I am relieved.
I really wish I didn't have this panic disorder. I keep trying to fool myself, talk myself into the fact that I don't have this affliction - but truth be told it is here and here to stay. Not on a daily basis, but it's here for a while. It's been almost a full year since panic disorder started. Sigh.
Who would want to have this? Who would want to go through the bullshit month after month. Who would want to have to rely on medication? It's a handicap - that's what it is. Nothing about it is fun, or enjoyable.
I really want to try bio nuero feedback one day when I can get the money to do so. Speaking of money, I am really tired of spending money and time on this. I haven't calculated it all, but I'd say panic disorder has cost me AT least 6 or 7 grand. Not including lost wages from work.
I'd love to spend money on something like....oh well... say a pap smear. Which I haven't had in years.
Anyways paying my doctor is worth it though.
If I were at the city Hospital getting help through them, I'd be put on so many medications. The psychiatrist who interviewed me had a very stern face on during out interview, yet when I told her my goal was to eventually get off of the medication - she could hardly contain a big laugh. She did though, and then she said, " Oh no this is just to begin with, if you stay here for treatment we will be giving you a lot more." In other words thier opinion was that I was somehow "nuts".
Those weren't her words verbatim, but that was the gist.
You know there were pamphlets up in the waiting area at the city hospital about therapy groups dealing on bereavement. That is what I would have love to have participated in. Instead I was grilled with a list on borderline personality disorder. Unbelievable.
Anyways I'll post a followup today or later on this weekend about how my doctors appointment went.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Monday, October 6, 2008
Way too much Atarax for me
I could only take 25 mg of the Atarax last night. I like this but only for sleeping. I would not take this medication on a daily basis or in the day time.
That is enough to make me drop saliva all over myself, pass out, or be a complete zombie.
150 of mg a day would kill me, not literally, but I would not be even able to get out of bed!
LOL!!!!!!!
That is enough to make me drop saliva all over myself, pass out, or be a complete zombie.
150 of mg a day would kill me, not literally, but I would not be even able to get out of bed!
LOL!!!!!!!
Sunday, October 5, 2008
New York City Psychwards and Outpatient clinics can be very dangerous for a single female. Don't ever go alone!!!
I had the best night of sleep I've had in weeks, yet I woke feeling groggy and slow.
I'm still thinking about that man, what I saw, and how even though I might say it didn't that is what helped to provoke my panic attack. Of course it did in my subconscious. Yesterday I've been doing some research and I believe he is what's call a nurse aide.
Thing is nurse's aide "observe" psych patients and are sometimes give input to psychiatrists and patients behavior. Now I know why he was watching me while the psychiatrists and psychologist were having their meeting, and could mosie his way back in to the meeting.
Absolutely disgusting.
The city psych wards and outpatient clinics are just reprehensible.
I can't believe this.
Thank god I had a decent psychiatrist interviewing me.
My god... they could have locked me up if they wanted to. Just like they tried to do to me at Bellvue on December 7. I went to Bellvue when I went trying to seek help at the outpatient clinic back in December when I first came down with full blown panic disorder.
I went up to the outpatient clinic at 8 am. I was seen around 3:30 pm. I spoke to a social worker for about 45 minutes relating to her my problems, and why I was so panicky. A very young = "psychiatrist"came in sat down..literally took one look at me... smiled sarcastically and said ..
"You need detox" - go downstairs.
I was in shock. But I didn't say anything. I went to go pay and found that I was not even charged for my appointment.
I was supposed to go in the early evening to deposit the money for my new apartment. So I had a fair amount of cash in my purse inside a white envelope. About 900 dollars.
I went downstairs to the triage nurse at the E.R. She asked my what my problem was. I told her I had been upstairs all day at the Outpatient Clinic, that I was sent down for "detox". I told her I didn't understand why I needed detox b/c I had only been on the medication for a week. Yet I related that it was the only thing that would help me breath.
When I walked into the psych area it was very frightening. As soon as I got in there. My purse was taken away, I was told to take my shoes and socks off. There were two males in green outfits who were speaking in a very loud tone at me and policeman who told me to sit down.
They took everything out of my purse. Including personal items ( tampons)....etc . Looking at each item.
I was in such a state of shock I didn't know what to do. Inside there was a man who was acting crazy and violent and kept coming up to me. They took him away. I saw through glass doors a man in an orange outfit with handcuffs. The two male nurse aides proceeded to go through my purse and then they found the money.The looked at it.
I don't know where I got the nerve, but I started to get vocal. I said no I am not letting you take my money. Hand it over to me. I said the exact amount that was there ( the money for my deposit). I was very vocal. Very persistent. I got up and got my envelope. The nurse aide handed me the money and had a yellow envelope. He said, " Here count it in front of me, and then put it in this yellow envelope." I refused to do it. I sat back down with my money. I put the envelope with my medical papers.
As time went by I noticed patients were coming in & signing in at the front desk. Then they would sit down beside me. One man signed in, sat down beside me told me he was out of his medication. After about 45 minutes he was seen on the inside part by a psychiatrist behind the glass doors. He then walked right back out. Telling me they weren't able to help him out.
Thankfully there was a lady my age who was there with her mother. Her mother was depressed and wanted to be voluntarily admitted. She was from South America so we started talking. Our conversation was very amicable. I told her afterwords how worried I was about not being able to sign in. She had observed everything since the start. She told me to try again. I stood up asked the policeman and orderly. The policeman mumbled under his breath and moved his body as if he were about to get out of his chair and bolt toward me. " Sit back down! "
It was a very intimidating situation. I said that I wanted to sign in. Everybody else was allowed to, and I asked why weren't they allowing me to sign my name. I was ignored. I had been waiting for two hours already. Everyone else ( including the woman's mother) had singed in.
Now I was really scared. I told the lady sitting next to me if we could exchange emails. She looked scared for me too. I also asked another man sitting there for his email. I wanted witnesses of what was happening to me. I also wanted to nurse aides & policeman to know I was getting witnesses. All the while holding my money and my medical records close to me.
After about three hours. I was called in by a Doctor that I had not seen there previously. He was unkempt & messy. Looked like a homeless man. One side of the bottom of his slacks were inside of his socks. He was slurring and walking around as if he was on something. Even the women next to me looked at me like 'yikes".
I got into the room with him, and told him I wanted to sign in. That the guards or whatever they were not letting me sign in. He looked at me and asked me " Why do you want to sign in?" What I told him point blank b/c everyone else was signing in! I told him why I was here. While talking he dozed off, chin on his hand, and he had saliva rolling out the corner of his mouth . I was like OMG.
