~A Bitter Swallow~

 I have 2 tattoos on me, and they both mean something pretty significant.  They both mark times in my life that came with great change.  I may not have gotten them during that change, but they represent it.  I've recently made a tremendous change in my life, maybe the biggest (other than having children, of course) and want a way to remember it.  I want that visual reminder of why I am putting myself (and others) through this; something I can look at to remember what it is I am trying to accomplish, something to give me that boost when I want to give up. 

I just need to figure out what it is that is happening, and a way to put it into a visual representation.  Something that will mean something just to me, really. 

Now I have 3 tattoos I need to get.  Nope, 4.  

They are like potato chips, no?

*sigh*

 A small list of things that made me giggle for your viewing pleasure while digesting all that food:

 You're welcome.

  I am such an idiot sometimes.  I have a knack for getting myself into the most outrageous, aggravating situations.  It would be rather comedic if it didn't cause me so much panic, stress, and overall bewilderment.   Okay, it's still humorous, but only because if I don't laugh, I'd probably slit my wrists. 

Please note:  This post contains highly personal information about me.  If you do not feel comfortable knowing this stuff, please do not read.  


The last couple of weeks have been horrible.  There is so much chaos in my head right now, it is completely overwhelming.  I'm still in a state of shock, trying to absorb what has happened, even though I am the one who initiated it.  I am moving through life like a ghost, or a shadow.  I'm thin, transparent, vapid.  I am having a hard time connecting with reality all the way.  You know that filmy feeling, when you start to wake up but aren't quite all the way yet?  That's where I've been residing.
But, it was time. It is time.

 I had an epiphany in the middle of last month.  One that has been trying to worm its way through for a long time now.  It was suddenly able to burst forth from its confines and shout its meaning through my thick skull.  You know that saying "It was like someone flipped a switch."?  Yeah, I totally get that now.  Because it was.  One day, in the middle of the day, it just happened, and I knew.  I knew what was happening (or not happening), and I knew what I had to do.

I have an expiration date.  You may laugh, but laugh because it's painfully and sadly true.  I get into a relationship, and after so much time has passed, it spoils.  I spoil.  Something inside of me starts to go rancid, like it sat out on the counter for a couple of days before being put back in the fridge.  But by then, the change has already occurred.  So now, while sitting in the fridge, the contamination festers, feeding slowly and quietly from the inside. There comes a point when I no longer am content to be in a relationship.  My feelings change.  My heart changes.  There is no remedy; no rekindling.  Once it starts to fizzle, it's over.  It burns bright and hot, but once the fire is out, there is nothing left but ash.  There is nothing left with which to rebuild that fire- nothing left to burn.  So the ashes sit there rotting and molding, eating away everything around it.

I've always been this way.  From the very beginning; as far back as I can remember.  I can't seem to settle down.  I've always read those stupid fairy tales, about true love.  I honestly believe some people just aren't built that way.  I'm not.  People tell me that I just haven't found "the one" yet.  Well, folks, I'm 36 years old, and at this point, I don't really care about "the one" anymore.

My epiphany actually came in the form of finally realizing what my problem was.  Why can I not seem to love, like everyone else does? What is so broken inside of me that I cannot feel the way others do?  That my brain and heart become so twisted and warped. 

The light switch was realizing that I do not love myself.  I have never loved myself.  But how could I?  I don't even know myself.  I have never given myself that chance.  I have never given myself the opportunity to just be me, without anyone else, and discover who I am.  How can I give my love to someone else, when I have no love inside of myself to give?  (Well, except for the love of my children, but that is an entirely different kind of love and doesn't apply here.  Thank goodness, because then I'd really be in trouble.)  I have been attached to a boyfriend ever since I was fourteen years old.  And that first boyfriend was a horrible experience.  A year of rape, belittlement, and brainwashing can really mess with a young girl's mind.   I was saved from that first boyfriend by another guy;  Not by myself.  After that, I think I just became to dependent on the boys to "save" me and protect me.  I was afraid to be alone.  I don't even know what prompted this.  You'd think it would be the opposite.  It doesn't make sense to me yet, although I'm sure there is some deep psychological reasoning behind it that I just haven't delved into yet.

But that is just what I need to do.  I need to go deep into my psyche, and find out what is in there.  Stir that pot around and see what rises to the surface, analyze it, fix it.  Try to make sense out of it anyway.  And I realize the first step in doing that is to break the cycle; to let myself be on my own.  To force myself to take care of myself, and to protect myself.  I need to build the confidence within me that I am not this weak person;  That I am capable.  Maybe then I can begin to trust myself, and eventually, to love myself. 

I do want to make it very clear that just because my fires burn out does not mean that there was never any real love there, because there was.  There still is.  It just morphs into something different; something gentler and kinder- not the fierce kind of love that a real romantic relationship should have.  It's more the love for a very good friend.  Do know that my heart is not completely cold.  I am thankful for this, because I was afraid for a long time- that my heart wasn't there; that it had been replaced by this frozen rock.  But it's there.  Deep inside, it still beats.   I'm hoping that eventually the frost will wear off... that the heat inside of it will thaw it out, and that the frostbitten parts will heal.   It is going to take time;  so much time.  And it's going to hurt.  A lot.  But I'm willing to face that now.  I'm willing to face that dark, unknown path.  I know that at the end, there will be something wonderful and freeing.  At the end, I will be able to soar.

 I made it through my doctor's appointment in one piece.  I must say- I was rather anxious about going.  The past couple of times I've gone in, something weird/bad has happened.  The first time they found moles that were showing the beginning stages of melanoma (they removed them and it seems to be okay now).  The second time we discovered I had lost 20% of my kidney function (went to see a kidney specialist, who found nothing).  Today I went in with trembling hands and stomach, waiting to see what would come up this time.  They scared me, because they both (doctor and nurse) seemed to be very kind to me, treating me almost gingerly...  soft voices, soft touch, clasping their hands together, gentle smiles, generous compliments... those kinds of actions.  Actions I am not accustomed to receiving there.

He looked over my skin again, seeing if there were any worrisome moles (3 to keep an eye on, but nothing significant).  He sat me down and briefly discussed my depression and anxiety issues.  I had initially gone in thinking I was going to ask for medication.  I changed my mind though, and told him I wanted to hold off on that for as long as possible.  I have had dependency issues in the past, and don't want to go through something like this drugged up.  There is too much potential for abuse on my end.  That's a path I am not willing to take.  I am trying to fix me (if it's even possible), not make it worse.

I am only down about 15 pounds on the scale.  I'm not letting that trip me up too much, though, because I can physically see the difference in my body, and apparently others are starting to as well. How I feel physically is changing, too.  Mentally, I'm fucked beyond words, so I'm not going to delve into that.  But physically?  Physically I think I'm doing okay.

However, I'm not out of the woods yet.  Tomorrow morning I go in for fasting blood work.  That is where the kidney thing came up before.  And, of course, I have to wait the week for the results from my Pap to come back.  I'm am going to let my anxiety rest (as much as I can), and tell myself that I am just fine.  I've got enough of my plate this time around.  It's my head's turn to have the problem.  Not my body. 

