Lexapro & Emetophobia?

I went to see my therapist today and immediately after, had an appointment with my doctor also. 

In therapy, we talked about how my anxiety is heightened and my chest pains are becoming a real issue for me. So she suggested I see my doctor about medication. I’ve tried to not go to medication for the simple fact that I don’t like not knowing whether or not the side effects will show in me. 

So anyway, I got prescribed lexapro. I googled lexapro and saw the side effects. One being nausea. 🙄 Now, the root of my anxiety is nausea, so why in the world would a prescription like this help me!?

If any of you have taken lexapro, please let me know how it went with you. I’d like to have my mind at ease before I start this medication. 

140 days later 

Here I am. Once again. Using this as an outlet to express myself in a way that I am too afraid to do so with anyone close to me. My last blog post was 140 days ago. 140 days ago, I felt like I was finally getting rid of all that anxiety and fear. I had gotten a new job, started school, moved into my own apartment. It was 140 days ago that I submerged myself into the sea of life. The HUGE sea of life, if I might add. I was sailing along just fine, until the weather started to change (literally) and the storms threw me into the sea where I could not come up for air.

And I think it’s funny that I stirred up this analogy because I literally cannot swim. 

So here we are again. 140 days later.

My anxiety has gotten so much worse that I have quit my job. I lay in bed dreading any appointment I have made or any responsibility I may have to tend to. I dread it so much that I literally make myself sick. So much so that I usually end up canceling on people. Why am I doing this to myself again? Why couldn’t I just be happy and live in the moment and appreciate the fact that I was finally making something of myself? 

I’ve fallen into a depression. And I don’t say that because I’m sad I no longer have a job, I say it because I am depressed. I don’t see the meaning behind anything that I do anymore. I took an Epsom salt bath the other day to ease my anxiety and I almost went under water and took a deep breath with the hope that no one would come get me. I wanted to leave this world. When I finally came up for air, I burst into tears. And for what? 

I wish there was a magic pill to rid me of this anchor that’s bringing me down. I’d take it. I’d take it in an instant. Then, 140 days from now, I’d be back.

Back to my “normal” self. 

What is Love

Finally, for once, now that I feel on top of the world with my health, I don’t feel the need to update this blog with “how I am doing and my progress”. There’s actually a couple things that have been happening to me and so I’ve decided to write about this topic: Love. The one thing that confuses the hell out of everyone. Am I right?

Okay so let me try to define falling in love as well as I can, so we know what we are talking about. One person finds himself/herself excited and preoccupied with someone else and possibly desires touching that person and being with that person as much as possible. That strong physical attraction usually includes sexual feelings (not all the time though). There is a frequent desire to share thoughts and experiences, even trivial experiences. It is a headlong, pleasurable feeling that, everyone seems to agree, sort of fogs up our judgment so that the loved person is not seen clearly. The rest of life fades a little behind this dramatic daydream. “Love is blind”, right? It’s as if there is some magnetic attraction to the other person that transcends rational thought. It’s so powerful that, like other powerful feelings, such as grief, it seems to the affected person that it will last forever. It’s basically the sort of thing people write songs about.

Now I have dealt with my handful of experiences where I thought I was in love. I feel that most of those were just crushes. Lust. Wanting to feel accepted. Wanting to feel… well, loved!

For the most part, I think a lot of young individuals don’t really understand the concept of love. I mean, even I cant fully comprehend it.

Regardless, if someone is in love or lusting for someone, the thought in their head is that they “love” the other person. It’s a universal feeling but in a way everyone feels it differently.

So if love is this amazing thing that everyone searches for and usually is the segue to a relationship, why do so many relationships and marriages fail nowadays?

Honestly, I have yet to find the answer to that question. I myself am in this whirlwind of complicated feelings with someone and have absolutely no clue how to fix what’s going on.

SO. To my fellow bloggers, readers, internet surfers: I would like for you to help me and tell me your thoughts on why it is that relationships/marriages fail nowadays. Is there one common factor or does it depend on the couple? Is it because of this day in age that we live in or do you think that people way back then still had the same relationship issues that we have today? I’d like to get a couple responses and hear from you all.

Thank you for reading. Till next time!

— D.

Sketch 

There’s nothing more confusing than feeling like you hate the person you’re supposed to love.

Especially when things used to be so great. Both parties were happy, in love and adored each other. Now it’s all about who did what and who’s to blame.

Nights are no longer peaceful but chaotic with the silence of words unsaid. Feeling like nothing will ever be the same again.

I guess one can only just hope and pray for the best and see what is to come.

Emotional Reflection

I’m sitting on my couch, candle lit, essential oils diffuser on, listening to Olafur Arnalds. My new kitten, Max, is laying in his bed. Murphy, my puppy is laying right next to him. I’m thinking about everything that has happened the past year. I just can’t grasp the fact that I am here. I am in my own apartment. I did this. After being sick, going in and out of the hospital, doctors offices and therapy appointments, going from unemployed to having the best jobs in the world; I realize I am SO blessed. I’m so happy things are getting back on track again. I seriously couldn’t have done any of this without my mom who has been there to guide me, give me advice, and yell at me when I don’t take care of myself. My tia for opening her home to me and letting me eat her food when I didn’t have money to buy my own and my nina for doing the same; yelling at me for not taking care of myself and providing me with advice. Lol. All the drama, all the tears, all the bills, and I have finally gotten through. I could cry just thinking about how loved I am. I know I complain a lot about not having so called “friends”. Of course it’s nice to have friends but those come and go. My family is forever.

