Once Again.......

It's been a few years since the Fall Depression has hit me this hard. Actually, it's been a few years since I've felt this blackened at all. I've managed to keep myself pretty in check the past couple years, or so I think. It's strange how on the most beautiful of Autumn days, it just hits. Just like that. To be honest, I've been fighting it off for a few months now. I guess I just got lazy today and gave the guards a day off.

I've been annoying the hell out of myself so much lately that I am almost happy that my friends aren't here to put up with my mood swings, and at the same time it breaks my heart that my wonderful husband has to bear the brunt of it alone. As it has been my entire life, when I start feeling this way, instead of talking about it, or getting professional help, or telling somebody what I think might be the problem ( because honestly, I never actually know the whole story myself, only bits and pieces) I start getting nit-picky, and judgemental and things that aren't important in the slightest are suddenly the most stressful and frustrating things in the whole world. It's a coping mechanism that I developed early on, so I could push everyone far away, and not have to tell them what's bothering me. When people are angry or annoyed with you, they don't want to talk to you. This helps me keep my secrets and problems to myself, so I can try and find a way to self-soothe and be a god-damned hero or something. On the other hand though, it pushes people away, and the option of having somebody to talk to when you most feel you need them,  is gone altogether. It's a flawed plan and coping mechanism, I'll admit. I haven't actually figured out why I do it, or how to stop it. I decided today, that I need to get on that one. If I can answer that question for myself, I should be on the right track.

I am a fairly productive depressed person though. I still make it to work, I get all my chores done, I don't normally burst into tears or throw things in public. I've learned to be a high-functioning total fuck up, which is good, because I don't think I could just lay in bed all day and be sad, although that is what I'm doing right now. I'm already starting to get antsy, and it's only been an hour since I announced I wasn't eating supper and I was going to bed in the late afternoon.

So, bring on the St. John's Wort, the angry independent music, and many, many hours walking around talking to myself. This too shall pass, but this time, it's going to pass without the aid of cigarettes, alcohol, and a pub full of people in the same boat, and the main goal will be not alienating the one person I need out here.

Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving.

Fuck Xmas, Yo.

Is it January 2nd yet? No? Motherfucker, I wish it was.

I think I have already had my annual Xmas mental breakdown, although I took it out on the dogs this time, instead of the handicapped people at work, who usually have to see me lose my mind, and sit on the floor crying and whining about how hard life is, and how I "just can't handle this shit anymore". Once the annual temper tantrum is over, I have a day of energy and productivity, and then I just go into auto-pilot until the holidays are over.

Christmas has never been my favorite time of year. I don't know what it is, but starting the week before, I am in a mood. I take everything a little bit too personally, everything is just a little too hard to deal with, and it takes all the inner strength I can muster up, just to get through until New Year's Day without killing myself or others. Usually, as soon as I know all the hullabaloo is over, I am calmer, happier, and am no longer having suicidal or murderous thoughts.

I don't know if it's the shopping, the pressure to make that one day the best day of the year for everyone around you, or the social and family commitments that I either can, or cannot attend, but it is all just too much. Sometimes I wish I was Jehovah's Witness or something, so I didn't have to deal.

Once Christmas Day is over, the stress of New Year's Eve is upon me. I never know what to do, where to go, who to hang out with. It always ends up being a fun party, no matter what I choose to do, but this year, it seems to be harder to make this decision, mostly because I feel like I am out of the loop with everyone I used to hang out with. I haven't hung out with the girls in so long, that I don't even know what or how they are doing, or what I would tell them if they asked me those questions. At the same time, I know I am not interested in braving the pub on a busy night like that, so I'm flip-flopping between house parties, trying to figure out where I would feel more comfortable, or welcome.

Blarg. Eleven more days, and all of this will be over, and I can concentrate on getting the hell away from here for a couple weeks. If Cuba works out nicely, and we decide to never come back, I'll get one of you to send the dogs to us, and the rest of our things you can divvy up amongst yourselves. :)

The End. Good-bye Master Cleanse.

Even though this would be day six, and I have yet to eat today, I technically finished five days of the Master Cleanse.

When it came to the whole not eating part of the cleanse, it was actually quite easy for me. I was craving popcorn and battered mushrooms for some reason the past three days, and last night, I gave in and had the popcorn, even though I wasn't all that hungry. But it was oh, sooooo goood.