I am finding in my aging that doing things to keep me active and engaged (even if it's not publicly or socially engaged) is more and more important to me. It is important for my health, physically and mentally.


Lists are something that are a thing in my life.   I seem to do better with things when I can look at them, and check them off.  It's that feeling of accomplishment, I think, more than anything that motivates me to keep checking those items off the list. 

 So, with this in mind, I have decided to give myself a list of daily to-dos; Things I want to strive to do every day, come hell or high water (to be cliche).  The list is not long, just a few things that I think should accompany each day in some form or another.  

1.  Exercise for at least 30 minutes. 

2.  Craft for 30 minutes, or complete one item.

3.  Write for 30 minutes, be it on my story or in a blog. 

4.  Work on learning Latin for at least 20 minutes.

5.  Read for 30 minutes.

6.  Drink 6 glasses of water (or 48oz).

7.  Eat two servings of fruit.

8.  Eat two servings of vegetables. 

9.  Find a way to incorporate a new word into my vocabulary.

10.  Spend 20-30 minutes on a brain-stimulating activity or game.


Well, that's all I have for now.  It only encompasses about 3-4 hours of my day, but is loaded with all the things I think will make a huge difference in how I feel about myself.  

What types of things do you find on your daily to-do list?

  I'm really trying to be excited about our new place.  I don't plan on having to move again anytime soon, so I want to actually be happy where I am.  The problem is, I just can't seem to.  It works.  It is a roof over our head.  It is not falling down around us.  There is a bedroom for each of us, and two bathrooms. 

But it's not what I want.  After almost having what I want, it is hard to go back.

I don't have room for chickens.  I'll never have them, and it's time I resign myself to that fact.  There isn't room for the garden that I want.  I'm not even sure when I'll even be able to put in a garden at all.  But what bothers me the most is that it is not a house geared toward having company over;  Especially not the way we've had to set it up to make it work for our family dynamic.  I will never really have anyone over for dinner.  There is a park across the street that we can play in, and next summer when the weather is nice again we can barbeque outside, but there is no room inside for me to host any gatherings.  I'm not even planning a get-together for my birthday, because I simply don't have anywhere to put the people (nor the money to feed and entertain them, but that's another sob-fest).

I really want to be happy where I am.  I berate myself constantly for not doing so.  I need to learn to appreciate what I have, acknowledge that I have so much more than some others, blah blah blah.  Does my selfishness make me a horrible person?  Probably.  Does the acknowledgement of that change anything?  Not even a little. They say that home is where the heart is.  My heart isn't here.  I don't know know where it is, to be honest.

But I try.

  I finally got around to making a new sugar scrub today.  My skin feels fantastic.  I haven't had any kind of exfoliate for my face in ages, and it sure felt it.  Now it's all smooth again, and I'm content.  A good thing to help me feel a little better on a day spent feeling like crap (I'm sick, and I hate it). 

I didn't take any pictures.  The container I used is just a cleaned out glass jar I bought some organic honey in at the Farmer's Market last year.  This stuff smells really yummy.  One of the best parts about it- if you get some in your mouth, or lick your lips right after using it, it's okay!   It is sweet, and makes me want to go kiss someone.  I scrub very lightly on my face and lips, neck and chest area.   I smooth it on and then rinse off with warm water.  When I am using it in the shower, I do it right before I do my final rinse to get out.  But be forewarned-  this will leave an oily layer on the bottom of the tub, so be careful and make sure to rinse it well so that the next person getting in doesn't slip! 


How I did it:

1 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup sunflower oil (olive oil works well, too)
1-2 teaspoons Vitamin E oil*
1 teaspoon almond extract*
1/2 teaspoon lavender oil*

(*amounts approximate- I just eyeballed it.  They are also totally optional.  The almond and lavender can be switched out for whatever yummy scents you so desire!)

Mix together sugars until well combined.  Add sunflower oil and mix with a fork until all sugars are moistened.  Add the remaining oils and stir well.  Spoon into a clean container with a tight fitting lid. 

To use:   Take a small amount into your fingers and wet with just a small amount of water until sugar forms a paste.  Massage gently into skin.  You can let sit a minute if you want.  Do not scrub!   Use a light touch- especially on your face!  Rinse with warm water and pat dry. 

I just store mine on the counter in my bathroom.  The previous batch I made I stored in my shower, on an area that did not get the spray from the shower head.  Be sure to put the lid back on securely after using, so water does not get inside. 

(Please note that I started writing this a couple of weeks ago!)

Fall is definitely in the air. No really- I can feel its chill bite when I walk outside. The breeze has got a nip in it now, unlike the warm caresses of summer. Fall is more playful- pricking you with little pinches, roughing up your cheeks until they are a blush pink. Not quite as tough as winter, who plays a bit harder, but enough to put that pep back in your step. Oh, the temperatures are supposed to go back up to the 80s, according to the news reports I've seen.

 However, Fall has made herself known, shown that she is here, waiting for her time to start. She is in the back room, reading her book, watching the clock until the time for her to begin her shift is near enough to come up front and start working.


I see the sunflowers, their faces turned up to the sunshine, basking in it; their arms wide to embrace it.



The leaves are beginning to change color- backdrops painted in rusty oranges, reds, and gold.



Pictures of pumpkins and haystacks are beginning to make their rounds on the internet.



Soon they will be alongside the Indian corn in the markets,



 begging to be made into some scrumptious pie



 or stew.


I love Fall. It is my favorite season, believe it or not. Especially these kinds of Fall... where the temperatures stay warm enough and dry enough to still enjoy the outdoors. Don't get me wrong- I am a sun whore. I love high, dry temperatures and lots of sunshine to go play in the lakes with. However, there is something about those days where you want to go run and jump in those huge piles of leaves that you have to rake up from your yard- but then chill enough to go sit around a fire afterwards, making smores and sipping hot cocoa.

  So much has happened since I last wrote.  I've wanted to come write about it, but life, procrastination, and feeling like a broken record all got in the way.   My stress levels have switched, going from being worried about having to move, over to bills and finances and all that wretched money crap. 

  We were lucky enough to find a place to move into.  The landlady is kind enough to allow us some leeway on getting the deposits paid.  However, they still lurk there.  We are still waiting to see what we get back from the other place.  According to Sandy (the property management person), she has until the 14th to get it to us.  That's two days from now.  I'm sure it won't happen until then, and we'll probably still have to go knocking on doors to get it.  Then, I have no doubts, will be the arguing over what they charged.  I'm expecting it to be ridiculous.  

 Then, of course, comes all the back up of bills that happen with a move.  I don't know that it is normal for most people, but for us, we have to skip a month of bill paying in order to move.  I'm not sure why that was necessary this past time, since she did not require the deposits up front, but for some reason the last paycheck vanished.  However, the extra gas, on-the-fly eating, purchasing items to clean and repair the old house, while buying stuff needed at the new house.. all that adds up.  And the bills got pushed to the background.  Now I get to play catchup, and it seems to be a lot harder this time. 

There is a ton of crap in my head, that I am not going to drown you all with.  Let's just say that my brain is still not at 100% focus lately.. to distracted with this, that, and the other.   Not to mention I usually feel like an idiot when I start discussing stuff with people.  Ah, well, the joys. 

