Dangerously On Again

I feel like I had the best sex of my life last night. And I didn't have sex.

This is why expectations are the worst ideas in the world. When you have great expectations, and they're not met, you're thrown into a bout of disappointment that's hard to pull yourself out of. When you have bad expectations, it paralyzes you and you can literally create the outcome you so vigorously feared.

I can honestly, truly say that this was the greatest weekend so far of 2010, even though it started out with a Panic Attack so epic that I thought my subsequent weeks to months were ruined. The reason my weekend ended up being so great was because I defied my own expectations.

Before I continue any further, I promise, promise for any new readers coming in, tonight I'm going to be placing TAGS on all my posts thus far, because my story is a pretty detailed one, and if you're jumping in straight in the middle, I wouldn't want you to have missed any of the good stuff. And things are just getting good again.

Spring's coming. It was almost 50 degrees this weekend and will almost be 60 today and tomorrow. I didn't even have any trouble waking up this morning. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. It's one of this sickeningly happy mornings that you only see in the movies. Since spring is just around the corner...let's consider this the end of Season 1 of [My Own Voice Over] and the premiere of Season 2.

See how I did that? Seasons? Because Spring is a season? Aren't I clever?

For anyone following, you're probably wondering how my evening went with OAOA. Things have been rocky and emotional between us to say the least, especially since the her trip to the ER, which I thought was an amazing time and actually wasn't.

Well last night actually was an amazing time.

We were going to the Continental Midtown, which is a snazzy joint, so I wanted to look nice, but I didn't want to get too dressed up, because I didn't want her to think it was a date. But I also didn't want to dress down too much so it would seem like I didn't care. I said "Screw it" and went with what I felt comfortable with. You can't go wrong with a nice button-down, jeans, and solid shoes.

It was a really nice, quiet evening at the Continental, low music, low lighting, small crowd...we found a cozy corner on a tiny couch, her sipping on a sweet Martini, me relishing in a glass of Cabernet, the both of us celebrating our recent career successes. There wasn't a moment we weren't smiling. There wasn't a moment we weren't giggling or joking or looking attentively into the others' eyes, listening as hard as we could to what the other had to say. We ordered cheesecake and shared it together. We took pictures of the two of us on our phones. I felt confident, secure, and alive...I felt happy.

I know she's not my girlfriend. I know she doesn't want that from me. And as much as I'm in love with her and want that from her, I haven't given up because I believed there was something worth saving in there, and that just because she was a female, doesn't mean she couldn't be one of the closest friends I have. The connection we have is one I haven't had with anyone else, and I know she feels the same, even though not in a romantic manner. Last night proved to myself that I respected her boundaries and gave her the space she wanted enough to trust me again...and maybe we really are "On Again" as best friends.

I know I make her out to be this confusing, wicked female on here sometimes, someone who is dead set on making my head spin, but I wasn't so wonderful to her either in the six months we've known each other. I've been overbearing, melodramatic, needy, clingy...all those things a girl never wants. The reason I believe we keep giving each other second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth chances is because we know there's something great there that shouldn't be discarded...it just needs to be worked on.

As I spoke of in My Role As Friend and also more privately discussed with My First Internet Enemy (whom I miss...Katie if you're reading this, come say hi!) everybody has a specific role in our lives, whether we realize it or not. And MFIE noted to me that while I'm looking for that one person to fill ALL my needs, find people that can fill singular needs in your life, and build and foundation that way.

OAOA fills a big role in my life...some way, some how. And I'm looking forward to see how Pam fits into the whole picture. :)

Happy Spring, all. It's going to be a good season. :)

-Spontaneous K

The Truth About My "Illness"

In my "About Me" I claim that I'm a lot like JD from Scrubs. And I am. I'm goofy, I'm a bit of a woman, I have man-love for the guys in my life...I don't land as many ladies in bed as he does, but I certainly mess up relationships as regularly as he does...and he's constantly on the prowl for approval from friends and mentors.

Unfortunately, TV Land is nothing like Real Life Land...I wanted to write just now that RLL is a helluva lot worse than TVL, but it's not. It just has a lot more to offer, and some of those things can be pretty harsh and unwelcoming. While a situation like the one I have with OAOA would work perfectly well in a sitcom...what I've been dealing with for the past couple months simply wouldn't. See, there's nothing too happy or too funny that you can't put into a sitcom...but there are some things that are too hard to touch on, even for Scrubs, which deals with death and pain on a regular basis.

Maybe I'm not giving Scrubs enough credit. Anyways, here's the deal.

I'm dealing with an acute case of Panic Disorder/Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. As much as I want to portray my life on here as fun and interesting and exciting...which it is...there's also this part of me that has been struggling more than I've ever struggled in my life, and I haven't talked about it on here in fear of losing readers. But it occurred to me that the whole reason I started this blog in the first place was to help myself get out all of the emotions that I have no where to place...the emotions that some of my friends and family, and people like OAOA, just won't understand.

