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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