Unimaginable.

Imagine you were reading a book, or watching a movie (for those less book-inclined), starring a fairly standard family: Mom, Dad, two boys and a younger daughter.

Now imagine that when the kids get older (teens and early twenties), their father dies. Car accident. It's terrible, but the family has each other, not to mention friends and neighbors, to help them through it. 

Life goes on; never quite the same, but things get better. Then eight or nine years later, the younger of the sons is in a car accident. He dies. The grief is tangible and the news is heartbreaking to all. Still, life manages to go on and while it is tragic, it isn't beyond belief.

Not even a year later, there's a phone call. Something terrible has happened and now the eldest son is dead, leaving only the mother and the daughter. At this point in the book or movie, you'd probably be pretty upset. Oh come on! you might think. It wasn't enough to take away the father/husband and one of the sons, now you've killed off both? This is just unbelievable!

And that's the feeling you're left with. The story isn't over, but at this point, it's hard to believe that one family could endure so much loss and grief. Most books or movies wouldn't take it to this point. The irony of the middle child's death via car accident, so similar to his father's, would have been the most tragic part, and things would have gotten better in the end.

Unfortunately, this isn't a book. Or a movie. If you remember this post, then you already know that. 

It's unimaginable what this family has gone through (and seemingly continues to go through), and my heart breaks just thinking about it. Most tragedies never even take it this far, and yet, this couldn't be further from fiction.

So, once again, I urge you all to embrace the people in your lives and be thankful for them every day. Trite as it may be, you never know when they might be gone.     

RIP, neighbor.

The Follow Up

Well, I'd say I've been missing quite long enough.  Here I am.  Bask in my... here-ness?

So, I wrote these pretty heavy/serious/unhappy posts and then I disappeared.  What gives?  It took a lot out of me to write all of that, and I guess I just needed a break before coming back to explain.

I have 3 main reasons for writing those posts.  The first is completely selfish: it was therapeutic.  My closer friends already knew most of what I went through (or, at least the parts they were around for), but I haven't talked much about any of it in a long time.  When something like that sits inside of you, it feels kind of like a bowling ball sitting in your stomach.  (OK, maybe something smaller, but you get my point.)  Writing about it and getting it all out there felt so good.

The second reason (slightly less selfish) is to share my gratitude.  I was (and still am!) lucky to have people in my life who loved me and cared enough about me to take some action.  Not everyone is so lucky, and I'm utterly grateful to everyone who has touched - and saved - my life.  Without some of you, I couldn't have become who I am today.

The third reason is (I hope) the least selfish and most important.  There are people out there with stories like mine who should know that they aren't alone and that it can get better.  It doesn't happen overnight, and it doesn't happen without some effort, but it can happen.

If my story can touch one person, I've achieved more than I could ever hope for.  My pursuit of a degree in Psychology isn't just because I find it interesting, but because I want to use it to change a world.  Not necessarily the world, but a world.  

What's the difference?  The world is a big freakin' place.  It's a whole planet.  With billions upon billions of people, each with his own issues, worries, dreams, regrets, and everything else.  A world is much smaller, more personal.  My world, for example, encompasses me, my friends and family, and the things I cherish most in life.  Many people have helped change my world, and in return, I want to help change some other world.

Maybe I'll help change one person's world.  Maybe I'll help change a community's world.  Maybe I truly will help change THE world.  The best I can do is try.

So with these posts begins an epic journey to change things, one world at a time.  If I've changed your world, thank you.  Thank you for letting me in, thank you for believing in yourself, and thank you for being you.  And if I haven't changed your world, I know someone else out there has.  Be sure to thank them, please. :)

Have a beautiful Memorial Day weekend, lovelies! <3

Riki's History Part 5: Living & Loving

I won't pretend that things were smooth sailing after the "Shane" incident.  I dated a few guys (using the term "dated" pretty loosely here) between fall 2005 and summer 2006.  Remember the old friend from my middle school days who would later introduce me to my husband?  Yeah, I was "dating" him when I met Hubby for the first time (six years ago this month... wow!). 