The problem for me with this cleanse, is that I really didn't feel "cleansed" at all. Everything I read told me that I was going to shit out decades of waste that was just hanging out in my colon, and well, I don't think that I did. I did the Sea Salt Water Chug one day, and that was enough. The taste, and the intense stomach cramps that came after, were nothing short of horrendous. I would have rather had the flu. I truly do think, that I am not as unhealthy as I previously thought....there was just nothing in me to evacuate.

I lost about 8-10 pounds. which is good I guess, but for me, that is the equivalent of a regular sized person losing one pound. It's a start I guess, and hopefully I can keep it off.

By day three, I realized how easy it was for me to not eat at all. Sure, I was tired, and my daily swim was hard with no real energy, but I dealt. I figured I could just starve myself until 20 pounds dropped off, and then go from there.

I probably could have. However, by day four, my brain had gotten confused, and thought that I was starving myself because I was depressed, and not because I was "cleansing". That is not good.

My annual mental anguish and depression, that I am accustomed to, kicked in in a matter of hours. Next thing I knew, I was sad, hating myself, and planning on becoming an anorexic, just to make myself look sexy, and make others happy. (Sound crazy? Yup, sure does!) Little comments from people that meant nothing, all of a sudden meant everything to me.

I realized late last night, that I was not doing this cleanse anymore to feel better physically, but because I was depressed....and when I am depressed, I tend not to eat. My appetite is non-existent.

So, today I am going to try and ween myself back on to food. I have to take it easy, otherwise I will be shitting all the live long day. I have planned some healthy meals and snacks to take to work with me this week, and hope that eating well, and continuing my daily exercise, will help kick this depression to the curb.

In short, the Master Cleanse just didn't work for me, the way it was supposed to, although it has worked for some, and may work for you. All I wanted was to feel better, and lose 20 pounds in a week like Beyonce, but hey, you don't always get what you want.

Grace in Small Things #11

It is days like today, when I find it really hard to think of the little things that are making today okay. Today is a day of exhaustion, depression, paranoia, laziness, cramps and extreme loneliness, and my only hope is that the wine kicks in soon, and I forget all about everything and everyone.

1. Patches. This dog is the cat's pajamas, and he is way more lovable than the evil fish, although I do really enjoy their insanity. It is quite entertaining.

2. An out of the blue email from a friend I see only on occasion and by accident it seems these days, that said only "I love you Abigail. I really do."

3. Smyrish taking the dog for a walk this afternoon, because even though I wanted to get out of the house, I had just woken up after my last night shift, and felt like a zombie.

4. My brother is leaving The Pub, and his friends, to come and play Super Scrabble with Smyrish and I.

5. He is the only person that asked to hang out with me this weekend and I predict some good conversation tonight...as well as many drinks.

6. After looking at pictures from karaoke on Monday, I just couldn't help but giggle. It was a really good time.

7. I have half a box of red wine, and a bottle of white wine leftover from Christmas parties. Since I have no money, and the urge to drink, this made my day!

8. My old friend Jen. She sat and talked with me for an hour last night when I got to work. I love her stories and living vicariously through her crazy single life!

9. I have taken time each day this week to do something crafty and creative and my brain is ever so thankful.

My Day, in a Nut Shell. ( Look! I'm in a nut shell!)

1. Wake up to phone ringing. It is the boss, so I answer it. Hilarity does NOT ensue.

2. Decide to get up and make coffee, because I cannot fall back to sleep. Spill old slimy coffee grinds on arm and floor.

3. Watch Law & Order, hoping that it will motivate me to do something productive.

4. It doesn't. So I watch "Without a Trace."

5. Wonder when Smyrish is coming home, because I'm lonely.

6. Clean the bathroom. Wash the dishes. Attempt to move bed back to where it was before sexy time last night. Hurt my arm in the process and give up.

