Ex-Starbucks Addict’s blog

I remember when I was little I told myself I'd never be one of those people that takes tons of pills everyday.  Ha.  As if it's something someone can choose to do.  I have ulcerative colitis, generalized anxiety, and social anxiety disorder.  And probably OCD.  I don't know.  Fuck.  It's like everytime I turn around there's something else that's wrong with me.  And I take so many fucking pills.  10 a day for UC.  Now I'm starting an antidepressant for the social anxiety.  I feel like a failure.  Like a toy that should be recalled.  Like when I was created a whole shitload of mistakes occurred and my software never downloaded properly.

It doesn't help that BOTH of those problems are embarrassing to talk about.  So I never tell anyone I have them.  Which makes it harder to deal with, because I'm suffering them alone.  I finally told my boyfriend about my UC (reluctantly)... but only because he had to call 911 and take me to the ER on his birthday.  I figured that he deserved to know why we were there, you know?  I still haven't told him about the social anxiety.  I told him I have really bad anxiety that comes and goes, and sometimes lasts for weeks... which is true.  But I didn't tell him that most of the time, the anxiety that bothers me most is from social situations.  I tried explaining that to him when I had to do a presentation for class.  For weeks beforehand I was freaking out inside.  I couldn't sleep.  I was so irritable and jumpy.  I even started taking percocet because when I was high I didn't freak out so much.  I'd still think about it, but it made me really relaxed and emotionally numb.  Exactly what I wanted.  Unfortunately, during my presentation it didn't work.  My anxiety was so bad that it was like I wasn't even high.  I was so scared I thought I was literally going to die.  It's hard to explain.  I haven't always had social phobia, so I know what it's like to have normal "stagefright" too.  Compared to this, regular nervousness is nothing.  I'd take it over how I feel now any day.

My anxiety has been so overwhelming lately.  It's like I can't shut off my mind, and everything that isn't perfect becomes a huge problem and I can't find the solution for it.  Then I have this huge list of emergencies in my head, and I don't even remember what they all are...  and I just have this incredible feeling of dread and I just want to give up.  Sleep it all off.  I feel like I'm going crazy sometimes. 

I'm just glad I talked to my doctor.  I told her about the anxiety.  I didn't have the balls to tell her about how it's worst in social situations.  Ironic.  My social phobia prevents me from telling my doctor about my... social phobia.  See, it makes me freak out in doctor's offices a lot.  I've switched several doctors because I couldn't take it around them anymore.  And I know it's not them, it's me.  But they just seemed to 'trigger' an attack more for me.

So let's see... I can't do class presentations.  I have trouble at the doctor's.  I don't even GO to job interviews because I literally can't breathe.  I'm going to be a failure if I keep up at this rate.  I'll have to drop out of college because I can't complete the course requirements (group projects, presentations), then I'll never get a job because I can't make it through an interview, and I'm going to die of UC complications and stress because I won't be able to go to the doctor without a panic attack.  Wonderful.

I know I'm being unrealistic.  But that's precisely the point.  This is what anxiety does to you.  It makes you feel crazy, gives you ridiculous thoughts, and even though you KNOW they are ridiculous you still act as if they're true because they won't go away.

And I just got really dizzy.  I took my first antidepressant pill two hours ago, and that's one of the symptoms.  I wonder if it's just in my head or if it actually did make me dizzy.  See what I mean??  This is what I'm dealing with.  I can't even trust my own thoughts and feelings.  I never know if I'm going to accidentally trick myself.

My boyfriend doesn't want me to take so many pills.  He just doesn't understand that it's not a choice.  I know he worries about me and he cares a lot, and he doesn't want to see me being so dependent on meds to fix everything.  I wish I didn't have to take pills.  I've even cried about it during my weaker moments.  But there's not really anything else I can do.  I put off getting help for my ulcerative colitis for SO long.  And I suffered for it.  It's such a painful, debilitating disease at times.  You can't even go anywhere when you're sick and not taking meds... you have to stay home because you never know if you'll have to run to the bathroom, and God forbid you have to be around other people when you do... because you might be in there forever, or go every 10-15 minutes, or it might hurt so bad before, during, and after that you'll cry out too loud and people will ask what's wrong... and the last thing you wanna do is tell them all about the blood in your stool.  I make myself sick.  And that makes me depressed, that I'm so disgusted with myself.  I know it's not my fault.  But I feel like it is.  Nobody knows how jealous I am of their perfect, healthy bodies.

To top it all off, I've got fucking mental problems too.  I can't control my body or my mind.  They're both faulty.  And I'm so scared all the time.  So overwhelmed.

At times I think I'm fine.  It's such a relief, when everything's okay.  When my meds are working great so it's like I don't even have colitis, and when I go through those phases where nobody scares me anymore and I can talk to anyone.  I'm actually somewhat outgoing when I'm not paralyzed by my fear of blushing or stumbling over my words.  But it never lasts for long.  Maybe a few weeks at most.  And then I'm back to where I started, and my confidence takes another blow because I couldn't keep a good thing going.

I want, more than anything, to just be normal.  I don't want to have social anxiety.  I don't want to have ulcerative colitis.  If I had to pick one or the other though, I'd choose the colitis, because at least then I could still interact with other people normally and not be frightened.  But it hurts.  So I don't want either of them.

I think this is good for me.  Writing everything down.  And online.  That way other people can see it.  So even if I can't tell any of the people I know in real life about it, there's a chance that other people can see what I've written.  Maybe that's good for my social phobia?  I don't know.  I doubt that anyone really reads my blog anyways.  Not that it's a big deal... Just a thought.  At the very least I'm getting my crazy thoughts out of my head and written down somewhere.  That's a stress relief in itself, because once it's out there I don't have to think about it anymore.

I can talk to myself all day long and yet struggle to put words down in a more permanent context.  I used to write all the time, but for years now I've been avoiding it like it's homework or something equally unappealing.  It seems I'd rather write something that isn't real; I'd rather make up a story or edit someone else's writing than have mine out there to be subjected to criticism, or worse, to be ignored completely.  I guess I've lost touch with myself, with my thoughts.  I could always find the words for everything, and now I feel tongue-tied and I can't even find the word to describe this feeling that I'm pressuring myself to do something that's not even really necessary.

I guess that's how it goes when you try to get back into an old habit.  Usually it's the other way around, at least for me.  I've gone from giving up coffee and pop and fast food and excessive drinking, and it seems my tendency to avoid things that are bad for me has spread to other areas.  Maybe I didn't want to feel like I was complaining.  I don't need a diary to scribble down all my angst-ridden sentences whenever I'm feeling emotional.  Or maybe I was trying to hide from myself.  No one is more critical of me than I am.  I probably thought that if I didn't write it down, I didn't have to face it later.  I could pretend I wasn't thinking about anything significant and let it float away like a buzzing mosquito, an annoyance but nothing much more.

So here we are, wondering what in the hell I'm writing about and why I'm even trying.  At the very least, it's good practice for when I really have to write something full of eloquent phrasing and some deep, powerful message or other.  I haven't had an English class in over a year, and I can already feel my handle on my first language deteriorating, one pretty vocabulary word at a time.

I'm just hoping that I stick with it.  I need a place to empty my mind that doesn't include gossipy girlfriends or a halfway-listening boyfriend, all of whom I spend the majority of my time with.  I need an escape.  Not that I'm suffocating or anything, but I know that I will be if I don't vent my thoughts somewhere else on occasion.