Category Archives: family

my mom and dad and my boss

I thought I’d drop by
to see how you see the sun.

As you know, I told many people about my suicide attempt, including my parents and my boss. I’m not the closest with my parents so telling them wasn’t easy. Fortunately, when in the midst of a crisis things become easier. I called my mom while I was still high on Ativan–I barely remember the conversation, actually; I just remember her saying over and over again to stay away from alcohol–and I told my dad while I was in the urgent care facility. He took it well. I mean as well as one could, I guess–very grateful I was alive and communicating with him.

Further, I also told my boss while in the urgent care facility via text messages. I told him I wouldn’t be coming in the rest of the week because I had a “psychiatric emergency.” I should have been more specific as he seemed worried, because he tried calling many times. But I did tell him that I was okay and that I would explain everything face-to-face.

That face-to-face conversation went well. I didn’t tell him about my social anxiety but I did share with him my suicidal intentions as well as my subsequent overdose. He understands that I am a perfectionist and take a lot of what he says personally. He wants me to be more open with him when I’m feeling stressed or angry at him, rather than bottling it up–easier said than done, of course. I also told him I wanted to work more, as I need more structure, and that I enjoy the work (most of it). He’s been pressuring me to take more interest in the work, as he actually wants me to take over the business some day (not sure what he sees in me), but I told him during our conversation that I’d like to be working there for a long time but in the background. “I do not want to take over the business,” I told him. I feel a bit trapped, I guess. I’m not sure what I want to do with my life, yet this job isn’t very demanding, socially-speaking–so it’s working for me right now.

I feel really bad because my boss is probably going to lay someone off thinking that I can take over his role. Granted this person has really stopped caring about his work, but I can’t help but feel bad. He has a very difficult time communicating, even more than I do, and he must be struggling from some form of social anxiety. Then again, I think he may want to get laid off to pick up unemployment.

But do I really want to put someone out of a job for a job I’m not sure I want? I keep telling myself it’s out of my hands, but there are options; I’m just choosing the easiest one for me, which may be best considering all I’ve been through.

***

I talked to my parents yesterday after everything calmed down with me. I apologized many times for not confining in them about my problems. I will do my best to be more honest with them in the future about my depressions. (But I have my doubts about whether I will really be able to do that.)

I now feel really depressed and somewhat anxious about my relationship to my parents. I put myself out there–I mean really out there–and now I feel a lot of pressure to keep an open dialogue going with them regarding my mental issues, which is a common theme in our relationship as of late. During those calls, we  grew closer than ever before, and it scares the hell out of me. It’s as if five years of emotional bonding and connection passed before us all at once. (My dad even said he loved me, which hasn’t happened in like ten years. It was very awkward, and I must admit my “I love you” back was equally awkward. We both meant  it; it’s just we both lack an emotional connection to the other. He’s not a perfect dad, and I’m not a perfect son–that’s okay.)

What’s more, they say they understand but I don’t think they have a clue. They may have been depressed most of their lives but they address it differently. They ignore it and try to push it away while I’ve tried to address it. I don’t think they’re any closer to seeing the sun the way I see it.

***

P.S. I think my manic energy is starting to wear off. I may not post for a while, but don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Take care.

does your mother know?

So, on the way home from therapy on Tuesday I took an overdose of Ativan. The session itself was difficult, as we discussed my recent suicide attempt and the fact that I found a new therapist and would like to start seeing him next month. I also tried to ensure my therapist that the events are mutually exclusive. ( I thought this was very important.) In other words, I’ve been contemplating a change in therapists for some time now (which is true).

Furthermore, I was dreadfully scared of having to go back to work yesterday, so instead of addressing it proactively–by either talking to my therapist or boss, trying to go on disability or something, etc.–I felt it best to OD. That will grab attention, I thought; and it sure did.

Without doing much damage I skipped the emergency room and went right to my psychiatrist’s office. He suggested I spend the night somewhere safe at a urgent care clinic, which I did (which wasn’t so bad), and then possibly go on disability leave from my job. There’s also plenty of options for low-cost inpatient care treatment here in San Francisco (we love our social services here!), so that’s an option. But to be honest, I really think I just want to switch anti-depressants–to Nardil–and go back to my normal routine.

