INSOMNIA

HOLY DEAR GOD I CANNOT FALL ASLEEP. what the freak? i was exhausted in this whole-body achy sort of way when i came home ~6. then i gorged myself, which usually induces sleep, and indeed i felt awful enough to climb into bed a little after 8. but sleep would not come. my body just treated that as a little nap. once i was warmed up (the apartment was freezing), i was wide awake. OK, not wide. but up i got. IM'd a bit. then watched a movie and knitted until i ran out of yarn (will have to get more...otherwise my sister will be getting a choker for x-mas and not a scarf). i even did dishes. now am back to computer. WTF? why am i not tired? too much stimulation, this computer stuff? problem is, i don't have a good fiction book to read. i have a ton of non-fiction, but they requires brain power, and do not make a good pre-bedtime read. sigh. if only i really felt like being productive: i'd clean the apartment, or do laundry, or tidy up my room. damn this laziness.

womanness

i think i just made up a word.

anyways, i often am struck by the differences between men and women. not the obvious physical ones, or even the fact that we have different chromosomes. why are women, in general, more emotional and introspective? why are men, in general, more combative and competitive? scientists (not me) are starting to discover psychobiological differences between men and women -- not only discrepancies in the anatomical features of the brain, but in function as well. but why?

i got to thinking about this after talking with leslie, enrique's girlfriend (fiance? heck, she's practially his wife), at the departmental holiday party. we got to talking about how "it" was going, "it" being my project of course. and i said it had its ups and down, that it's hard for me sometimes to get motivated, etc etc. and she very insightfully said, that's typical of women. women tend to take things personally -- even things over which we have little control -- while men get combative, competitive. they see it as an offense, a challenge, get pissed off. they go about things differently, respond & react in a more productive manner. she recommended that the next time i was struggling or wondering if i was overreacting, i go talk to a guy, not a girl, and see what he would do in the same situation. which is an interesting suggestion, as i would usually mope by myself or go seek out a female friend's condolences. and i usually find myself trying to be nice and agree with my female friends, rather than challenging them. interesting...i feel like there was a lot more to this conversation, but it was the end of the evening, and well, i was a little sedated by then, so the details are a little fuzzy.

this also made me wonder if women in general really aren't suited to science -- or to any sort of pressure-driven, competitive environment. are we less good at the hard, technical jobs because we are more adept at tasks that require soft, intuitive cognitive fuctions? maybe larry summers (the president of harvard) was right afterall. it's not that we're not smart enough. it's that we're hard-wired to do other tasks better, ones that require compassion and a knack for interacting with people -- things that take advantage of rather than punish our emotionality.

***

in other news, i lost 5 lbs between the last 2 times i last weighed myself, which were less than a week apart, but at the beginning and end of my period. fucking water retention. i really hate my uterus sometimes.

happy pills: day 0

This is the molecule that will soon be coursing through my body, hopefully doing its job of antagonizing serotonin reuptake receptors in my brain but not anything more (suppression of appetite would be nice, but I'll settle for no sexual side effects). It's paroxetine, more commonly known as Paxil. Yup, that's right. I've decided to take the plunge and go back on anti-depressants.

Things have been pretty bad now for a while. Perhaps we all have a tendancy to ignore the little signs, or maybe it's that it's socially unacceptable to be outwardly unhappy and so we deny even to ourselves that we are. (Which is too bad, because yesterday in the gym I ran into a frisbee friend I hadn't seen in a while. He asked how I was doing. I couldn't really muster an enthusiastic response, and his reply was, "Looks like you're feeling the same way I've been: depressed!" Who knows how many other people are feeling the same way and I don't know because I was too afraid to show them how I was really feeling...) Regardless, the little things added up (being really down a lot, lack of motivation, crying for no reason, difficulty concentrating, inability to fall asleep, sleeping too much, feelings of hopelessness, eating totally out of control, anxiety) and then there were the big things that really clued me in that action needed to be taken: disinterest in frisbee (!), smoking, making myself throw up once, and thoughts of harming myself.

When I went to see the psychiatrist today, he said that I had been feeling down around the same time last year. I hadn't realized that was when I had seen him last. It could be a seasonal thing (frisbee is over for the year, days are getter shorter, it's freaking cold out), but how could I forget that last year at this time, I had just broken up with Jon. And I had blamed that for my sleeping 12 hours a day, lack of motivation, disinterest in everything, and thoughts of suicide. But maybe, probably, there was something else there, something else with a life of its own that has reared its ugly head again with no provocation this time.

