Daily Archives: July 20, 2012

Weekly Photo Challenge: Inside

My inspiration for this week’s photo challenge, inside, came from outside. Or rather something moving from inside to outside. While …

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Don’t make me endure the sunshine spewer!

I have an appointment with my “counselor” today. I put that in quotes because I don’t think she’s a very good counselor and I absolutely HATE going to see her. She canceled our last appointment due to emergency and was supposed to call to reschedule and she never did, and I sure as hell don’t want to talk to her, so it’s been like six weeks since we last talked. My job lady set this up, she thinks since I am in a depression I should talk to sunshine spewer.

I don’t want to.

I AM in a depression and talking to someone who can find a sunny side and lame ass justification for everything I feel pisses me off.

I never walk out of her office feeling like I’ve been helped. Hell,  I don’t walk out feeling better, she actually makes me feel worse.

Half the time our appointments consist of her sitting in her chair like Jaba The Hut, looking bored, while I stumble and stammer trying to express myself in a way that MIGHT wake her from her indifferent stupor.

She’s not a mean person, honestly. She’s pleasant enough.

I just don’t think her counseling style does a thing for me.

And I would rather go to a dentist’s appointment for a root canal knowing the office is out of Novacaine than go to this appointment today.

Fact is, I don’t have much to say at this time, because I am so depressed, everything just sounds whiny woe-is-me. I know this. I know it’s the depression. I don’t need this confirmed. I don’t need to be reminded there are rainbows and sunshine and moonbeams at the end of the depression tunnel. (Okay, she’s not quite that nauseating but you get the gist, she could put a positive spin on terminal illness.)

Gah. I don’t want to go. Teeth grinding has commenced and my gums are already sore. I wish I could call in to cancel claiming death.

But, I know I have to suck it up and pretend and…

I miss the days when my counselors helped me. Made me feel better. Actually helped me figure out answers and coping mechanisms.

This woman…does none of this.

In all honesty…I am sick of trying to find clothes to wear. I am sick of getting dressed. I am sick of driving the same streets and sick of the rude people and sick sick sick fucking sick of it all.

Now I will tell her this and she will tell me that everyone gets sick of the monotony of life, including her, and blah blah blah. So helpful.

Sometimes, I think I’d giggle maniacally if the world just imploded and I had ten seconds of viewing pleasure before disintegrating myself.

Is it any wonder a ray of black sunshine like myself would not relate to a sunshine spewing counselor?

Bloody hell, this is an hour of my life I will never get back.


Last night, I got blindsided by a wave of ‘OH MY GOD YOU ARE SO SAD YOU NEED TO EAT EVERYTHING IN SIGHT’. Well, I know I’ve been fighting hard to keep my head above water depression-wise, but eat all the things? Really? I am not an emotional eater. I never have been. I can only surmise that, after finding no satisfaction off of the e-cig and not being able to drink, that was the next vice in the line that my brain was desperately trying to insist would bring succor. Thanks brain, really. At least I didn’t give in too badly (okay, a handful of mini-marshmallows and a Rice Krispie treat… balanced against the butt remnants of a red bell pepper and a freshly made by me fruit smoothie), but suffices to say, I am not impressed with my brain at this exact second.

I’m actually wondering if this is a weird shifting of my PMS hormones into my cycle time. It would make sense, seeing how my PMS isn’t nearly as severe as it used to be, and it was that sort of combination that made me consider hanging myself a few months back. I’m not in physical pain this time, which obviously goes a long way towards preserving some remnant of sanity. But if, if that bit of hormone has shifted into a comorbid-with-cycle position, hopefully I can be mindful of that enough to keep myself from falling to bits. You guys know how it is — if you can pinpoint a reason (however spurious) for why your brain is in full-out I HATE YOU assault mode, well. It makes it easier to fight on.

I should add that saying this stuff is hella hard for me. I’ve opted to say it here rather than my privater blog because I trust other folks with bipolar to react ‘correctly’. That is to say, to not try to cosset me and demand attention with well-intentioned affection that drains energy I don’t have (and therefore makes things worse, but because they’re doing the ‘right’ thing, I’m the ass). Contrariwise, I know that my friends who also have mental health situations understand the need to get it off one’s chest, and how knowing that friends who have been there are nodding along provides a lot more strength than a huggle. And I do need to be able to say these things, to let them go into the wild so I can have that moment to catch my breath and get up off the ground enough to keep moving. It’s putting down a large trunk in the baggage of life, yo. That helps a lot more than being buried in throw pillows and those dangly car air-fresheners.

Whatever the case, I continue to plod on and try to keep afloat. Part of me is seriously considering poking my doctor to see if I can get some antidepressants to bolster me through this time, but another part of me doesn’t want to risk throwing more chemicals into the mix while I know it’s volatile. I guess I’ll keep keeping my head down and see what comes of things.


Listen, Midnight Mental Moment

Well friends we have gone another round and round again we shall go. The day before the day that is so highy anticipated every week is drawuing to a close, coming up on the midnight mark, the witching hour. It has been a long and tiring day.  One that I no more had the mental … Continue reading