Thanksgiving Trip... That wasn't so bad.

Last night, we got back from NY.  It ended up being really fun - not scary like I thought.  After all this time, you would think I would realize my anxieties are all in my head.  It seems to take facing my fears to get over it every time.  As I said in the last post, I wanted to vomit before we left.  When my boy and I went to the airport Tuesday night, I was sweating uncontrollably.  I couldn't cool off or relax.  We had a drink in the airport bar before our flight, and some other patron at the bar asked us how long we had been dating and how often we had sex.  My face turned beet red, of course.  We said we wouldn't answer, but he kept prodding.  Andrew said we were waiting for marriage and the guy just laughed... and then made fun of my red face some more.  He said something about my embarassment not being a good sign for meeting the future in-laws.  That didn't help at all.  Finally we finished our drinks and left the bar to get on our flight.  After the $8 drink on the plane, I finally calmed down.  We got to NY around 12:00 P.M., and Andrew's dad and his sister's boyfriend picked us up.  We drove the twenty minutes to their house, but it was dark so I didn't see much; and it was late, so we didn't say very much.  When we got to the house, we had a glass of wine and chatted a little before hitting the hay.
Wednesday, we started the morning with champagne.  Of course, when I woke up I showered, fixed my hair, and put on make-up before leaving the bedroom.  I knew I would feel more comfortable if I looked decent, even though Andrew said everyone would get dressed later.  He and I took a little drive around the villages in the area.  It was so upstate New York: beautiful greenery even though the trees were all bare; and cute New-England-style panel siding houses.  There weren't any big department stores or six lane roads in that area, which kept the small town feeling.  They live on the outskirts of the village, which I guess is a suburb of Syracuse.  It was almost country, which felt so relaxing and quaint for the holiday.  Unfortunately, there was no snow yet, but it was pretty cold.  Anyways, Andrew's mother was working, so the rest of us met her for lunch.  So far, so good.  We went to an Italian restaurant (duh) for lunch and had three appetizers, two bottles of wine, six meals, and sambuca.  I ordered baked ziti because I don't really like tomato sauce and I figured that would have enough cheese to make it tolerable.  Andrew made merciless fun of me, but it turned out pretty good.  Oh - and the appetizers were delicious.
After lunch, we went home for a nap.  Around dinner time, everyone slowly re-congregated in the living room to watch a movie, have drinks, and eat real NY pizza.  Yum!  Their family plays cards, and wanted to play after the movie.  I was dreading this, and fortunately it was late enough that everyone was okay with going to bed when the movie ended.  I had a gross cold, so I just wanted to lie down and rest.  Andrew took good care of me, bringing me cold medicine and water and tissues when I went to bed. 
Thursday (Thanksgiving!!!) started the same way.  I showered and dressed before emerging from the room so that I didn't feel groggy and gross.  They are all up by 7:30 or 8:00, and I am NOT a morning person.  I had to drag myself out of bed every morning, but going to bed at 9 helped.  Anyways, so Thursday morning we ate thick, Amish bacon and drank champagne before heading to the grandma's house.  Andrew's parents grew up in the same neighborhood and have been together since middle school, which is too cute.  They are always calling each other names and making fun of each other, but it's all joking.  I guess you just have to not take anything personally in their family.  Andrew's dad's two sisters and their families all came for the feast.  It was the same thing: everyone telling each other they were ugly and stupid and what not.  It was all in good fun though.  I feel like that might be how my family turns out if we ever get married and have kids and stuff.  My brothers' families and my family would all come to my parents' house and make fun of each other but it would be fun and jovial.  It makes me realize what happened to my parents' relationship with my dad's family, though.  My mom always said they were mean, but they are Italian and I wonder if she just took all the jokes personally.  It seems to me that it would be hard to meld into that without getting your feelings hurt, especially if your family isn't that way.  If we make fun of my mom, she gets really mad.  I think it's because if her family did that, they meant it; now she can't not take it personally. 