Hubby and I started dating in September of that year, and things were (usually) great.  He treated me like a queen, and I loved every second of it.  In early 2008, we got an apartment together, about an hour and a half away from where I had grown up and lived for my entire life.  I had very few friends out here, and Hubby had lots of them.  I would get lonely, feel unwanted, and cry.  It sort of sucked.

There was one time when I dropped the box of mac and cheese I'd been planning to make on the kitchen floor.  I started yelling and swearing, saying dinner was ruined and I had fucked it all up.  Much as he tried, Hubby couldn't convince me otherwise.  I wound up sobbing on the kitchen floor for awhile.  Same thing happened when a vase broke.  These are normal occurrences, but I was completely incapable of handling them normally.

In late July, I decided it was time to try the meds again.  I contacted my doctor (who is quite possibly the most understanding and least judgmental doctor I've ever met) and she put me back on Fluoxetine.  I started taking it again beginning in August, and I was already feeling happier just knowing that things would get better soon. 

Then came The Break-Up.  (Dun, dun, dunnnnnn.)

In August, Hubby and I were planning a camping trip, so I had worked "summer hours" that week (9-hour days Mon-Thurs, half day Friday) so we could get a head start.  Instead of trying to recall all of this, I'm going to copy/paste from my journal entry a few days after it happened.

We packed, we had lunch, we packed some more... He seemed a bit strange, but I wrote it off as lack of sleep combined with 3 cups of coffee in less than 3 hours (he stayed up late to play video games and drank a lot of coffee at work just for fun).

Then, when I asked him if he was OK again (I'd already asked, and his arm hurt, so I'd given him some ibuprofen), he said he had a lot going on in his mind. He seemed serious, so I took his hands and encouraged him to talk... He started with some stuff about how there was a lot of talk about marriage lately... and apparently he decided that he really couldn't see marrying me. I told him I wasn't looking to get married right now or anything, and we talked a bit more.

I asked at one point if he still loved me, and he took a long pause. Then he said, "I guess my silence sort of answered that..." He didn't say it in a mean way, just said it. I remained as calm and collected as I could, and continued talking to him about how we could work on things. He would say things that I found encouraging, that I thought meant we could work through it. Things about if we had hobbies together (I had recently told him I'd be happy to come out and hang with him while he worked on the car, and reiterated this, and agreed that I'd even try getting my hands dirty in the process), or if I had friends to hang with (I told him I could try being friends with [insert she-who-will-not-be-named here], and that once the meds kicked in, that I could look for a new job and have new coworkers to hang with)...

But all in all, he just wasn't sure he loved me anymore. He'd had doubts for weeks, he said. Did he still care about me? Yes. Deeply. He even said he "likes me a lot". At some point I started crying a bit, but was still trying to reason with him. Neither of us knew what to do. I told him that the logical thing might be to see if things get better with the meds, you know? But, there's nothing logical about love.

And so, I began to pack. He helped for awhile, but I couldn't stop myself from crying and saying the stupidest things. Things like, "I can't believe you went on vacation with me and didn't love me!" and "I just want you to love me again..." Lines that happen in a bad book or movie, but I just couldn't help it."

It was the worst pain I've experienced yet, and thankfully my sisters were there for me and I flew out to Las Vegas for a few days to recover. 

In my opinion, that break turned out to be one of the best things that happened to our relationship.  I got to spend some time back in my hometown, reassuring myself that I wasn't completely dependent on him, and finding that my meds were making things I normally couldn't do seem much more possible.  His time away from me made him realize that he truly did love me, depression/anxiety/insanity and all.  We were back together soon, and have been together since. 

As of this post, I'm on 40 MG of fluoxetine and 150 MG of bupropion (generic Wellbutrin), and I'm doing really well.  I used to think that being on anti-depressants meant I was dependent on them, and I hated that thought.  My mom put that into perspective for me.  She asked me, "Well, are you dependent on your glasses to see?"

"Uh, yeah..."

"The glasses don't change your eyes, they just make it easier to see.  The pills do the same thing.  They don't change who you are, they just make it easier to be you."

