My last pdoc appointment was 2 weeks ago. Thankfully, he didn’t mention ECT; instead, he put me on Pristiq, which he described as something like a purer form of Effexor though I’m not entirely sure what he meant. Effexor has worked really well for me in the past, so we decided to give this a try. Because I’d been feeling tired a lot, he decreased my nightly dose of Klonopin from 2mg. to 1mg.

Pristiq’s side effects, according to their site, include “dizziness, sweating, constipation, and decreased appetite.” I experienced all but the sweating. I also had others: nausea, extreme fatigue, dehydration, weakness (but that could be from the dehydration); I saw stars; I felt faint. I could barely get out of bed, and one day I didn’t get out of bed at all except to grab something to eat from the fridge and go to the bathroom. I felt awful. The pdoc told me to stick it out. So I did.

Yesterday was the first day I felt better. Today I feel even better. With some experimentation, I discovered that drinking coffee, especially in the afternoon, makes me see stars and feel faint. So no more afternoon lattes.

It’s been over 3 weeks since I’ve showered, which is a record for me. Good think I didn’t experience the sweating side effect. Haha! But I wash a bit in the tub every day and although I wore the same jammies for a week, at least I had clean underwear every day. Now I’m actually using face wipes and putting on my contacts, so that’s something. I’m determined to wash my hair and shower this weekend. (I only ever wash my hair once a week because it’s dry and curly, but I condition it every day.)

It helps that I’ve lost 8 lbs. in the past month, which means that I can actually wear stuff besides yoga pants, sweats, and pajamas because they have elastic waistbands. Of course, I did give up chocolate for Lent, we’ve been eating fewer carbs at night, Brian’s been practicing portion control, and we’re down to getting take-out twice a week at most. My appetite’s improved, but I’m trying to stop eating when I feel full.

Brian has work dinners tonight and tomorrow so I’m on my own. I’ll be scooping poop and feeding the cats and giving them their meds, which became his chores several years ago. Although I’d prefer to have Brian’s company, he’ll be out of town 2 nights next week, so this will be something of a dry run.

I’m doing my best not to be cynical and think the Pristiq will run its course. I’m enjoying each good day that I have. This morning I opened the living room blinds for the first time in almost a year.

Brian took a long lunch to drive me to the first session of my fitness class last week. Several times during the lecture portion I nearly burst into tears and started hyperventilating, manifestations of panic attacks for me. Luckily, closing my eyes and taking deep breaths prevented them. It was tough, though.

I had a feeling I’d be the youngest one in the class and I was. I also had a feeling I’d be the healthiest and I probably am, since some of the other members are there on doctors’ orders. By no means am I healthy, though. For almost a year all I’ve really done is move from the bed to my desk to the couch sometimes back to bed and almost always back to my desk. This past summer I did pretty well getting out of the house, but that was the exception rather than the norm.

Maybe because it was the first day of class, but it was more lecture than workout. Last week’s topic was balance and how your abs are basically key to having good balance, which I don’t have, really. I know, it’s weird considering I play hockey, but as the instructor said, lots of things can change your gait, like injuries. Goaltending has caused me to have trouble aligning my hips in yoga because even though I used to be able to do the splits on ice, my hips weren’t straight — they faced whatever direction the puck was in.

Anyway, the “workout” portion consisted of the instructor’s aide demonstrating floor/mat abs exercises; then we split into groups and were shown 3 different abs machines and how to use them. That was pretty helpful because any abs work I’ve done in the past was mat work.

So I thought this thing was only once a week. I was wrong. I had no idea we’d have homework, or “labs” as they like to call it. This week, it consists of taking at least one of a list of classes that help build core strength and working out on 3 of the abs machines. There are exercises you can do at home for extra credit, too. Here’s my problem: Brian drove me to that first class last week, and I should be able to drive myself to the gym once a week. But now it turns out I have to be there more often.

Aside from my whole driving issue, there’s the IBS issue because the classes are at times when I haven’t used the bathroom yet, or when I’m not even sure if I’ll need to go that day. Granted, you don’t have to complete the labs the week it’s assigned, but as the instructor said, if you wait until the last week, you’ll have a lot of catching up to do.

If you complete the class, which I assume means attending each session and doing the homework, you get a coupon book of perks and who knows what else. Brian reminded me that I’m not there for discounts nor is this for class credit. I’m trying to lower the unrealistically high expectations I have of myself, but going more than once a week to do the labs isn’t an expectation I’ve set for myself — it’s part of the class. There’s a part of me that wants to take this casually, but there’s also that competitive part of me that wants to complete everything — not even exceed the expectations, just meet them.

Taking this class was supposed to be a good thing, but right now I just feel inadequate. And I hate that the IBS is not something I can control.

Yesterday I wrote a post that included a picture that said, “Do one thing a day that scares you.” And although I agree with Heather that this probably isn’t possible for people who have really bad anxiety, it may not be practical for anybody, either. For example, the scary thing I did yesterday was finally getting my ass into the shower. No, the act didn’t terrify me, but just the thought of doing it — or not doing it, for that matter — increased my anxiety. So, that “scary thing” is different for everyone on different days and should be something realistic.

Brian and I made plans to go to my “new” gym to try a Group Kick class at 12:30pm. After thinking it through this morning, I realized that it probably wasn’t realistic and there’s no way I could make it an entire hour kicking and boxing and whatever else they do. So I suggested we take the Group Step class at 9:30am instead. How hard could that be? You just step up and down on this step thing. Besides, I’d already used the bathroom so any anxiety about having frantic scary urges because of the IBS was out of the way. Neither of us has taken any aerobics classes before and Brian never would other than for moral support.

