I'm alive. But so out of blogging practice. Waiting for the blog bug to bite me again so I might get going.

OH!

I guess I turned the "moderate" feature on somehow without knowing what I was doing. Ooops! That's ok. I fixed it. Thanks Z!

Huh?

What's going on with the comments thing? You have to "moderate" them now or something? Thanks to Zatoad's email, I just discovered FIFTEEN comments sitting dormant that I hadn't known existed. I just published and responded to them. And then I noticed a few comments from Laura and an anonymous one in my email that I can't find on the blog. Hmmm.. Going to investigate.

And Hi Laura! Its great to have you here and hope you stick around! I love that poem too.

=)

Had a good day today. (Just so you know I'm not always dark and dreary.) The Cutie is home and in a couple hours I'm a year older. Its still shocking how old I became so quickly. Life is a steamroller.

Hello Out There

I felt much less depressed today. Maybe its because I kept myself busy driving and shopping. Buying and returning. Driving and shopping. Buying and returning. Staying busy does help, I think, if for no other reason, it provides distraction. When there's an empty day, it makes me restless. Guilty. Ashamed. I start diving inside and feel a long dark inner hole. I start thinking about the futility of life and how nice it would be to believe in a god or fate or at least some sort of universal synronicity. Some order to things.

Trying to get the place a little spruced up so The Cutie won't have to return to a mess. Throwing out boxes, emptying the trash, vacuuming, laundry, changing the sheets. I love the shiny red vacuum I bought today - it picked up so much dirt it blew my mind - a blob about the size of a container of a gallon of milk. (I saved it to show The Cutie.) It's amazing how quickly dirt accumulates. I really need to do a thorough cleaning of the bathroom and kitchen floor. How do people keep up? And we're only in a studio. So much work for invisible results.

I don't like bitching, and I'd really prefer to not drone on and on with self-pitying egocentric trivialities, particulaly because I don't want to drive people away, or bore them, or create cause to dislike me, but...........

..................... Its kinda where I'm at right now. As much as I don't like that. So what's wrong with me? I mean, whats the main problem? Is there a specific character defect that I need to look at? Is it my perspective on life? Am I too stubborn? Indignant? Weak? Selfish?

Or, do I have a biochemical problem? Would medication be a magic cure? And if anti-depressants worked, would I need to take them forever to create some sort of calm or stability or do I simply need a jumpstart to fulfillment, happiness. Should I just give hope? I mean, when I think about it, have I been depressed for the past decade? Or, do I experience perfectly normal sad moments but overinflate their importance out of fear or hypersensitivity?

I don't know.

About so many things.

I want to help myself. I'm just not sure what to do or how.

One more day until I pick The Cutie back up from the airport. Its been super nice to be alone. (Not to say I don't love him to pieces.) But, I do think alone time can provide valuable clarity. Plus, I'm excited to be able to use his car and kinda look around where I live, something I've been wanting desparately to do since I first moved here as I still have a sense of not knowing my environment or where I am. Plus, I just like to drive! I do. There's a sense of freedom and joy that comes from movement. And I found a cool "Trader Joe's" store today (just down the street practically) and got to buy all kinds of cool and interesting foods. (I'm getting so tired of our local Pathmark & Shoprite: they're crowded, noisy and everyone seems so grumpy and unfriendly. Plain bad energy. And it gets to you after a while. Well, to me.)

In a moment (after this post) I'll go back out and return the feather bed I just bought from Marshalls for The Cutie's back (too small) and will look for a replacement as well as a new vacuum, (our's spits out more dirt than it sucks up.) I really like buying things that make The Cutie happy or more comfortable. Actually, I think I like getting him much more than he care about receiving them, but nonetheless..... I want him to know that I appreciate him.

