Posting mostly because I'm avoiding schoolwork. I have 2 weeks worth of online lectures from my statistics course. I am determined to get through at least one week today (will probably be 1hour-1.5hours of video) since I have homework due wednesday.

I am surviving. Things have been a bit crazy. I have friends from different sources (that's probably a strange way to word that). I have friends from high school and college (actually several were in both high school and college with me). I have a couple friends from eating disorder support groups. There's really only 2 of them I have kept in touch with, and one of the 2 is in treatment in another state and kept saying she'd text me and hasn't. Then I have a few friends from grad school. I really only have 2-3 good friends and a lot of acquaintances.

Well, my 2 friends from grad school have their share of problems. One if bipolar. She was only diagnosed maybe 2 years ago. I was actually part of what pushed her to see a doctor about it because at the time she wasn't always aware of when she was manic. She still isn't great at it, but she isn't doing crazy things when she's manic so I haven't brought it up. She used to have a major spending problem (especially given how little we get paid). One time we went to the mall because she had been kind of depressed. I went to the restroom and when I came out she had just bought more than $100 worth of tea, and she absolutely did not see that as illogical.

Anyway, that friend is now pregnant. Definitely not something planned, and she's been seeing the guy for less than 2 months. Her parents seem ok with it (they want a grandkid), but the father is not. I think he's pressuring her to get an abortion, which she doesn't want to do. Especially since she's not convinced the father isn't going to break up with her anyway. She's also not taking meds now because she's pregnant, and I can already tell this is going to be a problem. She has definitely been having manic moments and depressed moments, and I am not at all well enough to be trying to help her. I'm trying very hard to stay out of it.

My other friend from school has been living with the deadbeat boyfriend. He doesn't have a job or car (not sure he even has a license) because he's had warrants out for him in multiple cities. He was in jail once to get rid of one warrant. He got a job a couple weeks ago, and he ended up being arrested for other warrants and her car got impounded. On top of this, he is addicted to meth. He'll disappear for days at a time and do drugs. Then he'll reappear. She's been convinced he's depressed and that's why he uses, so she's researching low cost treatment options. Well, a few days ago he just left. While she was at work, he took his stuff and left a not saying he was moving to Colorado.. so she's upset about that.

Meanwhile, I'm just trying to stay out of all of it because I have enough going on with my own problems. I'm still having tremors in my hands, which could be a sign of alcohol withdrawal. I've looked it up and it's possible to show withdrawal signs less than 12 hours after your last drink if things are bad enough. I'm definitely drinking more than the amount they said was likely to result in withdrawals. It concerns me but not enough to quit drinking. Saturday we went out for my friend's (the pregnant one) birthday. We went out at 8:30, which is later than I would usually start drinking.. so of course I had 4 shots of vodka before we went. Then came home after and had probably 8 more shots. I'm having trouble keeping count these days. I've started making tally marks on my hand so I know how much I've had. I see my psychiatrist tomorrow so I can ask him about the hand thing. Not sure otherwise what he can do.

I go to AA usually once a week, and the women seem to be getting concerned. 3 have given me their phone numbers and told me to call any time. They've been asking me after meetings what's going on. For a while, I had been avoiding talking because I was ashamed to admit I had relapsed and how long I had been drinking again. A couple weeks ago I finally admitted it. They've been supportive, but I hate having people worry about me.

That's all I have for now.. sorry it was so long. I ramble sometimes.

I managed to be sober enough to make it to church on Easter. I was exhausted because I'm terrible about going to be on time. Honestly, part of me didn't want to go, but I knew I would hate myself if it didn't. It was an awesome service. It was more than 2 hours long, so by the end I was exhausted.

Normally, on easter people bring food, the priest blesses it, and they have a sort of potluck sort of shared meal. It mostly ends up a bunch of people eating in one room. I went in for a minute because I was helping my friend carry stuff. If she's carrying her son, I try to help carrying diaper bag and such. I talked very briefly and asked if she wanted to do dinner this week. She said yes and told me to check with her husband about when (I'm friends with both of them but because I've known her a lot longer it's simpler to say my friend and her husband). I walked outside and ran into him. We picked a day for dinner and I said goodbye. He asked if I was staying for food because they brought extra, but I said no. I didn't really explain, but I hate crowds. I hate strangers. I had crowds and strangers even more with food involved. Honestly (and I did say this to my friend) I spent 10 hours of church in 3 days. As much as I loved the service, I was done with church and being social.

As much as the dinner Friday was stressful, with the whole sitting by the priest and hand tremor issue (last entry), I was actually very proud of myself for staying. Generally, if my friends aren't there, I leave immediately after the service. I may say Hi to some people I know in the church, but I don't go over to the hall after. Friday though, I stayed, and I spoke to strangers. I didn't eat, but I managed to sit at a table and speak to strangers. It helped that in addition to the priest, I knew a couple other people. There's a couple at church who are the godparents for my friend's son, and I've been to lunch with all of them and talked to them as well. They're wonderful people. It was loud, and I couldn't really talk to them, but it was safe with them there.