I still have my moments, and some days are harder than others, but it's mostly within the realm of normal emotions.  When I get sad, it's usually because something sad has happened instead of just out of the blue.  When I get frustrated, I don't yell and swear as much anymore.  And when I do have a particularly bad moment, I use some of the techniques I learned back in my days of therapy and some other relaxation methods.  I'm a nicer person to be around overall.

I've been back in school since August 2009, and am on track to get my BA in Psychology (go figure, right?).  I'm married to a wonderful man, and have a great house and an adorable dog.  I have friends who love me and family who always has my back.  I even have a hobby that I'm passionate about (photography is the most therapeutic thing I do)! 

A lot of people have contributed to my happiness and well-being.  I don't have the time or space to thank them all individually, but more than likely, you know who you are.  Thank you.  From the very bottom of my heart... Thank you.

The bottom line is something like this: Depression (and other mental illnesses) sucks.  It's trying for you and everyone around you, and some days (many days... sometimes every day) it feels like nothing will ever get better. 

It will. 

If you give it time, it will.  If you work at it, it will.  If you allow your friends and family to help you, it will.  If you find goals you want to achieve, it will.  And eventually, those days will become rarities, and when you slip back into old ways of thinking, just remember that it did get better.  And it will again.  Don't give up.

 

Crisis Averted

So I managed to come up with a superstition I could test out (to the best of my ability).  Phew!  And only after an hour of confusion, another hour of crying and being sure I couldn't do it, and another 20 minutes of brainstorming!  That's like no time at all!  >_<

I long for the day when I have my degree and can put this school business behind me.

100!

Ahhh, yes, dear readers.  T'is my 100th post.  I'm sure you're peeing your pants with excitement!  

Two weeks left of this dreadful semester, loves.  If I can survive it, I shouldn't have to take a lab science ever again.  Here's hoping!!

Anywhoozles, today is the Day of Silence.  This is something I participated in many times as a high school and college student, and though I no longer participate (I work from home...  the only conversations I have are with myself or my dog), it's still something I believe in.  It has become more and more important as bullying continues and escalates around the world.  

If you're a student and participating, kudos to you for having the balls/ovaries to stand up against intolerance!  And if you're not participating for whatever reason (school doesn't support it, not in school, etc), just remember that it's never too late to help make a difference.  Today isn't the only day you can take a stand!

I'm pretty busy today, so I'll leave you with just two songs to think about today:  

1) Lady Gaga - "Born This Way" The perfect anthem for the Day of Silence, IMO.  Lady Gaga may be a bit eccentric, but her heart sure seems to be in the right place.  You go, Gaga!  (Of course, I also have to share the link for the super-awesome 10-year-old who rocks this song on her keyboard... Too effing awesome.)  This song reminds us all that EVERYONE needs to be loved and respected, and that we should always be proud to be ourselves. 

2) Lily Allen - "F*ck You" The first time I heard this song, I fell in love.  I mean, I already loved Lily Allen, but I fell in love with the song.  It was a whirlwind romance, and while we're not as close as we once were (I no longer listen to it 3, 4, or 10 times a day), I still rock out to it sometimes and remember our affair fondly.  Anywhoozles, this song really just sticks it to the people who seem determined to remain ignorant and intolerant in a time when change is what we need most.

I'm glad my 100th post could be about something I a passionate about, and I hope you take a moment today to consider your own feelings and actions, and ask yourself what you can do to help fight intolerance. <3 

Thursday, Thursday

Hmmm, not as catchy as "Monday, Monday" I suppose.  No wonder there's no song about it.

Strange, but true: Today is actually National Cheese Lover's Day.  Now, if you're from Wisco like yours truly, every day is cheese lover's day.  But, it's nice to see the whole nation included in this affair we Sconnies celebrate on a daily basis.  Yay cheese!

On a non-cheese related note, this is also the date that Skeet Ulrich was born and Audrey Hepburn died (in 1970 and 1993 respectively).  Just a few "fun facts" about January 20th.

