Daily Archives: January 17, 2018

Damn Devil of Depression

Depression knows it’s way around my mind like a bee in a hive. Knows exactly where to plant himself, his role, his goal. I set my alarm, but ignore it for almost 2 hours. My kitty wanders in and is my excuse for hiding longer. As he nestles himself on my shoulder I tell myself we are bonding. But, really I’m avoiding.
The days feel excruciatingly long right now. I’m searching for jobs each day, but haven’t applied to anything for 2 weeks. Of the 2 places I applied at the end of December, I have been invited to an interview. This Friday. I rehearse my smile. My enthusiasm. I hope I can muster it when the time comes. I am or was interested in this job prospect. But that damn devil of depression whispers I probably won’t get it. I have no practical experience. Why bother. If I don’t show, who will know. I can always say I thought I did great. That would not be good for my frail psyche!
So, today I have a lunch date and a hair appointment. This means I leave the house. I am without a car this week. My friend agreed to drop me off at my hair appointment and I will walk home. It’s several miles. Music in my ears and the sun on my face will be good medicine, along with exercise.
I have to keep fighting. It’s tiresome. Downright exhausting and daunting. I’ve been through it before. One foot in front of the other today. Reminding myself I’m doing the best I can.

Cabin Fever

I am staying home with the youngest one for another snow day–it should be mostly melted by tomorrow since it is sunny out today.  And they should go back to school.  That will be nice.  She isn’t any trouble but just HERE.  And I’m not used to trying to amuse her.   She keeps herself busy but it’s just kind of eerie having her here.

Still submitting things and hoping something will stick somewhere.  I am really frustrated about some pieces I should have heard something about by now.  I can’t believe how SLOW some of these “best” journals are.  At least they’re not sending rejections quickly, which means I have a chance.  But you’d think they’d send acceptances quicker than six months.  Makes me wonder if they have closed down or something.

Still continuing my fast from secular music.  I have been surprised at how much of the Christian music we have collected over the years–I’m sure some of these CD’s belong to the kids but they haven’t claimed them back yet.  I’ve especially enjoyed listening to the older stuff I used to listen to as a teenager. Good memories.  ( I never thought I would ever say that about being a teenager.)

My mood is holding up well so that is good.  I see Tillie in a week and will be able to fill her in on everything.  Still making plans with friends and enjoying that.  I need to find time to buy MJ a birthday present for our lunch later on.  Good plans.

Hope everyone has a good rest of the week.  Happy snow day!



Depression Ain’t For Sissies

I’ll tell you what, each one of us who fights Depression and gets through their days deserves a fucking gold medal.  This is a hell of an illness!  It literally makes you want to stop living, and you have to fight back and live!  What the hell kind of illness is that?  At least with other illnesses, you can count on the will to live!!  I’m not actively wanting to die, but I am feeling very Eeyore-ish, very slowed down and lifeless.  I have a phone interview at 11am and I’m having a hard time working up the energy to do anything to prepare.  I know if I don’t, or if I skip the interview, deep despair is sure to follow.  I have to try.  But my God, sometimes it’s hard to try!!!  So I am writing this quick post, then I am giving myself and all of you a gold medal for getting through another day of depression, then I will try to study my Security notes and research this boring-as-fuck scientific company.  Sorry for my enthusiasm, this is not my day.  Hope you are doing much better than me.  Peach to the out!

It Was Tuesday When I Recorded It!

Well, so much for accountability. It seems that Fibrofog and Chronic Fatigue don’t seem to care about such things. Last week I totally forgot about my pledge to do a Tuesday video each week until Thursday when I remembered. By then my care worker was here and I was extremely tired. Again, there is not …


My disorders, and the extreme cold thus my kid being glommed onto me due to school being cancelled, has me hanging by a thread. It takes every ounce of strength to just fix her cheese and crackers or a turkey sandwich. Vacuuming feels like futile because the thing spits out more than it sucks up and I can’t find any clogs. Dishes get washed and pile right back up. Finances took a bad bad turn so I can’t even afford to go to the laundromat, that is WHEN my car doors aren’t frozen shut.

To top it all off, after my sister’s brother in law’s suicide New Year’s Day…our uncle is in the hospital 40 miles away, with bone cancer, pneumonia, and the flu and his heart is failing, they don’t think he’s going to make it. Mom’s been living up there by his side as he is her last living sibling (of nine) and she is taking it really hard even if they barely spoke for the last 30 years.

I feel like an idget for complaining about my petty little plight, but depression gives zero fucks. I have actually taken to writing to stave off my own thought madness and finished an entire Jonathan Kellerman novel in 3 days. And now I have started a second one by him only…

All the psychology gobbledygook where the main psychologist character diagnosis everyone’s disorders…Now I am all paranoid about what my docs think of me. And what life maiming notes doc nurse put in my chart and how that will taint the new doc against me in March. Is it logical? The level of terror and paranoia (terr-anoia?) is illogical but human behavior dictates that most people, even professionals, will take the word of their colleagues in the form of session notes and possibly commit to that notion before giving a new client a chance to present.

That is my biggest fear.

The whole cognitive and mindfulness drivel is about living in the now, changing your negative thoughts and behaviors, yet if your past leads to problems in your present, it’s kind of hard not to beat yourself up.

