Tag Archives: library

nardil blues

I’m really tired. One of the nasty side effects of Nardil is insomnia. It usually happens at a higher dose than the one I’m on now, so when the insomnia hit me earlier this week it caught me off guard. I’ve always been one to get at least 7 to 8 hours of sleep a night. This week, however, I’ve been getting between 4 and 6. It’s starting to take it’s toll on my system.

It’s hard enough being overworked, underpaid, and undervalued at work but when you throw insomnia into the mix, it just makes it all so much worse. Last week I felt so great. Both the depression and anxiety lifted. I was euphoric. Everything seemed to be going well. I felt like I was going in the right direction.

Now the depression has really swept back in and the anxiety is starting to creep back as well. I’m starting to lose a little bit of hope.

On a lighter note I got my tattoo finished last Sunday. The session went great. I’m running a half-marathon this Sunday, which should be interesting due to my fatigue. I have been training fairly consistently over the last few months but this past week I’ve sort of given up a bit but that’s okay because I should be resting this week anyway.

I’m really stressed about my job and school situation. I have four more classes to take to graduate. My original plan was to take two classes in the Fall, one in the Spring, and one in the summer. I’m making very little money at this point at work so getting financial aid would help, but I really don’t know if I can handle taking two classes in the Fall plus work full time. (I have to take at least two classes to be eligible for aid.) I also desperately need to get some experience in the library.

So I am thinking about taking one class in the Fall plus volunteer at a library, and then one internship in the Fall and one in the summer as well, and then take my final course the following Fall. So I won’t graduate until December 2012. This seems ideal, but I’d like to find a new job that pays more. I started looking for jobs earlier this week, which always puts me into a foul mood to begin with, but the insomnia and subsequent depression has kind of put a damper on that.

Ugh. I’ll stop complaining.

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What’s My Name Again?

I currently volunteer at the public library’s adult literacy program, Project Read. It’s very satisfying, and it gets me out of the apartment.

I started the program last November, and after going through training, I was assigned someone–let’s call him Mr. C–in January. So I’ve been working with him for almost ten months. For the first six months or so we met once a week for about two hours a session; and for the past 4 months we’ve been meeting twice a month, two hours each.

Anyway, things have been going well, until our meeting earlier this week, that is. We met, as usual. Started chatting, as usual. Baseball, weather, public transit, that sort of thing. Then the conversation drifted toward smart phones, and Mr. C mentioned that he just purchased one. I asked if he got a new number and he said yes, and then I asked for it and he gave it to me, and then he asked for mine, and as he was putting my number in his phone, he asked–

“What’s your name again? Mike, right?”

I froze. For the most part, I don’t get much anxiety around him. We’ve been meeting regularly for so long, I’ve been able to open up (somewhat). I think things can be very awkward between us, though. I don’t really know what I’m doing, and I believe he can see this lack of confidence, but other than that, I feel relaxed around him. Because of this, I said exactly what was on my mind, without filtering it first–

“We’ve been meeting since January and you don’t know my name by now,” I said. This came out in a very harsh tone. I was pissed. “It’s Mike.”

I had to go to the bathroom to cool off. When I got back, I started editing his writing. We just moved on.

In retrospect, I’m angry at myself. I’m angry because I allowed my emotions to get the best of me. It’s not about him–it’s about me. There could be any number of reasons why he didn’t remember my name. Maybe he was trying to clarify whether I go by Mike or Michael. Maybe he has anxiety issues too and maybe he was flooded with anxiety when we met. I know I often don’t listen as well when I’m flooded. Whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter. I’m angry at myself.

But I should be happy because I was able to be present and say what was on my mind without judgment and scrutiny, but–and there’s always a but–I still wish I could have been a little easier on Mr. C–and myself.

Yet another example of my perfectionism.

interview success

So, as many of you know, I had a group interview yesterday. The interview was originally scheduled for last week, but I canceled last minute because I was overwhelmed with anxiety. Fortunately, I found a good, partially true excuse and was able to reschedule for yesterday.

I already had one interview with them a few weeks back with the library director. It went well. It was very relaxed. We talked about my future and what areas I’d like to work in–nothing too formal. At the end of the interview, she mentioned that she wanted me to come back in to meet with her and the rest of the librarians. I said fine. On the way out, I asked her how many librarians worked there and she said ten, and she also said that out of those ten there are a few who aren’t receptive to interns.

That information hit me hard–not only am I going to be interviewed by ten people; not all of them want me there to begin with. And since I take everything personal, I took this personal.

This set off my hypothetical mind; I began thinking of different scenarios of what this interview would be like. Mostly I just pictured ten librarians sitting across from me, asking difficult question after difficult question. Me, barely able to breath, stumbling, blushing, sweating.

My original interview was on a Thursday, and we scheduled the next one for the following Monday. I was a mess that weekend. Actually, I think I probably wrote a post about it. Anyway, the anxiety intensified to a point where I couldn’t function. I couldn’t sleep Sunday night and had to reschedule for yesterday.

From that point until today, though, I’ve been doing great. So what’s different about this past week from the week before?

Well, for starters, my thoughts haven’t controlled me. The negative thoughts were still there–they just didn’t dominate my consciousness. Part of this is attributed to CBT, the other part mindfulness. By becoming aware of my thoughts, before they took control, I could use cognitive techniques to ensure that they wouldn’t take control.

Next, I began to use meditation to help me relax. Two hours before the interview, I was laying in the bath, listening to a meditation. Once I got out I felt at peace. This feeling carried me into the interview.

Finally, I hashed out the situation with my hypnotherapist on Friday, meaning: we tried to look at my hypothetical scenarios in a different light.

“What’s your worst fear?” she asked me.