But we are moved in, and starting to get settled.  School has started once again, and the kids are off to their bigger-kid classes.  I find it completely irrational and unbelievable that my children are no longer in elementary school.  I can't possibly be old enough for that.  Yet, there it is.  /sigh.

Time moves much too quickly.   There should be a pause button.

 


I was reading a book the other day, and the main character described feeling as though he were just a character written by a bad writer.  Funny, yes... one of those mirror in a mirror in a mirror type things.  However, I completely identified with that feeling.  It was so perfect, that I had to stop and step back for a moment;  look to see if I could see a large face in the sky outside- pencil posed above the paper that is my world.  I could envision myself there, the paper upon his messy desk (for yes- it would be a man writing my story.  I couldn't tell you why that would be.), the hand not holding the pencil shoved roughly into a scraggly mess of tangled hair on his head, his brow knit in frustration as he tried to adequately describe the scene, but not being able to pluck the right words out of his mind. 



Truly, he reminds me of me, in male form, years from now when I am old and grey and still trying to get that one story completely written down, edited, finished, and ready for publishing, and most importantly- out of my head.  I feel terribly for the poor guy.


I digress.

Back to feeling like a character written by a terrible author.  I really do.  A rushed story.  One without much depth.  The plot line is shaky and not well thought out; scenes shabbily described, murky and left completely to the imagination, which could vary from reader to reader, shifting the story drastically in some areas.    My character feels unfinished- lackluster.  Relationships are not very well-written, leaving the reader to feel no real connection to anything about my character.  My description is jumpy- my personality spread all over the place, leaving me wandering and confused.  More so maybe than the reader.   The reader is left with an unpleasant taste in their mouth- no interest.  The book is tossed aside, half-read, and that's only if they were dedicated...


The story was Roadwork by Richard Bachman, by the way.  In no way, shape, or form a terrible writer. Quite the contrary- as far as I am concerned. I wish he could have been the one to write my story. Of course, then it would have probably been a crazy horror story. Maybe lackluster bad writing is okay....

   Some days I feel so utterly removed from the world that I cannot stand it.   Not "removed" as in "not immersed in", but removed as in "not part of".  People and places and situations and relations, et cetera,  all feel so alien to me.  I feel like I'm there, but not really.  Not precisely invisible, just not necessary, either.  An extra; insignificant; just there as  filler while the main actors run the show.  I watch everything through glass, able to see but not interact.  I don't feel like I am truly a part of anything. An unintentional mime.

 It is hard when I say someone is making me feel one way, and it is brushed aside and not even acknowledged. Or worse, when I am made to feel like I am the problem, and their actions towards me are warranted and not something that needs to be apologized for. I am an idiot, so them treating me as such is acceptable, even when called on it.  It is okay when they do things that I have asked for them not to, because they feel it is what I need, or will make me happy. They know these things- what is good for me, where my happiness is, because obviously I do not. 

There are times when I just want to pack my kids up and move far away- somewhere nobody knows me.  I could hide there, in that place.  Keep my head down and to myself and not have to worry about trying to be a part of anything anymore.  If I don't already know anyone, then it won't hurt if I feel forgotten.  It won't bother me to feel like I am intruding or trying to force myself in somewhere that doesn't feel I belong.  I won't feel like people cater to me in order to spare my feelings, while rolling their eyes behind my back, wishing I would go away.  Or thinking that I should be doing or acting a different way, in order to make them feel like I am a whole person.    Without having my every motive or action questioned and scrutinized.  

But does such a place exist?  No, I think not.  I could run away.  I could hide.  But people will always be there, and I am so socially inept that I will feel the same regardless of where I go.  Not to mention I can't just hide myself away from the world.  I can't go and become a hermit somewhere.  I have to be involved in this world so that I can help my children be involved in this world.  Thank the gods for my children.   Seriously.  I wouldn't even have the strength to doggy-paddle, or just float, in this life if it weren't for them.  They are my life raft; the floaties on my arms, helping to keep me adrift, keep my head above water and breathe air into my lungs.  

I know that there are genuine people out there.  People who genuinely like and accept me.  Maybe even people who understand me.  I know much of my feelings stem from old wounds that have sat and festered instead of healing.  Wounds that healed on top, but not breathe, so that the pus and infection sit and eat away of what is around it.  From the top, it looks okay, but underneath is horror.   There are things to help it.  I could cut open the scar and scrape the infection out, let it heal as it should.  But that is painful.  Oh so awfully painful.   I could take antibiotics, and fight it that way. But they are so expensive, and take so long to work, if they ever do.  Finding the right medication could cost so much time and money, and they have some nasty side effects. 

So here I sit, my hands upon the window panes, my fingertips smugging the insides.  I sit peering out at the world.  At all the beautiful people going about their lives.  Their beautiful lives, full of realness.  I long to be a part of that world, to mingle among them.  But I am also terrified of it. Sometimes I beat my fists on the glass, hoping to shatter through it, through the walls and barriers I have created within myself.  But I think part of me holds back the strength of that pounding, that small, fearful part that is horrified of becoming a part of that beautiful alive world.  Afraid that I cannot do it.  That I am too weak, too stupid, too [insert negative adjective here].  

I've been rather frustrated with some things lately. More than just the stupid house looking issue (that, thank goodness, is resolved!). But, I've come to some realizations, and some conclusions, and have devised a plan of action. I have given myself a deadline, and if things have not changed, things will change.

The winds are a blowin'.

***UPDATE**** We signed the lease agreement!! The landlandy (Cindy) is awesome. So far, I love her. So much weight has been lifted off my chest... It's an amazing feeling. Thank you to all of you who have helped out with this whole thing. I couldn't have made it through (without a full-blown, major panic attack or fifty) without you! Now, we will be scheduling a moving party!! End of August. =D

  So, we may have found a place.  We meet with the landlady in 2 hours to go over paperwork and all that jazz.  My son's Boy Scout leader is moving, and they need someone to move into the house they are leaving.  The funny thing is (and I may have mentioned this in a previous post) that we actually looked at the house last year when we were moving.  But, this house we are in won, not only for its size, but for the fact that it was with a property management.  After all the problems we've dealt with over the years with just dealing with the homeowners, we thought having a property management to go through would be a nice change.  Boy howdy, were we wrong. 

  Anyway, so we went back to the house and looked at it yesterday.  It is right around the corner from where we are now, so same location.  The bus stops wouldn't even change for the kids, other than the fact that they are moving up into the higher grades now.  It is directly across the street from a nice park, so while our yard is going to be smaller, we  have an entire park right across the street to play in.   Best of all, the Scout leader has had nothing but absolutely fabulous things to say about the landlady and her experience with her, and that leaves me feeling better than anything. 

I am trying not to get too hopeful just at the moment, though.  We are going to have a bit of a struggle with deposits.  As in- I have no freakin money, so I don't know how the hell I will get a deposit at all.  I'm hoping that she is willing to work with us on that a bit.  We will find out this morning.  We have nothing until the people here get through the house and give us our deposit back. However, in the dealings we've had with them in the past, I do not expect that to be quick, easy, or painless.  I am fully expecting them to take their sweet time with it, and then try and screw us out of as much as they possibly can.  