Once I started reading about my meds and how alcohol can cause seizures with Wellbutrin…I got the message loud and clear. I fucked up by drinking. It was self medicating to dull the nerves and noise but I’d thought at worse it would make me sleepy and hells yeah, I want that. But seizures??? And the nurse didn’t even mention that even while giving me her disapproving expression. I guess what with my Google-itis before there was Google, just the desktop prescription manual, I should know every med and side effect ver batim but this one…I did not know. I’m not suicidal, I don’t want to die. I mean, I don’t much want to live these days but I have a kid and even a momentary lapse in working thru my misery and trying to off myself could mean they take her away from me….Irksome as her behavior can be, she is my heart and I don’t want to hurt her, me, or die, or lose her because they deem me unfit.

Unstable, sure. Were I stable I could handle a damned job and get out of this self esteem purgatory. Maybe even live a little better than paycheck to paycheck and getting food stamps. I TRIED, the whole thing with R and helping at the shop would get me a decent car…Once I hit my breaking point, he just swept me aside. His way or no way, as always. Not a word since I said no more. Some friend. But I did try! I was even thinking differently than I had in the past, thinking that having a routine of sorts, getting out of the house, helping out, gave me purpose and self worth. This was no small feat, me walking away from a better car. It was him and his bidding or me in a rubber room and I truly believe this even if doc nurse blew it off completely.

I am trying to be different. But with my spotty psych care and crap choices for therapy, it feels hopeless. And reading books where terms like “bipolar axis 2” and “thinking disorder” and “borderlines” are thrown around wily nily…I start going ocd with the thoughts that because I have some flaws and some quirks (I don’t want cured of my quirks, wearing black and liking skulls hurts no one) that I will always be written off as some behavioral problem who needs medicated and ushered out, tough love. Which was what doc nurse seemed to be giving.

I need to let it go but I’m not there yet. Which is another point, my therapists hated my process of holding a grudge for months and maybe years until I could let some stuff go. (I still haven’t quite let go of how the donor basically ditched his daughter, even though the counselor told me 6 years I had to let it go…I ain’t fucking Elsa.) All my insecurities and neuroses and self doubt start bubbling to the surface and maybe now is not the time to be reading a book on the topic of bipolar and personality disorders because obviously it’s been a trigger. But then isn’t the new tough love therapy about facing what triggers you?

Bloody hell! I am lost. I want to do well, be better, and yet I feel doomed. And it’s not merely circumstantial depression, this is full blown seasonal wish-I-was-a-hibernating-bear depression. I mean, really, bathing twice in a week is the best I can do? My idea of hygiene is deodorant and brushing my hair? I wear the same clothes 2 days at a time sometimes…All of this seems more of a red flag than one alcohol bender but the nurse doc..doc nurse…whatever the hell she is…


And again…not letting it go. NOT ELSA.

Though in the midwest this year I am frozen.

Another Good Day

It was another good day, though a tiring one. I am used to sleeping until noon because my sleep is so messed up and I was up at 8:15 this morning. Gotta take care of the new puppy. I decided to call her Dani after my late best friend. She was a huge lover of dogs and even volunteered for her local shelter, so that just seem like the perfect name to call the new little one.

My mood has stayed up the whole day even though I had to miss a dose of one of my meds because the script hasn’t been filled yet, I hate that. Having to depend so much on doctors and pharmacists is a real pain in the ass. I hate missing doses, but maybe I’ll get a hypo-manic phase out of it 😉

Well that’s all for today.



The Rest of the Story

I’m back home after having surgery on my leg wound, which got infected and needed to be cleaned out, and managing the pain with oxycodone and stool softeners. The meds make me stupid and constipated, so I’m apt to be found on the sofa sound asleep at any time of the night or day, and we won’t talk about what goes on (or doesn’t) in the bathroom. ‘Nuff said.

Despite all that went sideways during Vacation 2017, there were so many wonderful experiences that it was well worth the difficulties. There was that moment I love so much, when the ship actually sails…it always feels like the launching of a new adventure. I remember how it was that first time, when Will and I went, and I couldn’t help saying “I can’t believe we’re doing this” over and over.  Even after three cruises, I still feel that way. It never gets old, and I love it that yet another one is in the works.

We got to see all new islands, for me anyway. I missed Curacao because I was at the peak of my illness and felt lousy, but we’re going again so I’ll get another chance. There is something about Caribbean islands in winter that is almost magical…you can literally forget your troubles, or at the very least they’re so far away that they may as well not exist. And speaking of magic, I felt like a little kid at Disney, like I was seeing everything for the first time. (Most of which I was—I’d been to Disneyland before, but this was my first trip to DW.) There were lifelike lightning bugs in the trees, Christmas lights everywhere, and Cinderella’s Castle was covered with “icicles” just like the castle in Frozen. (Notice how everything seems to be about lights? I’ve been fascinated with them ever since I can remember, almost to the point of obsession. I had a Lite Brite toy when I was young that gave me endless hours of creative play.)

I need to say a couple of things about scooters. Well, it’s more about people and scooters. Shelley and I rented one each because as much walking as I can tolerate now, I couldn’t possible do as much as required to get around the parks. I found out quickly that people are reckless and foolish, and they don’t seem to see folks on scooters, often to their own detriment. They will walk out in front of you and have the nerve to be surprised when you nearly run over them. Worse, they let their smalls do the same thing and expect that you’ll be able to slam on the brakes in time to avoid hitting them. Needless to say, this got old after about half a day and I became quite irritable, shaking my head at people when they deliberately got in my way and at one point I even said, “I haven’t killed anyone in this thing today. But the day ain’t over yet.”

But even with that annoyance, I loved Disney and want to go back someday. I’ll never forget the Pandora: World of Avatar ride, which for my money is the Best. Ride. Ever. It took us on a bird’s-eye flight over exotic lands, swooping along narrow passages and through trees, barely missing obstacles like mountains and diving into water. It was incredible. As was this magnificent vacation. I can’t wait for the next one!