Onward and Upward

Dear Molly,

Five years and one month ago, you made a decision that changed your life. You were going to give the world a warning label: This is Molly. Be gentle.

And did it work? It did, indeed.

Somehow, you've made it through four semesters of college. You're officially an upperclassman! Where did time go? You find yourself posing that question in about every other blog entry. Time is a peculiar thing.

Well, it's been awhile since your last entry chronicling life events. Thirteen months, an entire school year, two semesters and a summer session. What's happened? What's changed?

Well, you made it a solid five months without any serious depression issues. And then the depression hit again in March, and it hit hard. And this time, it came with anxiety. Crippling anxiety.

You added on a bunch of extra classes when you realized you'd fallen behind on units. And it was brutal. Three actual classes: Language Acquisition, Listener's Approach to Music, and Human Development. Medical Terminology, which is a prerequisite for occupational therapy graduate school. One unit, an instructor who was a cool person but didn't do much instructing, 7 page worksheet packets due weekly, and frustration spent trying to remember all of the chole/o words. Piano I, which was two hours a week's worth of a battle between your brain and your chunky, chubby, cocktail weenie cellist fingers. Three performing ensembles. Basketball and Weight Training, 'cause units for exercise. And the seminar attached to your research assistant position. 9 different classes. Never again.

You kept yourself together during the weeks, but you could barely get out of bed on the weekends. As usual, you didn't seem to be getting along with normal circadian rhythm patterns. You're actively trying to fix that.

By some miracle, your grades were the best they've ever been in college. Yes, Cs do get degrees, but you're not a fan of being in the middle of the bell curve. Your GPA was 3.35. 7th grade Molly would no longer be quite so appalled.

And guess what? You've made friends!

You've become closer to a handful of Beach Hillel people. And sadly, two of you favorites just graduated. Lea, a fellow "I've got a minor because I'm multi-faceted" person is off to dance for the world. Julia is about to embark on a career in health care administration, which is a path you could never take and admire those who do immensely. And sadly, Rachel and Drew Kaplan moved to Ohio.

And there's your Little Ling Lab Family. You're the wide eyed one, Irene's the cool older sister, Coleen's the glue (with a knack for getting us all distracted), and Bianca's the rebel. You're happy that you'll still get to work with them, as you'll be volunteering in the lab when you can. And there's some new lab people too! No monetary compensation, but no seminar either. You'll take it.

You threw yourself into music. You pretty much took up residence at Bob Cole Conservatory. Music History, Piano, Orchestra, Chorus, and Steel Drums. And friends! People there actually like you. Music majors enjoy your company, and take you seriously as a cellist. You still struggle with thinking of yourself as a legitimate musician, but it's almost there.

Back in the beginning of the fall 2017 semester, you attended a music education "rally". And that choice to mingle over free pizza changed the trajectory of your year. By adding a music minor and hanging around the conservatory with a locker and practice room of your own, you now have more musician friends than you've ever thought possible.

In Beach Orchestra this past spring, there were four cello performance majors, one music education major, and one vocal major who also plays cello. And Andrew, Angel, Emily, Erika, Mariah, and Paola accepted you as one of their own. You've even found a same-age cello best friend in Emily. When you first met her 18 months ago, you thought she was pretentious. Since then, you've come to find she has a sense of humour akin to your own, is also reasonably cuddly(most cellists aren't), and shares the same chunky cello fingers. Oh, how perceptions change.

You've reconnected with some old friends from both Poly and Millikan through orchestra and choir. All were happy to see you again, especially now that you're feeling like your semi-normal self for the first time in years, not a strange depressed version. That honestly came as a surprise. People genuinely like you: faults, flaws, mistakes, insecurities, anxieties and all.

You've befriended composition, vocal, piano, jazz, brass, woodwind and percussion people, and even a few graduate students. You even took the train up to San Luis Obispo to visit Megan, the literal calm to your figurative storm.

Sadly, your grand transfer plans got delayed. Yet another dream deferred. It is what it is.

This semester has been rough so far with physiology, but you're in a good place mentally. And hopefully it'll stay that way.