Back to Thanksgiving.  The dinner was turkey, mashed potatoes, green beans, corn, mashed sweet potatoes with orange juice in them, mushy, sticky stuffing, cranberry sauce, dinner rolls, and artichokes in marinera(!).  Apparently, the artichokes are a family tradition, but Andrew's sister's boyfriend and I didn't know what they were or how to eat them.  I tried cutting it - that didn't work.  I was like "how am I supposed to eat this thing?" and they told me to pull off the leaves and "suck off the goodness".  Andrew's sister's boyfriend tried to eat the leaf and ended up chewing it for a half hour before spitting it out.  I "sucked off the goodness" for like three leaves before I got tired of sauce dripping down my arms for a little taste of artichoke.  One of the cousins had a tower of artichoke leaves (is that what they're called?) on his plate.  I'm thinking all he ate was artichokes.  For dessert, they had ice cream pie (YUM!), pumpkin pie, apple pie, and Andrew's beloved cheesecake.  (Just for clarification, my family eats fried turkey, cornbread and sausage dressing, green beans, biscuits, arugula salad, and sweet potatoes with brown sugar crust for dinner and pecan pie, pumpkin pie, and poundcake for dessert.  North vs. south, I guess.)  One of the aunts was really nice.  She kept checking on me to make sure I had what I needed, yelled at Andrew for sitting down when I had to stand, and clued me in to the jokes and stories when I didn't know what they were talking about.  I definitely liked her.  That's another different thing, though: they always take care of themselves before guests.  I don't know if it's a northern thing or an italian thing, but my mom talked about how my dad's family does it, too.  They serve themselves, sit down first, etc. when there are guests.  We were always taught that guests come first.  If you run out of food or chairs or whatever it may be, the guest gets it and you go without.  I guess it's just a difference in culture.  Andrew's sister and her boyfriend left to go visit his family further north.  Andrew's parents, he, and I went home around 3 or 4 and took another nap.  I kept getting light headed, probably from the stress of being around all the new people and being kind of sick.  The nap helped, though.  When we woke up, they wanted to play cards.  It ended up being Andrew's dad and me against Andrew and his mom.  I was kind of nervous about fucking up and getting made fun when I made his dad and I lose.  After a rule refresher and a bottle of champagne, though, it ended up being really fun.  That's what happened the last time I played cards with Andrew, his sister, and her boyfriend, too.  I was dreading and dreading it because I hate games, but it ended up being really fun.  I think that's just one of those things that I have to force myself to do without getting hung up on what could happen (like losing).  I mean really, what's the worst that could happen? It's a game!
So cards ended up being fun, and we went to bed after a few games.  It was only like 9:30, but I guess when you get up at 7 you have to go to bed earlier.  Again, Andrew loaded me up with plenty of water, tissues, and cold meds before we tucked into bed.  In the morning, we woke up to fresh snow!  It was the first snow of the season, and it was gorgeous.  It was so romantic to wake up and look out at the crisp white world.  I finally was comfortable enough to go to the kitchen in my pj's, sans shower and make-up.  Andrew poured me some champagne, but all the cold medicine and alcohol was taking a toll on me and every sip made me feel more and more light-headed and dizzy.  Andrew's dad made eggs with ham and swiss and more thick fatty bacon.  After breakfast, we got dressed and Andrew took me to see the windmills.  He said he usually drives to them by looking for them  and driving in that direction, but it was so cloudy that we couldn't see them at all.  We drove around for like an hour before he finally google-mapped it on his phone.  We followed the directions, but we still couldn't see them when they were only like 100 feet away from us.  There was a little exhibit-type-thing in front of one, so we parked and tried to walk to it.  There was only a couple inches of snow, but that was enough to make the ground patchy in snow and puddles.  It was still raining/snowing at this point.  Unfortunately, my winter shoes in Florida are not really winter shoes up North.  I couldn't walk through the snow to get to the windmill, so Andrew piggy-backed me.  I am not tiny, so having him carry me was really romantic.  We stood as close to under it as we could, and still barely could see the top through the clouds.  It was freezing in the rain/snow so we ran back to the car after just a few minutes.  My shoes soaked through, and we cranked up the heat in the car to warm up.  We drove home, got our suitcases, and headed for the airport.  On the way, we stopped for lunch and his parents ordered fried zucchini.  Andrew got frustrated trying to eat them and threw his back on the plate.  He's so funny - he get's so upset over things like that.  I still didn't feel very good, and was happy to be heading home when we got to the airport. 
All in all, the trip was really fun.  His family is so different than mine, but they are both fun.  Our holidays are just my siblings, parents, and sometimes my grandma.  We drink a couple drinks and fight as much as we laugh.  It should be interesting having Andrew at my house for Christmas.  I think he's going to be disappointed.  This year, it will probably only be one brother, my parents, and my grandma, so it will be pretty boring.  I guess it's all up to Andrew and I took make it a party.  Again, I am glad I didn't let my nervousness get in the way.  His parents were very welcoming, so it was easy to be comfortable around them.  But I also think I did a good job of doing what I needed to in order to let myself relax. Of course the constant drinking helped.  I think this was another step in the right direction: I am becoming a happy, healthy adult with a great boyfriend at my side.  Every day and every experience makes me a little stronger.

