1. The warm temperature and the sunshine.
2. Being invited out to karaoke by a new work friend.
3. Kissing my husband.
4. Watching Smyrish "churn" his own butter.
5. Playing "Deal or No Deal" on Facebook.
6. Sitting outside with one of my clients watching airplanes fly by.
7. Watching Patches and Maggie wrestle on the slippery linoleum floor.
8. Egg salad sandwiches.
9. Having a flashlight to use, so I felt safe walking at night.
10. I can breathe out of one nostril.
11. I have lost 5 pounds.
12. The smell of campfire permeating the neighborhood.
13. The amazing Halloween decorations around these parts.
14. Having a "back up" travel mug to use for my coffee.
15. Reminiscing about Casey and Finnegan and Mr. Dressup.
Oct 17, 2011
Oct 9, 2011
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.
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.
Oct 4, 2011
Sep 29, 2011
Grace in Small Things #69 ( teehee....69)
1. A quiet house. No music, no television, no telephones ringing, no footsteps up above...it's been a glorious few weeks of silence.
2. Getting a big hug from a new co-worker, just because she felt like it, and sensed that I needed one. She was right, and she saved me from myself today, and she doesn't even know it.
3. Learning your way around a new town.
4. The sound of boats on the water.
5. Hedge clippers. When all else fails, take your anger out on the weeds and bushes.
2. Getting a big hug from a new co-worker, just because she felt like it, and sensed that I needed one. She was right, and she saved me from myself today, and she doesn't even know it.
3. Learning your way around a new town.
4. The sound of boats on the water.
5. Hedge clippers. When all else fails, take your anger out on the weeds and bushes.
Sep 27, 2011
I Hate Celebrities and Getting My Period
It's weird, how my whole life I was so against the thought of having children. I was 110% sure that they would just cramp my style, and hold me back from doing all the fun things that I wanted to do in life. Plus, they cost a lot of money, and they're whiny, and a very good friend of mine once pointed out that all children smell like rotten pineapple. ( or was it that pineapple smells like dirty little kids? I can't remember?) However, that is true that they would have cramped my style. Had I had a child earlier in life, I would have missed out on so much. I never would have gotten any travelling done. You can't just hop a train or a plane or a bus and head out of town, or the country, with 24 hours notice if you're a mommy. I wouldn't have all those years of hard-partying under my belt, which I don't regret at all because, DAMN, those were good times. (Those of you who were there for those 10 years can second that motion.) Most importantly, that child would have a daddy that isn't Smyrish, and that just wouldn't be any good at all. Which is maybe why I never really wanted kids. I just hadn't found the right baby daddy yet.
If you asked me ten years ago if I ever worried about possibly not ever being able to carry a child to term, I would have said "Who the fuck cares, I don't want 'em anyways", and had a shot of whatever you were buying.
Now, it's all I can freaking think about. Babies, babies, babies. I still groan and roll my eyes and whisper "ah fuck" under my breath when I get my period every month, but for different reasons than before. I try to ignore Facebook statuses by women who complain about their pregnancies, especially the young women who I honestly don't think are old enough to be even having babies, because I feel like slapping them all. I try my best to avoid my much-loved tabloid magazines and websites, because they are full to the tits with articles about how Kelly Preston/Gwen Stefani/Jane Seymour/Mariah Carey, etc. all had babies at the ripe old age of 65 without any medical interventions whatsoever, and how Beyonce just can't believe what a gift growing a human inside of you is. ( BTW, Did you know that she is THE FIRST woman to ever feel this way? Go Beyonce, you frickin' a-hole!)
The fact is, in biological terms, I am getting old. I know that thirty two isn't old at all in this day and age. Biology doesn't quite agree though, nature would have preferred that a man conked me on the head en route back to my cave and knocked me up at the ripe old age of sixteen. It's just the way it is. I quit smoking almost a year ago. I quit drinking like it was going out of style even before that. I exercise, and take my vitamins, and folic acid, and all that shit, but it just doesn't matter. It's either gonna happen, or it ain't, and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it, because I am not a celebrity with a super uterus and eleventy billion dollars. Nature, you are a real bitch sometimes, but I love you anyways.