That, and I am also concerned with the amount of time that we will actually have to move.  I suppose it won't be too much of an issue, being as it is just right around the corner.  Moving will be fast.  Hell, I don't even have to pack too much really.  Just walk it over there.  We may only have a window of a week or so to get over there, which is totally doable.   My ideal scenario would be for us to be able to start moving in around the 15th, in order to give us plenty of time to actually set up and move stuff around and all that.  However, that will involve extra money for split month's rent, which I just do not have. 
Omg.. I need more money.

  Oh well.  It will work itself out.  I just hope that this scenario itself works itself out.   I like the homeowner.  I love the location.  And the house is really cute.  Smaller than here, but workable.  My daughter gave it a big thumbs up, too.   So, keep your fingers crossed for us, will ya?  =)

  This whole having to move thing is causing me too much stress.  I think I am doing a good job at keeping it in check, but I have my moments of melt-down.  Usually quick moments by myself, where I can let a few tears out, have my mini-freak-out, wash my face, and get back to normal before people notice my absence.  We have a few other places we've put calls into- on maybe good possibility, but I'm not putting any faith in it until it's a done deal.

  I have boxes all over my house, ready to be packed.  However, I'm struggling with trying to figure out what to pack.  We've moved so many times over the past few years, and purged with each move, so there really isn't too much more to get rid of.  And, I don't want to get rid of stuff I'll want once we're settled just because I'm having a tantrum today.  I've done that too many times, too.  I don't have the income to just go and replace it. 

 Plus, all the boxes, and trying to figure out what to pack, just reminds me that, once again, I'm having to do this.  I wonder when I'll find a place where I will be comfortable finally unpacking all the boxes;  Putting pictures on the walls, decorating...   When will we finally be able to settle?  It makes me feel like such a huge-ass failure as a person.  I'm almost 36 years old, and I don't have  a place where I call "home" and mean/feel it.  Because next year I'll just have to pack everything up again for one reason or another, and move it.  Granted, some of those moves have been my own damn fault.  Not this one, though.  Nor will the next.  Unless we get another really craptastic landlord (cross your fingers that that is not the case!). 

I am constantly reminded of my dad telling me that I was a "worthless piece of shit that would never amount to anything".  I often get the feeling that he was correct in his prediction.  And that makes me feel even worse.  I remember the dreams- no, not dreams, the conviction- as a kid, that I was going to be someone.  Maybe not someone famous, or necessarily rich, but I was going to be living a great life, comfortably.  I let the fact that I was so smart in school go to my head.  I thought there was no way I would ever be where I am now.  Well, hello drugs and money.  LOL.   I know things could be so much worse than they are now.  I am thankful that my son came when he did.  I'd much rather have the financial struggles from having a child than the horrible problems that would have arose from the drugs and the lifestyle I was living before I got pregnant.  It's more probable that I wouldn't even be around anymore.. or I'd be so much of a shell of myself that I may as well be dead.

But, I wanted so much more than this.  I expected so much more.  I want so much more for my kids.  I want to take them on vacations to places like Disneyland, Hawaii, the Grand Canyon, etc...  I want to be able to pay for them to participate in the activities they want to.  But, as sad as it is to say, right now I'd be so grateful just to give them a place where they can call home and not have to worry about moving again.  I can't believe I'm 35 years old, and still dont' have that. 

I try to rectify the situation, but how?  I don't know what to do.  I guess I could work more.  Find another job to make more money so that I can afford more.  I've mentioned that more than once on here, I know.  But I also am a firm believer that money doesn't solve everything.  It doesn't make a life.  More often than not, the working takes away from the life.  I don't want to take away time from my children.  I want a magic fairy godmother to shake her wand, say "Bibbity-bobbity-BOO" and make things brilliant for me.  

I take solace in that fact that I think my kids are happy.  I've so far been able to keep them in the same area, in the same schools, with their same friends.  That is one thing I refuse to compromise on.  I will not make them change schools.  I will go live in an apartment complex if that is what it takes.  Their schools/friends/etc are the one thing I've been able to keep constant for them.  The only way we will change (although it won't affect my son now that he's in the high school) is if we were somehow able to buy a house.   Then we would consider changing the junior high my daughter goes to.  But until that happens, we are staying in this area.  

So that is where it stands as of now.  I have my mini panic attacks here and there, but for the most part, I try to push them aside and focus my attentions elsewhere.  I'll save the major panic attack for last.   LOL

         I seem to be in this whole "once-a-month posting" thing, or something.  It seems that every month to month-and-a-half I'll put something up here.   Even though things have been pretty eventful around here, in their own way.  I just haven't had the drive to post about it.  Whether or not that's a good thing, bad thing, or "who cares?" thing, I don't know.  Regardless, here I am again.  

     Dustin has come back.  It's been a while now, but as I mentioned before, I just haven't sat down to post about anything.   He proved me wrong, which is one of those times when being proven wrong is a good great thing.   However, some of me wonders if it would be the case if things had gone good out there.  If he had gotten a job, etc... would he still have come back?   I have decided that it's best not to dwell on that sort of thinking, though.  He's here, and I'm happy about that, so I will leave it at that. 

     Things with the house are frustrating.  We still have no word back from the property management on whether or not our lease is going to be renewed, or if they still want us out.   It's incredibly stressful.  We were so excited to be with a property management team so that we would have actual communications about our house, and get problems resolved in a timely manner.  That hasn't been farther from the case here.  There is absolutely no communications from them.  I don't know if it's a problem with the homeowners, or just the property management, but regardless, the property management should be telling us something.  Even if it's just "They still haven't gotten back to me yet."  But silence is not golden in this scenario.  It's pissing me off, to be completely honest.   We were so excited to finally have found someplace where we would no longer have to move.  Somewhere we could finally settle down and make a real home; have some stability for the kids.  Then they tell us half-way through that they changed their minds.  Well, our property management person told us that. Once.  Then hasn't said a word about it since.  So, we aren't sure if it was ever really an honest statement, or something said in passing as a "maybe" that got blown out of proportion to us, or what.  But I can tell you that her lack of communication has really frustrated us to the point of no longer wanting to deal with it, even if they do decide to renew the lease. 

    But at the same time it makes me so sad, because we truly love this place.  It the perfect location and the perfect size.  We love the yard, and the garage area.  The thought of having to pack up and leave it behind makes my insides hurt.  Honestly hurt.   It makes my stomach twist and my brain just refuses to deal with it.  When I try, it gets all achy and foggy... I feel like a dvd that's skipping.   But dealing with this property management (or, not dealing with them, if you want to get technical...) is too much.   We are in a state of constantly being on our toes, not knowing what is going to happen. 

   We have a place to go.  And it's super cute.  But I have my reservations about it, I must say.  There are questions that have come up between Dustin and myself (I will talk to you about those later, if you are reading this).  I'm not going to post them here, because they do not need to be publicly addressed, but I was hoping to be super excited about the next place we found.  I suppose it's just because we like it here so much.  

