Barely alive but trying hard

I have been staring at a blank page all day, trying to come up with something I can write about. I have somehow lost the motivation and inspiration to write. I even scribbled down some topics I could discuss on a piece of paper. I have just been incapable of writing something that makes sense. So now I'm giving this another go. And as you can see, I'm writing. That's progress!

I'm going through a very bad period right now. This is definitely the worst I have felt for many many months. First off, I feel alone and lonely. I don't often feel that way because I think that having a rich social life is really something that society tells us is normal. But that's not true, we all have different personalities and preferences. But you know, I have been telling myself that I'm alright on my own, only with my man and my cats. But M said something the other day that made me cry later. He said that whenever I have been out, met people, talked to people, I lighten up, I get happy. And I know that it's true. I love talking with others, discussing things, learning things from others. I love putting make-up  and decent clothes on and go out. I love it. But my social anxiety has gotten so strong that I kind of lost that part of me. And I don't feel like I can be bothered to get that part back. There is too much pain involved, too much anxiety. The thing that bothers me the most right now is that I haven't met a single friend for a proper date since March! I know, that sounds crazy but that's the truth! I have had lots of mates and a few closer friends but they have all given up on me. I don't even get messages on Facebook anymore. The only people I text with are my social worker and my boyfriend/husband/man/the guy I live with. The same with phone-calls. It's my own fault, people just gave up on me. I always declined meeting them, going to parties, going to clubs, going to exhibitions. But now I want out of this exile I have created and there is no way out! So I feel incredibly lonely and alone. I feel like I am not connected to other humans anymore. I don't exist.

Depression has hit me hard. I can see all the signs and I know I'm in a deep depression right now. My psychiatrist agrees with that. Last week I have been crying my eyes out every day. My body was still twitching from the Seroquel-withdrawal, I had restless legs and I was so sad, sad, sad and anxious. All I had on my mind was how I was going to kill myself. Has it gotten any better?!? I don't know. I feel detached from reality most of the time. I try to avoid spending the days in bed but it's difficult. I don't eat. I have no creativity in me, no inspiration, no motivation. The moment I wake up I wish it was evening again so I could go back to sleep. And there are moments when I have the strong urge to die, to just jump off the balcony. To walk to the subway-rails and lay down and wait for the train to come. But then I remember that I have responsibilities, that I can't just leave. So yeah, proper depression. I'm just trying to make the best out of it, small steps every day. Cooking. Reading. Writing. Taking a shower. And still, I'm crying. I don't want to. I don't have the strength. Why can't the ground under me just open up and swallow me?!?

I met my psychiatrist in the beginning of this week. We discussed the twitching/spasms/weak legs/stiff muscles. He checked my arms and hands and said that they were fine. He said it will eventually go away. I believe him. I have to believe him. It has actually gotten a lot better during the last two days. The only thing that is still utterly annoying me are my legs. Sometimes I just want to chop them off. I'm also trying to get off the Propavan again. I think the Propavan has a lot to do with my dopamine-levels being messed up. So he gave me some instructions and I'm following them now. I'll take a 3/4 pill for a month, then down to 1/2, then down to 1/4 and then stop taking it. And I'll take Zoplicone every night. It still works for me, after all those years, because I've not been taking it regularly. But now that I do, I'm worried it will stop working eventually. We'll see. I'm also supposed to take a Valium in the morning and one in the evening due to my increased anxiety, depression, suicidality and restless legs. But you know me, I'd rather not do that. So far I haven't taken a single pill. But I might need to do that. I'm not too sure if Valium works for me, the half pill I took some weeks ago didn't do shit. The whole pill I took gave me difficulties to breathe. I know that I'm stupid not following my doctor's advice. I don't know, maybe it's still the punishing myself thingy. I once got told that I'm using "not taking sedatives" as a way to self-harm. That might be true! Maybe I should just go back to the Oxazepam. I told my psychiatrist that I never want to try new psych-meds again. He said that all I have left is my own strength and therapy. And hospital every now and then. He actually said that, someone with my gravity of mental illness won't be able to stay away from hospital forever. I so didn't want to hear that. It was our last appointment before he quits. I'm supposed to call him next week, maybe I'll get some dopamine-pills. We hugged and wished each other good luck with our future endavours. 