I try not to stress too much about it, but it's just frustrating, ya know?
If you asked me ten years ago if I ever worried about possibly not ever being able to carry a child to term, I would have said "Who the fuck cares, I don't want 'em anyways", and had a shot of whatever you were buying.
Now, it's all I can freaking think about. Babies, babies, babies. I still groan and roll my eyes and whisper "ah fuck" under my breath when I get my period every month, but for different reasons than before. I try to ignore Facebook statuses by women who complain about their pregnancies, especially the young women who I honestly don't think are old enough to be even having babies, because I feel like slapping them all. I try my best to avoid my much-loved tabloid magazines and websites, because they are full to the tits with articles about how Kelly Preston/Gwen Stefani/Jane Seymour/Mariah Carey, etc. all had babies at the ripe old age of 65 without any medical interventions whatsoever, and how Beyonce just can't believe what a gift growing a human inside of you is. ( BTW, Did you know that she is THE FIRST woman to ever feel this way? Go Beyonce, you frickin' a-hole!)
The fact is, in biological terms, I am getting old. I know that thirty two isn't old at all in this day and age. Biology doesn't quite agree though, nature would have preferred that a man conked me on the head en route back to my cave and knocked me up at the ripe old age of sixteen. It's just the way it is. I quit smoking almost a year ago. I quit drinking like it was going out of style even before that. I exercise, and take my vitamins, and folic acid, and all that shit, but it just doesn't matter. It's either gonna happen, or it ain't, and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it, because I am not a celebrity with a super uterus and eleventy billion dollars. Nature, you are a real bitch sometimes, but I love you anyways.
I try not to stress too much about it, but it's just frustrating, ya know?
Sep 12, 2011
Late Night Thinking
I have shared this video clip from the movie "Up" a few times before. Maybe I've even posted it here on this blog before too, I can't remember. I come across it every once in awhile when I go through my blogs and Facebook links and whathaveyou, and every damn time, I'm crying two seconds after I click play.
My biggest fear in life, is waking up one day, sick and on the brink of death and knowing in my soul that I didn't do my very best to do and see all the things I wanted to do in life. The list of things I want to do and see before I kick the bucket gets longer every year. The more I live, the more I want to see and do. The list never ever gets shorter. So, I need to know that no matter what happens in life, I tried my best to have adventures, to have great friends, to learn and to teach, to do whatever it took to have a story to tell. A story that will surpass me, and my piddly little existence in this universe. With any luck, there will be many stories that will be told about me after I'm dead and gone, and those who are still around will be able to have a good chuckle at my expense once in awhile, if I don't do something to make them all hate me. Which I am capable of doing, I am sure.
The thing is though, that daily life is boring. It can be monotonous. On any given day, whether I'm in Europe, Cuba, Regina, or living in a 40 year old camper somewhere in the mountains, my days consist of generally the same things. Dishes. Cooking. Eye-Rolling. Dishes. Laugh with husband. Laundry. Dog walks. Swearing at dogs. Annoying husband. Watch dogs play. Dishes. That's just the way it is. You can't be having adventures all the time, and I am okay with that. But sometimes, I forget that I'm okay with that, and I get all down on myself, and I'm damn annoying when I'm down on myself, because there just isn't any reasoning with me. But then, I come across this video clip from a cute little movie, and everything rights itself again.
I remember that life isn't all about the big adventures and the big stories and the big dramatic horrible stuff, it's the little things that count too. It's my husband wanting to build a kitchen table, just so our great-grandchildren can brag that they now have the table that great grandpa built for great grandma. It's making perogies by myself in the kitchen as the dogs hump each others faces at my feet, and wondering if my grandma had to put up with that sort of thing while she made perogies. It's about family and friends and all the good and bad that comes along with having them around. It's about a puppy licking your tears away when you cry, and the incredibly bright moonlight that makes it bright enough for you to read outside, and the relief of finding that item you were looking for all over the house, and Tetris and having friends that will go ghost hunting with you and so many more little things that I could just go on for miles.
No wonder I don't ever get any sleep, what with all this thinking.
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