   Maybe it's just that I don't know how to handle things going right for a change.  Things seem to have been falling in place lately.  Dustin is going back to school, with strong work options.  We have someone willing to get us into a place with no money down (which is essential if we are to move, as we don't have the funds for deposits, first/last, etc at the moment).   My secured credit card went unsecured, and they refunded my deposit for that, which was just enough to get us officially caught up on bills, which is a bonus and huge relief.    But things just feel off to me.  It's almost like walking through a great dream, but one that has a dark undertone and winds up turning into a huge nightmare.   I keep waiting for the boogeyman to jump out and steal everything out from under me. 

  Oh well.  I am going to just take things day to day and see how they wind up.  I'm trying to keep my anxiety at bearable levels, but I can feel the tendrils of panic seeping in, which is strange since things are going okay if not good, and I see no reason to freak-the-eff out.  But, there it is.   However, I am going to be thankful for every positive thing that comes our way, and remind myself that we deserve it. 

  Next month I am participating in the South Kitsap Relay for Life, to help fund cancer research and awareness.  This is something dear to me.  I hope you can take a moment of time and a bit of change from your pocket book and help my team (through my job at the library) to help support this fantastic cause.   

http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR/RelayForLife/RFLFY12GW?px=16003778&pg=personal&fr_id=38873

Thank you!!!

  Another day of me dragging my feet.  I know I should try to lift my spirits, but the desire to is just not there.  "What is the point?" that nagging voice in my head asks me.  "So that you can be knocked down further?"   I just want to curl up and go back to bed.  I don't want to deal with anything today.  Yesterday I lost my glasses.  They are gone. So even reading is strenuous.  Yet here I am anyway.  I know my way around a keyboard well enough, so I do not worry about my typing.  I can see well enough to notice if I forgot a space or whatnot. 

I almost called out of work today, but I'm not going to.  Part of it is because I fear for how my eyes will do with the computers there.  I am hoping I can change the resolution to a size I can see okay.  But mostly it's because I just don't have any drive or desire to do anything today, other than sit here and mope and feel sorry for myself over stupid things.  I do feel ill, but it's hard for me to tell anymore if it's the depression or an actual illness going on.  The headaches and stomachaches are so frequent that who knows anymore.  I did get the gumption to finally call and make a doctor's appointment yesterday, only to realize that the number is long distance, which I cannot call on my phone.  So, once again, dashed. 

I am sure I bring much of this upon myself.  I am a believer in energies and that you attract what you put out there.  However, even when I've tried my hardest to put forth only positive energy, I still get smacked down.   I'm so tired. 

It's getting harder to believe in hope.   I hope, and I hope, and I hope... and nothing ever works out for me.  One thing after another, dashed.  Hope isn't something I can hold on to, because it's doomed to fail the moment my heart flutters with anticipation or excitement.  The moment the smile crosses my lips, and that hope enters my being-  whatever it is I'm hopeful for is cursed and doomed to ashes.  There is no point in hoping anymore.  I don't think my heart can take it anymore.  I am honestly afraid to hope for something, to give it voice or thought, because I'm afraid that by doing so I have cursed it.  I am one huge curse.  I wish I knew what I did to cause that.

It's getting harder to control myself... I keep finding myself breaking down into tears at random moments.  I just wish things could go back to being simple.  I just want simple.  I don't want any more stress.  My brain is so out-of-whack its scaring me.  Like- seriously scaring me.   I just cannot seem to focus at all.  I just want to sleep all the time.  I don't want to deal with anything anymore.  I just want to crawl away and sleep it all away.   Just let it all pass me by.  Maybe if I hide under the covers long enough it won't see me and will forget me and just go away. 

I can feel tendrils coiling around my brain lately.  So far, they've only been made of smoke, and I can make them dissipate if I notice them and try.  Which I've been able to do for the most part.  However, I know how this works.  They don't "go away".   They just lose some of their substance and form.  They are still there though, winding their way around my mind.   Picking and prodding and seeing where they can squeeze in and infiltrate.   It's like brushing at cobwebs; Constantly brushing at cobwebs. 

 I try to do things to help make them weaker.  Or, rather, to help make myself stronger.

1.   I try to watch what I eat, and make sure I get healthy stuff in me every day, if not at every meal.  Every meal is the ultimate goal, but it's hard when dealing with picky kids who like regular comfort foods, as well as time restraints and money.  As I get more involved and get more trial and error I'm sure I'll find recipes and ideas that work for me.  It's just getting there.

2.  I am also trying to do some sort of exercise every day- be it walking to/from work, jogging on the treadmill, or doing some floor exercises that I've found.  The more I can do the better I feel, but I try not to beat myself up if I only get one of them done.

3.  I am keeping a clean(ish) house.  The less clutter I have around me, the less clutter seems to be in my head while I am here.  Plus, cleaning the house gets me up and moving around.  It's its own sort of exercise.  I also get the sense of accomplishment from looking around and seeing neatness. 


Things I want to work on:

~  Writing more.  I need to do this.  As a matter of fact, it's part of what this whole blog post is here for:  Getting me writing.  Here, the other blog, or writing on one of my stories (wouldn't that be great!)... just writing somewhere.

~  More outings with friends/family.   I tend to retreat within myself, and just hide out.  It's not always intentional.  I've discovered that this house is not conducive to people knocking.  There is no doorbell, so unless I am in the living room, I don't hear the door.  Unless the house is silent- no music, no dishwasher, no heater.  That is pretty rare.  Like... super rare.   However, even when people do get ahold of me, I find myself just wanting to stay home.  Parties I'm not into anymore, so I really don't feel too bad taking a rain check on those.  I would like to have more casual gatherings though, like BBQs and such.  With the weather warming up there will be more opportunities to take advantage of trips to the lake, etc...  My brother and his girlfriend (and my friend!) are coming over this weekend for a BBQ.  Well, she is at least going to come over for some girl time.  I've got cases of wine (yes, plural) that are begging for attention!

~Get outside more.  I'm definitely happier when outside in the sunshine.  Sunshine is lacking in this state, so when it is here, I need to take advantage.  Take the kids out for lake trips, to the park, hiking, whatever!  Myself, too, if I'm by myself. 

~ Craft more.  Be creative.  Stop being lazy. Pick a craft and do it.  Sometimes I get frustrated because I never have all the components for what I want to do.  And don't have the money to go buy what I need.  But, I can start keeping a list of what I want to do, what I need for it, and where to find it (did I get it in a book, website, etc) so that when I'm able to get the part I need, I can do it!



So, while I can feel the worms of depression trying to weasel their way back in, I'm so far so good (fingers crossed) doing okay at battling them.  I am, however, keeping a close eye on it, and vow to take measures of asking for help if it starts to get beyond my control.   I also know I'm good at hiding it until it gets to the point of "no return".  Or so it feels sometimes.  I'll try not to hide it.  I don't want to get as bad as I did last time. That scared me. I know it scared a lot of people. 

 Yesterday was hard.  Yesterday was a bad day.   I woke up groggy, having been deep in sleep when the alarm went off.  My body was not ready to be awake, and I really had to fight to keep my eyes open and to make my limbs move to get up.  I am not a morning person by any means, but this was unusual.  I was in pain from the moment I moved, my shoulder and neck area on the left completely pissed off.  It was the deep, sinking kind of pain.  The kind that makes me horribly ill to my stomach. 