The job is just so awful. Not sure if its as awful as I think it is, but I thinks it is!!! Just unpleasant. Nastiness. Snapping. Unfair blaming. Criticism. High strung nitpicking and pettiness. If I didn't think it would be a terrible bore, I might go into detail about why, but, maybe it doesn't matter. The other reason I might elaborate would be to get some sort of outside perspective, some sort of validation. But then, why do I have to prove myself? I don't know. To know I'm not crazy? Hold too high of expectations of people? Why can't people by civil? I become so infuriated during the day I want to snap back or stomp out fuming. But then, how would I be any better? Are all jobs going to be like this? It makes me just want to be alone for the rest of my life. I can't handle work if this is what is typical behavior. Or at least coworkers.

Maybe its me.

I don't know.

Maybe its me.

Dream

Unexpectantly and without explanation, The Cutie angrily left me in Iraq admist the heart of unrest and disorder. I could not speak the language, was unable to count the money (with only a few American dollars on me), knew no one and had no where to go or way to protect myself.
Bombs began to rain down and I scrambled looking for protection from a similar fate to the bloodied corpses around me. For a short time I'd located a pocket of other English speaking people who drove a "bomb shelter" (a jeep with a roof) but this too was an inadequate Russion roulette as we held our collective breathes, grimly hoping that in the next instant, we would not be next. I became separated and apprehensivly entered a courtyard of turbened men, trying to dissapear. I was desparate, terrified, and furious at The Cutie. How could he betray me like this? How could he do this?

And it went on, and on - but no time now, I must get read for work...

The Cutie is gone for a few days and I am alone for the first time since I met him. The way it was for so many years. I have time and space and me. And good or bad, I more clearly hear my thoughts. They disturb me. I'm scared that if I don't seek help soon that I will be too complacent to pull myself out of this emotional muck. Maybe I should have paid better attention? Or maybe I'm overreacting. I don't know. Out of curiousity, I just took this "Quiz" and expected somewhat depressed results, but a 61, "severely depressed" surprised me. I crave a guidance. Comfort. Peace.

Trying hard not to be depressed though i lost it over the weekend. I hope the Cutie doesn't think less of me. Does he think I'm weak? Pathetic? Crazy? Its good to share - sometimes. Unless it makes you look stupid. Right? I don't know right now.

Off to work! Bye.

They made me cry within the first 10 minutes today

Why are such stupid things so friggin hard.

Video code provided by HotCodez.com

Insatiable Hunger

I think I've been eating to change my mood lately.  Desperate attempts to seize respite, restore calm. And I do deflect the unpleasantness -  for a moment.  Then, despite my determination,  in a spike rushes back the ugliness, the discomfort, the rage.  Like a host of other frailties, food also is an addictive mood altering medium, and it works - otherwise why would people use it?  Unfortunately, it leaves me feeling sick, mad at myself and dissapointed.  Time for an overhaul.  I've been wading deep into dangerous waters but am ready to turn back.

Do you think being sad allows you to appreciate your happiness more? Does the profundity of simple, silly things ever strike you as exceptionally beautiful during a dark time?

I admitted to The Cutie

that I'm afraid I may be becoming or am depressed after it occurred to me that the shower I just took shouldn't necessarily be considered a momentous achievement, although it felt like it was. He fiddled with papers on his desk as the uncontrollable somber rain began to pour. Stupid Stupid Stupid! What was was my problem? "I don't even have reason to be upset!" I protested. Luckily, the threat of a visit from his relatives that afternoon forced us off of the couch and into full fledged panic-cleaning mode. And it was a good thing because although they didn't arrive until the evening for a much too short visit, we were left with a tidy, sweet smelling, neat little studio. Plus I got to take another drive to exchange the Small Flashypants for a Medium. (And snuck in a Frappachino to boot.) So then, am I really depressed if I feel ok 3 hours later? I don't know. Not that it matters, I couldn't afford therapy or drugs even if I wanted them. But, I DID keep my journal for most of yesterday which I feel good about. Raising consciousness is a powerful bitch! I think it will help.