7. More coffee, and a couple cigarettes.

8. Check email. Nothing important. Find that nobody in cyber space loves me except Wench. :)

9. Find out that "Hairspray" is sold out. Purchase tickets to 54-40 instead.

10. Smyrish comes home, and I forget to tell him about 54-40.

11. He tells me that my car was towed this morning.

12. Temper tantrum begins to erupt.

13. We go to City Hall, and protest our tickets, and try to find out where my car is. They don't know.

14. We track down my car, and go back to City Hall.

15. Smyrish informs me that we had a Scrabble date tonight that I completely forgot about. I feel like an arse.

16. When we get home, we find a stray kitten. The neighbor and caretaker give us food and litter, so we can look after her. We all fall in love. She's fucking awesome, and I want to keep her.

17. Because of all the City Hall bullshit, I don't have time to make the lovely dinner I had planned to make, but I improvise, and we eat.

18. Off to fitness class! Thankfully, that went well, and it was a great time!

19. Somewhere in the hour I was at my class I forgot (again) about the Scrabble date, and that I was supposed to meet Wench to give her money back to her that she gave me, so I could purchase her a ticket to "Hairspray".

20. Again, hilarity does not ensue.

21. I get called in to work. The midnight staff is not going to show up. I agree to come in. Luckily, because of this, I do not have to work a 16 hour day tomorrow, as was previously scheduled. However, because I have to go to bed, I am for sure missing the Scrabble date. Bad Abigail!

22. I finally shower for the first time in 2 days, have half a glass of wine, and I wash the dishes again. I tell my sob story to the new kitty and Pocket Buddha.

23. I have a quick pity party, then get some sleep before work, and pray that tomorrow things will be better, and I won't have the memory of a goldfish.

Los Manlicious

I have been on a huge Hawksley kick this week, ever since Smyrish bought me his newest album Los Manlicious. His music seems to go along well with my ever changing moods, emotions and levels of motivation. I must say, this is his best album, in my opinion, since For Him and the Girls, so I've dragged that out of my collection as well, and put it back on heavy rotation.



I must say though, I feel for Mr. Workman. In comparing the album covers of his last 3 records, I noticed that he sure has lost his crazy, beautiful black hair mighty quickly. Poor guy. However, I am happy he's finally rockin' the baldness, and not hiding it under that ridiculous bandana/hat combo like he has been the past couple years.

Crazy Bitch

I have mental problems. This is a self-diagnosis, mind you, but I believe it to be true.

I don't know what's up with me lately. Nothing seems to make me uber-happy or excited, and when I am feeling "up", I am constantly wondering when I'm going to start feeling down. I am ruining genuine, happy and scrappy moments, because of this gigantic raincloud over my head.

Maybe it's the rainy weather, or maybe it's the fact that I haven't been spending loads of time drinking beer in the sunshine like I did previous years, but I just don't have that summer joy running through my veins, as I usually do this time of year.

I spend all my time at home, or at work. I have acquired an incredibly dull morning routine at home, and actually pray that I will get called in to work most mornings, just for something different.

I normally enjoy being alone, to a certain extent. I think the current problem is though, that I've run out of things to do to fill my time. Everybody else works during the day, so they're busy. I have had limited computer access, it's too rainy to go for walks, and I've run out of ideas and motivation when it comes to cleaning, decorating and organizing the apartment. In the end, I wake up, make coffee, watch "What Not to Wear", followed by "Law & Order", eat lunch, wash dishes, have a cry, and play with the bunny as much as possible before he gets sent away. Sometimes, I shower, but only on those special days. Usually those are the days when the phone rings, and it is actually for me. I live the rock and roll lifestyle, yes I do.

I feel "out of the loop", lonely and bored the majority of the time, and don't even really care to do much about it. Sure, I could leave the house, and search out some familiar faces, but it's raining, and I'm broke, and the last few times I have ventured out, it's been the same ol' gossip and conversations, and I just end up getting tanked and saying something rude, just to change the subject. Which in turn makes me feel foolish, and I decide that maybe I shouldn't be out in public anyways. The shitty thing is though, that no money + no pub = no friends. And that's sad on a couple different levels.

Listen to me whine. Sheesh. Slap me if you feel like it, I won't blame you.

Things aren't really that bad. They sure as hell have been worse. And I'm not alone, I have the best boyfriend this girl could ever ask for, who is actually putting up with this mood, and doing his best to make it all okay.

It's just a funk, I hope. I'm sure once the sun comes back, and the annual camping trip draws near, and I get to keep some of my hard-earned money for once, things will start looking up, and I'll start cheering up.