He then woke up out of stupor ( or perhaps it was an act to make me nervous - I don't know) and then said "You are talking really fast, you seem nervous... Let me get you something to drink."
I went back out and about 10 minutes later he came outside with a plastic cup and some water in it. The lady next to me told me not to drink it. I took a small sip - and it tasted like salt water with oil. I threw it out.
God must have been somewhere b/c at that moment the same psychiatrist who I had seen a week ago before I went back to Beth Israel for a second time walked by ( I had previously gone to the E.R. at Bellvue not knowing anything about it's outpatient clinic one week before, and was told to by this psychiatrist to go back to Beth Israel). He was very nice when I had met him the previous time. I was relieved to see a familiar face.
I told him that I had been here for hours. That the cop and these "men" won't let me sign in. I told him the exact amount of cash I had with me. I said, "You can ask her ..." pointing to the lady next to me. He looked at me and then the women next to me. She nodded her head in agreement. He told me to come into the interview room.
I told him that I had been at the outpatient clinic all day, and the the Dr. sent me down here. He asked who? I told him her name. He said that she wasn't supposed to do that. He asked me if she gave me any paperwork or follow up ? I told him no. He was like well I'm going to have to talk with her about this. However it is not city policy that the E.R. can not give out the medication I was on. He told me once again, he was sorry, he could not help but that I would have to return to Beth Israel.
After that I walked out and the policeman and those two big men in their green suits didn't SAY A WORD TO ME. I told them I wanted my purse and my belongings back. I still have proof of the event. Although I never signed in, I still have my yellow envelope that the aides or whoever they were gave back to me. They were planning from the beginning to put me in the hospital overnight or whatever - without me EVEN SEEING A DOCTOR! I still have the yellow envelope.
How incredibly dangerous is that. I've been having flashbacks about this all day long.
I never came to terms with this. This was such a scary event. Same thing with the nurse aide with his zipper down and his hands in his pants at the other city hospital.
I was at Bellvue from 8:30 am to 11:30 pm. I tried to go to sleep but was hyperventilating all night that night. The next morning I called up a friend of mine who is an ex detective for the NYPD. I told him what happened. He advised me to NEVER GO TO A CITY HOSPITAL. I was crying, I asked him what I should do? He told me that the best bet was to go back to Beth Israel. So I did.
I'm realizing it's not Beth Israel that was the whole nightmare , but a few bad seeds in the system.
Yikes!
What if I didn't have just panic disorder? Was a schizophrenic, or a woman was really mentally ill and not as quick on her feet as I was. Or if I DIDN'T HAVE ANY WITNESSES! OR if that nice Doctor DID not come by me.
What if I was borderline, and became enraged at those aides and that policeman? I was vocal but polite. What if I has started yelling?
They could have used that against me, injected me with something, and that would have been that. Or if I yelled at the aide the other day when I saw him with his hands down his pants. Whose report would people who didn't know me believe ?
The possibilities are endless. Scary stuff.
One thing is I'm not going to dwell on this anymore. I have a life to live and things to do. Thank god ( again) that have some one to live for. If not I might have committed suicide after all this. Panic disorder can really make one vulnerable to people who don't understand it.
I want my life back and was on the track to getting it back, and I am going to do it. Regardless of scumbags or the trauma created from them.
:)
I'm still thinking about that man, what I saw, and how even though I might say it didn't that is what helped to provoke my panic attack. Of course it did in my subconscious. Yesterday I've been doing some research and I believe he is what's call a nurse aide.
Thing is nurse's aide "observe" psych patients and are sometimes give input to psychiatrists and patients behavior. Now I know why he was watching me while the psychiatrists and psychologist were having their meeting, and could mosie his way back in to the meeting.
Absolutely disgusting.
The city psych wards and outpatient clinics are just reprehensible.
I can't believe this.
Thank god I had a decent psychiatrist interviewing me.
My god... they could have locked me up if they wanted to. Just like they tried to do to me at Bellvue on December 7. I went to Bellvue when I went trying to seek help at the outpatient clinic back in December when I first came down with full blown panic disorder.
I went up to the outpatient clinic at 8 am. I was seen around 3:30 pm. I spoke to a social worker for about 45 minutes relating to her my problems, and why I was so panicky. A very young = "psychiatrist"came in sat down..literally took one look at me... smiled sarcastically and said ..
"You need detox" - go downstairs.
I was in shock. But I didn't say anything. I went to go pay and found that I was not even charged for my appointment.
I was supposed to go in the early evening to deposit the money for my new apartment. So I had a fair amount of cash in my purse inside a white envelope. About 900 dollars.
I went downstairs to the triage nurse at the E.R. She asked my what my problem was. I told her I had been upstairs all day at the Outpatient Clinic, that I was sent down for "detox". I told her I didn't understand why I needed detox b/c I had only been on the medication for a week. Yet I related that it was the only thing that would help me breath.
When I walked into the psych area it was very frightening. As soon as I got in there. My purse was taken away, I was told to take my shoes and socks off. There were two males in green outfits who were speaking in a very loud tone at me and policeman who told me to sit down.
They took everything out of my purse. Including personal items ( tampons)....etc . Looking at each item.
I was in such a state of shock I didn't know what to do. Inside there was a man who was acting crazy and violent and kept coming up to me. They took him away. I saw through glass doors a man in an orange outfit with handcuffs. The two male nurse aides proceeded to go through my purse and then they found the money.The looked at it.
I don't know where I got the nerve, but I started to get vocal. I said no I am not letting you take my money. Hand it over to me. I said the exact amount that was there ( the money for my deposit). I was very vocal. Very persistent. I got up and got my envelope. The nurse aide handed me the money and had a yellow envelope. He said, " Here count it in front of me, and then put it in this yellow envelope." I refused to do it. I sat back down with my money. I put the envelope with my medical papers.
As time went by I noticed patients were coming in & signing in at the front desk. Then they would sit down beside me. One man signed in, sat down beside me told me he was out of his medication. After about 45 minutes he was seen on the inside part by a psychiatrist behind the glass doors. He then walked right back out. Telling me they weren't able to help him out.
Thankfully there was a lady my age who was there with her mother. Her mother was depressed and wanted to be voluntarily admitted. She was from South America so we started talking. Our conversation was very amicable. I told her afterwords how worried I was about not being able to sign in. She had observed everything since the start. She told me to try again. I stood up asked the policeman and orderly. The policeman mumbled under his breath and moved his body as if he were about to get out of his chair and bolt toward me. " Sit back down! "
It was a very intimidating situation. I said that I wanted to sign in. Everybody else was allowed to, and I asked why weren't they allowing me to sign my name. I was ignored. I had been waiting for two hours already. Everyone else ( including the woman's mother) had singed in.
