Feeling much less than inspired these days. Usual summer depression? Or is it that I an so stable on 900 mg of Lithium, that I have no emotions or any ideas for creating blogposts? Don’t know which is the case, just know I feel blah. Generally fine though, just seems like the “little grey cells” aren’t working as well. What to do? Wait it out or start reading voraciously in the hope of being stimulated by something I read? Speaking of reading, I recently discovered Anna Brönte, Charlotte’s sister. I’m reading a book she wrote called “The Tenant of Wildfell Hall.” It’s a really good book, very well written and so witty and funny in spots that I find myself laughing quite out loud at times. Well that’s it for today. Hope to have something inspirational and riveting soon. Hugs.
Along with my mental health issues, which include bipolar, clinical depression, anxiety, and panic attacks just to name a few, I have several phobias. One of the biggest (along with claustrophobia), is my total fear of rodents! In our old … Continue reading →
Originally posted on Hookup Culture: I’m afraid of a lot of things. I’m afraid of sharks, I’ve devised a plan that if I ever came across one I would just let it eat me. I’m afraid of spiders, they make me…
This is the first blog I’m writing on my Mac. I’ve always been a pc person, but I have a Mac now too, and I’m trying to learn and adjust and not be so damn rigid and set in my ways. Ya see? You CAN teach an old dog new tricks!! The old dog just needs to have a little willingness…
So here are the highlights of my life that I will regale my therapist with: 1. Spider Trauma. See my last post. I’m still in hyper-alert mode and taking too much clonazepam to sleep. 2. Dad trauma. Do you fucking hate when you wake up in the morning to a group text saying “Dad is in the hospital emergency room . . .” — never happened to you? Oh you just WAIT! It has happened one too many times, and I’m sure it will happen some more, because Dad is old and weak and getting older and weaker. This is a reality that is hard to deal with. 3. Waking up to a text that my AUNT is in the hospital with chest pains (she has a heart condition). Aunt is very narcissistic and, it turns out, has a very low threshold for pain. ‘Twas not anything to do with her heart, but merely gastritis. I kind of got a clue as to what a wimp she was to pain when they ripped the tape off to take her IV out, and she made horror-story faces like she was being stabbed. AND she wouldn’t let the nurses discharge her until they looked at some pictures of her cats. AND THEN she asked for the nurse’s phone number so she could call her and let her know how she was (I put the kibosh on that so the nurse didn’t have to say “Fuck no, lady!”) 4. Work has wound down to sporadic calling in of prescriptions. I can’t even pay my phone bill on this much work. I took a long walk the other night and talked to God (not sure that God exists, but on the chance that s/he does, we had a chat). What in the FUCK is going on? Do you WANT me to go back to the work that I hate?? Do I have to hate life in order to live? Can’t I have more work that I like? SHOW ME A SIGN!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m sure God gets a lot of this “show me a sign” business and is probably fed up with it. No signs thus far, and no work either.
Anyhoo, this fucking machine keeps autocorrecting my strange words, which is annoying. I won’t turn it off, though, because my many-times-fried brain gets stuck spelling long words and needs help. Oh! One more random fact, I got THREE HUNDRED BUCKS in Amazon gift cards for my birthday and am happily shopping away. A bright spot!!! Hope there’s a bright spot in your week too. Toodles for now (almost autocorrected to Noodles, that would be stupid). Hope you are well, friends!!!
So I talked to my therapist about my anxiety attack. It seems to go back to me feeling so awful about my year off from writing. I am still angry about it and had in the back of my mind that if that hadn’t happened, maybe I would be more successful in my writing then I have been. How unreasonable it all felt at the time. And how lately Bob seems to be making decisions for me and not listening to my opinions on things–just like he did then.
All of this hurts a great deal to think about. I don’t know what to do with all the anger. I just sat and cried in her office talking about it. The whole issue is very frustrating and angry-making. But it was really such a weight lifted off me to see her and talk about it. I felt much better once I got home.
It’s my favorite day of the week, again. It’s “Caption this Wednesday.” Here’s this weeks picture: Here are the rules: Put in the comments section what you think this weeks caption should be. If you post more than one caption, it is considered cheating, and that is okay with me. This is dog eat dog. […]
I am so thankful that it’s not a week ago tonight.
It was at this time that Will was going through the active dying process, which was way more painful than it should have been and went on too long before he got adequate relief. I can’t blame anyone for it, although I wish the on-call hospice nurse had had a little more fire in the belly and made transportation to the hospice facility quicker. As it was, nothing could have altered the final course of events, but did he really have to suffer that much? He did die peacefully, however, and for that I will always be grateful to God and the wonderful hospice facility nurse who medicated him well and allowed him to slip away in comfort.
To say that I miss him terribly would be the understatement of the century. I keep thinking I hear his voice, or expecting him to come in from the patio where he smoked his “medicine”. Right now I have his ashes in a beautiful wooden urn resting right on the desk where he built his model airplanes and ships; I know he’d like that. I find myself over there quite often, caressing the wood and cradling it in my arms as if I were embracing him. It feels like it’s the closest I’ll ever be to him again…at least in this life.
I talk to him all the time too, just like I did when he was here. I listen for his responses and for his inimitable laughter, and sometimes I can practically hear them. I feel as though he is very close…but then I look at his empty chair and the reality of it all hits me again. I’m not married anymore. I am a widow. And I wonder what the hell life is supposed to look like now, when being married is all I’ve known for thirty-six years.
But I don’t suppose this is the time to worry about all that. No, we’ve got to get through the funeral planning, and paying for it (who knew that simple cremation and funeral arrangements were so freaking expensive?!) as well as the service itself. It’s set for the eighth, at 11 AM in our church. It’ll give us enough time to get daughter Mindy back in the States and a little breathing room, as we are all worn out and still have to carry on with life.
I remember taking a vow to love and cherish Will “until death do us part”. Nobody knows what that’s like until they go through it. There’s nothing that really prepares you for this reality.