Don't cross me. I have minions. (A bit rambly, and certainly may qualify as venty, too.)

I didn't feel much like doing the Saturday 9 this week, but then my entire mood has been just weird and... I guess a little "off", I suppose.  I still have my times where things just don't sit well with me, and this was one of them.  I've actually been upset over the smallest shit today, and that's bothered me immensely.  For example:  Greg and I made a grocery order online (something we usually do, though neither of us like it) on Friday night, and we'd ordered a pound of white button mushrooms.  Simple enough, right?

So, the order came, and I swear to fucking God, there was a bag with ONE.  MUSHROOM.  IN.  IT.  One.  A tiny little solitary white button mushroom.  We checked the receipt... and they actually charged us 28 cents for this one sad fucking little mushroom.  It's enough to make anyone laugh their asses off, me included - usually.

No.  I fucking lost it because Safeway had the nerve to actually bag up ONE mushroom.  And charge me for it.  I was literally upset for hours over this - like I said, the stupidest shit on the planet.  Why did I do that?

Bless Greg for putting up with me.  I don't know how he does it, I swear.  And I honestly don't know why I felt like that, but.... it's stupid little shit like this that's made me feel tired and rundown and sad all day.  Depressed, actually.  I don't know whether it's because all of what I'm going through at work is dragging me down, or financial worries, or what.  I have no clue.  All that I know is that I'm so tired of being strong for everyone else's sake.  And I know I have to let go of that stupidity, because I've carried the weight for so freaking long that it's broken my shoulders.  Isn't that how I got depression in the first place?

I find that I still have so many issues concerning independence and needing help and allowing others to assist me.  I have no idea of what I'm going to do when I get too old to do things on my own - I'm so freaking proud and stubborn, and I know it.  Sigh....

As usual, when I'm feeling like this, I have a yearning to go backward in time... to see how people from my past are doing.  Whether they "miss" me or not, I guess.  Whether they think about me.  Which is silly, actually, because I'm pretty sure that they couldn't give a rat's ass.  But, still... it's a compulsion that I have a hard time breaking, and when I'm in moods like this, it's magnified a hundred times over, usually with bad results.  Tonight's journey wasn't actually so bad.  I'm feeling less and less hurt as time rolls on, which I guess is a good thing - though I cry when I find out new information, sometimes.  Like... tonight, I found out that one of my favorite cats that I'd loved so much in the trash shack in Georgia is dead.  I don't know when it happened - but it happened before March of 2010, because that's the date on the picture and it says "the late ".... sigh.  I loved that boy like he was my very own - he was the sweetest one of the bunch that I tried to take care of.  He comforted me when my Pearl died in that hellhole.... and now I know he's gone.  And THAT hurts.  He wasn't even eight years old yet, I know that for a fact, because I moved into that horror house in March of 2002 and he was literally weeks old then.  

Of course he didn't make it to 8 years old.  Would you, if you were forced to live amongst filth and decay?

I feel so fucking guilty that I couldn't save him - any of them.  That's what happens when you live with a hoarder.  That's what happens when you try to have a normal life with a person who isn't normal.  I mean, let's face it - I'm a slob, I'm Oscar in the fucking Odd Couple - but I'm not a hoarder.  I know when to throw shit away.  I know better than to have 22 cats and 4 fucking dogs and not be able to take care of any of them.  I know when something needs fixing in my house and I don't use a slop bucket to fill up my toilet tanks when I need to take a shit.

Oh, Christ, I don't even want to go into this right now.  I WILL start crying and I'll go into a downward spiral for the rest of the weekend.  That I DON'T need.  I'm not ready to confront all of that.  Not yet.  Not now.

Tonight, though, I'm grateful that I've removed certain people from my life.  I'm grateful that I have the knowledge that I will never go back to those times, nor do I want to.  I see tons of people on my Facebook "friend suggestions", people that I knew, people that my friends know... but I don't add anybody.  I don't want to, honestly.  I have all of the "friends" on there that I need or want, and if someone wants to get in touch with me, they know how to find me.  If they don't make an effort... they don't really want to know what's going on in my life, then, do they?