Now I was really scared. I told the lady sitting next to me if we could exchange emails. She looked scared for me too. I also asked another man sitting there for his email. I wanted witnesses of what was happening to me. I also wanted to nurse aides & policeman to know I was getting witnesses. All the while holding my money and my medical records close to me.
After about three hours. I was called in by a Doctor that I had not seen there previously. He was unkempt & messy. Looked like a homeless man. One side of the bottom of his slacks were inside of his socks. He was slurring and walking around as if he was on something. Even the women next to me looked at me like 'yikes".
I got into the room with him, and told him I wanted to sign in. That the guards or whatever they were not letting me sign in. He looked at me and asked me " Why do you want to sign in?" What I told him point blank b/c everyone else was signing in! I told him why I was here. While talking he dozed off, chin on his hand, and he had saliva rolling out the corner of his mouth . I was like OMG.
He then woke up out of stupor ( or perhaps it was an act to make me nervous - I don't know) and then said "You are talking really fast, you seem nervous... Let me get you something to drink."
I went back out and about 10 minutes later he came outside with a plastic cup and some water in it. The lady next to me told me not to drink it. I took a small sip - and it tasted like salt water with oil. I threw it out.
God must have been somewhere b/c at that moment the same psychiatrist who I had seen a week ago before I went back to Beth Israel for a second time walked by ( I had previously gone to the E.R. at Bellvue not knowing anything about it's outpatient clinic one week before, and was told to by this psychiatrist to go back to Beth Israel). He was very nice when I had met him the previous time. I was relieved to see a familiar face.
I told him that I had been here for hours. That the cop and these "men" won't let me sign in. I told him the exact amount of cash I had with me. I said, "You can ask her ..." pointing to the lady next to me. He looked at me and then the women next to me. She nodded her head in agreement. He told me to come into the interview room.
I told him that I had been at the outpatient clinic all day, and the the Dr. sent me down here. He asked who? I told him her name. He said that she wasn't supposed to do that. He asked me if she gave me any paperwork or follow up ? I told him no. He was like well I'm going to have to talk with her about this. However it is not city policy that the E.R. can not give out the medication I was on. He told me once again, he was sorry, he could not help but that I would have to return to Beth Israel.
After that I walked out and the policeman and those two big men in their green suits didn't SAY A WORD TO ME. I told them I wanted my purse and my belongings back. I still have proof of the event. Although I never signed in, I still have my yellow envelope that the aides or whoever they were gave back to me. They were planning from the beginning to put me in the hospital overnight or whatever - without me EVEN SEEING A DOCTOR! I still have the yellow envelope.
How incredibly dangerous is that. I've been having flashbacks about this all day long.
I never came to terms with this. This was such a scary event. Same thing with the nurse aide with his zipper down and his hands in his pants at the other city hospital.
I was at Bellvue from 8:30 am to 11:30 pm. I tried to go to sleep but was hyperventilating all night that night. The next morning I called up a friend of mine who is an ex detective for the NYPD. I told him what happened. He advised me to NEVER GO TO A CITY HOSPITAL. I was crying, I asked him what I should do? He told me that the best bet was to go back to Beth Israel. So I did.
I'm realizing it's not Beth Israel that was the whole nightmare , but a few bad seeds in the system.
Yikes!
What if I didn't have just panic disorder? Was a schizophrenic, or a woman was really mentally ill and not as quick on her feet as I was. Or if I DIDN'T HAVE ANY WITNESSES! OR if that nice Doctor DID not come by me.
What if I was borderline, and became enraged at those aides and that policeman? I was vocal but polite. What if I has started yelling?
They could have used that against me, injected me with something, and that would have been that. Or if I yelled at the aide the other day when I saw him with his hands down his pants. Whose report would people who didn't know me believe ?
The possibilities are endless. Scary stuff.
One thing is I'm not going to dwell on this anymore. I have a life to live and things to do. Thank god ( again) that have some one to live for. If not I might have committed suicide after all this. Panic disorder can really make one vulnerable to people who don't understand it.
I want my life back and was on the track to getting it back, and I am going to do it. Regardless of scumbags or the trauma created from them.
:)
Saturday, October 4, 2008
I was going to clean but I feel sick
I feel terrible. I took my first dose of the new medicine that I was prescribed. I can't think too well. My thoughts are slow, my mouth is dry, my head feels dizzy. I had to lie down in the bed, and stayed there for an hour or two. My head feels so heavy, and I have this weird sensation on the back of my skull. The crappy thing is my heart palpitations/breathing is the same. It's actually harder to breath it's more shallow. I've had full body jerks like when one falls to sleep. I also feel nausea. My god why did I go to that hospital
?
Edit :
I am feeling a little bit better now. I've done some googling and read up on this new medication. Atarax. Yesterday I just briefly read that it was in the same family as Benadryil. I feel calmer now. I don't like the zombie like feeling of this medicine at all though. It's almost similar to the feeling of Klonzopine. Which I really disliked. I couldn't wait to get off of that medicine. My eyes are also dry and my contacts are bothering me.
I forgot to mention in my last post something else. Two of the male patients that were at the outpatient were def looking for medication for the wrong reasons. One of the patients kept asking me what I was prescribed and told me that he had xanax he could sell to me. He said this in Spanish. I was like - WTF????? How can you be saying that out loud? What an idiot. I also was kinda angry at him. It's because of people like him that people with genuine problems have such a hard time getting help. Then again - he has a problem too if he's there doing that.
Then it dawned on me what the average person/ psychiatrist might think about me. I speak so fast, and I mention the deadly word = Colombia. I really dislike the stigma that country has here in the States and around the world. It is such a beautiful country, and well ...I can't blame people but anyways...yesterday for the first time I put two and two together...I am so happy they did a urine test so to avoid anyone jumping to that conclusion.
Oh and the psychiatrist was good. Thank god. I think she prescribed as closely as possible as what she could to what my doctor was giving me.
Unfortunately those stupid silver shoes, and the fact that I am gregarious and out going got me on the train to the BPD diagnosis. Not the doctor I saw, but I noticed every one's eyes psychiatrists and patients alike stared at my shoes. They were so out of place. Urggghhhh today I realized I don't have any winter like shoes at all. I've still been borrowing my son's shoes. And my clothes are still in South Carolina. I haven't picked them up since last November. I am hoping to go down to South Carolina with my son at the end of this month and pick them up.
Anyhow I was given a list of symptoms. I went through the list once or twice and picked out a few of the things that I was feeling, and then she suggested that I should address those that I was feeling my whole life. After reading it once or twice and going through it I immediately recognized the list. In fact it was in the exact same chronological order that I had seen it so many times when I was looking at the Village Voice for Panic and Anxiety treatment. I was like oh no...
