I haven't been here in a long time.

I love how Scott keeps saving Sitdiary. I remember leaving to use Blogger & Wordpress, but feeling pretty damn nostalgic so I tried to do light entries here. The domain was down because he was having difficulties with... something? Maybe I got that last part entirely skewed. All I know is that here we are. Phew. Still here. Remember when the url was diaries.suchisthis? For the last 10 minutes I've been going back in my entries and reminiscing all of my "art", thoughts, wants, fuck ups, and relationships. Funny story, that friend I used to mention here and there (Cory), we got married in 2012. Yeah, dreams do come true! lolz. It's weird and magical how things work out.

I see that I talked about smoking a lot previously. I "quit" smoking weed around a year/two ago. The last time I smoked I had a panic attack in the bathroom at work that morning. I've been going through a lot of things mentally for the past 5 years or so. It wasn't my first panic attack, but it the was the first in a long time. Started to get depressed. I remember going home and calling up my drug dealer J.R.(who you can never call your friend) and practically begging him to sell me something- a fucking joint at least, maybe not my usual ounce. I had previously talked to him about how I got back with my ex and we fell in love, got married. I told him how Cory didn't smoke so I told myself I would quit smoking. Get this: after I got off work and called J.R. he started a moral tirade of how you need to stay truthful to your spouse. True. I couldn't deny that, but I still asked, " A joint dude. A fucking joint. How are you going to have morals as a fucking drug dealer?" So the drug dealer with morals dropped his ethical act for a few minutes to meet with me.

When I got the joint back to my place I went into the kitchen and opened the window. I'm 5' and the kitchen windows started around 5'5" so I had to climb on a step stool to unlatch them. So there I am on a fucking stool lighting my last joint. We got to this point because of a panic attack, I kept telling myself. I propped one elbow on the window sill and my hand under my chin. I probably looked like a sad miserable fuck, but the smoke trails were calming. At that time in my life, weed was a "therapy" of sorts. I enjoyed it. I enjoyed every last pull. When Cory got home I told him what I had done. You know what? He was ok with it.

The house I just mentioned was part of historical downtown right smack in the heart of the city. It was the lowest rent I have ever paid. It was built in 1890 as a duplex. So when you walk in using the glass front door you're in the foyer and door 1 is to the left and door 2 is at the right side. (Side note: I bought pizza one time and when the delivery guy came he kept looking at the other door and finally said, "I keep expecting someone to pop out of this door.") When you enter our side of the house you're in the living room. You go through another door to the right and that's the bedroom. Go through a door and there is the kitchen. Go through a door and there is the bathroom... at the end of everything. For someone to use the restroom they had to go through our bedroom and kitchen. I loved it. In older homes they are built with such character. High ceilings and so many windows to let natural light in.

Right now we are renting a townhome twice the size of that downtown home. It's closer to Cory's job. We're saving up for a home right now. I'm trying to get a 20% downpayment and do the logical things. I have a few friends who bought homes in the past 2 years and have put anywhere from 5-10%. There is a running joke in my circle of friends saying that when it comes time to buy, we will probably be able to buy it in cash. Fuck me, right? And there's another thing happening right now- lots of people getting pregnant. For some, baby #2 is coming around. For me, I have 2 cats. Ha. My sister just had a baby boy in May. I was equally thrilled and scared holding him as he was just 5 days old when I was able to visit them. Cory doesn't want children. I don't need children. I'm pretty complacent right now with my life. I started seeing a therapist a year ago. Shit really helps like they said it does.

See, the hardest part about therapy is the very first fucking step: getting up and actually going. I had to make that effort myself. Cory suggested I see one years ago although he never pressured me. I eventually bucked up and did it. I have anxiety and depression. I don't know if the fucked up part is actually hearing what's "wrong" with you finally after years of wondering or... hoping that you were wrong. Guess what? Intuition is a bitch. We started with therapy first. I told myself I never wanted to take medication. So 9 months into therapy I felt like I couldn't make myself change. I still had thoughts that I felt like I shouldn't/didn't want to be having. I felt like I was trying so hard and yet I still couldn't feel "normal." My doctor prescribed 10mg of Lexapro in early September of last year. I struggled with the fact that I had to take meds to be a functioning human being. By early December I was taking 15mg. In January of this year I started taking 20mg. Then in the beginning of March I asked to go back down to 10mg gradually. My sister had a baby in May so I had to buy tickets to go up north for 8 days...

Our flight was at 6am that morning so we got up at 3:30am. I usually try to take my meds anywhere from 7:00-8:00am. Guess who forgot to take them at 7 in the haze of rushing to the airport? Yeah. FML. No big deal, I told myself. (See? Behavioral cognitive therapy was working. Don't panic.) We were to arrive at our layover in DC by 8. Once we got there I searched through my carry-on luggage semi-frantically. I couldn't find my fucking pills anywhere. Yeah. FML again. For the first time in over half a year I would not be taking medication continuously. 8 days. 8 days in a row. That's 1 day over a week. I mentally braced myself knowing that when I went from 20 to 10mg it wasn't that bad although it was still a struggle. Then again, it was a gradual progression. This was going to be a week of fucking nothing. The struggle was so real.

The crazy part was that when we got back from vacation I didn't feel like calling my doctor or therapist. I had been wanting to get off of meds in March, but knew it had to be a slow ordeal. I've pretty much stopped taking Lexapro now. It's been 5 weeks since that incident. At first I found it hard to fall asleep, but I'm back to feeling slightly normal again. I haven't told Cory that I stopped taking my meds. I felt like I was only showing withdrawal symptoms for the first 2 weeks. I can't imagine going from 20mg to nothing. Anyway, I'm still seeing my therapist every now and then. I can't commit to a weekly schedule. I try to go every 2 weeks now. It's something.

Ugh. I love how diaries evoke the most drama shit in your life. Other than obviously grown up shit, everything is going great. Seriously. Til next time... next month... or year.