I'm trying to stay positive. I cancelled on my social worker this week so I can just focus on finding some kind of strength. Next week my university-studies will start. I have already registered, I have looked at the lists for literature I need. I have read some introduction-texts. I know what will come, I have seen deadlines, topics and exams that I need to pass. I hope I can handle two courses at the same time. This weekend I'll spend on looking for books I need on the internet. I have checked my bank-account and I'll get my student-benefits next Monday. For the first time in 9 months I'll actually have money on my account. But that money is already spent in my head: new ID-card and passport, books, petrol, the paint for our kitchen. It doesn't matter. I can actually spend money! Next Tuesday I'll also have the first meeting concerning the psycho-dynamic therapy. They'll evaluate me. I'm really nervous about it. I hate having to make a good first impression. I'll probably just sit there, shake because of anxiety, move my restless legs and hope that I don't get a freak out and run off. I need this therapy. So things are going to happen next week. On Monday evening I'll have my first chat for the philosophy course. On Tuesday morning I'll meet the psychologist. On Wednesday the Russian course starts. I need to focus on those things. Change. I'll have totally new routines. This autumn things might finally get moving for me again. Take a pill or two. And breathe! (And chop off your legs!)

I'm trying, really trying, I promise

I'm anxious and restless. But that's nothing new, is it? At least it's not the kind of restlessness I had when I tried to get off the Propavan. I have slept 9 hours last night and that's exactly what I needed. So at least I'm not too exhausted today. I still feel really hungover though. As always I had lots of things planned for today but I really haven't done much yet. I just washed the dishes and tidied up the the bedroom. Let's hope there's more that I can do today. I have a lot to write, a letter, reply to an email and finish a short story I have been working on for some time now. 

The anxiety feels a bit increased which could have to do with that I'm supposed to get my period soon. All my mental issues get worse when I'm pms-ing. My period hasn't been exactly regular lately though. So I don't know. The day before yesterday I was really suicidal which also tends to happen before I get my period. So I just hope that's the reason why. I  read up on suicide-statistics and some discussions on why suicide is selfish. But I'm not in that state of mind today. I have actually started planning my mum's visit. We don't have any money, she doesn't have any money. So we have decided to fill the car with petrol with our last savings so we can get out while she is here. I was thinking about doing a picnic somewhere in a park, taking a walk somewhere in nature, on my boyfriend's birthday we'll visit his favourite café. Yesterday I have also been checking up on exhibitions and museums which are free. I have seven days to fill with things. We'll stock up on food before she comes so we don't have to eat out. My mum hangs a lot on chatrooms on the internet so she can use my netbook. I already have fixed a cable through a wall into the guestroom so she'll have internet there. I think we'll somehow make this week work. My boyfriend is also off from work that week so if I'm having a bad day, the two of them can go out together. I'm never happy about my mum visiting. I have to be pretend to be okay. And my routines get disturbed. I have to get up early in the morning for instance. I have to be social. I have to go out. But yeah, she only comes around once a year so it's okay.

I have been outside the appartment yesterday! For the first time in five weeks. I just needed to get some things at the supermarket, beauty things, hairdye. And it felt good to put some make-up on, fix my hair, put some decent clothes on. For the last five weeks I have been running around in long shirts and leggings.My boyfriend told me several times how good I was looking It went alright although I had a panic attack in the parking lot. So my weeks of isolation are over! Next week my social worker is back from his vacation so I'll have to meet him once a week. Well, but I'm still having trouble meeting friends. I still haven't replied to A's message. And yesterday P asked if he could come over but I told him I was busy. I hate myself for that! 

At the moment I'm trying to force myself to call my father. His grandmother has given my mum two very expensive necklaces. She is from Iran and she visited us once when I was maybe 10 years old. That's the only time I have ever seen her. She died in the early 90s. So those necklaces are for my sister and me, for the day when we get married. I'm getting married in August and I really want that necklace. I have nothing else to remind me of my Iranian grandmother. So I told my mum I want her to bring it along when she comes to visit us. But my father refuses  to let her take the necklace. He thinks that she wants to sell it. My father is delusional! She would never do that! So he told her he wants to give it to me. But I haven't been in Germany for three years and I'm not planning to go there any time soon. And he knows that. So he said he'll send it instead. As if that was safe?!? So I need to call him (should have done that days ago) and tell him that I want my mum to give me the necklace when she is here. I just don't have the courage to pick up the phone right now. I know it's going to be a difficult situation. He'll badmouth my mother. But I want that necklace because I want to have something to remember my grandmother by!