Thanksgiving is Cooommmmming!!

I want to marry this boy.  I am so in love right now, I can barely stand it!  I'm about to go up to New York to meet his family.  This sort of makes me want to vomit because I am incredibly shy, but I know I can do it.  Really, I'm just worried that I won't be myself.  I'll be super quiet and when we leave they are going to say "I guess she's nice.  She never actually talked, so it's hard to say if we liked her or not."  I want to be normal and fun and witty.  Hopefully I will be calm enough and tipsy enough to let loose.  I've been taking pictures of myself in the mirror in my outfits and emailing them to my mom so she can tell me if they look good.  I think she's the only one who will tell me honestly, but she's two hours away.  Thank god for the internet!  What I have learned through all this is that if I feel confident I am much more likely to let loose and be myself.  In order to feel confident, I need to feel like I look my best.  It also always helps to have a supportive friend/boyfriend at my side.  I think I have both of these things now: boyfriend to hold my hand and encourage me; and good outfits, makeup, and hair so that I feel my best. 
When I was depressed, I had a huge self-esteem issue.  As I said before, I was obese because my depression made me eat more (I think they call that atypical depression symptoms) and I was on medicine that had weight gain side effects.  I regret ever taking that medicine.  All it did was make me more tired than I was before, more lazy than I was before, and fatter than I was before.  Let's get one thing straight, my whole life I was a little overweight - "chunky" you might say.  It runs in my family.  We like food.  So when I got sick, I stopped trying to keep my weight down.  Eating made me feel better.  The depression was sucking up any energy I had, so carbs and sugar spurred some activity and made me feel a little better.  Then I was put on a medication that either changed my metabolism or created more cravings.  I'm not sure exactly how it worked, but I gained 20 pounds in the three months I was on it.  Later, when I was at the clinic, some of the other patients were put on it and they would spend all their free time in the snack room scrounging for food.  Just hours after dinner I watched them scarfing down chips and cookies and Ramen noodles like they had never eaten before.  I thanked god that I wasn't on it anymore and refused to ever try it again.
My point, I guess, is that being that overweight just made my depression and self-esteem worse.  Not only did I think I was a waste of life, but now I felt like a disgusting, ugly, fat-ass on top of it.  Gosh, I can't believe how much I hated myself. 
Even now, I am not skinny, but I feel beautiful 90% of the time.  Like most women, I would love to be like 15 or 20 pounds skinnier, but if I never get it off, I can be happy where I am.  I have learned to love my body and myself.  Of course, it helps that my boy tells me how beautiful I am and that he loves my body.  It's hard to feel fat when the person you love tells you you're perfect just the way you are.  Hence why I love him.  (Well, there are some other reasons too). 
I feel really good about this holiday.  I have never spent a Thanksgiving or Christmas without my family, but I think it's going to go well.  My parents aren't doing anything anyway because one of my brothers is going to his friends' thanksgiving, and the other is out at sea with the Navy.  That leaves my sister, but she doesn't have a car and can't drive home.  So basically, I'm not missing out on anything.  It will be weird to eat northern Thanksgiving instead of the southern staples, though.  I guess that's going to come up when dating a northern boy; I should get used to it.  I can't wait to write about that whole thing!  New York-Italian family celebrating a holiday.  It should be fun... slash funny.  Wish me luck!