Song of the Day:
Marchin On by OneRepublic.
You're putting one foot in front of the other, every single day. And you always will.

For those days we felt like a mistake
Those times when loves what you hate
Somehow
We keep marching on

For those nights that I couldn't be there,
I've made it harder to know that you know
That somehow
We'll keep movin' on

There's so many wars we fought
There's so many things we're not
But with what we have
I promise you that
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on

For all of the plans we made
There isn't a flag I'd wave
Don't care where we've been
I'd sink us to swim
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on

For those doubts that swirl all around us
For those lives that tear at the seams
We know
We're not what we've seen

Oh for this dance we move with each other
There ain't no other step than one foot
Right in front of the other

There's so many wars we fought
There's so many things we're not
But with what we have
I promise you that
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on

For all of the plans we made
There isn't a flag I'd wave
Don't care where we've been
I'd sink us to swim
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on

Right, right, right, right, left
Right, right, right, right, left
Right, right, right, marchin' on

We'll have the days we break
And we'll have the scars to prove it
We'll have the bombs that we saved
But we'll have the heart
Not to lose it

For all of the times we've stopped
For all of the things I'm not

You put one foot in front of the other
We've move like we ain't got no other
We go where we go we're marchin' on
Marchin' on

There's so many wars we fought
There's so many things we're not
But with what we have
I promise you that
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on (marching oh)
Right, right, right, right, left
Right, right, right, right, left
Right, right, right, right
Marchin' on (we're marchin' on)
We're marchin' on
Right, right, right, right, left
Right, right, right, right, left
Right, right, right, right
Marchin' on (oh oh oh)

Love,
Molly

The Tripod

Dear Molly,

It's time that you go back and discuss the original topic of this blog: Mental Illness.

Back when you started this blogging journey, your diagnosis was singular: Major Depressive Disorder. Following your nervous breakdown in February of 2014, a quack psychiatrist slapped you with a Bipolar Disorder II diagnosis. The events that could be described as a manic episode were medication-induced. And the insomnia was the cause of the behavioral changes. Not sleeping was not a side effect of mania. The lack of sleep WAS the problem. You accept a label of Mood Disorder: Not Otherwise Specified, and write a blog entry about it.

At some point, you more or less self diagnose Anxiety, confirmed by your therapist at the time. You attended a group for teenage girls with Social Anxiety, but it became pretty clear that it wasn't your biggest issue, not by a long shot. You're just lovably socially awkward, and working on being less so. And a bit of a homebody at times, but aren't we all? Generalized Anxiety is a more accurate term. But your depression has always posed a much bigger problem than your anxiety. You tend to get anxious that you'll get depressed. Horrible, isn't it?

Around this time last year, you start seeing a new and extremely well-qualified therapist, who brings up an intriguing question. Do you have Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder? Of course, the initial response is: What? No! You can focus with the best of them, and you're not really hyperactive. However, you learn that there are actually multiple forms and manifestations of AD/HD.

The TOVA diagnostic test was truly awful. To keep yourself occupied, you sang camp songs the entire time. You are confirmed to have a type called "Over Focused". It basically means that you can have trouble shifting your attention, and tend to get stuck in repetitive thought patterns. And if the task at hand isn't holding your interest, you can direct 100% of your brain power elsewhere, to something you know you're not supposed to be doing. It does come with the added bonus of being a better multi-tasker than most. You'll take it.

Some people refuse labels, but they comfort the pragmatist in you. You're not broken. There's a name (or three, as the case may be) for what you're experiencing. But you can't tolerate the inaccurate labels. While it's true that you don't like the stigma attached to some problems, it's important that the label is correct so the symptoms can be treated. It was incredibly frustrating to find out that you were given an Autism Spectrum Disorder through seeing the Disabled Student Services paperwork for college. You learn that it was for simplicity's sake, and so that all of the possible help is available to you, even though you'll never need most of it. The bottom line is that you're not autistic. Making eye contact and understanding sarcasm and such are not problems for you, just the social awkwardness that you're working on every day. And you have Major Depression, not Bipolar Disorder.