I have a really good memory, and it is the same list that Mt. Sinai has one their Borderline Personality add for treating people.
Her questioning did lead me to understand she or other psychiatrists might go that direction. She asked my why I left college my junior and did not finish it. I told her that it was due to financial reasons. My ex stopped paying child support out of the blue. I was working two jobs at the time, was supporting my 4 year old by myself. If I still had friends that I knew when I was younger.
There are so many things that I do not feel comfortable talking about with therapists/psychiatrists that I have just met. There is only so much you can talk about in a short meeting like that. So they get a bare bones idea of who I am.
I don't know what she thinks , but I am pretty sure that I do not have BPD. Not to say I have not portrayed some of those traits in crisis.
I was reading this article about borderlines going into one crisis into another. I gave a lot of thought about that statement.
http://www.mentalhelp.net/poc/view_doc.php?type=doc&id=1020
Which kind of sounds like my life, however my crises have all been acts of nature. Deaths in the family, financial losses, my facial dis figuration which led me to stop my acting career. I look back in life and I do see that things could have gone better if I had planned, and thought things out more thoroughly. That has more to do with my A.D.D. than anything. Or at least I believe that to be the case.
The rage anger thing? I studying Budhism, and well no. Never has been me. I'm very quiet. It takes a real wrong for me to get vocal about something. And when I do it is usually through a producitve way ..like the way I blogged about Jisha Philips. I believe in Karma. When people act out of spite and anger and hurt, I realize there is something wrong with them - not with me. I believe in trying to let go and forgive.
There's just a lot of bad ( excuse my French) sh*t that happened to me, and I am kind of a shell shocked version of who I used to be. I've never had tumultuous interpersonal relationships. Just an abusive ex husband, and a boyfriend who couldn't take no for an answer at ending our relationship. Apart from that I still keep in touch with everyone in my past. Even ex boyfriends.
It seems that BPD is very popular with people in the medical field now a days.
Anyways I am happy to have this medication, even though I don't like the feeling/sensation of it. It does qualm the panic. I was able to enjoy my son's birthday too :)
?
Edit :
I am feeling a little bit better now. I've done some googling and read up on this new medication. Atarax. Yesterday I just briefly read that it was in the same family as Benadryil. I feel calmer now. I don't like the zombie like feeling of this medicine at all though. It's almost similar to the feeling of Klonzopine. Which I really disliked. I couldn't wait to get off of that medicine. My eyes are also dry and my contacts are bothering me.
I forgot to mention in my last post something else. Two of the male patients that were at the outpatient were def looking for medication for the wrong reasons. One of the patients kept asking me what I was prescribed and told me that he had xanax he could sell to me. He said this in Spanish. I was like - WTF????? How can you be saying that out loud? What an idiot. I also was kinda angry at him. It's because of people like him that people with genuine problems have such a hard time getting help. Then again - he has a problem too if he's there doing that.
Then it dawned on me what the average person/ psychiatrist might think about me. I speak so fast, and I mention the deadly word = Colombia. I really dislike the stigma that country has here in the States and around the world. It is such a beautiful country, and well ...I can't blame people but anyways...yesterday for the first time I put two and two together...I am so happy they did a urine test so to avoid anyone jumping to that conclusion.
Oh and the psychiatrist was good. Thank god. I think she prescribed as closely as possible as what she could to what my doctor was giving me.
Unfortunately those stupid silver shoes, and the fact that I am gregarious and out going got me on the train to the BPD diagnosis. Not the doctor I saw, but I noticed every one's eyes psychiatrists and patients alike stared at my shoes. They were so out of place. Urggghhhh today I realized I don't have any winter like shoes at all. I've still been borrowing my son's shoes. And my clothes are still in South Carolina. I haven't picked them up since last November. I am hoping to go down to South Carolina with my son at the end of this month and pick them up.
Anyhow I was given a list of symptoms. I went through the list once or twice and picked out a few of the things that I was feeling, and then she suggested that I should address those that I was feeling my whole life. After reading it once or twice and going through it I immediately recognized the list. In fact it was in the exact same chronological order that I had seen it so many times when I was looking at the Village Voice for Panic and Anxiety treatment. I was like oh no...
I have a really good memory, and it is the same list that Mt. Sinai has one their Borderline Personality add for treating people.
Her questioning did lead me to understand she or other psychiatrists might go that direction. She asked my why I left college my junior and did not finish it. I told her that it was due to financial reasons. My ex stopped paying child support out of the blue. I was working two jobs at the time, was supporting my 4 year old by myself. If I still had friends that I knew when I was younger.
There are so many things that I do not feel comfortable talking about with therapists/psychiatrists that I have just met. There is only so much you can talk about in a short meeting like that. So they get a bare bones idea of who I am.
I don't know what she thinks , but I am pretty sure that I do not have BPD. Not to say I have not portrayed some of those traits in crisis.
I was reading this article about borderlines going into one crisis into another. I gave a lot of thought about that statement.
http://www.mentalhelp.net/poc/view_doc.php?type=doc&id=1020
Which kind of sounds like my life, however my crises have all been acts of nature. Deaths in the family, financial losses, my facial dis figuration which led me to stop my acting career. I look back in life and I do see that things could have gone better if I had planned, and thought things out more thoroughly. That has more to do with my A.D.D. than anything. Or at least I believe that to be the case.
The rage anger thing? I studying Budhism, and well no. Never has been me. I'm very quiet. It takes a real wrong for me to get vocal about something. And when I do it is usually through a producitve way ..like the way I blogged about Jisha Philips. I believe in Karma. When people act out of spite and anger and hurt, I realize there is something wrong with them - not with me. I believe in trying to let go and forgive.
There's just a lot of bad ( excuse my French) sh*t that happened to me, and I am kind of a shell shocked version of who I used to be. I've never had tumultuous interpersonal relationships. Just an abusive ex husband, and a boyfriend who couldn't take no for an answer at ending our relationship. Apart from that I still keep in touch with everyone in my past. Even ex boyfriends.
It seems that BPD is very popular with people in the medical field now a days.
Anyways I am happy to have this medication, even though I don't like the feeling/sensation of it. It does qualm the panic. I was able to enjoy my son's birthday too :)
Big mistake
I had my worst panic attack since February 3 of this year. I had it at all places at a city hospital.
How on earth did I allow current events to land me back at a city Hospital psych ward, I've been thinking about it all night. It was a terrifying hair raising day, however at the same time it was an enlightening experience as well
First a brief update on how I've been doing.