I’m proud of myself because I told both my parents what’s been going on with me over the phone, and they were both very supportive. I also texted my boss. I haven’t given him all the details yet–I just told him I couldn’t come in because I had a psychiatric emergency. He’s provided support, and he wants me to call him–and I will as soon as I get up the courage.

I am feeling loads better. I see my psychiatrist again today to hopefully get on Nardil. I am also no longer feeling suicidal. Yay!

a little down

I’ve been feeling a bit low the past few days. I really miss Kansas City and my family. Talking on the phone with them just isn’t the same.

I’ve been running a lot. I signed up for the San Francisco Marathon. Running has become something to live for. I love it. I can’t explain it. I’ve never felt like I had any true hobbies or anything I’ve really loved in this world, but I do think I’ve found something–and it’s actually healthy.

I’m still waiting to hear back about the eight jobs I applied for at the public library. I’m already starting to lose hope. I applied for some teaching English jobs abroad for after I graduate in August.

Nothing much is happening right now, really.

I am thinking about ending therapy and just seeing my hypnotherapist and continue doing CBT with her. CBT has made such a tremendous difference in my life. It’s great! I know my hypnotherapist isn’t formally qualified to be working on CBT with me, but she’s recovering from social anxiety herself and has used CBT extensively–so I feel like she’s more qualified than my therapist.

I’m also thinking of getting off the Lamictal. I do not think I have Cyclothymia. I think my deep depressions happen within the context of social anxiety.

I am starting to accept myself more. I am who I am inside–and I am starting to be okay with that. I do have limitations, but I do have many positives as well–like all people. Most days I am happy and feel good about the future. I am excited (well, most of the time) about starting my internship in a few weeks, and I am just overall liking the direction I am going.

Finally, I want to give a shout out to Nick over at The Social Phobic. He’s been away for a while but now he’s back. He inspired me to start my blog and writing about my day-to-day experiences with social anxiety.

Thanks Nick. I hope all is well.

back in san francisco

I got back yesterday. Honestly, I miss Kansas City and my family. Even though we didn’t get to talk about the letter, I think a lot was accomplished, and I had a lot of fun with my family. My relationship to them is different. On the surface, we’re the same, but deeper down, I think there’s more understanding between all of us. It’s strange being back. I feel like a part of me is still in Missouri. I feel like I could walk out of my apartment right now and be back there.

***

I’ve been thinking more about this blog and decided that I want to spend less time on it–and the “blogsphere” as a whole. I’m getting a lot out of writing about my issues, and I am so grateful for all the support I’ve received. I cannot thank you all enough. I am going to probably spend one day a week posting, answering comments, and reading other blogs.

That said, I am feeling a lot better about life in general. I’m doing more, engaging more, and, for the most part, I’m happy. There are days where I feel down, but, at the end of the day, all feels right. I think it’s a combination of all my interventions–and, again, your support. Also, over the holidays, I think I finally realized that social anxiety is my choice. That is, it’s my choice how much of my soul I put into social anxiety. I am the one in control. Social anxiety is not who I am. It’s not my friend, it’s not my child–it’s a part of me, but it’s not me.

Finally, I got runner up for Best Neurotic, Stress-Related and Somatorm Disorders Blog over at Mental Nurse for the 2010 TWIM Awards. I’m surprised, especially considering how new my blog is. Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks to them and to those who voted for me.

I hope everyone is well. I’m looking forward to catching up on my favorite blogs later today. And Happy New Year!

still here ..

Hey! I hope everyone’s holidays are going well. As you know, I’m in Kansas City with my family. It’s been pretty tough so far. I feel a lot of pressure to continue moving forward with my family. That is, to continue talking about my issues and try to develop a deeper connection with them. But I haven’t been able to do that so far. My parents aren’t initiating the conversation–and neither am I. It’s almost like I didn’t even send the letter at all, which is really awkward. So, I’m feeling pretty depressed about that.

I’ve also decided to take a step back from blogging for the next week or so. Sorry, I haven’t been responding as much to comments or reading other blogs. I’m trying to get caught up on emails right now.

