and you pop out of that tree you were hiding behind. That’s how I feel when I wake up, like “I’M AWAKE!”. And everyone around me jumps and screams, “WHY WOULD YOU SCARES US LIKE THAT YOU MONSTER!”.
And then I think, damnit, that’s not the right amount of hours of sleep. That was only four. The normal amount is 7-8. So I spend a good amount of time after that trying to fall asleep again.
I know everyone in Los Angeles is tired. I mean these people are all tired because they work ten jobs and then are actors and also go to shows late at night. But I don’t have that hard of a life. I live the kind of life where, if I I go to a party, and the host doesn’t have an assortment of hard AND soft cheeses, I’ll complain. Not out loud. Or even quietly under my breath. Just in my own mind. Because for real, guys, I love soft cheeses. And there is no excuse for the lack of assortment out at your parties.
*This is my Vitamin Water tag-line pitch that is currently going through the trade-mark process. So, don’t even THINK about stealing it.
This one probably won’t be funny even in the slightest. It’s probably going to be all wallow-y and sad-sack-esque. But I said I was writing this to keep a log on how this medicine is working. And I will not be a liar.
I would be a liar if I said yesterday was an easy day. I’ve taken to writing this very personal thing on the internet and part of me wrote it thinking no one would really read it. Part of me wrote it thinking those who did read it would think, oh yeah, that’s true, I’m glad she finally admitted it.
But part of me wrote it thinking people will be pissed about my whining and general sad-sackery. Don’t get me wrong, I think I’m really depressed. But there’s still that section of me that just wishes I would quit being lazy and quit faking it and get over myself. And I have a Masters in Counseling.
What
A
Dummy
Now, I’ve gotten some great advice and some amazing feedback from some really unexpected places. (There’s an article a bud sent me I’d like to share with anyone who is reading this and going through the same thing. You can find it here.)
But something else has happened that I didn’t really anticipate would happen. Since putting it all out there I feel like people are walking on eggshells around me. I can’t tell if it’s the medicine or what, but I feel like people are nervous around me.
Don’t be nervous. I’m just devoid of emotion and feel guilty about everything. I’m still the person that’s going to call you out on your bullshit. That’s what I do. I can still hold a conversation. I like to sleep and eat. Basically I’m like the human version of Garfield, just like I’ve ALWAYS been. I just hope that in a few weeks I’ll be more like the version of Garfield that doesn’t think every day is a Monday. ’Cause you know how Garfield hates Mondays. But the upside is - Garfield LOVES Fridays.
*Dear Editor - I’ve left in a few words that are not real words. They’re like Easter Eggs. If you’re doing your job, you should find them.
**Dear new reader - this a running joke that I have where I keep referencing an editor. It’s really not funny if I have to explain it.
Woah. First of all, thanks to all the support and love I got from so many great friends. I will say this - more than five people made it all the way down to the end of yesterday’s post. So I win that prize. But, for real, you guys really blew me away. Thank you.
One of the things that I’ve been dwelling on non-stop with this whole medicine thing, is the inability to have coffee. I don’t really crave coffee that much. But, I just got one of those Starbucks cards! And I just made it to the green star level! Which means I get free soy in my lattes! Ughhh, seizures ruin most of the fun. Also, I like to write at coffee places. That way, everyone in Los Angeles knows that I’m a writer. They wouldn’t know if they actually read my writing. Because I say things like coffee places instead of coffe shoppes or cafes or whatever fancy-talking people say.
Since I can’t really have soda either, because of the caffeine thing, I’ve been treating myself to Vitamin Waters. Also, I’m not receiving a Vitamin Water endorsement - but would be totally down to working out a Fifty Cent / Jennifer Aniston type deal. Vitamin Water - yummm taste the fun. We can play around with that tagline.
Yesterday I felt like I really accomplished a lot. But when a friend asked me what I had done that day, I couldn’t come up with tangible evidence. I wrote that post, I thought, but I didn’t want to say that because for some reason, that sounds stupid.
“I went for a walk around the reservoir.” I ended up saying.
“Ahh, an actor-y day.” he says.