Those kinds of "friends", I don't need.

I find that I am enjoying simplicity.  I have my job.  I have Greg in my life, and we live pretty quietly, simply - we don't need or want a lot of things.  I have friends that I can turn to in the rare event that I need advice.  I have a home to live in, food to eat, clothes on my back.  We occasionally go out for a movie, bowling, walks;  nothing complicated.  The anger that I have held inside of me for so long is beginning to dissipate.  I no longer seek out drama, or even welcome it in others.

Maybe I'm starting to grow old at last - but I'm at the point now where I just want a quiet life and my ways are my ways.  I've never dealt well with change as a rule, anyhow.

The sun is setting on the first half of my life.  I'm okay with that, finally.  I'll be 40 in less than 3 months now, 90 short days - and I'm okay with that as well.  I've seen enough "action" (which really translates to pain, when you think about it) for a lifetime.  Now I just want my life settled, quiet, happy.  I think I'm well on the way to that.  Things didn't turn out the way that I'd expected, maybe - but it's all right.  Everything for a reason, yes?

I am considerably "calmer" now than when I started writing this post, all in the space of 20 short minutes.  I guess that writing it all out does tend to help with my confuzzled state of mind, heh.  Still... I dislike it when I lapse into old patterns of thinking.  I need to watch that, still, I think.

One day at a time.  (La, dah-dah-dah.  Score if you know to what I refer, heh.  :p )

Until then.

Angry at the world tonight.

I don't know why, but I've been feeling like shit for the last couple of days. Part of it might be that I've been working a whole bunch of overtime recently (unwillingly), but... tonight was just weird. I once again felt that sense of disconnection with people, with life, and I've been crying on and off all day today. It reminds me of the old days when the depression took over.

There could be a lot of reasons for it, of course; it's getting close to a certain time of the month (oh, shut up, whiners, and deal), it's been raining the last couple of days and therefore kind of miserable out... the holidays have finally arrived and I'm feeling pressure, my finances are getting kind of bad because of all of the expense, I've been working a lot, Greg's been working a lot... it could be any or all of those things. Tonight, Greg and I had a few awkward moments... I can't really call it a fight, because it wasn't, but... things were not as they usually are and I could feel it in the air. It bothered me. It scared me.

I'm trying so hard not to be pessimistic, but it just seems to be my second nature now, no matter how hard I try to look on "the bright side" of things. I've been screwed over, fucked with, made fun of too much to be any other way. I keep waiting for that shoe to fall. I'm trying not to... but I can't help myself. :(

I felt bothered enough to go looking up old "enemies", if you will. And things haven't changed. I'm still angry with them. I still want to take a chunk out of their heads. It's still the same stupid toxicity, years later. I can't ever allow myself to think it'll be any different. Why do I seek it out still? Is it something within me that won't let go? What is it that I want to hear from these people - "I'm sorry"? Heh... sorry lies between the words shit and syphilis in a dictionary. What difference will it make, hearing it now?

In one particular person's case, I guess I feel cheated of the chance to rip her fucking head off and shove it down the stem of her neck. That's what I really want to do - write her (or better yet, tell it to her face) a big "fuck you, bitch" note. There's something that she did that I cannot and will not ever forgive her for - even though the original situation is long over and I don't really care about it anymore, the fact that she fucked me over while it was happening.... well, that's enough right there for her to earn a permanent place on the shit list.

Actually, I'm mad at a couple of people from that time period, one of whom I couldn't get mad at before. So.... I guess that's progress, in a way.

I wish I could blank out the last six years - the last thirty years, really - and start over again.... sigh.

Maybe I'll feel better tomorrow. I don't know.

"There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed." - Ernest Hemingway

As always, I have little bits and pieces of thoughts throughout the week or during the periods of time where I don't write. Things that pop into my brain - "hey, yanno, I really should write about that" - only to have them disappear into the ether. What I should do is write them down as they occur to me, but even if I do (and I've tried), I usually decide that it's not really worth expounding upon later, for the most part.