I just wanted you all to know that I am still here and I appreciate all the support. Happy New Year! See you in 2011!

going home

Before I start, I just want to preface this post by saying that I am experimenting with a higher dose of Ativan at the moment, and I am feeling quite stoned. So, just keep that in mind. 🙂

***

I’m going home on Friday. Actually, I shouldn’t call it home. San Francisco is my home; Kansas City is where I grew up. Anyway, on Friday I’m going back to my hometown to see my family for the holidays. I’ll be there a total of ten days, which is probably seven days too long!

I have plans to see a few friends, but other than that, I’ll just be hanging around my family–which actually could be difficult because of the letter I sent them a few months back (part 1, part 2). I don’t know what to expect; or, what I want to talk about. I have no agenda, in other words. I guess that’s good. I’m not expecting to make deep connections with my family, but I would like to talk about the things in the letter a little more in-depth. I do want to have closer relationships with my mom, dad, and brother, but I also want to relax and have fun at home, as well. I don’t want it to be a constant therapy session. On the other hand, if nothing is talked about, I will be greatly disappointed in myself. I just need balance. Regardless of what is said–if anything is said–we are already closer because of that letter. I have already accomplished the things I wanted to accomplish (I just feel pressure to keep moving forward), and my trip is a victory in and of itself.

One thing I am starting to stress about is seeing my relatives (on my mom’s side) for Christmas. I haven’t seen them in years, and I know they all really want to see me. My cousins are all around my age, and they have husbands and wives, and each of them have two kids. I’m a little behind. My aunt and uncle are really religious, so I know they disprove of me and my lifestyle–and so I know they’ll be judging me negatively.

Actually, let me step back: They may not be judging me at all. Maybe they’re proud of the things I’m doing. They know how passionate I am about helping people and how much I want a career where I can make a difference in this world. But then again, they know I am somewhat of a nihilist, as well. I do believe there is meaning in the world, but it’s subjective. That is, beyond science and reason, everybody has their own beliefs. Those beliefs are not right or wrong. I think in my aunt and uncle’s situation, though, they are so attached to their beliefs, they have become truths.

Anyway, my point is is that I have no idea how they view me or what’s going through their head–I am not a mind reader.

So, in the past, I usually got flooded with anxiety around my aunt and uncle and my cousins and their families. I’ve never really interacted with their children (because I didn’t know how and was afraid of being judged by the adults); and so, I just ignored them. I feel pressure to make more of an effort to engage with them.

Plus, I know the attention is going to be on me most of the time, as they haven’t seen me in years, which I do not like. But, it will be okay. I will slow down and use some of the cognitive techniques I’m learning to ease my anxiety. I’ll also be able to fall back on my meds if things get a little too rough.

I’m trying to remind myself that the present is not the same as the past. In the past, I may have been flooded with anxiety around them, but that’s the past. I will probably handle it better. It will be all-right, regardless.

winter break

Again, my seemingly non-productive therapy session has turned into quite a lot of introspection. It prompted quite a few questions, and maybe a few shifts. It’s amazing how simple shifts (and insights) can seem like nothing–on the outside, to anyone else–but they can make a world of difference. Essentially, not a lot happened during therapy on Tuesday, but since then, I’ve been thinking a lot about the few things that did happen. I started writing a post briefly detailing each one, but I want to step back and hash each one out. So I’ll be recapping therapy for the next few posts.

***

First, today is the last day of the semester. I had to half-ass a paper, which is not my style (and honestly it felt good to turn it in incomplete [really jabbing my perfectionist side]), but other than that, I got everything done. I’m now left with a month and a half break before the start of the next semester, and I’m a little worried about how I’m going to spend this break.

What am I going to do with myself?

I am going to Kansas City, to visit my family, for 11 days around Christmas, which will probably be stressful, but at least I’ll get some social interaction.

That’s exactly what I’m worried about this next month: social interaction. Even though I am going to school online, just interacting in that format–message boards, conference calls–is better than nothing.

What’s more, my girlfriend and I have been entertaining the prospect of moving as of late to save money, live closer to the train, and to have roommates (so we can both be a little more social). I’m all for having roommates, but I hate the stress of moving, and I don’t want to be tied down by a new lease. So, I’ve been resistant. Anyway, on Tuesday night my girlfriend, frustrated with me, called me a hermit, which I did not appreciate.