You still take meds. It's been a long road. You have a lengthy list of prescription drugs that don't help or are unnecessary in treating your symptoms: Lexapro, Prozac, Wellbutrin, Abilify, Zoloft, and  probably something else you're forgetting. That med trail was a disaster of epic proportions. You could even pin the blame on the disaster that was tenth grade on the anti-depressants.

The worst part of it was the weight gain: About 25 pounds. Thankfully you've lost it through switching meds and getting more exercise with skating. The drug that's been working is actually a mood stabilizer, not an antidepressant. It's called Lamictal. You're also prescribed Adderall for the AD/HD, which does help. It's not so much that you feel a difference when you take it. You just notice when you don't take it.

You've accepted the fact that you're not deemed 'normal' by societal standards. You have this tripod underneath you, holding you up. It might have held you back in the past, but not any more. Sure, you could let it tie you down in the future, but that's not going to happen. You're going to keep fighting, every single day.

Song of the Day: The Greatest, by Sia
Sure, you've ran out of breath time and time again, closing your eyes to not feel the pain. But now, you've got stamina. And you sure as hell won't give up. You've certainly hit the lowest of lows, but now, you're free to be the greatest alive.

Uh-oh, running out of breath, but I Oh, I, I got stamina
Uh-oh, running now, I close my eyes
Well, oh, I got stamina
And uh-oh, I see another mountain to climb
But I, I, I got stamina
Uh-oh, I need another lover, be mine
Cause I, I, I got stamina

Don't give up, I won't give up
Don't give up, no no no
Don't give up, I won't give up
Don't give up, no no no

I'm free to be the greatest, I'm alive
I'm free to be the greatest here tonight, the greatest
The greatest, the greatest alive
The greatest, the greatest alive

Well, uh-oh, running out of breath, but I
Oh, I, I got stamina
Uh-oh, running now, I close my eyes
But, oh oh, I got stamina
And oh yeah, running through the waves of love
But I, I got stamina
And oh yeah, I'm running and I've just enough
And uh-oh, I got stamina

Don't give up, I won't give up
Don't give up, no no no
Don't give up, I won't give up
Don't give up, no no no

I'm free to be the greatest, I'm alive
I'm free to be the greatest here tonight, the greatest
The greatest, the greatest alive
The greatest, the greatest alive (oh oh)

Oh-oh, I got stamina (ooh hoo ooh)
Oh-oh, I got stamina (ooh hoo ooh)
Oh-oh, I got stamina (ooh hoo ooh)
Oh-oh, I got stamina (ooh hoo)

Ay, I am the truth
Ay, I am the wisdom of the fallen, I'm the youth
Ay, I am the greatest
Ay, this is the proof
Ay, I work hard, pray hard, pay dues, ay
I transform with pressure, I'm hands-on with effort
I fell twice before, my bounce back was special
Letdowns'll get you, and the critics will test you
But the strong'll survive, another scar may bless you, ah

Don't give up (no no), I won't give up (no no)
Don't give up, no no no (nah)
Don't give up, I won't give up
Don't give up, no no no

I'm free to be the greatest, I'm alive
I'm free to be the greatest here tonight, the greatest
The greatest, the greatest alive (don't give up, don't give up, don't give up, no no no)
The greatest, the greatest alive (don't give up, don't give up, don't give up, no no no)

The greatest, the greatest alive (don't give up, don't give up, don't give up, no no no)
The greatest, the greatest alive (don't give up, don't give up, don't give up, no no no)
The greatest, the greatest alive (don't give up, don't give up, don't give up, no no no)
The greatest, the greatest alive (I got stamina)
The greatest, the greatest alive (I got stamina)
The greatest, the greatest alive (I got stamina)

Love, Molly

14 Years Later: Noemi

Dear Molly,

        So, back to the series of entries on relationships with people. Up next, in honor of 20 years of life today: Noemi Summer. (Noemi Anais Sophie Arellano-Summer, if you're being technical.)