I moved to my new apartment. My son is back up and at school. I have every reason in the world to be happy right now.
Except there have been a few bumps in the road. My medicaid was cut b/c I did not follow through with a child support enforcement appointment some where in Brooklyn.
They moved my case to another office, I have to to three different places in Brooklyn this week, and I don't even know where to start. Also I was not getting my mail at the place I was living in Brooklyn so I wasn't receiving any information or appointments.
I saw my psychiatrist last time at the end of August. I went to go pay for my prescription of Lexapro, and was told my medicaid was closed. So apart from back to school, moving into my new place, soccer tryouts, I've spent a first part of the month in the subways of Brooklyn trying to find out where and why , and what can I do to solve the situation for my public assistance case.
I've had some heath issues on the table as well. On Sept 7 I was sitting at home and my veins started bulging around my feet and my hands. My heart felt like it was about to jump out of my chest. I knew this was not panic, nor anything related b/c I felt perfectly OK mentally that is.
I've never had so many palpitations in my heart. I was in bed for four or five hours , and the palpitations did not get any better. I also started to get aches around my chest area.
I made the decision to go to the emergency room. I was told my EKG was not normal for someone my age, and for me not to be alarmed but it was very serious. I've had to wear a holter, had an Eco cardiograph, and I am also getting my thyroid checked. I have partial right bundle branch block, and systolic heart mummer, and I'm waiting for more results.
My son also has a sport injury. He had soccer tryouts and injured his legs. He hadn't played in over a year and during tryouts he pushed himself too hard. So I've been trying to get him help with that.
Since I have been in and out of the Hospital with my son's injury and my heart issues. I walked by the mental health out patient clinic. I thought well gee.... my xanax is almost gone, and this hospital is so close by - wouldn't it be nice if I could get treatment here? Perhaps have psychological therapy as well as psychiatric for my problem. Plus my son's birthday is in a few days.... I could save the money I pay my psychiatrist out of pocket, and use it for his birthday instead.
Part two of this blog is
BIG FRIGGIN MISTAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I woke up at around 8 a.m. and rushed out of my apartment. I was told the earlier one got there the better. I was in such a hurry I put the first pair of shoes on that I could find. A silver pair of slippers. So I had a polo shirt on, jeans, and a silver sandals. I did not realize how ridiculously ostentatious and out of place they looked until I got to the clinic. But I was like "oh well....who cares...
HA!
I'll come back to that subject later. Right now I am about to write about something very serious. It scares the hell out of me that I am actually going to post this, and write about this - but I have to.
As soon as I got passed the waiting area I was brought into another holding area. My urine sample was taken. I sat down and conversed with some of the other patients there. I noticed a man in a green outfit jump at the sight of me. Not jump , but startle. He looked straight at me as if he had seen me before. I choose to ignore him. The look in his eyes was not one of kindness, I can't think of a word to describe it...
About thirty minutes later I was told to go into a room and sit down. I sat in the chair and noticed a man with his back turned to me back inside a closet area. When the man turned around he had his hands in his pants and proceeded to zip them up. I tried to ignore what I just saw yet he kept looking at me. He wanted recognition that I had seen him. I self doubted myself when I first saw it thinking maybe he is just adjusting himself. . .
I thought to myself 'I've seen it all" no way your little show is going to intimidate me or scare me.
A few minutes later the nurse walked in and the same man who I had seen in the closet area with his hands down his pants was putting a thermometer down my throat. I did not even look at him, I purposely kept my attention on the nurse. The nurse who was there kept asking me who referred me .. questions while I had the thermometer in my mouth . The male nurse ( I am not sure he is a nurse) was very rough with my blood pressure check. I still did not give him one iota of attention. Keeping focused on the nurse.
So from there I went back to the waiting area. There were girls there who were very friendly and we started talking about things. Depression, bereavement of loved ones. There was one guy whose behavior was rather odd. I was later told he was sent home without any medication , because they had found cocaine in his system. That's when one girl started up with one worst subjects ever! This triggered my panic attack.
She started saying, in Spanish, "Oh by the way, did you all know that there are people who come here on coke, and then try to get medication here, then go out and sell their medication so they can buy more drugs?"
Jisha Philips' accusation flashed through my mind. I started to remember the nightmare at Beth Israel. That familiar gear shift in my head each time I have had a major panic attack shifted again once again. I was like holy crap, not now.
I got up out of the room and went to the bathroom. I splashed water all over myself. I talked and talked myself out of the panic attack - but this one was about a 9 on of scale of one to ten in severity. I went back down to the waiting area sat down and felt the blood drain out of my arms and legs. I was hyperventilating somewhere even though my breathing seemed to at a perfectly normal pace. I told some of the patients what was wrong with me, and that I was trying to walk it out. I did not want any of the nurses of psychiatrists that were walking by to see me. Last thing I wanted was for the psychiatrists to think I was putting on a show or something.
Then the thoughts started racing what if I were to pass out here? That male nurse. . . OMG I have Jisha Philp's drug selling write up here in my medical files OMG! What if I pass out and they read that OMG! My son is at school...what if I pass out and they lock me up b/c the read Jisha Philp's write up OMG! What if my son comes home and his mom is not there OMG! What will he think...where will he go OMG! ...go throw water on your face..you're passing out... don't let them see you like this... I don't have my cellphone with me ..I need to call my son's school..how will I get in contact with him..what if they think I am borderline medication seller and decide not to assist me...why did you come here..shake your hands shake your legs..try to get sensation back in them...
That was the worst part of the panic attack...it lasted for about 45 minutes. I almost passed out in the chair. I was so proud of myself that I had hid my panic attack. Well I didn't hide it too well. One of the police saw me and followed me to the pay phone where I was trying to call 411 to get information on the whereabouts of my son. I was dripping in water , sweating, so he probably thought the worst. Probably thought I was on drugs or something.
Now back to that male nurse or whatever he was. It hit me where I had seen him before. I am not 100 percent so I will have to check and find out. But if he is ... I will post about it. I might go farther and report it. But I do not know yet so I have to be cautious.
For some reason my son's school is not listed in 411...so I decided to go pick him up. When I got back I was told by some of the patients that my name had already been called. I was seen by a psychologist. The whole time during our interview I was hyperventilating. I was trying to hide the panic attack. My thought were racing in my head yet I still answered her questions. She was stern, but amicable. I related to her things that I have not told anyone in a while. How I was raped when I was 18, and other intimacies.
She told me that city Hospitals have a policy on prescribing xanax. They don't do it. But she said I need to state as clearly as possible what it was I needed. I could tell she was trying to help me out.