 I got up, started my coffee.  My son was already up, having woke an hour earlier than normal not realizing it himself.   The day was dreary, overcast with little sunlight.  It was at least dry.  He got off to school on time, and I got my daughter up and off to school.   At least that whole affair was uneventful, as usual.  They never give me issue. 

However, for some reason, my brain was just not prepared for nor interested in the day.   My emotions were haywire, which I'm sure was in some part the result of all the pain.  My shoulders and neck have been paining me for days.  It was bound to catch up with me.  Add into that the disturbed sleep, the dreary day, and the stresses that I've been dealing with.  I broke down a few times.  I could not get motivated, though I forced myself to get the housework I needed done complete.  I was even able to make dinner and have it be successful.  What I could not do was cheer up, or relax, or even really focus or think clearly.  My entire body seemed to be out of whack, right down to the molecular level.  I felt pulled and stretched and twisted into all different directions.  Nothing was within my control. 

My brain seems to be in a bit better state of repair today, by a bit.  The pain is now in the other shoulder as well, though.  Luckily, due to scheduling shifts last week, I do not need to be in to work until much later today, and I will only be there a short while.  So, I am hopeful that I will be able to function enough to make it through that.  Tomorrow, however, I am working all day, and much of it will be physical.  I am hoping that doing physical work will be easier on me.  It seems strange that I would prefer the physical work when in so much pain, especially when the physical-ness of it will be mostly utilizing the area that hurts.  However, the effects whatever this is has on me is so much more in the mental department.  I find it hard to focus, to think, to process...  and I can tell it's happening and it is so incredibly frustrating.  The more I try to reign it in and make my brain work, the more it rebels, and then the stomach queasiness and that feeling of my body twisting and breaking and atomizing gets worse.  Which is why I was able to get the housework done yesterday despite my lack of motivation.  Moving means I can kind of go into auto-pilot, and let my brain relax and do whatever it is it needs to do.  Conserve the energy so it can use it to heal itself, I suppose.

  I started taking vitamins again yesterday.   A good, all-around multivitamin for the three of us, and then additional Vitamin D (with Fish oil) and a B-Complex mix for myself.  I may have the kids start taking the vitamin D once the weather turns dark again in a few months.   I am very much affected by the lack of good weather here.   There are only about 3-4 months out of the year that the weather is nice, dry and actually sunny and warm.  Those months I thrive.  I could spend all day(s) just lounging at the lake, basking in the sunshine.   I would say I have that Seasonal Affective Disorder, but it's hard to tell, because that dreary "season" is pretty much autumn through spring.  I do know that I always have tons more energy and a feeling of well-being, and I even think something bordering on the verge of actual happiness, during the summertime.  Or, whenever the weather makes a turn for the better.  I also know that after that good turn comes, when the bad weather strikes again, it hits me harder, too.  

But what do you do when that dreary season is 9 months long??




  On the advice of my sister (who is not a doctor, but I'm starting to mistrust most of them anyway), I started taking Vitamin D;  A little dose of sunshine that may not be given by the actual appearance of the sun.  I suppose it will be hard to tell whether or not it is actually making a difference, since it seems the warmer weather is peeking into us a bit early (though, I am really trying to not get used to it.  The weather here is notorious for giving a few days tease, and then taking it away again for weeks).  However, my hope is that by the time the dreary season comes back, I will have enough sunshine dosed up in me to counteract the blackness those clouds, rain and cold bring me. 

   

 


Today was one of those beautiful Northwest days.  The kind that catches those tourists who happen to come at the right time, and reels them in.  It was sunny, warm but not hot (it IS still Sping).  I took a walk this late morning, down to the Farmer's Market.  The air was still chilly enough to warrant a sweater, but the day was bright.  The sky a stark turquoise, the water deep blue. As I walked down the hill I watched white boat sails slice through the ocean, the sun twinkling so much off the waters, I almost feared it would give me a migraine.   I came home empty handed.  I hadn't really figured I'd be buying anything today.  It was the walk I was after.  Down the hill, around the market, and back up the hill.  A Little League baseball game or three was going on at the park, so it was neat to listen to the crack of the bat hitting the ball, and the cheers of the audience as the players ran the bases, or made the catch or throw.  

The kids were up when I got home, so we made banana -chocolate -chip pancakes and bacon for a late breakfast. Then we tackled cleaning the garage and mowing the lawn.  That got done much sooner than I had expected, but it was entirely too nice outside to go inside.  Instead, my son brought a chair, table, and my laptop outside to work on his homework.  My daughter and I just lounged around on the grass, soaking in the sun.  We don't see much of that sun thing around here.  It is a must to take advantage of it when it shows up.  

After awhile, the day was just too nice to sit around, and the kids got up and started playing with sticks and branches, sword-fighting each other.  Then the frisbee came out, and the three of us dashed around, throwing and catching it.  I. Suck. At. Frisbee.   I cannot throw it properly to save my life.  It made for quite a few belly laughs.  My daughter was throwing it to tear people's fingers off if they tried to catch it, so instead my son and I would tend to dodge her throws.  My son, as tall as he is, kept throwing it over the fence, and then would have to run and get it.

One of my favorite things to do during these sunny days is to just close my eyes and listen to the sounds.   Especially the birdsong. I love listening to them tweet and chirp and sing to one another, answering each other.  It is so beautiful and freeing.  I love the other sounds, too:  someone running a lawnmower, the aforementined crack of the baseball bat and cheers of the crowd, young children running and laughing as they play somewhere, the sizzle of a grill and the clink of ice in the glass, bees buzzing from flower to flower...  It all takes me back to when I was young.  To the days when I was a child, running through the park with my friends, giving birds the cats had gotten burials, playing superheroes, lying on a fallen tree trunk in a field with the sway of the tall dry grasses around me, or sunning on a large boulder at Rocky Mountain next to the snakes.   Back in the days when I had nothing to care about or worry about, other than making it home in time for dinner.  Back when things were uncomplicated. 

I really hope that my children are developing memories like that.  It is my goal this year to not be indoors on nice days.  I want to make it a point to take absolute full advantage of nice weather when we get it.  Even it that just means standing outside badly throwing frisbees at each other.  The computers and Ipods and Kindles and video games will still be inside when the sun goes down.

  I tried my hand at making some homemade laundry soap today.   4 ingredients and I got about 2 gallons worth of laundry soap.  Supposedly it only takes about 1/2 cup of soap per load, and works super well.  I've yet to try it out, since I had started the only load of laundry I have already this morning.  So, I'll have to update that part later.  I've heard good things though, so I'm kind of excited. 

  See the entire post here, complete with walk-thru pictures:  One Good Thing
Take a look around her blog, too.  It's got some great stuff!!


What you need:

1 bar of soap.  I used Ivory.
1 cup borax
1 cup washing soda
8 cups hot water, plus lots more


What you do:

I highly recommend you have all of your soap, borax, and washing soda measured out and ready to go before starting.

Grate the bar of soap into a large pot.  Add the 8 cups of hot water and bring to a slow boil.  Keep an eye on this, because once it starts to boil, it foams up a lot!!  I turned around to measure the washing soda and it boiled over on me. 

Add the borax and washing soda.  Return to a boil.  Remove from stove. 