I have an appointment with my psychiatrist next Tuesday. I'm a bit scared of that meeting to be honest. I mean, I haven't done anything he had told me to do. I still haven't tried a whole Valium one more time. I haven't taken the Seroquel. And I have been isolating myself, been suicidal and didn't call any helpline or asked for help. I just know that he'll give me that disappointed look. I wonder if he will say that it seems like I don't want any help. Or if he'll say that he can't help me anymore. I have even thought about cancelling the appointment. I just hate to admit that I'm complicating things.

I'm having my third cup of coffee for today. It's time for lunch/dinner soon. I think I want to read until then. So far I'm not hating this day yet.

Right back to the beginning

I gave up. I'm back on the full dosage of my sleeping medication. I don't really know if that was the right decision but I just couldn't take the restlessness and increased anxiety anymore. I even tried to take half a Valium the other day but I didn't feel anything from it. So next time I'll try a whole Valium. I guess I really shouldn't play around with my meds like that. Anyway. The restlessness is gone. And although I have anxiety it isn't dissociative anxiety. I think that's what I had while taking less of the Propavan, I was totally gone. But now the side-effects have returned. I have a huge lack of energy, I'm basically constantly hungover. It feels like I've gone from 100 to 0 in levels of energy. I have weird dreams again. I'm so dry in mouth and nose. And I can't say that I'm sleeping better. I think I'm sleeping a bit more, maybe three hours more. But I still wake up a lot and that's what the Propavan is for, to let me sleep through a night without waking up constantly. Anyway, at least the restlessness is gone. And I'll use the advice one of the doctors are the hospital gave me once: exercise so the Propavan leaves the system quicker. So I'll exercise soon. And hopefully I'll get out of this lethargic state. Honestly, I don't think I could have taken one more day with only the half dosage. It just wasn't the right time to get off the Propavan. But one day, one day in the future I'll get rid of it!

So things are back to "normal". My boyfriend is back at work and I'm on my own most of the time. I have two cats to take care of instead of one. And I'm kind of constantly checking what they are doing. Yesterday they actually cuddled and slept together. I was so happy about that! Apart from that I'm really doing nothing. It's always the same: before going to bed I'm thinking of all the things I want to get done the next day but when the next day comes I just can't deal with anything. I don't really know what I'm spending my days with. Tidying up the apartment, cooking, the internet, cats. I've kind of reached a state of lethargy and indifference. I don't care if it's a new day. I don't want to be challenged. Everybody should just leave me alone. I'll just sit here and wait for death, if it comes tomorrow or in 40 years, I don't care. 

I'm really upset with myself. I know that social contact is good for me. It gives me more self-confidence. And I need someone to penetrate my isolated and subjective way of thinking. I just know it's important for me. But because of my "whatever"-attitude right now I just can't be bothered to actually go out and meet other people. My friend A is the only person who still makes an effort. No one I know in real life has contacted me in, mmmm, maybe two months?!? A has written to me on Facebook two days ago. He just wanted to know how I was doing. But I know that if I reply to him he'll ask me if we can meet up. He used to be something like my best friend for a while. I just CAN'T meet him. I want it so bad. I want to have fun, discuss things, laugh, give him advice, get intellectually challenged. But nope. I don't reply to his message. Instead I'm really frustrated with myself, and at the same time I tell myself that this has been my own voluntarily choice, I don't want to meet other people. Lethargy. I'm better off with just my boyfriend and my two cats. I'm not. I'm lonely. So damn lonely. 

But yeah, next week I have things planned, the week after that my mum will come to visit us for a few days, my boyfriend's birthday (which will be a sad one because no one of us has money for anything :/) and then we'll get married (we can't afford rings but whatever). Yeah.

Holding on

I haven't felt this bad in months. This constant anxiety is turning me into a real mess. I'm always on the edge to panic and I'm bascially petrified. The last two days I've been sitting on the sofa, playing brainkilling games on my smartphone, just so I don't need to feel or think. That's all I can do right now, distract myself with simple things. Reading or writing are out of the question at the moment. I can't focus. I have lost all my apetite and hunger. I even forgot to shower. The only thing on my mind is: make it stop. I can't take it anymore. I'm getting really desperate.