Anyways - my interview with the psychiatrist I'll blog about that tomorrow. This post is getting far too long, and I have to go clean. I'm not even going to spell check this post right now/ But before I log off, I would like to mention something that I was thinking about all night ( I couldn't sleep b/c of it).
That male nurse walked himself right into the meeting where the psychiatrists/and psychologists were discussing my case. They were in there for about an hour. I was interviewed and the supervising psychiatrist would go back in there. I can't believe the man that was putting his hands down his pants in front of me was allowed to walk in there like that! Great he knows my name, where I live, and that I've been raped, and has probably listened to a debate on what a nutcase I am. Perfect!
I am not complaining about the hospital or my treatment from the doctors, which actually went well and they were of assistance to me ....but geesh if they only knew who they were allowing to listen in!
I'm still in shock about it.
I went home and immediately and left a message for my private doctor. I told him what a big mistake I had made. I feel so stupid! There were just so many things going on this month and I let time slip up on me. I was also embarrassed to call him at the last minute, and say "hey I've run out of my medication" b/c that would have seemed so irresponsible. I will NEVER make this mistake again. No matter how much I have to pay or who I have to borrow money from.
I will never ever go to a city Hospital again.
I highly recommend any female who is alone- to never go alone to a city hospital.
Always bring someone with you.
How on earth did I allow current events to land me back at a city Hospital psych ward, I've been thinking about it all night. It was a terrifying hair raising day, however at the same time it was an enlightening experience as well
First a brief update on how I've been doing.
I moved to my new apartment. My son is back up and at school. I have every reason in the world to be happy right now.
Except there have been a few bumps in the road. My medicaid was cut b/c I did not follow through with a child support enforcement appointment some where in Brooklyn.
They moved my case to another office, I have to to three different places in Brooklyn this week, and I don't even know where to start. Also I was not getting my mail at the place I was living in Brooklyn so I wasn't receiving any information or appointments.
I saw my psychiatrist last time at the end of August. I went to go pay for my prescription of Lexapro, and was told my medicaid was closed. So apart from back to school, moving into my new place, soccer tryouts, I've spent a first part of the month in the subways of Brooklyn trying to find out where and why , and what can I do to solve the situation for my public assistance case.
I've had some heath issues on the table as well. On Sept 7 I was sitting at home and my veins started bulging around my feet and my hands. My heart felt like it was about to jump out of my chest. I knew this was not panic, nor anything related b/c I felt perfectly OK mentally that is.
I've never had so many palpitations in my heart. I was in bed for four or five hours , and the palpitations did not get any better. I also started to get aches around my chest area.
I made the decision to go to the emergency room. I was told my EKG was not normal for someone my age, and for me not to be alarmed but it was very serious. I've had to wear a holter, had an Eco cardiograph, and I am also getting my thyroid checked. I have partial right bundle branch block, and systolic heart mummer, and I'm waiting for more results.
My son also has a sport injury. He had soccer tryouts and injured his legs. He hadn't played in over a year and during tryouts he pushed himself too hard. So I've been trying to get him help with that.
Since I have been in and out of the Hospital with my son's injury and my heart issues. I walked by the mental health out patient clinic. I thought well gee.... my xanax is almost gone, and this hospital is so close by - wouldn't it be nice if I could get treatment here? Perhaps have psychological therapy as well as psychiatric for my problem. Plus my son's birthday is in a few days.... I could save the money I pay my psychiatrist out of pocket, and use it for his birthday instead.
Part two of this blog is
BIG FRIGGIN MISTAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I woke up at around 8 a.m. and rushed out of my apartment. I was told the earlier one got there the better. I was in such a hurry I put the first pair of shoes on that I could find. A silver pair of slippers. So I had a polo shirt on, jeans, and a silver sandals. I did not realize how ridiculously ostentatious and out of place they looked until I got to the clinic. But I was like "oh well....who cares...
HA!
I'll come back to that subject later. Right now I am about to write about something very serious. It scares the hell out of me that I am actually going to post this, and write about this - but I have to.
As soon as I got passed the waiting area I was brought into another holding area. My urine sample was taken. I sat down and conversed with some of the other patients there. I noticed a man in a green outfit jump at the sight of me. Not jump , but startle. He looked straight at me as if he had seen me before. I choose to ignore him. The look in his eyes was not one of kindness, I can't think of a word to describe it...
About thirty minutes later I was told to go into a room and sit down. I sat in the chair and noticed a man with his back turned to me back inside a closet area. When the man turned around he had his hands in his pants and proceeded to zip them up. I tried to ignore what I just saw yet he kept looking at me. He wanted recognition that I had seen him. I self doubted myself when I first saw it thinking maybe he is just adjusting himself. . .
I thought to myself 'I've seen it all" no way your little show is going to intimidate me or scare me.
A few minutes later the nurse walked in and the same man who I had seen in the closet area with his hands down his pants was putting a thermometer down my throat. I did not even look at him, I purposely kept my attention on the nurse. The nurse who was there kept asking me who referred me .. questions while I had the thermometer in my mouth . The male nurse ( I am not sure he is a nurse) was very rough with my blood pressure check. I still did not give him one iota of attention. Keeping focused on the nurse.
So from there I went back to the waiting area. There were girls there who were very friendly and we started talking about things. Depression, bereavement of loved ones. There was one guy whose behavior was rather odd. I was later told he was sent home without any medication , because they had found cocaine in his system. That's when one girl started up with one worst subjects ever! This triggered my panic attack.
She started saying, in Spanish, "Oh by the way, did you all know that there are people who come here on coke, and then try to get medication here, then go out and sell their medication so they can buy more drugs?"
Jisha Philips' accusation flashed through my mind. I started to remember the nightmare at Beth Israel. That familiar gear shift in my head each time I have had a major panic attack shifted again once again. I was like holy crap, not now.
I got up out of the room and went to the bathroom. I splashed water all over myself. I talked and talked myself out of the panic attack - but this one was about a 9 on of scale of one to ten in severity. I went back down to the waiting area sat down and felt the blood drain out of my arms and legs. I was hyperventilating somewhere even though my breathing seemed to at a perfectly normal pace. I told some of the patients what was wrong with me, and that I was trying to walk it out. I did not want any of the nurses of psychiatrists that were walking by to see me. Last thing I wanted was for the psychiatrists to think I was putting on a show or something.
Then the thoughts started racing what if I were to pass out here? That male nurse. . . OMG I have Jisha Philp's drug selling write up here in my medical files OMG! What if I pass out and they read that OMG! My son is at school...what if I pass out and they lock me up b/c the read Jisha Philp's write up OMG! What if my son comes home and his mom is not there OMG! What will he think...where will he go OMG! ...go throw water on your face..you're passing out... don't let them see you like this... I don't have my cellphone with me ..I need to call my son's school..how will I get in contact with him..what if they think I am borderline medication seller and decide not to assist me...why did you come here..shake your hands shake your legs..try to get sensation back in them...