I had Panic Attacks when I was much younger, in my earlier teens, but they subsided with some medication. The depression, however, was something that I continued to struggle with way up until, well, now. Depression is an ugly beast. It can incapacitate you in ways you didn't think possible. But I've discovered recently that there are other ways to be incapacitated that make depression seem like a better option.

I'm not a drug user. Never have been, never will be. So whatever prompted me to try a hallucinogenic drug called Salvia right before the new year is beyond me. It was supposed to be this calming, out of body, spiritual experience...I suppose for someone who is in the right state of mind. Unfortunately, my experience was the opposite. It was the most terrifying thing that I had ever been through, and I panicked so greatly, wanting it to be over that had my friend not been there to watch me, I might not be sitting here writing these words to you.

In the subsequent weeks, I had flashbacks to the trip, severe panic attacks, and persistent symptoms of vertigo, numbness, tingling, dissociation, hot flashes. One flashback was so bad that I took myself straight to the ER.

I was pretty sure that I had done something permanent to myself. That I had altered my brain chemistry, unlocked some latent psychosis or schizophrenia, and that I was permanently damaged. I was in danger of becoming agoraphobic. I couldn't go out for extended periods of time, I couldn't see my friends, I constantly felt terribly physically ill...in every sense of the word I thought my life was over because of a stupid mistake I made.

And of course, OAOA wasn't there for me when I needed her most.

I saw every doctor to make sure I was okay. I saw a neurologist, I saw an optometrist, I saw an Ear, Nose, Throat Doctor, I'm seeing a Psychiatrist, and I had my blood taken to make sure everything was working properly.

All tests came back immaculate. I'm the healthiest 25 year old on the planet. I don't have to see another doctor for another five years, and my psychiatrist is assuring me I'm not schizo. She hasn't even diagnosed me with anything in particular, Panic Disorder and Post Traumatic Stress are my own diagnoses based on my symptoms and what I've read on the internet. She just has "General Anxiety" written down. Apparently I'm making a huge mountain out of a molehill.

But how could I not? I saw the end of my life. I literally thought that in mere moments I would lose control and be dead. And that memory lingers on within me.

This past week, the symptoms started to subside. I started to feel myself again. I went out to that show with OAOA, had my first beer in nine weeks, and I didn't freak out. THAT situation above all should have made me freak out. But it didn't. So I felt capable. I felt back on track.

Last night was supposed to be a guy's night. Five of us were going to get together at my best friend Dan's...the place where the whole bad trip went down in the first place...have a few beers and then head out into the city. I was really looking forward to it, because I hadn't had a night like that in months. I should have known better though. Merely talking about the experience is enough to induce a flashback/panic attack to the whole experience, so actually being in the location that it happened with the person that it happened is a recipe for disaster. Ever since, I had had trouble going back into his apartment. There were times where I literally waited outside for him to go in and get something, because I just couldn't step foot. Then again, there were times where I successfully spent hours there...stressful hours...but still, no panic.

Last night though, I was there for 15 minutes, and then BOOM. I was back into having the salvia trip. Dan and I were in the middle of a conversation and I said to him "Excuse me, I'm having a panic attack." And he was just like "Ooookay."

The whole experience lasted maybe fifteen to thirty seconds. I stepped out of his apartment and sat down on the steps in the hallway, closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths, and willed it away. But I was shaking. I was petrified. I knew I was going to be okay, but I had no interest in hanging out any longer, I wanted to go home, somewhere safe, and just...be.

Two of my friends, who were not friends with Dan, were supposed to be coming over to help show Dan's new friend around Philadelphia. When I canceled, the other two didn't come, leaving just Dan with his friend. I felt completely awful.

I spent the evening ruminating on how well I had done recently, how I took a huge step back, how I completely ruined a friend's evening, and acted out of control. That just made it worse. Sometimes I have tiny panic attacks that are easy for me to deal with, so easy that I don't even have to mention to anyone that I'm having them...but when I have one as strong as the one I did last night...well, I feel like it sets me back twenty steps. I feel like the day after I had the original bad trip. Like my life is in complete disarray and there's nothing I can do to fix it.

I'm supposed to go out tonight to my friend Andrew's birthday, about an hour away from my apartment. It scares me to want to go that far in case I feel the need to leave. Dan's apartment was literally around the corner from mine and I couldn't stay. Granted, his apartment is the trigger of all triggers...it's the place where all my current fears were unlocked, and I haven't had a panic attack NEARLY that bad in a place that wasn't his, or when I wasn't around him. So I'm sure I'll be okay. What kills me is that, right now, I can't be around my best friend or the place where he lives...

And it doesn't change the fact that I'm scared. Truly scared. I know I can't go back and change it...but of all the things in my life I wish I hadn't done, whether they were bad financial decisions, bad relationship decisions, or whatever...I wish I had never taken that drug.

Some days I feel like I've got all the strength in the world to get over this.

Today I don't.

-K

P.S. Regarding Pam, I emailed her when I got finished with OAOA, sent her something real nice, and asked if she wanted to get a cup of coffee with me on Sunday. I haven't heard from her. I know I'm not supposed to over-analyze, perhaps she's just busy...but I was hoping to hear from her again. Not a good Friday.