I'm still convinced that this was triggered by the reduction of the dosage of Propavan. First I've been on a high for four or five days and then I crashed, badly. I feel like I'm in a cage and I can't get out. I feel so trapped. I want to just scream out my pain. This is so terrible!

But I'm holding on to one thought: This state is only temporary. I won't be this bad forever. It will pass and I'll get back to my usual depressed and anxious state that I can handle. It's just a matter of time. I'm repeating this in my head over and over again. This is only temporary, it will get better.

But still, I'm in a desperate state. I'm so restless. I'm so anxious. I'm so sad. I can't remember when I last cried so much. But I'm also proud of myself. I have stayed out of the hospital so far. I have not been in bed all day long. I've been able to stick to some simple routines. I've not hurt myself. I've ignored the suicidal thoughts that pop into my head. And I'm still determined to stop taking the Propavan. Tonight I'll take the last one and then I'm off. But I'm a bit afraid of what will happen to me. I'm afraid of getting even worse. Because if I get any worse I'll most likely lose it.

I even took a sedative the other day. That's also something that I'm proud of. I'm so much against medication because it doesn't solve my problems in the long run. But I assessed my situation and I decided it was for the best. I think that this is just a temporary solution for my temporary state. I haven't tried the Diazepam again but I'll do it the next time I need a sedative.

I've had a terrible dream last night. I dreamt that my brother was in some kind of boxing game and they were fighting to the death. And I couldn't see who was winning. And then one of the boxers died and everybody was screaming. And I was in panic looking for my brother. They hung up the dead person in a tree but I still couldn't see who it was. I was screaming, crying, looking for my brother. Then I found him, in a bathroom, shaking, crying. So when I woke up this morning I was in panic. Not a great start for a day. And then I stepped into cat poo, with my bare feet. My cat sometimes gets really excited when she's in her litter box so she forgets that she's actually taking a dump and runs out of the bathroom, still poo coming out. Yup. She's weird like that.

I'll try to watch a movie later. That's my plan for today. I'm trying to avoid to think about how I actually never will get much better because there's no help out there for me. I'll hold on to the thought that the state I'm in right now is only temporary. Any more thinking than that and I'll sink into the depths of darkness.

I'm still not taking my meds ...

I still haven't taken the Seroquel/Quetapine. I am a wuss. I have realized that I have come up with a lot of avoidance-strategies and excuses. I still don't know if it's the fear of the side-effects or the feeling that I don't want to be ill so I ignore the fact that I could need a strong medication. I had the meeting with my psychiatrist a week ago, I have had the pills at home for six days now. I haven't opened the package. It's in my medicine-cabinet, in the back, in the dark, where I can't see it. 

I think the main reason for not taking it is fear. And P's seizures because of the Wellburtin really made that part only worse. I'm afraid of side-effects. Before I had started with psych-meds I had never been afraid of side-effects. I had seen them as part of getting better. I get dizzy and I feel sick from simple painkillers. Still, I  took them when I had a headache. I took antibiotics although I threw up because of them. Those are not side-effects, psych-meds give you really fucked up side-effects. The first psych-med I have ever taken was Prozac. I could barely eat for three months. I could barely sleep. I was manic and restless. I was shakey. I threw up every day. And I got even more suicidal. First imprint of a psych-med in my memory. And then Zoloft, Lamictal, Effexor, Abilify, Zyprexa, Wellburtin. They all made me worse, much worse. Effexor gave me a feeling of electric shocks through my whole body, I didn't leave the bed for a week. Zyprexa made me really really fat. The nodrenaline in Wellburtin gave me so much anxiety that I was going mad for real. I had someone sitting with me for two weeks because I was so suicidal. Nope. No good experiences at all. So yes, one of the reasons I don't want to take Seroquel is because of the side-effects. Okay, it's probably the main reason. I just don't believe that meds can help me. I'm too sensitive to medication. And if you don't believe that a medication can help, it probably won't help. I won't even get a placebo-effect out of it. And well, Seroquel can make me fat just like the Zyprexa did, it could make me lose my mojo, just like Zyprexa did. And it could make me more suicidal, like all other psych-meds did. Gosh, I even got panic when I took my first Valium ever. It didn't calm me down, it made me panic because I was so afraid of it being bad for me. I hyperventilated, because of a sedative!

