Hoy estuve enferma de la gripa. de una gripa consumidora de movilidad y de fuerza. de esa de la que me quejo tanto. Aun asi hice todo lo que debi hacer. Vi a todos lo que tenia que ver. pero mi cuerpo no da mas, quiere tirarse a la perdicion, a la cama.
Cuando estoy enferma me gusta la que soy aunque me quejo. soy mas lenta. no le doy prisa a las cosas y no me apresuro a cumplir con factores externos mucho. balance que quiero tener estando sana. Camino como zombie. la gripa que consume las ganas de moverme, pero solo las fisicas. Con el cuerpo congestionado todavia me muevo cog ganas de hacer mas, y dormir menos. Los dias me duran poco. Las Me pregunto por cuanto tiempo mas tendre esta energia. Espero que me duro todo lo que le ha durado a mi mami, toda una vida.
Feb 10, 2012
Feb 8, 2012
my way
after learning some of the ugly/nasty long term and side of effects of meds. I am thankful that I had and continue having other ways.
When I was 15 years old I was prescribed with drugs. The psychiatrist told my mom that I had an anxiety disorder after talking to me for almost 30 minutes. It was true that I bit my nails and I pulled out my hair. It was true because I lived with that for many years. But the psychiatrist, or the psychologist later on never bother to ask me why. They gave me Tafil. a med under the category of anti anxiety-benzodiazepine. (the same type of medication that was precribed again to me 3 years ago when experiencing an incident that they described as 'panic attack'.)
I remember at the beginning, I was so hopeful because I thought that would be the cure to my sweaty hands and bloody fingernails for extreme biting. It was getting to an “out of control” state as I hear some people said. This psychiatrist interviewed me in the Psyquiatrist Hospital of Tijuana. I remember clearly one thought: I did not wanted to be in that hospital for longer. I agreed to everything the doctor said and I even remember saying something along the lines of: “I would do whatever it takes.” I was seeing my first boyfriend of two weeks in a half. Juan Carlos. Juan Carlos was 17 and to his eyes, I was perfect. He kept telling me that he didn’t care about my hands. But I was really embarrassed. I didn’t want him to see or touch my hands. But that day, when getting the medication I had a hope. I had a hope of being normal and having a boyfriend one day that could hold my hands.
I didn’t follow through with taking the medications. I was lucky I was an adolescent and rebelling was required. I also left Juan Carlos. I also had my first drink. And stopped writing for almost a year. And I even though I tried to keep that ‘anxiety disorder’ under control to the eyes of others, there were some hidden pleasures that I couldn’t let go. Not yet.
Later in life the drinking becomes a problem. For me. And for others. And then later, even more later in life, I got bored of people trying to interpret and translate what some of the things I was doing actually meant. I got also bored of trying to identify them myself. I don’t care what they meant. I don’t care at all.
And i dindt took those meds 3 years ago either. Instead, I searched for different ways of being in peace, healthier, and in good terms with myself.
About 8 years ago I read something that reminded me myself at 15 again. And I felt really sad. I felt as if something was lost forever in me, I felt empty, alone. I left everything. Any abuse that was damaging me. But I left it on my own terms. Not on the terms the society asks people to left them. I realized that I was able to set my own limits and the way I prefer to be with myself and with others. It has been 8 years that I have no need to prove anybody that I’m good. Because I don’t know if I’m good. I am just doing what feels right. Right now.
On learning about the side effects of medications and in all the labels that pathologize people, I am really glad that I’m founding out new ways to be seen through the eyes of postmodernism. I am glad that I know now, that I don’t believe it was right the way I was labeled with an anxiety name on my body. I do not believe on labeling people, therefore, I know that it was a mistake that I was labeled once.
I found relief and hope in natural medicine, I have become one of those now. I take relaxing herbal teas, and continue my search into a more holistic way to be, with my body and my mind, because I know my body, I can experiment with whatever it feel right for my calmness. Since 9 years ago I do not drink to get drunk. Not because people asked me to, but because I want it this way. I don't need that on me. I only need whatever it continues to feel right to me. And whatever I continue choosing as part of my believes. Because some beliefs, are also changing in me..
I still have a long way to go. I still have a long way to talk. But as of now, my preferred remedies are working. I love to walk and hike. I love the pros and cons of my body. And Im trying meditation at times. I can sleep well now. I have finger nails and regular hair. And for any relief of stress, I have this space. I have the blank pages where I can just be. Where I can find the beauty of freedom that writing has always saved for me.