I do things. I have (a few) friends I talk to (mostly online). I go out and buy groceries and go to the library and volunteer. I’m sure there’s more.

That said, it really ticked me off because there is a part of me that is afraid that she is right. Maybe I am becoming a hermit. I may not be there yet, but I’m slowly pushing people away and becoming more and more isolated. I’m scared.

At least I’m aware now and, hence, can make changes. I’d like to spend this break reading, writing, and running, but I probably should do some volunteering, (re)connecting with friends, and hanging out with my girlfriend’s family as well. Maybe I’ll join Toastmasters.

making contact

I sent my parents a letter about three weeks ago, detailing some of my issues and frustrations, and I finally talked to them (separately) about it last night. They were difficult conversations, to say the least–but good. My dad gave me practical advice and validated my issues, while my mom got very emotional and questioned my issues. I welcomed both. It felt good to actually be talking about me–the real me. I felt transparent. I felt naked. I felt vulnerable. I haven’t felt like that around my parents in a long time; again, it was good.

Afterward, I cried a bit, but I didn’t feel very emotional. I don’t understand why, beecause the conversations were so emotionally-charged. I thought I’d want/need to binge, but I didn’t. I ate a salad and went to bed. I’m proud of myself for actually having an “adult” conversation with my parents. They now know what I’ve been going through, and my hope is that I can now lean on them for support.

My dad’s highlights–

“I used to be very shy and had trouble communicating with people too, but my job demanded it. I found that I could use running as a form of mediation to help me relax and deal with my issues.”

“Keep your head up; you’ll get through this.”

My mom’s highlight’s–

“I don’t know what to say to you. I’m scared to say anything because it won’t be the right thing to say.”

“I thought we had a close relationship”

“You dwell too much on the past; you just have to let things go and live in the present.”

“I don’t know why you just can’t live your life like everyone else.”

“I’m sorry for getting angry. I’m hurt and frustrated and don’t know what to say. I feel like I failed you.”

letter to my father

My father is a very proud man. I’ve never understood him, but for the first twenty years of my life I lived in his shadow. He influenced my way of thinking, what I studied in college and how I viewed the world. I had a role-model, somebody I could admire and look up to. In my early-twenties though things began to change, or, more precisely, I began to change.

I moved away, first to Poland and then New York and finally San Francisco. I saw new things and was exposed to new ideas, new ways of thinking. I finally got to see the opposites–the things my father rejects, and never converses about. The things that make humans unique.

I started joining radical political groups and got rid of my car and stopped eating meat, anything to piss my dad off. For once, I wanted him to recognize me for me. I didn’t care anymore if he couldn’t see himself in me.

Because of all these changes, I’ve become angry at my father, and my father has become angry at me. We rarely talk. When we do it’s awkward and forced. I say hello, he says hello, I ask how he’s doing, he says fine, and then I ask to talk to my mom. At the time of writing I haven’t talked to him in at least three months. I’m waiting for him to call–it’s his job, right?

I’ll get to the point: I no longer want to be angry with my father, and I do not like this distance between us. There may always be geographic distance, but I’d like to be closer in a spiritual sense, or at least in a father-son sense. At this point, he’s less of a father to me and more of a long, lost friend. It’s sad.

What’s more, I don’t really know how to repair the damage between us, if that’s even possible. But I think a good starting point is for me to start being honest with him.

I think the most logical part to start with is his alcoholism. He’s been a functional alcoholic most of his adult life. It’s not easy to address because he’s not the quintessential alcoholic you see on TV or in the movies. He’s never hurt anybody in the family, and we rarely see him drunk. But he still has a dependence–and it has greatly affected our relationship.

I’m also afraid of my father. He has such a big ego. Nobody can tell him anything that goes against his way of thinking, and so I think the only way to get through to him would be through writing–

Dear Dad:

I hope this letter finds you well. I know we don’t talk much, and so you must be surprised that you’re reading this right now, but I think this is something we can address later. For now, I want to jump to the point.

For the past year or so I’ve spent a lot of time analyzing my past in order to understand how those experiences create meaning for me in the present. You, being my father, are a big part of that, obviously. You’ve had your say in who I am today, and I thank you for that. I have inherited a lot of great qualities from you. I deeply care about the world and the people in it, especially those I associate with–which is why I’m writing this right now.