The second reason which is kind of a result of the first reason is that I don't want to get admitted to the hospital again. I didn't get better there. I hated being there. And everytime I left I was feeling worse than when I got there. There are people there, lots of people! You need to share your room with three others, you need to share a bathroom with six others. You get crappy meals. The staff is always stressed out and the doctors want to send you home as soon as possible because they need your bed for someone else who is waiting in the ER. It's never about getting better, it's about getting you out of there as soon as possible. Like the last time I was there I tried to commit suicide three times while being there. And they still sent me home, a day after a suicide attempt. They needed my bed. They could see that I was doing like shit and that I had lots of anxiety. But yeah, there are other patients waiting to be treated. Being at the hospital is not for me. It is really hard to be around that many people, patients, staff, cleaners, when you have social anxiety. And I do exactly the same things there as I do at home: I surf on the net, I write, I sleep, I watch TV, I read. So really,  it makes no difference where I am. And I know that if I take the Seroquel, I'll do much worse. All meds have made me worse, why should the Seroquel be any different? Me being worse means me being suicidal. Me being suicidal means me being sent to the hospital, either after a suicide-attempt or because someone realizes how badly I'm doing. I don't want that. And I just know it will be that way, experience tells me. Reason tells me. Statistics tell me. 

I'm not doing so bad right now. I have felt much worse. Right, I'm not sleeping much, I have strong anxiety every now and then. I get into petty fights with my boyfriend. I haven't thought of suicide for a few days now though.  I don't feel that depressed. I have trouble focusing. I don't get my routines done. But still, I have felt worse. So why should I take a medication if I'm not in a very bad state?

There has been some confusion around my diagnosis. I have anxiety-iusses which Seroquel won't help against anyway. My doctor thinks I'm bipolar. But on the package it says that I should take the Seroquel for sleeping and against anxiety. Say what? I thought I was supposed to take it as a mood-stabilizer? I thought I should take it instead of trying out Lithium? I could call my doctor and ask him what he thinks it is for. I know that I want to get rid off the Propavan so maybe that's why I'm supposed to take Seroquel? I could call him and ask him to clarify this for me. But well, I never call others. Social anxiety issue.

And then there is a reason I have discussed with P. He said that I unconsciously don't want to get better. It has to do with my expectations of life. It has to do with my acceptance of my illness. I know that I have lots of potential. I get it to hear that all the time. I have succeeded at university after all. But I know that I'll never be able to use my full potential. So unconsciously I think that it's not worth the fight, worth the side-effects, if I don't get where I want to get: to be a normal healthy human being who can try out her potential, see how far she can get in life. On a scale from one to ten when it comes to functionality I am maybe at a three at the moment. With years of therapy and lots of meds I might be able to reach a 7. But I want to be a ten. And because I know I will never be a ten again, I don't see it worth the fight. I don't want to face the truth, I don't want to accept that seven is all I can get. So I rather stay at a three and and don't face the truth, still hoping for the ten.

So my avoidance-strategies are: 1. Ignore the fact that I have the medication at home, don't think about it, push it away  2. Find arguments that speak against the medication and believe these arguments even though they only come from personal experience 3. Convince myself that I'll end up in the hospital so the fear gets bigger, listen to fear 4. Don't call the doctor to get reassurance and a better explanation, better believe that there is no reason to take it 5. laugh about my own fears (I texted with my social worker the other day and I joked about my fears) 6. Convince myself that I'm just doing fine 7. If I won't get fully functional with it, why even try?

I personally find my avoidant strategies and my arguments quite convincing. But a little little little part of me thinks I'm just a stupid wuss. My psychiatrist is a professional after all, he probably knows what he is doing. Maybe I'll sleep better with it. Wouldn't it be great to finally get rid off the Propavan? I know I should, even though I don't get why I should. This is just fucked up. Fucked up.

Out of order - but somehow functioning

I've been really uninspired during the last few days hence the lack of posts. I have discovered a website where you can play old Nintendo games for free (nesforever) so I have been playing Super Mario Bros 3 all weekend long. And I really didn't do much else. It actually helped me a bit to get out of the dark valley of depression because it kept me busy. I didn't have to think much, I could just focus on pressing the right button and making the little plumber jump. I have gotten tired of the games now though because I can't get past a certain level and that makes me frustrated. So now I'm trying to tackle reality again, no more brainkilling games and no more wasting whole days with sitting in front of the computer.