And that was also part of what prompted me to seek help: the fact that there was no "trigger" this time, no event or reason I could put my finger on, that I could blame for my depression. In fact, I have many reasons not to be depressed: lab is going better, the results of my frisbee season were freakin' unbelievable, and I've gained a team-ful of new friends in addition to the many I already have. If I didn't have these things, it's scary to think what state I'd be in...oh wait, I'd probably be a crying mess like I was last year at this time.

But despite all these indications that I was clinically and majorly depressed, I struggled with the decision. I was -- and still am -- scared that I will become someone different, that these pills will alter my brain chemistry in such a way that it will fundamentally affect my personality. Which is perhaps an unfounded and naive concern; they will likely simply make me a happier person, put me in a better mood so I am better able to be the person I was meant to be. There is also the stigma of weakness associated with taking anti-depressants. Which is an equally absurb concern. I can't think of one of my good, true friends who would judge me for taking this medication. (I can probably think of a couple of not-so-good friends who might, but fuck 'em.) Furthermore, my father is also taking Paxil, so I know he will not be thinking me weak (and I have these weird fears of appearing weak or dumb or both in my dad's eyes).

Perhaps I was afraid to start taking medication for my depression because I was afraid to admit my depression was bad enough to merit taking medication. I think this is a big one. I don't remember having these feelings and fears when I started taking meds the first time, probably because I had less of a say in the matter. And, there was a bigger, more apparent problem, so that almost justified the anti-depressants. But now, today, I was just wrecked at what this meant, at how bad things had gotten, at how badly I wanted these pills to make me feel better.

Well, the sooner I get to bed, the sooner I will wake up and take my first dose. The first pill is the first step (of many) towards a better place, I can only hope...

dear diary

i've recenlty stumbled upon (or been given the URL to) several of my friend's blogs, and they are all more diary-like than mine. and while i like the style i've taken with mine (analytical, summarizing, generalizing, story-telling, forum for improving and practicing my writing), i think it can't hurt to make it more diary-like: i.e. include important happenings, events, frisbee tournaments, parties, stupid things my boss does, etc. besides, my memory is really bad and if i don't write down the names of people and places, they will be forgotten and my life will seem more pointless than it already does.

along those lines, i'd like to tell you about my weekend (you being my imaginary audience). i left new haven around 7 on friday, picked up sean and elissa, and we all headed to vassar's place in providence, where we met up with EZ pass and later idaho and nancy. then we all went out drinking, and drank until bartime. the math doesn't quite up, but trust me, i only got about 3 hours of sleep and consequently felt like ass in the morning.

saturday was Get HoHoHo! we (slow white) were helping cape to run the tournament, but we (sean, elissa, and i) got there late, and all that was left to done was set up fields. then i got to hang out on the sidelines and watch SLAMS (sean laing's army of midget sluts). i myself was injured, my hip flexor was still hurting from Frozen Disc of Death three weeks ago. it was great to see everyone again: kris, miller, lori (my new IM buddy!), jasper, teddy, kat, hammer, pass. also on the team were drew, kerry, rachel, and sean's friend dylan. cape, steve, dan, evan, and siona were playing on another team. cork was on that team. gimps beth and rosie came for moral and staff support. RWU kids pete and evan provided the usual comic relief. also saw flash, scotty, bobby doane, karen, tucker, miriam, sarah cook, ben, jay kline, marshall...the list goes on and on, just like it should at a good frisbee tournament. highlights (i'm also borrowing another feature of my friends' blogs: lists) :

1. drinking baileys and coffee, all day long
2. blowing up an 8-ft tall santa
3. watching teddy enact sexual fantasies with said santa
4. staying warm with dan on the sidelines of the finals
5. watching SLAMS beat a Monkeys-based team in the finals
6. sean's lay-out handblock of Jim Parinella
7. cleaning up (OK, so this wasn't exactly fun, but everyone had such a positive attitude about it, i thought i'd include it here)
8. driving back with sean (hadn't gotten to spend some quality chatting time with him lately)

this was probably the most fun i've had watching a tournament while injured. i wasn't that upset about not being able to play, because (a) it was a pretty low stakes tourney, (b) i probably got to hang out more *not* playing than playing, and (c) i've been injured so many times by now that i know it's not the end of the world and i'll get better eventually.