Annual January Blues

Depression is a bitch. Abigail depressed, is a bitch, literally. I hate feeling bad about feeling bad, because sometimes, you just are in a funk, and you need to wallow a bit, even if you don't have any concrete reasons about being in said funk. I just wish that I wasn't such a bother.

Yesterday, I felt old. I cried and sulked about it until finally my body couldn't take it anymore and I fell asleep. All night, crazy dreams that seemed all too real. This morning, I was excited about going for brunch with Smyrish, and then there was a mouse in the bath tub with me, and my mood just went downhill from there, which is ridiculous. I feel over-worked, left out, exhausted, and I'm pissed about not having enough time in any given day to do all the things I want to do, and see all the people I want to see, and at the same time, I just want to be alone. Bah, I hate this feeling.

Although I don't really want to go out in the cold, I'm heading out to have a drink with Wench and Becks, 'cause I need some quality girl time, and then I think I'll call Smyrish and pester him for a cuddle.




Vote for me, and I'll make all your dreams come true.

29.

In seven days, on Robbie Burns Day, I will be twenty-nine. I never thought much of it, until last week, when it hit me, that although twenty-nine isn't old, it isn't like I'm going to get any younger either. First it's twenty-nine, then the big 30, then all of a sudden you're forty, and fifty, and so on. Time moves much too fast. Twenty-nine came much too fast.

My twenties were full of fun, and heartbreak and sadness and adventure. They were also chalk full of self-esteem issues, depression, money troubles, and self-loathing. If I made a list of interesting things I have done, it would be long. The list of things I wish I had done, is even longer. I am starting to think I wish I would have spent my money more wisely, and had a bit more adventure. Maybe taken a class or two. Moved away from here for awhile.

I don't really regret anything, other than some time well wasted.

I just feel that now, at twenty-nine, I am going to have to start to think differently about some things. I feel that I need to get out and do some more travelling, have some more adventures, meet some more people that I will never see again, stat, because you never know what could happen.

Maybe it's the dozens of pregnant women in my life right now, but I keep thinking, what if I got pregnant? I'm too old, to not have the baby, that would be irresponsible. I should be mature enough to deal with that, if it happened. And once you have a baby, that's that. Your personal crazy adventures come to a halt. I would have to find a house, I would have to find a way to buy everything for baby, and there wouldn't be anything left over for me, and I am not sure, but it may be frowned upon in some circles to take your newborn galavanting through Europe or Asia or something. Plus, you can't take your baby to pubs around the world. They just can't party like you can party.

Blah, here we go. I think I'm in crisis here.

Although it may seem immature to some, I like my life. I like that I can go out and get slammered on a Tuesday with all of my friends. I like that I can choose to spend way too much money at Walmart, or run off on a road trip on a whim. I like sitting at home and drinking wine in the tub. But something inside of me, is telling me that I need to stop, make a change, while the other side of me is saying "Run away! Leave for awhile, make yourself broke and have fun doing it!". I feel conflicted by my own feelings.

I'm sure this all sounds really stupid. And maybe my funk has something to do with the weather, and my lack of self-confidence at the moment, as well as the whole age thing. If nothing else, next Saturday, I'm forcing myself to go out dancing with all my friends, and I know it'll be a great time, because we always have a great time, and maybe getting out and shaking my booty a bit will help get me out of this.




Vote for me. It'll put a smile on my face.

'Tis the Season?

Blah. Blech. Meh.

That's how I've been feeling lately. I have this horrible feeling that my December blues have hit early this year. For what reason, I don't have a clue. Nothing is really wrong, nothing out of the ordinary that doesn't bug me regularily, anyways. It takes alot to get myself excited about things that normally would have me bouncing off the walls, such as Halloween, upcoming concerts, and the like. I've been utterly exhausted all the live long day for over a week now, even though I have been getting more sleep that usual. I feel like crying, out of the blue, for no reason, about 10 times a day, but I've been holding back, and holding it in. I am bored outta my tree, but don't feel like actually doing anything to change that, and really don't have anything particular in mind of what I would like to do to spice life up a bit.

I have a few moments in my day, where I do feel quite content, like right now, and I pray that they'll stick around for more than an hour, but they usually don't.

Then again, maybe I'm just worn down. Maybe it's not the winter blues.