When I was 15 years old I was prescribed with drugs. The psychiatrist told my mom that I had an anxiety disorder after talking to me for almost 30 minutes. It was true that I bit my nails and I pulled out my hair. It was true because I lived with that for many years. But the psychiatrist, or the psychologist later on never bother to ask me why. They gave me Tafil. a med under the category of anti anxiety-benzodiazepine. (the same type of medication that was precribed again to me 3 years ago when experiencing an incident that they described as 'panic attack'.)
I remember at the beginning, I was so hopeful because I thought that would be the cure to my sweaty hands and bloody fingernails for extreme biting. It was getting to an “out of control” state as I hear some people said. This psychiatrist interviewed me in the Psyquiatrist Hospital of Tijuana. I remember clearly one thought: I did not wanted to be in that hospital for longer. I agreed to everything the doctor said and I even remember saying something along the lines of: “I would do whatever it takes.” I was seeing my first boyfriend of two weeks in a half. Juan Carlos. Juan Carlos was 17 and to his eyes, I was perfect. He kept telling me that he didn’t care about my hands. But I was really embarrassed. I didn’t want him to see or touch my hands. But that day, when getting the medication I had a hope. I had a hope of being normal and having a boyfriend one day that could hold my hands.
I didn’t follow through with taking the medications. I was lucky I was an adolescent and rebelling was required. I also left Juan Carlos. I also had my first drink. And stopped writing for almost a year. And I even though I tried to keep that ‘anxiety disorder’ under control to the eyes of others, there were some hidden pleasures that I couldn’t let go. Not yet.
Later in life the drinking becomes a problem. For me. And for others. And then later, even more later in life, I got bored of people trying to interpret and translate what some of the things I was doing actually meant. I got also bored of trying to identify them myself. I don’t care what they meant. I don’t care at all.
And i dindt took those meds 3 years ago either. Instead, I searched for different ways of being in peace, healthier, and in good terms with myself.
About 8 years ago I read something that reminded me myself at 15 again. And I felt really sad. I felt as if something was lost forever in me, I felt empty, alone. I left everything. Any abuse that was damaging me. But I left it on my own terms. Not on the terms the society asks people to left them. I realized that I was able to set my own limits and the way I prefer to be with myself and with others. It has been 8 years that I have no need to prove anybody that I’m good. Because I don’t know if I’m good. I am just doing what feels right. Right now.
On learning about the side effects of medications and in all the labels that pathologize people, I am really glad that I’m founding out new ways to be seen through the eyes of postmodernism. I am glad that I know now, that I don’t believe it was right the way I was labeled with an anxiety name on my body. I do not believe on labeling people, therefore, I know that it was a mistake that I was labeled once.
I found relief and hope in natural medicine, I have become one of those now. I take relaxing herbal teas, and continue my search into a more holistic way to be, with my body and my mind, because I know my body, I can experiment with whatever it feel right for my calmness. Since 9 years ago I do not drink to get drunk. Not because people asked me to, but because I want it this way. I don't need that on me. I only need whatever it continues to feel right to me. And whatever I continue choosing as part of my believes. Because some beliefs, are also changing in me..
I still have a long way to go. I still have a long way to talk. But as of now, my preferred remedies are working. I love to walk and hike. I love the pros and cons of my body. And Im trying meditation at times. I can sleep well now. I have finger nails and regular hair. And for any relief of stress, I have this space. I have the blank pages where I can just be. Where I can find the beauty of freedom that writing has always saved for me.
Feb 7, 2012
repeat
At night is to easy to sleep now. Something must be wrong with that. He left, for now, and I know
That I should be sad. Very sad. I forced myself to not sleep for few nights. To cry. The tears are all gone because I have so much more. I know that I'm fighting against these dominant ideas that
Assumes that I should feel some way, or not. I know that I'm against all of that. That I'm against
my ideas of him, that I'm against wherever he claims are his ri
ghts. I know, I know. I know that he will be back. I know that very well.
But I dont know how much longer I will rewrite the same story. Over, and over.
That I should be sad. Very sad. I forced myself to not sleep for few nights. To cry. The tears are all gone because I have so much more. I know that I'm fighting against these dominant ideas that
Assumes that I should feel some way, or not. I know that I'm against all of that. That I'm against
my ideas of him, that I'm against wherever he claims are his ri
ghts. I know, I know. I know that he will be back. I know that very well.
But I dont know how much longer I will rewrite the same story. Over, and over.
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