Research Experience

I am currently a psychology major doing research in a university psychology lab.  Our current study has to do with rejection and pain.  Basically, there are two theories about the effects of social rejection.  The one we are studying focuses on the body's physical reaction.  When the body is hurt (a cut, for example), it produces extra neurotransmitters to numb the injured area so that it can heal.  Well, this theory says that the same affects happen when a person encounters emotional pain.  Things like social rejection or just deep emotional pain are thought to induce the same numbness.  We are "rejecting" people and testing their physiological responses to loud noise.  My lab instructor believes that after feeling rejected they will have little or no response to a frightening noise.  I will have to post when we have some data, but of course this is just one experiment in the works to learn more about it.
Anyways, I think this is incredibly interesting because when I was in deep emotional pain during my depression, I was cutting myself often.  I didn't feel the pain like I would now.  It was weird.  I did it because it gave me a rush of good feeling (that would be the neurotransmitters released to protect the wound), but it never really hurt like a normal cut does now.  I can't wait to see the results of this study.  It should be really interesting and I wonder if they have applied it to self-injury and depression's emotional pain.  I think I will look into this more and report if I find anything.

Yipes!

Wow! Tomorrow I am going to New York with my boyfriend for Thanksgiving.  We have been dating for about five months now, and its going fantastically.  We actually met on Match.com.  I am sort of embarrassed to admit that, but it doesn't seem like such a big deal in this day and age.  I was really reluctant to go on, but was also desparate for a decent relationship.  Because of my depression, I didn't date at all from the time I graduated high school (2004) until I came to back to college (2008).  While I was depressed, I gained a ton of weight, so when I started getting better I started losing it.  Over one year (starting the day I was weighed in at the inpatient clinic) I lost 70 pounds.  All of a sudden, when I went out, guys looked at me and paid attention to me and bought me drinks. It could have been because I was skinny, or it could have been because my confidence was sky-rocketing.  It's hard to separate but the bottom line is that I was happy and I was getting male attention.  Unfortunatetly, these still weren't the guys I wanted.
I went on a couple dates with a guy I met at a bar.  It ended up being a bust.  He was a total pothead and I'm pretty sure he was snorting coke in the bathroom while we were out.  I don't do drugs, and I never have, soooo that didn't work out so well.
After reading that, you probably wouldn't expect the relationship that came next.  Maybe I can explain it.  My friend and I went to Key West for Christmas break last year.  While there, I was given some pretty direct attention from guys.  It made me feel like I was finally where I wanted to be my whole life as far as being skinny and fun.  I got back to school in January (we're in 2009 now) and started on the prowl.  Within two weeks I found a boyfriend, but again, it was at a bar.  Big mistake. 
He was 29, and hanging at a college bar.  That should have raised questions, but I wanted someone so bad.  Immediately I knew there was something bizarre.  He lived with his parents; and about two weeks after we started dating he quit his job for no real reason.  He didn't sleep at night and said he took Xanax for his terrible anxiety.  Bull shit.  I've been prescribed xanax, and when I was in the clinic they told me no one prescribes that anymore because it is too addictive to actually help the problems.  Still, I let things slide.  Slowly but surely the proof started piling up.  He was a fucking drug addict, so his sister and I forced him (literally, like dragged him by his boot strings) to rehab.  He stayed 18 days out of the 21 MINIMUM, 28 recommended.  Why did I give him another chance? I don't know, maybe because I invested so much in trying to fix him.  Long story short, the day after he got out of rehab, we went to a movie and he left me in the theater to go get high.  Yeah.  So that was that.  I think I broke up with him every other day the entire four months we were dating.  Ridiculous. 
Luckily, after that fiasco and the wasted tears, I realized that I was way better than that.  I wanted someone real and sweet and responsible.  I wanted someone who would treat me like a princess.  This is where match.com comes in.  So my sister (yikes that's a whole other story) was staying with me while I'm getting through this break up.  I changed my phone number and everything to get away from the creepster, but somehow kept talking to him.  He pissed me off more and more until I start thinking it may not even be worth it to look for someone again.  I mean by the time you find out what the person is really like (aka if they do drugs or beat women or... love men...) you've already invested all that time and all your heart.  I thought there had to be a better way.  My sister said it would be fun to go on match.com and look at the "losers' profiles".  Well I started looking and was like "these aren't really losers.  I could definitely date these people."  So I signed up.  Of course, my profile page said "I DONT do drugs" or something along those lines.  I felt it was necessary to get that out there.  I answered a lot of emails on there, but only followed through with a few dates.  It didn't take much to know what clicked. 

