6:30 p.m. - 05/28/02
when we return to our heroine...
I see the doctor tomorrow morning. Earlier today, I was thinking that maybe I'd ask that we just lay off the med switches for now...perhaps I can do without an anti-depressant to replace the Wellbutrin. I've been feeling sad, but I knew as long as I was feeling, I couldn't blame my seratonin. Then a few hours ago, my brain completely collapsed on itself (figuratively speaking) and I struggled to blink, move, speak. Depression is so thorough and so quick; it's sickening. I'm not looking forward to going through another regiment of side effects to achieve another daily ritual, but at the same time, I'm glad I have the option. And I'm glad to realize that the Wellbutrin *did* have some effect after all (i.e. this will respond to chemical involvement.) I just wish my dad wasn't taking me tomorrow, or that I could be dropped off. I don't like the idea of sitting in the waiting room with him (who knows why), and if he's getting his meds checked, Dr. R and I might be in a different office, and its bright lights hurt my eyes.
But I'm just picking at nothings now, trying to keep my brain awake.
I'm a teeny bit proud of myself, though I'm almost too sedated to notice. More like, I made a decision and am glad for the results. Sara (Sara!!!) called me last night, but I wasn't home at the time. When I returned, Dad told me she had called, asked if she was "trouble," then proceeded to inform me he'd "forgotten" her telephone number. (Who on earth doesn't write down a telephone number at the time of the call?) I let him survive based solely on the fact that the Caller ID had logged the number for me (I guess it knew how out of it Dad is), and I could finally make the call I'd been missing for months. I haven't talked with her since she called at the end of December; someone threw the number away, and I hadn't been able to track it down. This time I wrote it into my personal phone/ address book, so it should be safe. I was planning to call today, before the darkness hit. But then I thought about it some more, and I realized that I needed to call. I can't always rely on things being better "in a few days" or "after I get new meds." I have to accept the fact that sometimes I'm going to have to *live* in spite of my depression. Which isn't to say that I shouldn't take it easy when my head is cycling, but at the same time, I shouldn't use treatment as an excuse not to take initiative. I need some independence in my recovery.
So I called her, and as soon as she answered the phone, I was pleased. Her voice is one of the few (the only?) that for some reason has not completely left my memory. Still, to hear it in real-time was extra nice. She was just sitting down to dinner (the girl is eating, hey hey) so she's going to call back, but she was so happy. I gave my name and she was like, "Maaaary...Maaaary...oh my Gosh...Maaaary" and I was like, "I am a dork to have not called information months ago." So she'll call back and be my interim AD. I can't wait to know how she's doing, to be her support and her affirmation. I can't wait to ask her what's going on in her life...I wonder if she calls Rogers, if she's in touch with other girls, if Jenna fell off her planet as with mine.
I wish I had one of those talking photo albums with a picture of each girl. In general amateur photos don't excite me, but they are helpful in keeping the memories clear. I hate how foggy certain faces and voices are getting. I love that there are still laughs I can hear.
You know, it's going to be really incredibly nice when I work at Rogers, and the discharged girls call to say how they're doing. It's going to be really nice to say their name with extra emphasis (Maaary) and let them know they made my night. I will be sure to let them know they're loved, and I will be sure to touch them without invading.
I will be the best of what I've witnessed; I will be an asset...I. will. be. home.
Silje's most recent letter arrived today. She said she'll be coming to the US this Spring and is still hoping I'll return to RED to RAP speak with her. I told her that of course, if I'm doing well, I would love to. I also mentioned that as much as I want to go back to RED, I'm terrified to. I'm afraid it will alter my memory of it, invade the utopian image I've created in my heart. But, knowing that I want to return at some point, I think the best way to achieve that "first time" would be leaning on Silje's shoulders with her on mine. Imagine, sitting on the couch in the lobby with her, leaning against each other, courting between floors. Rules mean so little when months have passed.
We have had so much company lately. Two people in two days constitutes "so much company" in this house. Marybeth came by yesterday and spent the night. The visit had it's weird moments, but it had some lovely ones as well. Yesterday, I had a migraine which I think added to the weirdness; although for the most part it was just the emphasis on eating disorders. There was something difficult about eating with someone who knew I struggled. I think it's the reminder that people observed me in my "weakest" moment; that people saw me slip away. It's hard; I'm a little bit ashamed. At the same time, the ED stuff was the best part also. She's going to Mexico for a few weeks, and she's nervous about the food (she has to be somewhat strict about her meal plan because of the nature of her disorder, unlike mine) so we talked shop a little bit. It was so nice to talk about recovery with someone. Whenever the ED subject comes up here, it's always about difficulties and struggles. It was so nice to jaw on about being *on* track.
I hope Sara is on track; I hope I call her weekly from now on.
I just realized- in so many years as I have on my hand, I could be writing in my journal at this time of night about the lovely girl who called to say she's doing well, about the girl asking for help through a rough night, about the new admit who looks so frightened but has strength enough for tears. I just realized I could *really* be at Rogers in a few years giving sanctuary to girls who have maybe, like me, never known it. I could be to them what has been the best for me.
That's the type of thought that balances the shame around "I can't believe what I was a year or so ago." That's the type of thought that makes the depression find another host.
You've served your purpose; now leave my biology A-LONE.
School is finished; Mistrandy said she wants me back again next year. Actually she said she didn't want anyone else to have to put up with me, but the card she left suggests otherwise. It'll be nice to work with her again, though right now I feel the need for some new energy. I'm right about nearing the time for a change (I only hope the Therapist Who Makes Whole Crowds Faint To The Floor has an opening now)...I'm feeling like it would be really nice to talk with a competant, understanding woman again.
I could always just play Rogers-roulette with my telephone. But I don't know if my heart can take the strain of two calls in one eon...
*smirk*
There's bad news to detail as well, but unfortunately, I don't think it's fleeting, so I'll let it wait. The short version goes something like, "Neverland needs to be burned to the ground so they can all start over." The long version is not something I want to tell even a private journal.
grr/and/sighs and sarah!calls!,
chord
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