Okay, so I know that I write a lot about things that help me, like running and dogs and music. But I do have to write about one thing that played a huge role in getting better. Yay for medicine!
I started going to therapy the January of my 8th grade year, and for a couple of years I was okay. Then junior year started and the summer before was rough, and my mom suggested meds. That August I went on anti-anxiety medication called Buspirone, and a few months later I went on an anti-depressant, called Lexapro. In February of my senior year I went off Lexapro because my psychiatrist said it was better to try life with out it at home while I felt safe, and if I needed it I could just go back to her.
When I got to school, I started freaking out again, and so I went back on the anti-depressants. I don’t have depression, but Lexapro also treats OCD symptoms and GADs, and it’s just nice to know I have one more thing to help. When my mom came after parent’s weekend, she brought me Clonazepam, which treats anxiety and panic disorders, and it’s only as needed. I haven’t needed it since November.
What I’m trying to say is that medicine is okay. Everyone is different, and when your brain is messing with you it’s not always just that you’re having a bad day. There are chemical imbalances and hormones and plenty of other things all up in there and medicine can help with those. It was the last thing my parents wanted to do, but they understood that anxiety wasn’t something I could just grow out of. Going on medicine does not mean that you’re giving up, you’re just trying something new.
Happy spring 🙂
Being me and anxious and busy, there are very few times where everything feels good. It can be as insignificant as the thirty seconds I spent running to catch up to some corgis on High street or as big as striking a set after closing night of a show. Regardless of what you’re doing in that moment or how you feel three hours later, they matter.
Those thirty seconds or whatever make everything worth it. Seeing everyone happy and together and no longer stressing out over papers or reading 114 pages in a day make the unbearable periods totally worth it. Living through those means I get to see these again.
I get to hug my dogs and watch Maia try to eat crab but it flies out of her hands and right into a trash can.. I get to bring them cookies when they have a bad day and wear my favorite shoes. The little things ground you, and as cheesy as it sounds, the things that rip you up again do not take away those moments.
There are very few moments when I truly have no fear, and this is one of them.
On March 5, 2008 I got off the school bus and saw both of my parents. That was weird. It was usually a babysitter or just one parent, or I just walked the half a block to my house. And then they told me she died. The first thing that popped into my mind was some sickness or an accident. But no, she had been taken from her home and killed. I was in fifth grade.
Today, March 5, 2016 is the 8 year mark.
Eve was kind, generous, beautiful, funny, caring, empathetic, and smart. I hate that I don’t remember all that much about her. But I remember her hair and this dress she wore with polka dots. I remember when she decided to go to UNC at Chapel Hill. And I remember when she brought me and my friends hats back from Cuba and we started a band called the Castros. I remember her babysitting me and my friends and watching movies. And I remember how Athens broke when we found out she was gone.
I remember neighborhood families taking turns sitting outside their house so no one would bother them. For days my dad would go at the crack of dawn when he woke up. I remember how everyone just seemed kind of lifeless, showing no real emotion except for tears, but their faces not really moving. I remember my mom couldn’t sleep. I remember visiting her grave and thinking about what kind of person would think to kill someone as important and loved as Eve.
My parents wouldn’t let me go to the funeral in Chapel Hill- it was going to be extremely heavy. So I had my own. Every night for weeks I would talk to her. I would tell her how my friends are doing and if I had seen her parents or her brother, or even just the dumb things my dogs would do. I don’t really pray that much, but I think of her family every day. And especially this last week I think about Eve.
I hope that I get to see you some day, Evie. You still inspire all of us to this day, and I hope that we are making you proud. We miss you more and more every day. Athens loves you.
“Learn from every single being, experience and moment. What joy it is to search for lessons and goodness and enthusiasm in others.” – Eve Marie Carson. This is the inscription written on her memorial garden at UNC Chapel Hill.