So I tried to think of what more I’d done. I also called the doctor and made an appointment for a much needed physical. I made lunch and breakfast. I sent out all the Mother’s Day presents. But these aren’t accomplishments to real people. These are everyday things that people do everyday. Plus these everyday people deal with families and real work and then at the end of the night, they even make dinner. They don’t just order a bagel from the Oaks.
I think it’s going to be slow coming. But I’m trying not to push myself, because mostly what happens is that I just beat myself up. It’s hard to be in a place around so many talented and hilarious people and not feel competitive. Ughh, they’re working on a tv show. Woah, one of their sketches was on the front page of Funny or Die. I have to make something that funny. And pressuring yourself to be funny, never creates comedy. And constantly scrutinizing your work, and never putting it out doesn’t work either. It becomes, like a good friend said, “One of those snakes that’s rolling along eating it’s tail. Listen, I don’t know what that snake’s called, but you get it.”
So I feel like I’m accomplishing more, than say, last week. But I want to try and accomplish even more today. I think that’s a good sign. And for the first time in a long time, I woke up without feeling tired, so I guess the stimulant part of the Wellbutrin is starting to kick in. Who knows? Maybe today I’ll even make dinner too.*
*I’m probably not going to make dinner today.
ps…. woah sorry for the second long post. I mean is ANYONE editing these things?
I think one of the weirdest things about writing something personal on your blog is knowing that people you know read it. I’m going through some stuff right now and I debated back and forth over writing about it, but I think I’ve decided to put it all out there. Please don’t put on your judge hats and judge me. I’m going to tell you something serious.
I have depression.
I’m telling you this for a few reasons.
1. I don’t think there should be a stigma on mental health problems.
2. I want to keep a log on how I feel with medicine.
3. I’m about to make depression real funny. Somehow. I haven’t quite worked that part out yet.
So, I think I’ve probably “battled” with depression for a long time. I’ve always been super emotional and when I’m creating stuff, comedy, or writing, or just working with a purpose, I do pretty well. I’m quick to jump to anger though, and an interaction that most people will see as innocuous, I view as a personal attack.
But lately, it’s been pretty bad. Like, pizza is no longer fun bad. When I wasn’t interested in pizza anymore, I knew things were off. You guys, my devotion to pizza is NOT the joke.
I spend a lot of time sleeping. Much more than is normal. I don’t “feel” like doing anything. Something I started to associate with as “just being fucking lazy”. But then I noticed I didn’t want to go out. I didn’t want to make decisions on what clothes to wear. I didn’t want to watch movies. I didn’t want to respond to emails from friends or even talk on the phone.
I’m acting like this feeling of uninterestedness is a feeling that all of a sudden went away. It hasn’t. That tense is all wrong in that previous paragraph. Someone should edit this waaaayyy better.
Basically, the only thing I want to do is listen to my Harry Potter books on tape. And play Pottermore. But then the potions became hard. And I didn’t want to do that either.
-Pottermore side note - in discussion with my fellow Pottermorons (this is something I just came up with, but feel free to use it on your own, just don’t use it as a disparaging term, jerk) I found that potions are probably harder for Hufflepuffs. Yeah, I’m a Hufflepuff. No denying. Pottermore side note over. -
So I saw a psychiatrist yesterday. We didn’t talk about why I feel shitty. It wasn’t a therapy session. We talked about my symptoms, like it was a regular doctor session. And as of yesterday I’ve been taking Wellbutrin (Not getting paid by Wellbutrin, but would welcome any type of payola and I won’t even tell my five readers about the endorsement. They probably didn’t get down to this part anyway).
I can’t drink while taking it. But I’ll still go out to the bar (last night I had a delightful water and lime). I can’t have coffee while taking it. These two things might cause seizures. So… I guess I’ll give them up…. but whoever died from a seizure? What? Lot’s of people? Oh.
The first twenty-four hours have not been too noticeably different. I definitely still feel tired. I did get up the “faux-rage” (that’s fake courage, because I’m not like wrestling a lion or anything) to write this. But I shouldn’t really see a difference for a few weeks.
So here goes. This is my journey on Wellbutrin.
I promise, not all posts will be this long.
Also, I promise to quit trying to create new combo words. Well, maybe I’ll just say I’ll try to quit creating combo words. One step at a time my friend, one step at a time.