I packed my gym bag so I could shower there to make sure I was totally OK with the facilities and besides, I’d be less likely to shower at home later no matter how stinky I was. By the time we got into the car, I didn’t think we’d make it in time. Besides, Brian didn’t have a free pass — he’d have to sign up for a guest pass and who knew how long that would take? I wanted to make sure we had a spot in the way back of the room.

There was no parking. I changed my mind and told Brian to head home, even though that wasn’t what I wanted to do. So we drove around until we found street parking. We were late. One of the employees walked me up to where the class was taking place and I could clearly see through the plate glass into the studio that the class was well on its way. Luckily, there was a chair just outside the door. I collapsed into it and burst into tears. Right there. At the gym. In front of the gym employee, and where I was convinced the people nearby and in the class could see me blubbering like an idiot about how there was no way I could do that class, I was too uncoordinated, and so on. I couldn’t even tell which one was the instructor! And Brian hadn’t even come up from the men’s locker room yet.

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For someone who has pretty bad anxiety, to the point where you’re almost agoraphobic, this is a good thing to do. Still, just the thought of doing one scary thing a day causes me anxiety. My heart starts racing a little and my mind starts racing a lot, trying to think of different things that would qualify as scary for me.

I’ve been driving on Lake Shore Drive once a week now for 3 or 4 weeks to see my therapist. That was scary the first time I did it. Making the commitment to return to regular therapy was scary, but one I’ve been doing well at. When I first started going I took the El on my own, which was also scary, especially because I haven’t ridden it in years and they’ve remodeled a lot of the stations. Going to the dentist for a few appointments by myself was scary. Anyway, I’ve been doing quite a few scary things in recent months, but not one a day. I guess you have to start somewhere.

Yesterday I did a really scary thing. In fact, it was so scary that I was very close to tears as I drove and nearly had an anxiety attack, even after I arrived. The previous day I made the decision to attend a Stretch class at that gym I visited over the weekend. When yesterday morning came along, I didn’t think I could do it. Then I was afraid I’d be late. Shortly after I got into the car, I realized that I left my cell phone at home, but I knew that if I went back for it I wouldn’t go back out. Several times during the 10-minute drive there, I seriously considered turning around and going home.

I made it in plenty of time and thankfully found a parking space in the lot. The woman who gave us the tour on Saturday was glad to see me. I introduced myself to the instructor, which is what you’re supposed to do when you’re new to a class. I explained to her about my anxiety and she assured me the class would help, which it did. I was a little uncomfortable because it was more crowded than I expected, but I found a space for myself in the back of the room.

The stretching exercises were wonderful, but I admit that my mind was racing the entire time. The class was only 30 minutes and I considered using the treadmill afterwards, but the instructor advised that it’s better to do cardio before stretching. Excellent, I thought. Besides, I figured, I accomplished my goal for the day. I did one scary thing.

photo [via]

On the way to Borders this past Saturday, Brian and I spontaneously — well, OK, I was the one who made the decision — paid a visit to a nearby health club that’s connected/affiliated with a hospital. The facilities are on the same campus.

This health club holds a ton of appeal for me: it’s closer; they focus on the mind and body and overall wellness; if something happens, the hospital’s right there; and most important, the client demographics are much more varied than the already skinny young set of yuppies at our current health club. I didn’t mind working out there when I weighed 112 lbs. In fact, I weighed about as much as I do now when I first started going there, but it’s…I don’t know. I’m so incredibly self-conscious. And I feel horrible that I’ve regained all that weight.

Anyway, this new place is going to start an 8-week long, one-hour program that includes both exercise and discussion about eating properly, eating due to stress, etc. It sounds perfect for me, but it hasn’t started yet.

The place itself meets my standards in terms of cleanliness and the equipment I’d use, and the person who gave us the tour didn’t make me wait for 2 hours like “Brett” (not his real name but close) with the fancy goatee at our current gym. When I finally said something to him, he gave me some lame excuse about not realizing why I was there. Whatever, Brett. Fuck you. And yeah, I really did wait 2 hours. Granted, the woman on Saturday was definitely a salesperson, but she seemed to have my health interests in mind.

I now have 2 free passes to use in the next 30 days. I really wanted to go to the Stretch and Tone class yesterday, a low-key class to get me started up again on increasing my flexibility. I wanted to try out the tai chi class today. I chickened out. I’ve never been to group classes at the gym and always made sure to work out when most people were at work. This class thing though — that means other people and I have horrible social anxiety. I don’t even know how I made it to the few yoga classes I took last year or whenever that was, let alone martial arts.

Brian offered to join for a month so he could accompany me, just to get me started. The problem is, the classes wouldn’t interest him and anyway, they’re during the day while he’s at work. I’m sure he’d join to use the machines, but the reason he goes to our old gym is because they have pick-up basketball. Recently, he’s started working out on our stationary bike that we bought for me a while back, and I’m actually jealous.

Anyway, I’m also looking into Weight Watchers. I’ve spoken to a few people about their experiences with it and both have been positive. I meant to go to the drop-in open house thingy at a nearby location this past weekend, but I chickened out, surprise, surprise. I rationalized this by telling myself that I visited that health club on Saturday; but I really did and that’s a step.

All I know is that I’m tired of looking the way that I do, and I’m definitely tired of the way I look makes me feel. I’ve always been the type of person whose mindset is, “If you don’t like something, quit your bitching and do something about it.” But I can’t. It’s not even that I can’t because I have in the past, but now I’m terrified. Absolutely terrified. And in the meantime, this terror and anxiety has me eating shit that I should be staying the hell away from.