That was the worst part of the panic attack...it lasted for about 45 minutes. I almost passed out in the chair. I was so proud of myself that I had hid my panic attack. Well I didn't hide it too well. One of the police saw me and followed me to the pay phone where I was trying to call 411 to get information on the whereabouts of my son. I was dripping in water , sweating, so he probably thought the worst. Probably thought I was on drugs or something.
Now back to that male nurse or whatever he was. It hit me where I had seen him before. I am not 100 percent so I will have to check and find out. But if he is ... I will post about it. I might go farther and report it. But I do not know yet so I have to be cautious.
For some reason my son's school is not listed in 411...so I decided to go pick him up. When I got back I was told by some of the patients that my name had already been called. I was seen by a psychologist. The whole time during our interview I was hyperventilating. I was trying to hide the panic attack. My thought were racing in my head yet I still answered her questions. She was stern, but amicable. I related to her things that I have not told anyone in a while. How I was raped when I was 18, and other intimacies.
She told me that city Hospitals have a policy on prescribing xanax. They don't do it. But she said I need to state as clearly as possible what it was I needed. I could tell she was trying to help me out.
Anyways - my interview with the psychiatrist I'll blog about that tomorrow. This post is getting far too long, and I have to go clean. I'm not even going to spell check this post right now/ But before I log off, I would like to mention something that I was thinking about all night ( I couldn't sleep b/c of it).
That male nurse walked himself right into the meeting where the psychiatrists/and psychologists were discussing my case. They were in there for about an hour. I was interviewed and the supervising psychiatrist would go back in there. I can't believe the man that was putting his hands down his pants in front of me was allowed to walk in there like that! Great he knows my name, where I live, and that I've been raped, and has probably listened to a debate on what a nutcase I am. Perfect!
I am not complaining about the hospital or my treatment from the doctors, which actually went well and they were of assistance to me ....but geesh if they only knew who they were allowing to listen in!
I'm still in shock about it.
I went home and immediately and left a message for my private doctor. I told him what a big mistake I had made. I feel so stupid! There were just so many things going on this month and I let time slip up on me. I was also embarrassed to call him at the last minute, and say "hey I've run out of my medication" b/c that would have seemed so irresponsible. I will NEVER make this mistake again. No matter how much I have to pay or who I have to borrow money from.
I will never ever go to a city Hospital again.
I highly recommend any female who is alone- to never go alone to a city hospital.
Always bring someone with you.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Blah...too late :(
I finally got around to calling the credit card companies. One of my credit cards was closed and sent to collections :(. For the past three years I paid that card on time. I took a pride in getting my credit back on track. It hurts :( I actually cried when I heard that today. I stopped paying back in February. ..when everything went a muck.
Luckily one of my credit cards was still open and I am setting up a payment for tomorrow.
Still have some discomfort with chest and pressure around the lungs... but nothing compared to that sensation of the nose/brain area that caused hyperventilation. It's uncomfortable but manageable.
Luckily one of my credit cards was still open and I am setting up a payment for tomorrow.
Still have some discomfort with chest and pressure around the lungs... but nothing compared to that sensation of the nose/brain area that caused hyperventilation. It's uncomfortable but manageable.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Trying to get my self esteem back
I think it is safe to say I no longer have panic disorder. That's not to say I will never have a panic attack again, but it's no longer a daily thing. I hope I am not talking too soon but that seems to be the case. I do have heart palpitations, and occasionally it feels as if an elephant is sitting on my chest/heart area....but not the hyperventilation problem....
Depression was tough. That's an understatement. I've never been depressed for so long in my life before. I still have qualms about antidepressants though. I read somewhere that psychiatrists are more likely than the average person to take SSRI's b/c they know the benefits of them. I suppose I am afraid of the up or downs I might go through by getting off of them. The Lexapro was helpful, and I am going to use it for a month or two more, but I didn't feel like me. You know when you cry and your heart hurts? When you actually feel that ache while you are crying. With Lexapro I felt that ache but it was numb. There but not there.
Six months of depression. The severe depression started right about the time my Uncle died, and I had to send my son away.
Six months of zombie like nothingness. Of crying everyday. Of not accomplishing anything in my life. Of not going anywhere.
Now that I think I am finally seeing the light, where or how do I get my self esteem back on track? My credit went to mess. My clothes no longer fit. I have very little self pride.
I used to wake up in the morning with excitement and joy about the day and it's possibilities. I want to now, but as much as I try it feels feigned.
Plus as of late I my body has been going through discomfort. Burning sensation under the skin, muscle aches. These past two weeks I wake up unable to open my jaw, and my shoulder and neck feel frozen when I wake up in the morning. I've googled the symptoms and TMJ comes up. Nothing serious but it sure is uncomfortable. I'll go to a doctor if it keeps up to find out what is wrong.
I'm looking forward to my appointment with my psychiatrist this week. I really don't know what would have happened to me without his assistance. I wish I could afford to see the psychotherapist that recommended him to me. She was wonderful. I think more than any medication what I need is someone to talk to.
My son is having a blast. I am so happy he's having fun. Last night he went to spend the night at his friends' house. This morning he went to church with my grandparents. My mom bought him his favorite Rhonaldinho soccer shoes...I wish I were down there with him but I have to use this time to organize things for next year. That will be our last year in New York. I want him to finish middle school here.
Unfortunately the apartment didn't work out. I was supposed to "sublease' it, but the Jewish lady found out, and I was honest with her. I could have caused a fuss, and stayed in the apartment, gotten a lawyer, but the last thing I wanted is a group of Hasidics upset with me. Her parents are Holocaust survivors.
She had promised the apartment to a construction guy, and he's renovating the apartment right now as I am typing. The apartment was nice, two bedrooms for 725 dollars, with a view to the Empire State Building. I had to move out to another apartment on the same floor. It's a one bedroom for 1000 dollars. I'll live in Brooklyn, walk up six flights of stairs for 725 dollars a month, but no way will I do that for the apartment I am in now.
Its been a learning experience for both myself and my son. Living here has been like living in Antwerp. It has a very European feel to it. My building is full of these adorable little children playing in the hallways. They practice their English with me. One little boy asks me every time he see me "What is your name?" and if there are other kids they start to echo him. The stairway fills of little voices asking me what my name is.
There is a very peaceful energy in this area, I feel very safe here. I think that has been conducive in helping to heal my panic disorder.