Divide between two containers.  I used old, mostly rinsed out laundry soap containers I still had.  The blogger I got this from used rinsed out gallon-sized orange juice containers.   The division doesn't have to be exact.  Once the soap is divided between the two containers, fill them the remainder of the way with water. 

Top the containers and shake well.  Shake before each use. 

That's it!!



Like I mentioned,  I haven't used it yet.  I will update this post once I do!  

  I told myself (and a couple others) that I wasn't going to write on this anymore.  I knew when I said it I was lying.  My pants were so on fire.  I can't just stop.  The magma of my mind needs to spew every once in awhile.  This is (one of the places) where I spew it.  I have come to the conclusion that, although sometimes knowing of people who read what I have to say here might make me uncomfortable, they still read it and they still talk to me.  So, that has to count for something. 

  Yesterday I was talking to my boyfriend about my depression.  It's hard on those around you.  They tend to view something amiss in themselves that someone they love should feel so utterly hopeless.  They think they are doing something wrong, or that they in and of themselves are the worthless one.  It's very  difficult to explain that sometimes they are the one ray of sunshine in an otherwise bleak world.   

  While trying to convey this to him yesterday it dawned on me why this last bout of depression was so overwhelming, and worse than other times before.  Every other time my depression got bad, I got medicated.   This time, I did not.  Before, I always had my anti-depressant / anti-anxiety med to help ease the burden a bit.  The darkness was still there, just not as thick or oppressive.  

Upon realizing this, I started to think that maybe going back on my meds was the way to go.  But then I thought, but I beat it this time.  All. By. My. Self.   Well, I wouldn't have without the love and support of my friends and family, but still.  Pill Free.   That made me feel pretty damn good.  But wait, there's more!!  Then I thought... well, but what if next time it's even worse, and I don't beat it.  What if it wins?  

Shit.

So, the debate still battles within my mind:  Medicate?  Or no? 
 

With all my previous bouts with depression, the one thing that separated me from the norms (considering the level of "depressed" I rated based off of their tests) was that I never contemplated suicide.  Jumping in my car and driving until I ran out of gas, then hopping on a bus until it stopped- yes.  But suicide, no.  I always felt that suicide was a cop-out, and the most selfish thing anyone could ever, ever do.  I still do.  Of course, back then I had others around me who made me feel wanted.  I felt like there were people I could turn to, people I could talk to, people who would actually miss me if I left like that. 

I guess that's what scares me the most this time around.  I don't feel like I have those people anymore.  I don't feel like anyone would be particularly upset, at least not for very long.  It would be more of an "Oh, well that sucks..." and then life would move on.  Suicide has entered my thoughts on many occasions this go-around.  I just don't see the purpose of being here.  I don't have a purpose.  

Other than my kids.  Many parents say that their kids are their life.  And I'm sure that they mean it.  But I wonder how many of them are as literal as "My kids are why I am still alive"?  Because my kids are the only reason I haven't acted on those contemplations.  When I get really down and to that point, I see their faces, and wonder what would happen to them if I were to take the coward's way out.  And I can't do it. 

Many parents say that they would give up their life for their kids.   I am giving up my death for them. 

I'm not sure if that's honorable or not. 

  I'm having a very hard time dealing with the depression this time around.  I'm sure I've already mentioned that to death, but it is just getting worse and worse.  My "Daily Challenge" this morning was to list 5 positive traits about myself.  I seriously couldn't even think of one.  I don't know one good quality about myself.  I seem to fail at everything I try to do.  I have no motivation, no purpose, no willpower, no courage, no self-esteem, nothing.  I have become bitter, fat, and emotionally removed.    

  I am a horrible girlfriend.  There are issues about myself that I just can't seem to push past no matter how much I try.  I try to be who I think I'm suppose to be, but I just can't force myself to do things that make me feel so much worse about myself.  I know it's not normal.  I know it's not healthy.  But it's there and I can't seem to fix it.

  I try to dig myself out.  I try to tell myself "You deserve to be happy."  But I don't believe it. I try to smile, to make myself keep a "sunny disposition", but it feel so fake on my face.  It must look more like a sneer than a smile.  I don't believe I deserve to be happy.  I don't know why, but I don't.  Whenever I genuinely smile, that little voice in my head is right there questioning what I think I'm doing.  What have I done to deserve that little moment of joy?   And then there it goes- vanishing just as quickly as it came.  Faster, actually.

I don't necessarily have the best "past", but I don't have anything that I feel should have led to the level of self-loathing that I have come to.  I don't see anything that I feel responsible for the attitudes and thought-processes I have towards certain things.  I don't find anything that is substantial enough to justify the way I am.  I just am. 

And everyday I seem to come across more and more that prove just how unworthy and unwanted I am.  I am tolerated.  I am convenient.  I am "okay for now".    It's really hard for me to try and work on justifying my desire for happiness and normalcy when I keep being shown that I'm not.  

  I've known pain for a long time.  I would not call us "friends", but we are definitely close acquaintances.  We know each other well.  I've always had headaches.  Sometimes they were really, really bad, but mostly they were just an annoying dull ache that would enshroud my head in a fog for days on end.  They would flare up in areas, and cause spots to dance across my vision.  Tunnel vision or "stars" are good indicators that I should just go curl up somewhere and take the day off, regardless of what I had planned. 

 Then, when I was pregnant with my second child (Monkey), I started experiencing a pain in my left shoulder.   At first I attributed it to being pregnant.  I was carrying a lot of new weight, and working full time, so I figured it was just having a toll on my muscles.  I would take warm showers and try to just relax, figuring it would get better once the baby was born. But it didn't.  Instead, it would start to radiate a shooting, cold ice fire down my arm, and into my hand.  That arm would get weak.  As time went by, it wouldn't be uncommon for me to suddenly drop whatever I was holding in that hand, because it would just simply let go without me knowing until hot coffee was spilling down my side.  

Some days it wouldn't hurt at all.  Other days it would get so bad that I couldn't turn my head.  It is like my entire left side would just lock up.  It spreads from my eye, through the side of my head, down my neck into my shoulder and all around my shoulder blade, then down my arm through my inside elbow and down into my hand.  I flex my hand often when it is acting up. 

I tried to talk to different doctors I've had about it.  Most of them just dismissed it, or handed me a prescription for Vicodin and muscle relaxers.  I was not there to get drugs, and looking back I wonder if that's what they thought I was after.  I didn't want the damn drugs, and I told them that, but how many times do they get the person in there complaining of phantom pains and telling them they really aren't there for the drugs while asking for them.  No, I didn't want drugs;  I wanted answers.  I still want answers.  One doctor sent me to a physical therapist.  I only got to go for a few weeks before I lost my insurance and had to stop due to lack of funds.  Another doctor (the only one who showed any real interest in actually figuring out the cause and not just doping me up) actually sent me in for X-rays.  If that came back with nothing he had planned on sending me for other tests, but I lost that insurance, too, and had to stop seeing him before we could do any further investigating (the x-rays showed nothing out of the ordinary). 