Maybe I'm just catching a cold.

Whatever it is, I hope it just runs its course, and gets the fuck outta here.

Dear Pat, Love Abigail

I wish I could be at the funeral. I wish that I had called in to work, told them it was an emergency and they had to cover my shifts, shoved mom in the car, and hit the highway. Maybe mom could have handled one big road trip instead of the two she wasn't up for. Maybe we could have done a blitzkrieg, and picked up the relatives that were feeling the same way as I was. My car is big enough, we could have fit. Why, all of a sudden, did I stifle my urge to do something spontaneous?

Maybe. Maybe. Coulda. Shoulda. Woulda.

My cousin Pat, was extremely special to me. I know that she knew how special she was in that respect, and I have no doubt, that she understands why I am not on the highway with the rest of the relatives.
We've had a busy week, our immediate family. She would tell us to stay home, and rest and not worry about missing out. Sometimes, things come up, and you can't accommodate everyone at a moments notice. We never did see each other as much as we would have wanted to.

Pat was much older than me. Shit, she was much older than my mom, in my terms of age and years. But she was always the cooler older kid, to all of us. When we got together for big family gatherings, she was the last of the adults to be sitting with us, drinking and talking until the wee hours of the morning. We would drink and laugh, and tell her EVERYTHING. She was the one, in our angst-ridden teenage years, and in our confusing-as-fuck early twenties that really listened to us....

We would tell her about our hopes and dreams, and she believed in them for us. We would tell her about our broken hearts and our relationships and our troubles with the family, and she would listen. We would tell stories, we would watch family embrace and argue, and she would listen to our opinions on everyone...and give us her own. She never once treated us like we were "kids", we were equal to her. She was the only one to stand up for us that night in the garage, when nobody believed in our dreams.

When we noticed that she wasn't quite herself, a couple years ago, she still made an effort to come out and play, each time her and her husband came to visit us in Small Town. She always rubbed our arms, and held our hands and hugged us...and believe me, that is a foreign act in a family that is as infamous for their drinking, as for their fighting. She told us how special we were, and how much she loved us, as much as she could, and you couldn't help but tell her the same thing back, because you just knew how much she meant it.

Her funeral, is going to be a good time. If they do it up right, like I am sure they will do, it will be one hell of a party. When our family comes together, even (or especially?) in times of sorrow, we shine. We laugh, we cry, we tell stories, we eat and drink like nobodies business. Silly arguments and issues are forgotten, for but a moment, and we come together to celebrate and love each other. Blood is thicker than water.

So yes, I should have shoved the family in the car and headed to Manitoba. But I didn't. So the next time we all get together, we will just have to have our own celebration of Pats' life. And we should do it her way. With drinks and belly laughs and honesty and tears and hugs.

Or maybe, that's just how everyday should be?

Just Thinking....

It is a strange and beautiful feeling to go back and read your own blog archives of the past few months, and realize what a complete mental overhaul you have done to yourself.

After reading Madame Diva's "Introduction to Abigail Road", I became interested in checking myself out a bit. I rarely go back and read what I have posted in the Blogosphere, or in my own hand-written journals, but I just couldn't help myself. Needless to say, in the end, I was none too impressed with myself, and had to wonder about who this girl was that was writing these depressing diatribes about weight gain, loneliness, and heartbreak. Most of my entries from this past winter and spring were so frickin' depressing, as were a good chunk of entries from 2005 and 2006. The feeling that the world was shitting on my head, was a common topic of conversation. I just wanted to go back in time and slap myself, and then give myself a hug, and tell me that everything would be alright.

Somewhere between here and here, things started to brighten up a bit, when it came to writing about life in general, and it's been gettin' better ever since. Life ain't so shitty. Maybe it's the seasons, maybe it's just a change of attitude, maybe I just shit on myself for minor things because it's easier than dealing with the actual depressing things that have happened to me in life. Or maybe, my little blog is just a healthy forum for my venting about life's little troubles.

However, when I went back and read some of these depressing entries, I really did have to give myself a mental high-five for getting through the shit-storm(s) of mental instability, with the help of my friends and my readers. If winter depression or heartbreak slap me upside the head again this year, I am going to have to try remember that everything works out in the end, and that I'm one tough cookie, and I can handle everything that's thrown my way, good and bad.