You'd never know that I actually used to write on a creative level when I was younger. Not by the disjointed posts you see here today, anyway. I'd love to get back into that, but I don't feel that I have enough talent to do it, or originality to be honest. When I go back over the few writing pieces of mine that exist today (mainly really bad poetry on Literotica and the like), I cringe with complete embarrassment. That's usually a sign that I'm not cut out for the writing scene, heh.

Just that I'm thinking about trying to start again, though... that's as close to "normal" as I can ever remember being. Writing used to be my passion, what I lived for, and I might have had a shot at it if it hadn't been for a really painful experience when I was younger.

Yes, folks, here it comes. I'm purging yet another painful memory. Get ready.

Between the time I was about, oh I'll say sixteen or so, and nineteen... I was ass-deep in the writing of a book, an actual book. It doesn't matter what it was about now - something about a smart-alecky cat traveling the country having Kerouac-like adventures - but it was really, really good, or so I thought. I'd written, written, rewritten, revised, gotten critical opinions, revised again... etc. I was actually going to try and publish the damned thing, more fool me. At nineteen, I had a lot of dreams, still.

To make a long story short, the asshole that I was with at the time was abusive - in body, mind and spirit. This is the only douchebag that ever dared to hit me on a physical level, and to this day I don't know why I ever stayed with him - I guess I was conditioned to take that abuse, just like I was conditioned in childhood to accept emotional abuse and neglect.

This asshole, in a fit of rage, ripped up my book. The only copy I had. You see, there were no computers accessible back then to the general public - you had to have serious money to afford one in those days, which I didn't have. So... no copies. No way to get anything back. He took each page, and deliberately ripped it in halves, quarters, eighths. Scattered them all around the rooms. It was a big, huge, hurtful "Fuck you, bitch - you're nothing. Your so-called "talent" is shit."

I cried for weeks. That crushed my spirit like nothing else could have. At nineteen, something profound died within me. I've never been able to retrieve it since. Not ever. I have never written a word on a creative level since. Only bad, inept, stuttering poetry that is a fraction of the ability I used to have. Something inside of me still hears that limpdick's voice, echoing that sentiment. "I'm nothing. I'm shit."

Isn't that awful?

It doesn't matter how many people tell me differently, either. I just can't seem to get over that one thing, the destruction of something that I poured my heart and soul into for almost 4 years of my life. I guess you just had to be there to understand the depth of the pain.

Just the fact that I'm thinking about writing again, or even trying is a huge, huge positive sign that maybe I'm returning to the young, idealistic woman I used to be. Believe it or not... I did have hopes and dreams once, underneath all of this hurt and all of the tears I've cried incessantly since I was old enough to walk, pretty much.

Ugh, tears again. Always more tears. But it means I'm healing, doesn't it? Even if it seems to take absolutely forever.

I'm finally accepting the hurt, the pain, the fact that I endured abuse heaped onto yet more abuse. I'm finally getting that it happened and that I can't pretend it didn't and that I can't change it. But when am I going to get to forgiveness? I'm conscious that forgiveness is for myself, a way to keep people out of my head and heart... I'm getting that, too. But when is that going to happen? Am I going to carry all of this darkness within me forever?

Questions, questions, yet more questions. I want answers, damn it.

Heh, I can hear Greg's voice in my head now going, "Paaaaayyyy-shence."

Quick update on the rest of my life, here:
- Greg and I are doing wonderfully fine. Now past the 5-month mark and counting down to half a year. Hard to believe that this wonderful man is still with me, despite all. <3
- I just won the annual incentive workplace award, again, for the third year in a row. Which essentially now means that I'm set for life here, should I want to be. Not that I want to take urine for the rest of my life, that's for sure.
- School is in full swing again. This time I'm taking film history (wonderfully fun) and public safety policy (boooooring, yawn). Semester ends December 18th, hopefully I'll pull good marks.
- My wrist is more or less out of the soft cast (though it's not supposed to be yet, but I can't stand wearing the fucking thing one more day). It aches, it's VERY stiff in the mornings, but that's the way it goes. It's liveable. I can deal with it.

And that's it, for now, I guess.

Cheers from the verbal vomitorium. :p

She's moved on.