Moving on...  

Tomorrow, hubby and I plan on having a night in, which is one of my favorite things to do.  We're going to watch a movie ("What About Bob?" for those curious) and make dinner.  The problem is, we're stuck on what to make for dinner.  I found a few yummy-looking recipes, but I'm not sure what to attempt.  When the decision is made, I'll be sure to post.

Have to make it through today first, though.  Here goes nothing... 

For fun - what's your favorite cheese or cheese-related snack/meal/whatever?  I'd have to say cheese curds.  Squeaky, fried, I don't care.  I just love me some cheese curds!

Moronic Monday - Warning!

Yes, I know, I missed Moronic Monday again.  Sue me.  

Or, just enjoy this Tuesday edition, chock full of warning signs made for the terminally stupid.  If you find yourself reading them and going, "Uh, duh?" or "Who the hell would do that?!" just remember...  Someone did it.  That's why the warning is there.

Hope you're feeling smarter already! :-)

Moronic Monday - And The Award Goes To...

What better on a Moronic Monday than a Darwin Award nominee?   If that doesn't make you feel smart, nothing will.

For those not in the know, Wikipedia says, "The [Darwin] Awards honor people who ensure the long-term survival of the human race by removing themselves from the gene pool in a sublimely idiotic fashion."

In essence, the dumber you are, the greater your contribution is.  So keep on keepin' on, idiots of the world!

My Bad... I Guess?

It's just after 8 and already today has left a bad taste in my mouth.  Fantastic.

You see, I tend to take things very personally, and this morning I have already felt attacked, even though I'm sure it was meant to be anything but an attack.  Let me explain.

I am notoriously pessimistic.  I am Eeyore personified.  Well, at least, I used to be.  You see, I'm on a medication called Fluoxetine, aka generic Prozac.  I'm not ashamed of that.  I don't try to hide it.  In fact, I bring it up sometimes to joke about it or be thankful for it!  

I remember I used to hate that I needed medication to be "normal" and I even tried a few times to live without taking the meds (which, for the record, turned out to be a poor idea - who knew?).  Then my mom and I had (roughly) this conversation:

Mom: What do you dislike about it?
Me: I hate being dependent on something just to be normal.
Mom: I see...  Well, are you dependent on your glasses?

Me: Well, yeah, I guess.  But that's different!

Mom: How?  You need the glasses to see normally, right?  You wouldn't just stop wearing them because you didn't like it.

Me: Uh, no.  That'd be pretty dumb.

Mom: Right.  So why is depending on them to live any different than depending on medication?

Me: Um...  Huh...

In my mind, the meds had been more like crutches, easing me back to recovery.  But in reality, they're just as necessary as my glasses or my inhaler.  I depend on these things to live the best life I can, and there's nothing wrong with that.

Anywhoozles, I digress (or digest, for you Family Guy fans).  My point is I used to be the poster child for depression, pessimism, and anything else moody like that.  People who have known me for awhile remember this and, sometimes, still think of me that way.  Which means when I try to be optimistic, people often think I'm being sarcastic or just plain rude. 

And that...  Ooh, that rubs me the wrong way.  I take it very personally when people think I'm incapable of looking at the positive side of things or being in any way optimistic.  Really?  Do you all think I'm that horrible?  Thanks, that's really reassuring.  I feel awesome now.  Woo.

So, as you can see, things that aren't meant to be attacks can sometimes feel like attacks to me.  I get defensive and my pessimistic former self starts creeping back.  The sarcasm thickens, the mood darkens, and it takes everything I have not to lash out.  

Here's a thought - try giving people the benefit of the doubt. Oddly enough, sometimes they really do change; sometimes for the better!  If a friend or coworker or family member or neighbor does or says something out of character, and it's a GOOD change, go with it.  Don't question it.  Don't assume it's a fluke or that it's meant to mock.  Have a little optimism.  It goes a long way.

On that note...

If it weren't for that whole "balanced nutrition" crap, I'm pretty sure that I could live on a diet of ice cream, tortilla chips and Vault Zero.  Just saying.