Symptom Checker

I saw a commercial for WebMD this morning.  They have a symptom checker for depression.  I went on and tried it out, and it looks decent.  It asked more true/false questions about the facts of depression than my actual symptoms, but that was because I don't have many anymore.  I took it again reporting the symptoms I used to have, and it gave me a lot of good information.  I think it's a helpful tool for anyone wanting to know more about their sickness and when to get help. 

http://www.webmd.com/depression/depression-health-check/default.htm?promo=1

Let's get this started!

I think this is going to be a long post since I have to start by explaining everything.  I've never written a blog before, and I'm not sure that anyone will even read it.  I just thought I'd give this a try because I know when I was sick I searched all over the internet for help and understanding.  I hope this helps someone somewhere. 
So, I'm figuring that I will give a brief overview in this first post and address the details of my story as life happens. 
I am a 23 year-old college student in Florida.  I was born and raised in the same town with the same people.  When I was 18, I went to college 900 miles away where I knew NO ONE.  At the same time, my parents moved 5 hours from the town I grew up in to a city I had never even been to.  Apparently, these changes were a little too much for me. 
Over the first 2 1/2 years of college, I slowly sunk into a deep depression.  As with most depression, it was only worsened by growing anxiety.  By the end of my freshman year, I was routinely slicing up my arms.  Eventually I was put on a variety of medications that were only making my symptoms worse.  In December of 2006, I overdosed on medication.
That first attempt was not handled well, and only made me more resolved to kill myself.  I left school and moved into my parents' house, but was still extremely sick.  The following May (2007), I attempted suicide again.  This attempt was much worse.  It sparked a flurry of responses from my parents and doctors to finally get me good, real help.  I was placed in a crisis center for two weeks, and then moved directly into an inpatient rehab type facility for three and a half months.  When I finally left, I started seeing an AMAZING therapist who did everything under the sun to help me.  She forced me to get a job, volunteer, take tennis lessons, and start running all in the same month.  These were integral steps towards my recovery. 
In August 2008, I was able to go back to college.  Of course, this time I stayed in my home state and went somewhere fairly close to my parents.  They were nervous about this transition after my history.  The first few months away were very difficult.  I had been in therapy for almost three years, and when I went back to college it stopped abruptly.  My therapist from home encouraged me to call her everytime I needed support, but it was still hard.  All in all, the first few months did not go well.  I had several breakdowns, started starving and bingeing and purging, and eventually overdosed again.  I was put back in a crisis center for three days and it was then that I realized I did not want to do this anymore.  I was done with being depressed and anxious and sick.  I wanted to be normal again.