Yesterday I went to the Peter Murphy-concert in Stockholm. He was playing Bauhaus-songs and I really couldn't have missed that. The moment we arrived at the venue someone called out my name and some of my friends were sitting outside, eating kebab. Don't people usually eat kebab after a show?!? Anyway, we went in and there were lots of people and I started to panic. I felt sick to my stomach and I was sure I was going to throw up. But I'm good at holding up a mask and I don't think anyone noticed. Actually, I was close to panic during the whole night. I tried to push the feeling away. I told myself that I won't throw up. I have never thrown up because of a panic attack and only once because of anxiety. But the horror-scenarios were in my head, the embarassment I would feel if I threw up in a crowded place, how everyone would stare at me and think that I'm disgusting. Despite that I actually enjoyed myself. I goofed around with my friends, talked with a lot of people and it felt good to be social.And I felt pretty. This seldomly happens. I am really ashamed of my body because of the huge weight-gain. And yeah, my stomach looked big last night but I didn't care much. I had a jacket on that hid it a bit. My hair looked amazing, the purple turned out well and I fixed my goth-mohawk. I also loved the dress I was wearing and my make-up was perfect. So yeah, I felt pretty and somewhat confident. And it was kind of cool that a lot of people asked me if they could take a picture of me. Oh, and the concert was fantastic. I was in the first row and I was often just closing my eyes, listening to the music, singing along. There were some awkward moments though. There was no barrier between the stage and the crowd so I was really really close to the band and Murphy. And I don't like someone singing and looking into my eyes. And that happened a few times. That's really the kind of attention I hate getting. Yeah, and all the time I was thinking about how embarrassing and catastrophical it would be if I threw up right on stage. I also zoned out a few time, I slipped into some kind of dissociativ state. Still, I enjoyed myself. Our friend K came with us after the show because she lives close to where we live so we dropped her off at her house. We talked about cats. Random, I know.

I'm really exhausted now. My cat woke me up at 9 a.m. which is basically the middle of the night for me. That little monster hopped around on me and when I had gotten up she went to her favourite chair and fell asleep. So I have been chatting with people on Facebook. And I have read up on streaming. It is not illegal in Sweden to watch streamed film and series. So I'll be busy the next few years, watching movies. And I think I'll start with the third season of the Walking Dead tonight.

I have tried out the Diazepam. And it felt like I couldn't breathe. I don't know if that was due to the pill, my fear around new meds and or the bleach in my hair. I had bleached my hair earlier that day and I can get a bit wuzzy from the bleach. It was probably a combination of the three. I also felt really dizzy and my arms and legs didn't really follow me. I was basically in bed for an hour, hyperventilating. I am sensitive to medication after all so I thought the Diazepam was too strong for me and it would stop breathing at any second and just drop dead. I just fell asleep after a while. I will give it another go. Next time my anxiety is really really high, I'll take another one. And I'll have my boyfriend around in case I really stop breathing. I think I just overreacted and panicked. Diazepam is stronger than Oxazepam after all.

Tomorrow T will come over. He will have three weeks off in July and asked me if I want another person visiting me during those weeks or if it is enough with a person I can call in case I need help. I don't think I want to meet yet another person and T and I only sit and talk anyway so I'll be fine with a number I can call. On Friday I have an appointment with my psychiatrist. I have decided I don't want to try out the Lithium because 1. I don't have an official bipolar-diagnosis 2. I'm afraid of side-effects, especially the weight-gain, and I have always ended up in hospital when I tried a new med 3. I don't trust that there will be any follow-ups when he is not working at the center anymore and I'll have yet another psychiatrist and 4. I have PCOS and I'm afraid that it will mess up my thyroid. I don't know what he will say to this. It might seem like I don't want any help and that's not true. I just want the right kind of help and I am too afraid of new meds. I'm quite sure that he will be disappointed and a bit helpless because there basically isn't much he can do. We'll see how that goes.

Today I still need to exercise and prepare lunch/dinner/food. I also want to try to write a poem or a short text for my psychiatrist's book. I'm just so damn tired! And my body is really hurting. I'm not used to being outside, I'm not used to meeting people, and I'm not used to stand for hours and then dance for hours. And I'm allergic to my hairspray so I'm sneezing all the time. I should try to get my hair down too. But I'll start with the exercise and then try to write something. I'd rather be in bed and sleep.