“To get up at the end and have to go down a line of ten librarians, shaking each of their hands,” I said. “They’ll see how much I’m sweating.”

“Do you really think it will be like that?” she asked.

As soon as she said that it was clear: there’s no way it would be like that. I may have to wave goodbye, but shaking hands with ten people sounds absurd, and it certainly wouldn’t all be in one line. I always feel so much better after playing out scenarios in my head. Seeing just how absurd my thinking can be, reminds me that my logic can be irrational at times.

The interview, itself, went well. I met only with the library director and one other librarian–no biggie, especially since I was expecting ten people. I did have to engage in a formal interview, but it went well. The director called one of my references earlier today. I think I got. Hurray!

anxiety attack, interview, yoga

Wednesday night. I turned off all the lights, got into bed and shoved my head between two pillows. I felt ill. My head throbbed, my stomach hurt. I was sweating, and it was difficult to breathe and almost impossible to stop the negative thoughts. My heart pounded loudly. I could feel each and every beat, and I expected each one to be my last. After a few minutes, I got up and took an Ativan, and after it kicked in, I went to bed.

In the morning I took another Ativan and then went to an interview for an internship (in the spring) at an academic library. It went really well. I’m pretty sure I got it. I’m crawling back into the real world, one step (err, Ativan) at a time.

On that note, I’m a little closer to getting hired by the public library. I’ve been trying to get in for the last six or seven months or so. This week I found out I passed the civil service exam, and I’m currently tenth on the list for the position(s) I’m going for. My hope is that once the person in charge of hiring sees that I am in Library Science school, they’ll bump me to the top!

The rest of Thursday felt great, and I had all but forgotten Wednesday’s setback. You see, I was feeling down about something (probably resulting from anticipatory anxiety about Thursday’s interview) and fatigued. I wanted to just binge and watch Star Trek, but instead, I went to the gym and killed myself on the treadmill. I’ve been running a lot lately and need to take a break, so even though I didn’t go as far as usual, my run took a lot out of me. Once done, I staggered off the treadmill, skipped stretching, staggered down the stairs and into the shower, and then limped back up the stars and all the way home. And then I ate ice cream for dinner.

Yes, you could call that a setback. But it’s okay: I wasn’t perfect, and I’m fine with that. I don’t expect to feel good all the time.

The rest of Thursday went well. I met my girlfriend later, and we went to yoga.

“Slow your movements down,” the teacher said, “link it to your breath. Let your breath catch up.”

Maybe I should slow down, instead of always planning, thinking and anticipating, letting the world catch up to me? I try to live my life one step ahead, but I just don’t think I can do it anymore. I’m tired of living the way I am. I need change.

disordered eating

Well I broke two of my rules this week: No more than one post per day and five posts per week. This is my third post today and my sixth this week–and there’s still two more days left in the week.

I’ll keep this short.

After my second post today, I felt really anxious. I immediately went home, downed .5 mg of Ativan, and watched Curb Your Enthusiasm with my girlfriend. I felt a little better afterward so I came back up to the library to work on schoolwork. My anxiety was no where near as bad as it was earlier, but I felt much more depressed.

I’m not sure where those feelings were coming from.

I think stirring up a lot of emotions from my post earlier didn’t help. Plus I’m going camping this weekend with my girlfriend, her brother, and some friends. I may have to call a friend later to coordinate a ride. I’m feeling pretty anxious about all that. Oh and I also increased my dose of Lamictal from 12.5 to 25 mg.

Anyway, I left the library around 5:00 and binged. Super burrito. 28 oz of ice cream. Plus a handful of kale. (I need my veggies, too.) I also drank a beer. I probably shouldn’t have drank because I took an Ativan earlier. Oh well.

That’s two binges this week. At what point does disordered eating become an eating disorder?

No more than one post per day and five posts per week

tuesday’s binge

On Monday I was super productive during the day. I spent over seven hours in the library getting caught up on school work, free reading, and working on my blog. On Monday night I started crashing. I felt it first while watching a Star Trek movie. I felt lethargic. And sad. Very sad. After the movie, my girlfriend and I decided to go for a walk. I put on my shoes and grabbed my cell phone and noticed that my mom had called. That’s when it hit me hard. That’s when I knew. It only took a few seconds, but I imagined my entire conversation with my mom: what I’ll say, how she’ll respond, how I’ll respond to her response etc. I imagined telling her how I really feel. How depressed I really am.

I felt very tired on our walk, and later, while we were reading in bed, I leaned over, rested my head on girlfriend, and cried a bit.

Yesterday, in the library, my feelings increased: I feel weak. I feel flat. I feel depressed. I have no energy. I have no desire to do anything. I have nothing. Thoughts kept coming, and when I finally pushed them aside, I pressed my eyes into my hands. Tears came. Pushing harder, more tears came out. I felt like I was squeezing a lemon for its juice.

I wondered what I’d done to deserve this.

I watched people in the library. Going from person to person, finally settling on one. Male. Tall. Muscular. He was reading a thick novel. I could see him smiling so he must have been happy. I wanted to follow him the rest of the day, watching his life unfold. Maybe if I follow him long enough I’ll become him?

I pushed my thoughts aside again and spent another few hours in the library. Then I went home, grabbed my bike, and rode to the store.

This is what I picked up–

That’s 28 oz of ice cream, plus a large vegetarian sandwich with everything on Dutch crunch. ~2000 calories

I didn’t feel much at all afterward. I know I should have felt something. Like sadness or regret or shame. But I didn’t, and I actually felt bad that I wasn’t feeling anything. I think I was just content. I didn’t really feel anything until my girlfriend called like twenty minutes later, and even then, the feelings weren’t about myself: I felt like I had let her down.

After we talked, I went right back up to the library and started working again, as if the binge had never happened.