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.

The Year of Healthier Living

I don't know what happened, but last summer I really started to think about mortality, and my health, and how I am not the spring chicken I once was. Not really in a depressing way, but it did occur to me that I am not immortal, and one day I will die. It also occured to me that even though I can't exactly pick my ETD, and I can't stop a piano falling on my head, or another car from killing me, I can do other things to stave off the one thing I fear more than heights or big open spaces, if only for awhile.

I knew I had to change my ways, and the typical culprits of unhealthy living had to go. I had to quit smoking. I had to eat properly ( and by properly, I mean more than once a day, and before 9pm). I had to stop drinking so damn much. I had to sleep more, and exercise more, and take some time for myself once in a while.

I  tried my best in September to quit smoking and drinking. After our last big party in our apartment, I felt so horrible that I decided I never wanted to drink or smoke again, a promise I had never made to myself before. Unfortunately, two weeks later I was back to drinking and smoking and hating it, but doing it nonetheless. I knew I couldn't stop, not there. I kept my mind open to the possibility of quitting these things once I was away.

Once we were settled out here in BC, and before I had a job, I knew that I had no choice but to quit smoking. We had already pretty much stopped drinking other than the occasional drink ( which we have stuck to for six months), so it had to be done. Quitting smoking was the hardest thing I have ever done, and the worst pain I have ever gone through. It was two weeks of pure emotional hell, but I got through it. In all honesty, I have had the occasional cigar and cigarette over the past few months, usually when out for drinks. I have realized that cigarettes taste bloody awful, and I know I will never be a "smoker" again. I will most likely still have the occasional fruit flavored cigarillo, because I want to, not because I have to. I decided right from the start that I would never say never....I keep my mind open to the fact that I might smoke, I might drink, I might eat an entire pizza by myself again one day. This way of thinking keeps away all those feelings of failure that always stopped me from being mentally and physically healthy before, and helps me to feel like I'm doing my best, no matter what.

Once the smoking and drinking were no longer a part of my daily life, everything else just kind of fell into place. Living in a mild climate has let me be the outdoorsy person I always wanted to be. I get to be outside every day, and I have even gotten used to the rain, and have learned that there isn't bad weather, there are just bad clothing choices.  I have lost 30 pounds since December, which sounds like a lot, but really, I need to lose another 20 before anyone will really notice....however, it happened without me really trying. Just being active, did it all. Due to our limited budget, we don't always eat as healthy as we want to, and due to the fact that we don't drink anymore, our weekend treat a lot of the time is a bag of chips or dessert on a Friday night. But to me, that is still healthier than drinking 18 beer, and getting McDonald's afterwards.

Now, it's not like I am a big fitness/health guru now. I don't care if you smoke and drink and live off Burger King Whoppers, I just have to watch myself, because I have an addictive personality, and I like to do everything in excess. I am proud of myself. I have worked hard to change my way of thinking, and my view of myself. I am not an aging, alcoholic, chain-smoking obese person. I don't know who I am to be honest, but I know I am not that anymore. I'm liking the new, energetic and happy me, and even though it's not happening over night, when it does happen, I will know that I earned my weight loss, and my healthy body, and my positive way of thinking. With any luck, this stronger mental and physical health will keep me on this earthly plain for a few years longer than I had originally expected.

Reptile Hands

One Sunday morning, about 20 years ago or so, I woke up and my fingers were stuck together. At first, I was scared. I thought that somehow, in the middle of the night, my fingers had become webbed, and wondered if I was going to have to go to the doctor to get them cut apart. Going to school on Monday with webbed fingers, was not on my to-do list.

As it turned out, they weren't webbed. It was eczema, and a darn good case of it.

For the next ten years or so, I battled with the oozy blisters, and the hard, peeling skin on my hands. I learned to loathe my hands, and their ugliness. If I was having a break-out, which was often, I kept my hands tucked into my sleeves, and when those lovely teenage years hit, I was always weary of boys who wanted to hold my hand at the movies. I just didn't want them to be grossed out.

Occasionally, it got so bad, that I would have to wear mittens all day, or pretend that I had sprained my wrist, and wear a tensor bandage for a week, just to hide the blisters. I became very good at hiding it.

I tried everything. My doctor prescribed tons of creams, that never worked, or only worked once. My mom was very good at making sure I always had my own special soaps, lotions, make-up, that was hypo-allergenic, and fragrance-free....and back then, those things were hard to come by. I didn't wear cheap-o jewellery, and tried to stay away from all the things that caused me to break-out, which was everything from oranges, to the grass on the lawn. The aloe vera plant would help take away the itch, and dry out the blisters, but in the end, left me with peeling, dry fingers.

And then one day....it went away. For the past few years, I haven't had a break out of eczema. I get the occasional dry patch somewhere on my body, and I know that if I wear eyeshadow for more than 2 days in a row, my eyelids will dry out and peel, but that's it. My doctor had told me right from the start that I would probably "grow out of it", and one day it wouldn't be a problem. I thought he was right.

This past October however, it came back for a visit. My hands started to look wrinkly and red again. A couple small blisters showed up. It was itchy beyond belief. A friend gave me some aloe vera leaves, and it cleared up right away. I was ever so grateful.

Then last night, as I watched Law and Order and ate pizza, I noticed that my hands felt as if they were swelling. They weren't swelling, I knew what it was. I took a look, and low and behold....blisters. Little tiny oozy blisters between the fingers of my left hand. I washed it and dried it well, and spent the rest of the night popping the little bastards. This morning, they are dried out a wee bit...but they're still there.

I'm out of ideas, and I don't want to end up one of those folks who are hospitalized for full-body eczema.

Help?

Day 90 and Beyond

I have had a couple of readers ask me about Day 90, and how the healing is going. I had forgotten about my little psychological experiment, and had to go back to my day planner, and see exactly when it was. I am now on Day 119, so we'll say that considering I forgot about Day 90 completely, I'm doing okay.

Thanks to fantastic friends who put up with my constant depression and over-analyzing, and a couple of hot flings that are now over and done with, the healing was as quick as I could make it. Sure, my blood still boils a bit and I get a little sad, when I see certain photos, or hear certain stories, or think of certain events, but overall, I'm good, and am over that hump, and have accepted the fate of the relationship.

Before I sat down to write this entry today, I was perusing my email accounts, and came across the first email I ever received from him. It was sweet and funny and awkward, and it made me smile. I didn't feel sad, I didn't feel lonely, I didn't pine for him. I felt happy, in a way. Thankful for the boy who hunted me down and stole my heart.

My days were once spent wondering and thinking about him and his new girlfriend, and all of my faults and mistakes. That is no more, and I didn't even realize it until today. Now, my days are spent in the sunshine, daydreaming about camping and beach days. I am pining for a good laugh with my many wonderful friends whenever I am not with them. I have other things to worry about now, like getting a new car, doing the best I can at my job, and finding the time to sit down with a bottle of wine, and write music.

It's summertime, and life is good, as it always is when the weather is warm.

And on that note, I hear that it's beer o'clock, so I am going to get dressed and get back outside and sit in the backyard until the sun moves to the other side of the house, at which point, I will walk downtown and find my glorious friends, who will no doubt, already be half-cut, and laughing in the sunshine.