8:16am, have to leave for work in a few minutes. I so am dreading it as I've begun to liken it to working at the Group Home in my mind. It has that feel to it - constant crisis, unpredictable moods, meltdowns, and generalized instability. A pervading since of fear and tension.

PS: Thank you for your email Wombat Wol. Although I've been too lethargic to respond, I find myself reflecting on it often. It was very kind of you.

I feel like shit! But at least I started my food journal today. I really hope it helps. I wrote (typed) down everything I ate, what I was thinking/feeling, what I was doing and my hunger scale before and after. Is there some way I can link or upload the excel form here? Or on a webpage? I don't know how. I'd like to keep them all together and organized.

Red Ruffled "Flashy Pants"

"for dogs in season."


And 4 pink fluffy booties. (Too small, I'll try again.)


Beautiful Day

Beautiful stories.

There's a book store next door to the petstore.

Endless entries into worlds unknown to me. So much to learn! Absorb! Experience.

I could have stayed forever. Sitting. Thinking. Reading. Exploring all that exists between those varied pages.

Instead I bought The Cutie Anne Rice's vampire triology, JR Tolken's Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, an origami guide for making high tech paper planes out of dollar dollar bills and a grande espresso frappachio and called it a day. I knew he'd be wondering what could possibly take so long to buy doggie sanitary pads. I'm so enthused by all that I saw. It inspired my imagination and interest. And there's so much I could bring home for the Cutie to keep him busy and happier while stuck at home! Books, projects, puzzles, role playing books..... So much!

When I got home, he was on line of course (COV) and listening to his new Fionna Apple CD. Mellow. Groovy. Melodic. I think I like her. It's good to have music in the house (studio.) I miss music. Does that sound silly? Simplistic? But I do. It's important to me. And I need it. I wish we were making music. We've discussed a few times but it hasn't been the right time yet. Not enough space for instruments. Financial contraints. But I miss it and will be happy when music is more of a part of our lives. Playing the piano opened me - it moved my feelings through and beyond me - it released energies and awakened my spirit. Listening to this reminds me of that and makes me yearn.

Like this radio station that I found once The Cutie started letting me use his his car to drive to work. It reminds me of the causes I once believed in and thought I would dedicate me life to. They're still there. Waiting for me. And I can learn more and get involved at any time. Just as soon as I get a handle on myself.

I bought a blank journal today. I want to start my food journal again because I've been slipping. Slipping. Slipping. I won't get angry at myself. I will accept it as a part of my journey but I do want to get on track and take care of myself in the way that I know I can. Increasing my consiousness will be the first step and I will do that by writing down all that I eat what I am thinking feeling and doing at the time as well as my hunger levels before and after as indicated by a number between one and 10. 1 Being absolutely famished, 5 being neutral and 10 being full beyond comfort. Recording all of this takes effort and persistance and also a good deal of courage (its much easier and comfortable to go unconcious), but it is valuable for recovery. That reminds me I need to call about that Eating Disorder agency I found on-line. Just as soon as I have a moment alone. And feel brave. And energetic.

I battle with myself about getting old. Being old. Feeling old. I tell myself I don't care. But that's a lie. I do. When did I get these wrinkles. I look in our cloudy medicine cabinent at a face I do not know. Puffy discolored weariness. Leathering and worn. Was I beautiful? Could I be again? Where will it come from? Maybe from within. I look at women I know. Middleaged woman 20 years my senior that I respect and love. Do I see them as damaged beings? Ugly or disfigured? Not at all. Never! So why then do I hold such stringent and punitive self-reflection? So we may be "extra" voluputous or "imperfect" physical beings. Does that makes us unworthy? Dispensable? Underserving of love, affection? Obiously rhetorical as the answer's simplicity is glaringly clear. I wish more of us believed this. I wish I did. Not just in my head, but throughout my being. I'm so tired of hearing the women at work repent upon consuming a cookie and their unrelenting daily diet jabber. For god's sake. We have other things to think about! To be.

It makes me mad! And sad.

What are you thinking about today?