Then it started to spread more.  Instead of concerning itself with only my left side, sometimes it will jump over to my right side as well.  It also decided that sticking just to my limbs and shoulders was not enough, and will cause severe stiffness and aches right along my spine.  The strange thing is it does not feel like it's in the muscles, but in the bone itself.  It makes me sick to my stomach. 

I'm not sure if the migraines (headaches) are related to the pain, or if the pain is related to the migraines.  I don't always have a headache when the pain in my shoulder starts, but I will always wind up with one.  Whether the pain is a precursor or aura to the migraine, or if the stress of the pain causes the migraine, I do not know.  All I know is that I've never met a pain medication or muscle relaxer that has touched it.  Massage only works while I'm being massaged.  It's back within minutes of the massage being over. 

It seriously incapacitates me sometimes.  I can't move.  The worst part, though, is what it does to my head.  Not the painful part, but my mind.  I get so completely disoriented when the pain is bad. I cannot think, or remember.  It takes me an awful long time to process simple things, and no way will I understand anything you have to explain to me.  I can literally take two steps, and not remember where I am going or where I came from.  It's really hard if I'm trying to function at work this way.  For awhile, I would take sick leave, but it happens too frequently for me to do that anymore.  I just have to push my way through it and try to appear normal.  Sometimes I wonder if people look at me funny.  Do I look like I'm on something?  It can make me a little delirious at times.  The pain affects my brain funny.  Sometimes it's a matter of either give into it and just act goofy and let the delirium take some of the edge off, or curl into a ball in a corner somewhere and cry.  That isn't necessarily an option while I'm at work (though I will admit it has happened). 

I'm hoping to get in with a new doctor's office soon.  I've heard good things about them and I am hoping that they will help me try and figure out what is going on and how to deal with it.  I've heard people say things like pinched nerves or fibromyalgia.  Both are things that fit very closely with what I feel (from what I've read), but lack specific details (like painful touching with fibromyalgia.  I do not have sensitive spots that I know of).   It would be nice to be pain-free though.  To not have to worry about it anymore. 

  I've been having a hard time battling my depression lately.  It's been rearing and roaring so loudly that I can barely hear anything else.  I've tried to smile through it, to tell myself that all of these painful things that I notice are just a phantom of the depression; a trick to lure me into its dark and waiting grip.  I've spent months working on myself- inside and out.  I've taken on healthier eating habits, and starting paying more attention to getting exercise.  Neither are to the extreme.  I still indulge in a chocolate chip cookie or two when my daughter makes them, and I spend my evenings and weekends more idle than I probably technically "should", but I am not depriving myself of things I "enjoy".  I make myself smile.  I focus on keeping the muscles of my face relaxed, especially my jaw.  I make sure to keep my shoulders relaxed, too.   I smile, and tell myself I deserve to smile. 

  But as of late, it feels like such a horrible lie.  I can't help but notice these painful things, because they are true.  They aren't a figment of some delusional mental disease that strives to make me feel bad.   They simply are. 

  There are times that I wish I could just run away.  There are days when I wish my children were still little, so I could just pack up a couple of suitcases, hop on a train, and just go somewhere where no one knows me and I don't know anyone.   Of course, even if my kids were little, I couldn't go.  I couldn't do that to them.  It is a nice fantasy, but nothing more.  I could never take them away from their father like that.  I couldn't let my hang-ups and past (present) failures pull them away from their lives and affect them suchly.  It would only cause them to hate me, and move in with their father.  Then I would lose them, too, and what would I have left to live for?  They are, by all means, my life support.  I would be lost without them.  Meaningless and purposeless.  They are why I live.

  But, that life still feels marred.  Irreparably damaged.  I have these giant parasites living within me, eating away at my insides.  They have been feeding for so long that I don't imagine there is much left-  only that sustenance that my children being near me gives me.  I fear that soon they will begin to worm their way through my skin, letting the world see the gaping sores that fill my being.  They will fester and ooze, infected and decaying. 

 
  I try to focus on doing things that I enjoy:  writing, crafting, baking...  But none of these feel fun anymore.  I have no desire to do them.  No motivation.  Instead, I prefer to just hide withing the pages of a book or the pixilated lives of a game; to escape into some other world.  I don't want to socialize anymore. I've tried that.  I've tried putting myself out there- trying to include myself in the lives of those I love, only to be overlooked; forgotten.  Or, even worse, ignored.   They don't want me there. I can see that.  I can only be shunned for so long before I wisen up and get the point.  It makes me feel so stupid.  So stupid. 

    
It is hard to feel invisible. To feel forgotten and discarded. An oversight; an afterthought.


I will continue to put on a happy face.  To hide the inner demon from showing itself in public.  To protect my kids, and to function in society.  But I have decided to stop trying to put myself out there.  To practically beg for attention and inclusion.  I can't live that lie.  Trying is only making it more obvious to me, and that is just too hard... the cuts too deep.   I won't do that anymore. 

I like monsters.  So I decided to make one.  =)

Just thought you'd like to meet him!  He also got me to use my sewing machine... for real!!  =) 

Yay, Buddy!

   I haven't been very good about keeping up on my blogging here lately.  Well, it's been pretty terrible for awhile now.  But part of my goals for the new year were to blog weekly.  And, I haven't been.  Most of that is because I don't want to whine on here, and it feels like that's all I do.  Who wants to read that?  And, lately, I haven't had much positive stuff to talk about.  I guess nothing terrible has happened, so there is that.  That is positive, right? 

  I'm starting to seriously think that I need to start looking for a second job.  Something very flexible, since it will have to work around the job I already have at the library.  I just know that if I go there- if I work another job- it will kill me.  Inside,  I will die.  I'm not kidding, and I'm not exaggerating.  I'm already sick in the head.  This is not a new concept to me.  I know it.  I can function in society and be a "normal" person on the outside, but I am very much aware that inside I am seriously screwed up.  Having to work hurts me.  It sounds childish, and whiney, and tantrumy, but there it is.  I am the type of person who desires deep down inside to be a housewife.   To take care of the kids, and the chores, and all that.  It isn't going to happen.  I dont' think ever.  That hurts.    If I have to take on a second job, I'll have even less time.  And more stress in my head.  But, financially, it's starting to look like that is what is going to have to happen. 

I can't even do the simple things I want to do- like bake or craft- because I always need an important component, but don't have the money to go get it.  I want to take up knitting, for example, but can't stomach spending the $3 for the needles, because I need to put that on the kids' lunch accounts to make sure they can eat lunch for the week.  I want to bake a cake or something, but I've used all the eggs, and now we don't have any.  That kind of thing.

  I guess I have my tax return to look forward to.  I can pay off some debts, and get at least caught up so that I'm not drowning.  But, it's not going to get me forward.  I still am stressing about how to handle the kids' birthday, since I really have no extra money whatsoever.  Luckily, they've both said they just want to have a party at the house this year, so I won't have to worry on that end.  But I do have to concern myself with food and activities.  Maybe the weather will cooperate enough for us to be outside.

I just need something to change.  I can't keep doing this.  It's wearing on me too much.  I need stability, and I just don't have that and it turns my stomach each and every day.  It's all I think about.  I can't sleep because things roll through my head-  mostly the stuff I already talked about: how to pay bills, rent, pay for the kids' activities, gas... It's all money.   I hate money.