       Harken back to Kindergarten. In the cafeteria, you spot a girl in a different class with pink Barbie glasses. You think to yourself: I hope she didn't take the last pair. If I ever need glasses, I want ones exactly like those! (Alas, when you actually did get glasses, in third grade, you had outgrown your pink phase. Your fist pair were brown.)

      First grade arrives. You befriend Hannah McDonald, and on the playground at Emerson, she introduces you to that girl with the glasses. You learn that her name is Noemi, not Naomi or Noamy. You like her right away, even if you seem to do about seventy-five percent of the talking. (You've since learned how to keep your mouth shut and give other people a chance to get a few words in, and she's no longer quite so shy. Now it's about fifty-five forty-five.)

      You spend time with each other on the playground and after school at Kid's Club. Handball on the Wall, never again after 2nd grade, though. Eventually, you invite her to your house for a play date. Two klutzy gradeschoolers kick around a soccer ball and eat popsicles on the back porch, and a friendship is cemented.

     Simpler times. Remember those giant bouncy balls with handles you could sit on and hop around? To a pair of seven year-olds: "This is paradise." "This is the life." It sure was.

      Not much changes in second grade. You only see her once it twice in third grade though.

      But when fourth grade rolls around, you're thrilled to learn that Noemi will finally be in your class. Thank goodness for GATE. 

      One particular memory comes to mind: Puddle Jumping. Emerson's blacktop has a lot of divots, so after it rains, water collects. One day at recess, you're both bored and an ingenuous idea strikes. Go jump in the puddles, because you can! Subconsciously, you both probably knew that it was a stupid thing to do, and a recipe for facing the discomfort of wet pant legs for the rest of the day. But you're only young once. If college students jumped around in puddles, they'd get some pretty intense stares. 9 year-olds, not so much. It's a memory to treasure.

      Fifth grade begins, and it's an enjoyable year. You go to Camp Hi-Hill which was a lot of fun. You finish at Emerson. On the last day of school, the parents set up a photo booth of sorts, and you take a picture together. It's still on a shelf in your room.

        Middle school starts at Stanford, and it's a bit of a culture shock. You're thankful she's right there with you. Seventh grade comes, seventh grade goes. You manage to survive eighth grade Algebra.

       Having her with you was one of the reasons you choose to go to Poly for high school. You'll always remember making empanadas in ninth grade for that weird science project. 

      After your nervous breakdown in tenth grade, she's the only friend you see with any regularity. It's then you realize she's not going anywhere. She'll always be there of you need her for anything. 

      It was a relief to go back to Poly for your senior year, and graduate beside her. She goes to Boston University now, and you miss her every single day.

      So 14 years later, here we are. You have a best friend for life. Noemi is kind, caring, and extremely intelligent. She loves with her whole heart. You're infinitely grateful she's been a part of your life for so long, and she will continue to be. 

      These are the days, now and forever. 

Song of the Day: The Days by Avicii
Under the tree where the grass don't grow
We made a promise to never get old
You had a chance and you took it on me
And I made a promise that I couldn't keep

Heart ache, heart break
All over town
But something flipped like a switch when you came around
And I'm in pieces, pick me up, and put me together

These are the days we've been waiting for
Days like these you couldn't ask for more
Keep 'em coming
'Cause we're not done yet
These are the days we won't regret
These are the days we won't forget

These are the days we've been waiting for
Rattle the cage and slam that door
And the rhythm is calling us as we're not just yet
These are the days we won't regret
These are the days we won't forget

Out on the midnight
The wild ones howl
The last of the last boys have thrown in the towel
We used to believe we were stars aligned
You made a wish and I fell out of time

Time flew, cut through
All over town
You make me bleed when I look up
And you're not around
But I'm in pieces, pick me up, and put me together

These are the days we've been waiting for
Days like these you couldn't ask for more
Keep 'em coming
'Cause we're not done yet
These are the days we won't regret
These are the days we won't forget

These are the days we've been waiting for
Neither of us knows what's in store
You just roll your window down and place your bets
These are the days we won't regret
These are the days we'll never forget

And these are the days
And these are the days

Love, Molly

Ouch

Dear Molly,

      You've thought long and hard about this: How come people suffer, how come people part, how come people struggle, how come people break your heart? Break your heart? (Thank you, Coldplay, for so eloquently putting feelings into words.)