As you can tell, I’ve changed a lot since I moved away. I’ve taken the theories I learned from my childhood and adolescence–the things you taught me–and tested them in the real world. Some work, some don’t, and that’s okay. At this point in my life I think my most endearing quality is how open I am–I’ll listen to anything, I’ll give anybody a chance. Everybody has something to say, and everybody needs someone to listen to them. Right now I need you to be open, and I need you to listen.

I strongly believe that you are an alcoholic. You are not a fall down drunk and you’ve never laid a finger on anyone in the family, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have an unhealthy dependence on alcohol. And it’s certainly impacted our relationship. Whenever I’m home, you’re always in the basement drinking, and when you’re not, more often than not, you’ve had too much to drink. Frankly, you’re less of a father and more like comic relief for me, as sad as that sounds.

You can do whatever you want now. Your actions are your choice. But I am no longer going to be an enabler. If you want to continue drinking, I believe the distance will only increase between us, and our relationship will continue to falter. What you do now is your decision. I’ve made my choice. It’s time for you to make yours.

I may never give this to him, but it still feels good to get it out in the open.

Poland, part 1

n 2005 I met a girl, fell into a relationship, and abandoned all my friends. I couldn’t handle maintaining the friendships because of my anxiety (and my issues with constancy), and besides, I had a girlfriend who took care of all my needs. Why would I need anybody else? My friends thought otherwise, and they kept calling me–wanting me to hang out, wondering where I’d disappeared to. I never answered their calls, but they just kept on calling. I felt guilt and shame and regret and remorse. I just wanted them all to go away. I needed a clean break–and one finally came. Poland.

After living together for only three months, my girlfriend and I decided to study abroad together. She’d lived in Hungary for a year with her family and really enjoyed many parts of Eastern Europe. I didn’t care where we went–I just wanted to get away. We … err she chose Poland, and we left in January of 2006. I told almost no one. Finally. I got the break I needed. I left everything behind, hoping I could start over.

In the weeks before moving, I pictured my girlfriend and I only spending time with each other when we were there. I knew there would be other Americans there, but I didn’t want to get to know them. My girlfriend had other ideas, though. She wanted to connect with others and make the most of her experience abroad. So in those first few days in Poland, my girlfriend hung out with others and made friends while I stayed hidden in my dorm room. I cried a lot. I wanted to be like her. I wanted to feel comfortable talking to others. I wanted so badly to be anybody but myself. My depression coupled with the terrible weather meant I barely left the dorms. I don’t remember much from those first few weeks, but I do remember taking a lovely stroll downtown braving the cold and the fog and the snow and the slush–

This hiding continued for about two weeks, ending when I decided to escape again by running home. At the time my mom was going through chemotherapy treatments for breast cancer, and so I told everybody I was extremely upset about her cancer–which was partially true–and I fled back home. Finally. I could relax again. But right when I got home, the depression hit again. I felt like a failure. I just wanted to go back. Things will be different, I told myself. I’ll be different. I booked my plane ticket back to Poland the very same day I landed home in Kansas City.

My time at home was hard. I slept late. I sat around watching TV and playing video games. I cried. My parents didn’t know how to help because they didn’t know what was wrong with me. My dad ignored me altogether, but my mom confronted me one day, asking me why I came home. I said I didn’t know. I wanted so badly to open up to her and tell her all the things bothering me. But I didn’t. I passed up another opportunity to connect with a family member.

On the plane ride back to Poland I promised myself I would be someone different. I would make connections. I would be popular. This of course didn’t happen. I spent the rest of my time in Poland miserable, hiding in my room, planning out how things would be different when I got back to America. Now I honestly don’t remember much from the remainder of my time there. I can tell you that it was hard. I can tell you I felt depressed. I can tell you I felt like dying. Beyond that, though, there’s only some flashes here and there. I’m not going to detail them … yet. I may come back to this someday and fill in what I remember or start a new post or something. But right now, I’m exhausted. I can’t think about this anymore.

I added another part–Poland, part 2; or: the socially anxious traveler

Poland, part 2; or: the socially anxious traveler