When we first got here my son went to the Kosher grocery store to get some milk and cereal. He came back frustrated and upset.
" Mom I am never going to the Kosher store ever ever again! The lady threw the change at me!I'm NEVER going there again- no way. That was so rude! Mom she THEW the change at me. From now on I am only going to the Latino store."
Well after reading and studying about the Hasids he understands now, we now go to the Kosher store and if there's a man at the register my son gets the change and vice-versa. One thing I found odd it that they are all on foodstamps!! Then again with 9 to 10 kids per family....
They keep all the non Jewish people on the sixth floor so there is an interesting dynamic amongst the people on this floor. I've never lived in a place and had neighbors reach out to me ( friendship wise) in such a short time period.
On of my neighbors is a 20 year old photography assistant who is also subleasing. She lent me a video the other day about the Hasids called A Life Apart. It was fascinating to watch b/c it gave me an inside look into their world.
They are very peaceful people. It's been a fun learning experience, but I couldn't handle living here for long...I'm a loner as it is, but feeling like a minority just walking down the streets kinda odd. I'm always worried if my shirt is too tight. I won't wear shorts around here either.
Plus I miss Manhattan way too much. No more subway for me or my son.
Oh and my passport is in Arlington Texas. I left my cell phone on in the hopes that whoever took my bag might use it. Well they did and all the calls were in Texas. Whoever flew out of the terminal went to Texas, and kept my cell phone and passport. I am going back to the airport tmmrw and reporting it as theft. I called one of the numbers that was called out from my cellphone with and a man answered. I asked him about my passport and told him I would pay him a reward for it. He denied everything. I called back 10 minutes later and both my cell phone and his cell phone were turned off! I have his name and number ( I did a reverse search) and am going to give it to the detectives. It would be sweet if they could find out if anyone under that name flew out of the airport terminal I was at. What a piece of dirt that person must be. This morning I called his cellphone number and it is now disconnected.
Depression was tough. That's an understatement. I've never been depressed for so long in my life before. I still have qualms about antidepressants though. I read somewhere that psychiatrists are more likely than the average person to take SSRI's b/c they know the benefits of them. I suppose I am afraid of the up or downs I might go through by getting off of them. The Lexapro was helpful, and I am going to use it for a month or two more, but I didn't feel like me. You know when you cry and your heart hurts? When you actually feel that ache while you are crying. With Lexapro I felt that ache but it was numb. There but not there.
Six months of depression. The severe depression started right about the time my Uncle died, and I had to send my son away.
Six months of zombie like nothingness. Of crying everyday. Of not accomplishing anything in my life. Of not going anywhere.
Now that I think I am finally seeing the light, where or how do I get my self esteem back on track? My credit went to mess. My clothes no longer fit. I have very little self pride.
I used to wake up in the morning with excitement and joy about the day and it's possibilities. I want to now, but as much as I try it feels feigned.
Plus as of late I my body has been going through discomfort. Burning sensation under the skin, muscle aches. These past two weeks I wake up unable to open my jaw, and my shoulder and neck feel frozen when I wake up in the morning. I've googled the symptoms and TMJ comes up. Nothing serious but it sure is uncomfortable. I'll go to a doctor if it keeps up to find out what is wrong.
I'm looking forward to my appointment with my psychiatrist this week. I really don't know what would have happened to me without his assistance. I wish I could afford to see the psychotherapist that recommended him to me. She was wonderful. I think more than any medication what I need is someone to talk to.
My son is having a blast. I am so happy he's having fun. Last night he went to spend the night at his friends' house. This morning he went to church with my grandparents. My mom bought him his favorite Rhonaldinho soccer shoes...I wish I were down there with him but I have to use this time to organize things for next year. That will be our last year in New York. I want him to finish middle school here.
Unfortunately the apartment didn't work out. I was supposed to "sublease' it, but the Jewish lady found out, and I was honest with her. I could have caused a fuss, and stayed in the apartment, gotten a lawyer, but the last thing I wanted is a group of Hasidics upset with me. Her parents are Holocaust survivors.
She had promised the apartment to a construction guy, and he's renovating the apartment right now as I am typing. The apartment was nice, two bedrooms for 725 dollars, with a view to the Empire State Building. I had to move out to another apartment on the same floor. It's a one bedroom for 1000 dollars. I'll live in Brooklyn, walk up six flights of stairs for 725 dollars a month, but no way will I do that for the apartment I am in now.
Its been a learning experience for both myself and my son. Living here has been like living in Antwerp. It has a very European feel to it. My building is full of these adorable little children playing in the hallways. They practice their English with me. One little boy asks me every time he see me "What is your name?" and if there are other kids they start to echo him. The stairway fills of little voices asking me what my name is.
There is a very peaceful energy in this area, I feel very safe here. I think that has been conducive in helping to heal my panic disorder.
When we first got here my son went to the Kosher grocery store to get some milk and cereal. He came back frustrated and upset.
" Mom I am never going to the Kosher store ever ever again! The lady threw the change at me!I'm NEVER going there again- no way. That was so rude! Mom she THEW the change at me. From now on I am only going to the Latino store."
Well after reading and studying about the Hasids he understands now, we now go to the Kosher store and if there's a man at the register my son gets the change and vice-versa. One thing I found odd it that they are all on foodstamps!! Then again with 9 to 10 kids per family....
They keep all the non Jewish people on the sixth floor so there is an interesting dynamic amongst the people on this floor. I've never lived in a place and had neighbors reach out to me ( friendship wise) in such a short time period.
On of my neighbors is a 20 year old photography assistant who is also subleasing. She lent me a video the other day about the Hasids called A Life Apart. It was fascinating to watch b/c it gave me an inside look into their world.
They are very peaceful people. It's been a fun learning experience, but I couldn't handle living here for long...I'm a loner as it is, but feeling like a minority just walking down the streets kinda odd. I'm always worried if my shirt is too tight. I won't wear shorts around here either.
Plus I miss Manhattan way too much. No more subway for me or my son.
Oh and my passport is in Arlington Texas. I left my cell phone on in the hopes that whoever took my bag might use it. Well they did and all the calls were in Texas. Whoever flew out of the terminal went to Texas, and kept my cell phone and passport. I am going back to the airport tmmrw and reporting it as theft. I called one of the numbers that was called out from my cellphone with and a man answered. I asked him about my passport and told him I would pay him a reward for it. He denied everything. I called back 10 minutes later and both my cell phone and his cell phone were turned off! I have his name and number ( I did a reverse search) and am going to give it to the detectives. It would be sweet if they could find out if anyone under that name flew out of the airport terminal I was at. What a piece of dirt that person must be. This morning I called his cellphone number and it is now disconnected.
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