As much as I like my priest, it is a bit awkward. I talked to him a lot when I was doing catechism lessons before joining the church. It wasn't formal classes because it's such a small church. He would come to my friend's house and talk about stuff and sometime stay for dinner. Well, since then he's visited my twice in treatment. Over the summer, he visited me in the psych ward during detox. It is always awkward having someone visit you on a psych ward.. because things are strange. There are weird patients. There are weird staff. At that time, there was a patient that kept stealing my stuff. Then this winter, he visited me in rehab. It was a bit less weird. He came a few times to give me communion, and he actually brought me a christmas gift. It was a really nice icon of Christ. Still, it's weird sitting at a table with someone who has seen me in a hospital. I try to be cheerful when people visit, but I think it's usually obvious I'm anxious or depressed or embarrassed. I'm rambling.. but I am glad I managed to go for Easter this year.

I am getting really concerned about things going on. To explain, Easter this year is a serious event. I attend a Byzantine Catholic Church, which is kind of a mix of catholic and orthodox. Last year. on Holy Saturday (day before Easter), I officially joined the church.. sort of equivalent to a confirmation. I went to the service, had dinner with my parents, and of course went home to drink. Sunday (Easter) morning, I was too drunk to drive to church. I felt guilty and shameful.

I went to church last night for Good Friday. I cried a lot, and I don't know if it was the service or if it was all that's going on with me. We had a service 7-8:30 and then a potluck dinner. I didn't eat (I did actually eat before but I don't do crowds and food) and for whatever reason the priest sat at my table. We talked casually a bit. The tremors in my hand were really bad. I held out my hands a few times watching, and then I hid them below the table to keep him from seeing. I finally went outside and tried to relax because I know anxiety makes it worse. At 10 I went in for the next service. A woman who regularly attends the church asked to look over my shoulder at the pamphlet of music. I tried holding it and the candle, and the music was shaking. She ended up holding the music (I helped turn pages), but I was really embarrassed. I'm 27. There's really no logical reason for why my hands shake too badly to hold the music.

I got home after 1am. Service was over at midnight. It was 1 when I got back to the town I live in. I got something at McDonalds to eat because I really hadn't had much. I drank and went to bed around 3am. I woke up around noon and dragged myself to AA. I finally acknowledged openly to the group how bad things are. It was hard, but really the tremors are scaring me.

I went to service tonight. I was scared to, but I wanted to go. Hopefully I'll be ok to go tomorrow. Even if I go late, I need to go.

I don't have a long update today. I've spent last night and today freaking out because my cat is sick/hurt.. probably arthritis, but I can't get her to a vet till tomorrow. I broke down crying after church talking to one of my friends (we've been friends for more than a decade) about it. It may seem silly, but this cat I have had since I was 13. I'm 27 now, so that's over half my life. I remember in high school when I would sit at night and cry or cut myself, she'd come over and try to nuzzle me or sit with me. (this will probably sound ridiculous) but she probably kept me from doing some bad things. Even after I moved out, when I got suicidal, I'd be concerned about what would happen to her if I died. So I do worry.

Other than that, I am really trying to work up courage to be honest with people in my life about some things. The big one is that lately, I have noticed my hands are shaky at times. Like I will be holding a straw or a fork or anything, and my hand will shake and i can't always stop it. The issue is that as an alcoholic.. this could be very bad. Tremors are a withdrawal symptom. I've never had them very much when I detoxed.. but I usually only detoxed or quit drinking in a hospital or something. Otherwise, I really haven't quit long enough to worry about withdrawal. BUT if I am getting them during the day now.. that's probably concerning. It means I'm sicker than I am willing to admit. It means it's much more dangerous to stop or cut back or anything. I am NOT willing to take time off and get treatment now or detox now. So I'm worried. Very worried, and I haven't told anyone. I check my hands from time to time to see if they shake, but I make sure no one else sees. I have trouble with honesty. I am worried people will judge me for not being able to stop this, for not always wanting to stop this. So yes.. worried. And I am trying to convince myself to tell someone.

I've been out of practice for a while, so I don't know what to say. This week (and actually a couple lately) I'm struck with how my friends do NOT want to deal with my problems. It's odd.. my closest friend in grad school (I say that because I live at least 30 miles from any other friends) was helpful and tried to be understanding when it was the bulimia.. mostly she dealt with me when I wasn't eating. She'd make me a smoothie, and because I'm a people pleaser I'd drink it. When I was depressed, I'd cry and she'd be comforting.

Part of this is that she's bipolar. When she's not manic or depressed, she could be understanding and empathetic. Either manic or depressed, she tends to be really self absorbed. I am such a caretaker that if she changes the topic to her problems, I start giving advice or support for her problems. It doesn't matter if I was talking about my own shit.

I refuse to get into the who's sicker debate. At times she's commented on how at least I didn't almost have a breakdown like she did. I would try very hard to point out how often I've been in the hospital. I am kind of drunk, so this may not be accurate. I've had 7 stays in a psych ward (4 different hospitals), residential for bulimia, and residential for alcohol. That's 9 times I've had to go into treatment. My mind will argue I shouldn't have gone most of those times. It didn't matter if I had plans on how to kill myself.. or I wasn't on my meds, or I was crying all the time, or I just couldn't stop drinking. She doesn't see that history, and I just don't feel like comparing who's craziest.