I thank the man up above for blessing me with the family Ive got and giving me this awesome life I live. It’s truly a gift.

The Light At The End of The Tunnel

I’ve been slacking with my blog posts about my therapy sessions. I’ve already had two more and unconsciously avoided posting about it. It’s not that I don’t like to put it all out on the table so I can look back and see my progress, it’s just that I am progressing so much faster than I thought and everything is falling back into place a lot quicker than I had imagined. I simply can’t keep track of it all, which is absolutely amazing. I couldn’t be happier with the way things are going, honestly. I have been through SO MUCH and to be where I am now… totally didn’t see it coming. If you would have told me back in December 2014 that I would be making $1600 a month from babysitting & $500 a month teaching dance, I would have said you were absolutely NUTS. But hey, here I am. I love that my “job” isn’t work. I love love love it. I get to have fun, teach, and inspire kids on a day to day basis and I get paid for it! Now of course, this isn’t something I am planning on doing for the rest of my life but it feels so good to be 20 years old and not worry about money and have the means to continue school AND have an apartment (which by the way, we’re moving in July 10th! SO EXCITED). Things are definitely looking up and I am happy. So, so happy.

Therapy Session: No. 3

Another session with my therapist, done and check.

Our discussion points are as follows:

One of the little girls I babysit is sick with some type of cold. She had a low-grade fever and claimed that she felt like throwing up right before I had to leave them with another babysitter so I could go see my therapist. Great timing, right? K (for privacy purposes, my therapist is K) asked if that situation had given me anxiety and I will admit, I was internally panicking but I tried my hardest not to act like a child about it around everyone else. She then asked me what I would do if after my appointment, I went back and she did have to throw up, what would I do? I honestly couldn’t think of what I would do and because I didn’t know, I burst into tears. It really upsets me that I cant think about a situation in which I would be put face first into my fear and not know what in the world I would do or how I’d react. K told me this: “I think you would know what to do. I just think its because I put you on the spot. You seem like a nurturing and kind-hearted person and I think you would tell her, ‘its going to be okay’

K: “So what was your childhood like as far as your health and this anxiety about throwing up?”

Well I distinctly remember getting sick exactly 3 times as a child.

  1. I was about 9 years old. We were living in Goodyear, AZ. My aunt was living with myself, my mom, my stepdad, my Nina and baby sister. One night, I was sleeping on the floor in her room just because I liked to be with her. We had Jack in the Box for dinner. I had chicken strips with ranch. I woke up in the middle of the night and didn’t feel so hot. I got up, walked towards the door to open it and before I could open it, I threw up right on the carpet. Literally an inch away from the tile. My aunt yelled at me for getting on the carpet and not walking two steps forward to land on the tile, where it would be easier to clean. My mom woke up and proceeded to have me clean it up while they watched. It felt like a punishment. I haven’t had Jack in the Box to this day.
  2. I was about 12 years old. It was summer. I was with my aunt again, my Nina and my baby sister at Harkins, we went to see Ratatouille. I felt a little feverish and just not right. I fell asleep about 20 minutes into the movie and didn’t wake up until it was over. When I woke up, I felt worse and with a horrible headache. We were walking out of the theater and right as we got in front of the ticket booths, I felt the need to be sick. I was close to a trash can and kind of gagged but nothing happened. So I took a deep breath and kept walking. A couple steps later, I became sick right in front of everyone. Again, my aunt yelled at me for throwing up on the cement and in the middle of everything rather than walking over to the grass where no one would walk. It definitely took me a while to say yes to the movies again.
  3. I was in 4th grade. I don’t remember what I had gotten sick with, but I wasn’t able to go to school. I wasn’t throwing up or nauseous but I had feverish type stuff and weakness. I ended up skipping school for about a month and once I was better, my mom forced me to go back to school but I cried and cried because I wasn’t ready to go back. I don’t know why I didn’t want to go.. I know I didn’t want to face everyone because I had just moved schools so I wasn’t really acquainted with everyone anyway and I didn’t want to answer questions as to why I was gone for so long.

That last scenario, I didn’t remember until K had asked me about if I remembered being sick like I was now. “It’s kind of funny how this has happened before. They are different situations and different circumstances but they sort of parallel each other. You were sick for a while both times but when you were younger, your mom was there to push you back into real life. Now, you don’t really have your mom to be that push, you kind of have to do it on your own.”  Now that got to me. Again, I bawled.

I really don’t have my mom to be that push for me. I have to do it myself now that I live with my boyfriend. That is the hardest concept to swallow. The past 5-6 years I’ve been so set on moving out and leaving home. Now that I’m gone, its like I’m home sick but instead, mom sick. I miss having my mom to talk to every night. I miss having her be there when I’m not feeling good because it seemed like she always knew what it was that I had, whether it was just a stomach ache or a severe cold or pneumonia. I didn’t tell my therapist this, because I just remembered it as I’m typing about my mom but I do remember being about 4 years old and my mom’s appendix had burst and she was in the bathroom throwing up and I was sitting on her bed with a clear view to the bathroom and the sound of her being sick scared me. I had no idea what was going on and I was terrified. I sat there on the bed and cried and called for her and my mom had to tell me it was going to be okay in between breaths.

That situation alone, could very well be the root to my fear of becoming sick. I will have to tell K that next week.

I feel like I had a good session. I had to remember a lot of childhood memories that were not so good but its all starting to make sense to me. I got sick out of nowhere but this anxiety and panic didn’t come out of nowhere. It came from a place deep inside me and it was sitting there all these years waiting for the perfect time to come out.