Nuts in Nederland

There's just so much going on in my world. Between work, taking care of the children/house, running errands, keeping up with appointments and obligations, I feel like the only time I sit is when I am eating. I've been going non-stop for the last month and the list keeps growing.

Looking for a job takes time, especially applying for jobs. For the most part, I am trying to just do the best I can while I still have a job and keeping the idea in my head that "everything always works out." I fluctuate between feeling defeated and feeling hopeful that most of the time I just try to take care of today. Like Scarlett O'Hara said, Tomorrow is another day.

My "to do" list which I compile via Rember The Milk is divided up into different categories: Go, Do, Call, PTA and Work. I print these sheets out, staple them together and often refer to them throughout my day checking off items as I go. As the list gets smaller, I delete items online and re-print more sheets. I like the idea of having something tangible in my hands that gives me a clear view of what needs to get done. Somehow, though, no matter how much I accomplish the list continues to grow. There used to be a time in my life when this idea would be my obsession, the one thing that would cause me great anxiety, and the reoccuring thought that at least when I died my "to do" list would stop. Yes, this is how it was to live with OCD.

I'm still meticulously organized, make lists, and need things to be a certain way. That is just part of my character. However, the big difference is there is a STOP switch in my head and I can let things go without feeling overwhelmed or anxious. That's what Zoloft has done for me. I now have the control to stop myself. Before Zoloft, there was no limit.

I still have my moments of non-stop, go, go, go, do, do, do, get-it-all-done-today-before-you-die thoughts, but those are very few and far between. I used to feel as if I had to get as much done on my "to do" list as I could, because if I were to die today I wouldn't want anyone to have to pick up the pieces of my incompleteness. INCOMPLETENESS. That is the key word. My word had to be COMPLETE. The toilet paper stacker had to be full, the soap dispenser had to be full, and the trash had to be emptied. EVERYDAY.

I still do these things from time to time, but it's not a daily routine. And I don't feel this URGE to do it and if I don't life will be so chaotic because my world is not complete.

I lived in this world for over 30 years and I never realized how abnormal it was. This was my normalcy. This was all I knew. But Zoloft gave me a sense of how the "normal people" live. And guess what? It's pretty nice. Gee, now I see just how screwed up I really was. It's no wonder so many people just didn't "get" me and why I chose to live alone for eight years. I knew I would drive anyone mad who dared tried to put the dairy products on the shelf in the refrigerator next to the grape jam. That's the CONDIMENT section, thankyouverymuch.

So, yes, I was a bit quirky. But without people knowing it, I was a mental mess inside my head. My thoughts were always racing and I had the feeling I had to say everything I thought in order to empty my brain. But the thought just kept coming and I had diarrhea of the mouth. I was a talkaholic and I didn't know how to stop. And now? My brain has rest. And I am comfortable with not having anything to say.

So, yes, I am grateful for this little white pill that helps me keep all the marbles in my head sorted out. Who knew that I would end up a habitual drug user in order to keep sane?