      No doubt have you suffered. You've obviously struggled. But why, why oh why, do you continue to give your heart away to a person you think of as a friend, again and again, time after time, only to watch it break into a million little pieces? Haven't you learned by now?

      Pouring your feelings out to someone who you think you can count on can be a recipe for having your soul crushed into shards.

      Why do you keep torturing yourself?

      The Answer: You're probably unconsciously hoping that eventually, you'll hit upon a few more people who you actually can trust. People who will never let you down. Maybe you'll find that person through posting this blog entry. Or maybe, just maybe, one of those aforementioned people will reach back out to make amends. You're willing to give second chances, since one thing you never do is quit. You're trying not to push too hard, but you're stubborn. You see things through. You want to just let these people fade into your memory, but that's never going to happen. You're not holding your breath, but you just want answers.

      The truly painful part about all of this is that you're acutely aware you're bumbling, overbearing, and obnoxious. Your mouth runs much faster than your brain. You can be a brutal savage.

      You half joke to yourself "I kill friendships for fun!", if you ever need a reason to beat yourself up. You're not going to make a list of former friendships because that would just plain hurt too much.

*********************************************************************************

      Please, Dear reader, tell me exactly what I did wrong. I don't want to keep making the same mistakes. The whole "It's not you, it's me" bit can't possibly be true. Of course it's me, and you don't like me for being myself. I'm never going to change completely, but I'm beyond willing to adapt. I just want to be liked.

      One of the biggest problems is that most of the time, other people don't understand how deeply I've been hurt and the anguish and grief I have to live with. Pain that only gets stronger with each passing day.

      Or worse yet, people will cut off all contact, either intentionally or not. If someone doesn't reply to a message, my first instinct is that they're consciously avoiding me. And then I feel like a piece of shit, because it's obviously my fault.

      I'll stop at nothing. At this point I'll resort to sending out smoke signals to get an answer.

But before I start setting the world on fire, I'll make some honest attempts in some more conventional ways.

*********************************************************************************

Song of the Day: Welcome to My Life by Simple Plan

While you don't feel this way all of the time, lately, this has sort of turned into College Molly's theme song.

I think some people do know what it's like. For the rest, maybe this post can give them an idea.

Do you ever feel like breaking down?
Do you ever feel out of place?
Like somehow you just don't belong
And no one understands you

Do you ever want to run away?
Do you lock yourself in your room?
With the radio on turned up so loud
That no one hears you screaming

No you don't know what its like
When nothing feels alright
You don't know what its like to be like me
To be hurt, to feel lost
To be left out in the dark
To be kicked when you're down
To feel like you've been pushed around
To be on the edge of breaking down
And no one there to save you
No you don't know what it's like
Welcome to my life

Do you want to be somebody else?
Are you sick of feeling so left out?
Are you desperate to find something more
Before your life is over

Are you stuck inside a world you hate?
Are you sick of everyone around?
With the big fake smiles and stupid lies
But deep inside you're bleeding

No you don't know what it's like
When nothing feels alright
You don't know what it's like to be like me
To be hurt
To feel lost
To be left out in the dark
To be kicked when you're down
To feel like you've been pushed around
To be on the edge of breaking down
And no one there to save you
No you don't know what it's like
Welcome to my life

No one ever lied straight to your face
And no one ever stabbed you in the back
You might think I'm happy
But I'm not gonna be okay
Everybody always gave you what you wanted
You never had to work it was always there
You don't know what it's like
What it's like

To be hurt
To feel lost
To be left out in the dark
To be kicked when you're down
To feel like you've been pushed around
To be on the edge of breaking down
And no one there to save you
No you don't know what it's like
What it's like

To be hurt
To feel lost
To be left out in the dark
To be kicked when you're down
To feel like you've been pushed around
To be on the edge of breaking down
And no one's there to save you
No you don't know what it's like
Welcome to my life
Welcome to my life
Welcome to my life

Molly