my marathon of fun continued with sierra's b-day party saturday night. quite the raucous time. i played beer pong with sara smiley. i drank waaay too much. ramona people showed up. i smoked. i ate cake. i didn't kiss anyone. it was funny to watch sierra's boy toys (nate and brian) as she flirted with timmy hebda (who is engaged). got home a little before 4, and then IM'ed with lori until well after 5. slept 'til 2, had coffee with ernesto, wasted the rest of the afternoon, had a bit of a scare when dietmar came over the sign the lease and appeared to be having second thoughts, watched my sunday night TV, and am now blogging.

not terribly looking forward to monday, but i realized i only have ~2 weeks before i leave for x-mas. that's a nice chunk of time to work with, so i should probably set some goals of stuff to get done before i head home for the holidays. i've been into list-making lately. it's a great feeling to stumble across an old list and discover you've completed all the tasks on it.

smoke

the turning point for me was buying that pack of cigarettes. and then smoking one on the way home from the gas station. that was when i knew things were bad. sure, i had smoked before, and i think i had even bought cigarettes before, but never with the intention of smoking them immediately, without the addition of other substances, and with the expressed purpose of anxiety relief. the point is, i didn't consider myself to be a smoker and here i was smoking. it wasn't a social thing or a drug thing, it was a life thing. and that was scary.

the cigarette made me light headed -- one or more or maybe even all of the 50 carcinogenic compounds aside from the addictive nicotine was suffocating my lungs, reducing oxygen uptake by my brain. i briefly wondered if i'd make it the 3 blocks back home. "is this how it starts?" i thought. i'm too intelligent to smoke; i know exactly what it's doing to me -- i've even seen a pair of lungs blackened by years of smoking -- and yet i still feel compelled to keep puffing. but then again, there are many, many things i did which i knew to be bad for me, and yet i readily partook in them, regardless. drinking to excess, for one. eating to excess, for another. so why not smoke?

on my way into the gas station, i had caught sight of the day's headlines: "DNA use approved in gang rape case", alongside of which were pictures of two somber-looking men i could only assume to be part of the "gang". i guess my vice could be worse, i thought. at least i don't do hard drugs, or steal, or rape, or murder -- or even shop. food and cigarettes can be expensive, sure, but if you're addicted to shopping -- or gambling -- your bank account is going to be drained much quicker than if you indulge in an extra pint of ice cream here or there.

and that thought came back to me then, as i sat on my porch, finishing my cigarette. so many methods of escape, of coping. do we choose our vices, or do they choose us? is it really that simple, or is it a complex interplay of genetics, situation, and desparation? would i be stealing and shooting instead of drinking and eating if i had grown up in the 'hood? would i be shopping and doing crack if i had grown up jersey?

my cigarette done, i went back inside and returned to my desk where my "to do" list for the evening awaited me. it was anxiety over this that had prompted the cigarette purchase and smoking in the first place. i was surprised to now find the tasks effortless. it was amazing the calming effect smoking had had on me. my entire body felt relaxed, my mind was at ease, i was no longer worked up or stressed. amazing. in the days to come, i'd think back to this effect when i felt myself getting worked up or anxious. i closed my eyes and imagined those feeling of relaxation and inner peace as i took deep breaths to calm myself down. and it kinda worked. and my world didn't end, my life didn't fall apart, like i was afraid it was going to when i made the decision to smoke. in fact, smoking helped bring about a revelation, an understanding, dare i say: a breakthrough.

this instant-calming effect of smoking made me more cognizent of my anxiety: when i got anxious, why i got anxious, and what i did about it. and i was not surprised to find a correlation between feeling anxious and urges to eat. and that's when it really hit home: i use food as a drug, a drug to calm me when i'm anxious, soothe me when i'm sad, numb me when i hurt.

i knew i used food as a way to cope, but i don't think i had realized how pervasive it had become -- or just how anxious i was. breathing deeply and imagining a quiet lake in the woods works to some degree to calm me down, but identifying and logically examining the sources of my anxiety will go much farther towards calming me down and, more importantly, will make me much more powerful to combat my anxiety and prevent it in the first place. i may not be able to control all the causes of my anxiety (my boss, lab work, friends, world events, etc) but i can control how i react to them. they don't have to make a walking ball of stress. i don't have to rely on chocolate or nicotine to calm me down. i can change the way i behave.

funny how starting a new vice can lead to a revelation into how to become less reliant on an old one. i should have taken up smoking years ago...