Anyway, I have mentioned to her a couple times that I'm having trouble eating. I am obese, so weight is not the issue, but I am unable to finish normal meals without feeling nauseous. I know it's the alcohol, but is frustrating as hell. Mostly the issue is breakfast. I have learned from experience that if I don't eat withing 2-3 hours after waking up, I will become incredibly ill. Hard to make it to the bathroom ill. Nothing sounds appetizing though, and I have to find something that I can manage to eat without getting nauseous just because I don't like it. This is a real challenge.

I went to lunch with her last Saturday (she invited me), and it was really strange. She ordered an omelet with fruit, tortilllas, and then a large pancake with raspberries in it (this is my fav thing from this restaurant. She joked with the waiter about how he'd never seen someone finish that much. I ordered the same pancake, scrambled eggs, and sausage. She finished everything. I managed half the (large) pancake, most of the sausage, and a bit of the eggs. She showed the waiter she had finished it all, and he said that I must have had some and that's why I barely touched my food. I was kind of embarrassed for no real reason. I tried after to explain how hard it is for me to eat, but in her mind eating less is a good thing.

I think her and my friends are comfortable ignoring the alcoholism because they don't know how to handle it. They don't ask. If I mention it, it's dismissed. I admit I am not making progress, but at times I would like someone to sympathize with how miserable I am. It is really hard to function like this. I have no concentration. I have no memory. I space out which makes driving scary. My apartment is a mess. I really worry at times that I have brain damage, but I know nobody will listen to me. I do normally go to a woman's AA meeting Saturdays, and I skipped when my friend invited me to brunch. Maybe they will get it. It is taking my so long to open up with them because I don't feel like I belong if I'm not sober. I can't even imagine being sober, but I think they're the only people who get how crazy I am.

So that is my rant. I have AA tomorrow. I will try to not bolt as soon as the meeting is over. Talking in a meeting is very hard, but the leader memorizes our names and calls on people so it's hard to back out. It is very easy to leave as soon as the meeting is over so no one can say goodbye, much less talk to me about anything else. I am trying not to panic and leave. I will try again tomorrow because this insanity is really isolating, and I know keeping it to myself is not helping. Somehow, I have to express this shit 

So I am going to give this blog a try.. which is not the most confident way to start this. I used Xanga for years, and when it died I kept trying and failing at a site to use instead. I definitely found myself missing this.

I will start with explaining my choice of titles.. this actually is something that goes through my head from time to time. I've been in therapy for a dozen years, and one thing therapists hate is calling yourself "crazy." They hate people saying they're crazy. Occasionally they will tolerate talking about "crazy thoughts," but not just crazy.

The thing is.. I would much rather call myself "crazy" than sick. Maybe that's less compassion? But I don't like to think of myself as sick even if I have various mental health diagnoses. These don't make me sick or weak. These can't be cured with a pill or procedure like so many physical ailments. As much as we may hate it, they're more like a way of life.. and I would rather think of myself as having a crazy absurd life than being someone who is chronically ill.

As far as my craziness goes, I was diagnosed with depression at age 15. It started long before that. I can remember in middle school holding a pocket knife to my wrist or a lighter to my foot. I was never an overall happy child. I was anxious and filled with self hatred. I was convinced that I didn't make friends because there was something wrong with me. In 10th grade, I started hurting myself.. scratches and minor stuff to start. Then I wrote some slightly screwed up depressed poetry in english class. Then I put a clipart of a razor on the assignment. I didn't tell myself it was a cry for help.. but I ended up being turned into the school social worker, and all this began. At first it was moderate depression. Then it was major depression. Now it's major depressive disorder, recurrent, severe. I am oddly proud of this diagnosis (crazy, right?). Mostly because it took them a long time to acknowledge how bad it was.

Then I found myself in college. I had convinced my psychiatrist I was cured and she took me off meds. I was doing well for a while. Then the depression set in, and in addition to going back to self harm, I decided I should start throwing up what I ate. Within a few months, I was binging and purging 2-3 times today. I was abusing diuretics, diet pills, laxatives, and I ended up in treatment. It was a day program because bulimics don't get the privilege of going inpatient for help.
Bulimia came and went. I managed over 6 months without purging in 2010 after spending 6 weeks at Remuda Ranch for residential treatment.

The key for me is that, even inpatient or residential, I found ways to hurt myself. Stress from work and some stuff that would require another post. I decided to go to graduate school. I got my bachelors in biology in 2009. In 2011 I started working on my masters. I moved into a one bedroom apartment near school, and I started drinking.

Now it's 2.5 years later. I drink 10-14 shots of vodka every night. I've been inpatient for detox twice. I did a 8 week long IOP (which I am still paying for). I spent this last Christmas and New Years Eve in rehab. I lasted a couple weeks, then spring semester started. I taught my first class (I'm a TA), and then started crying walking to my car.

So yes, crazy fits pretty well. I'm a work in progress.