In the past, the first half of October would have been the time I would have, at the very least, dissolved into a depressive funk - and at the most, had an episode of the screaming meemies.

You see, the first half of October, for me, is memory-laden, and not with good things.

October 2: This year, it's the fifth anniversary of my divorce.
October 10: My now ex-husband is 43 years old.
October 13: This year, it would have been eleven years since the day I was married.

No, none of these dates mean good things for me, usually. And yet... this year I think nothing of them. I reflect back on eleven years ago... when I was preparing to say that little phrase that would "lock" me to another human being... and I honestly remember that I didn't feel much of anything. Should that be the way a prospective bride feels?

Today, I feel much like that prospective bride - nothing ripples the calm surface. For me, this is a positive step. For me, it shows that I've taken huge steps toward healing, if not conquered this entirely.

Today is my ex-husband's birthday. I only feel the concern that maybe a stranger would now - "oh, yeah? well, happy birthday" as I go on my way. I do hope that his life is happier today than it was 11 years ago. I hope that he is settled, maybe with a new wife, some children - he always wanted that. I feel no ill will toward him - indeed, I feel nothing at all but a slight memory, a time that I've pretty much put out of my head. Not banished.... not that. Just put away, for good.

Onward. :)

The wounds are beginning to close.

I start this with the feeling that I want to write something, but... I don't really have a clear purpose in mind. This most likely means that it's going to be a lot of rambling about nothing, so if you don't really give a rat's ass about the inner workings of my head, it's probably best to skip this one. It's okay, really - I won't be upset about it. :p

My wrist and hand are doing a lot better, though they're not "fixed" by any means. I am still having trouble with some things such as putting on a bra or clothes that have to be buttoned (though I'm doing well with tying shoelaces, oddly). Today, I was able to tie my hair back into a tail for the first time since the accident, a very good sign. I am able to type again with both hands, though on a limited basis (I can only do it for short periods before I have to "rest" again - it's the way the cast is wrapped, bluh). My next orthopedic appointment is for October 5th, and there's a good possibility that I'll be able to get the cast off completely, though I'm sure I'll still have to wear a soft brace for a while. Still, it's better than this heavy monstrosity that seems to weigh more and more each passing day. Ugh!

I once again have been thinking of my recent past... only now I just feel indifference. It no longer matters. None of it does. I have survived the pain and I have come out on the other side stronger, healthier, more determined than ever. Perhaps the ghosts have finally been vanquished... or at the very least, put to rest.

Yesterday, my therapist shortened my appointments to once a month. When I first began seeing him, it was once a week. It's further proof that the depression is now fading away, or at least has been pushed way, way back onto the closet shelf. It gives me hope that I continue to improve, little by little, day by day. I hope that the depression stays gone - forever.

Still, I bear its scars. I suspect that I always will.

My relationship with Greg continues to flourish. I still pinch myself some days, wondering how all of this came to be... but I am trying not to question my good fortune, but to simply enjoy it.

It's strange, but I now wonder what this blog will become, now that my mental health has improved, if not been restored altogether. This used to be my complaining ground, my "best friend", the one place that I knew I could scream, whine, be emo, cry, sob my stupid head off. But now? I don't really know what purpose it serves these days, as I have very little to complain or cry about. I question whether I will - or should - continue to write in it. The lack of posting recently is no accident, really - I've just not had too much to say. I've been too busy living my life - and I've discovered that there IS a life out there!

(Though my wrist being broken doesn't lead me to want to use it too much in the pursuit of writing, or anything else. There is that, heh.)

And now, a video. :p Actually... this song has a certain meaning to me, as it's one of the last songs I remember... before the depression took over my life. :(

Yes, I cry when I hear this.

Enjoy. Until next time.

"I am only three years old!"

Three years old. My God, this blog is three years old. Where did the time go?

It's honestly hard to believe that three years have passed since I first began this little "journal" of mine. In truth, June 12 isn't really the day I started - but it's the only date I have for reference, because I wiped out the original entries during a very deep, very dark depression. How I wish I knew what they had said. It would have been a frame of reference for just how bad it really got. But, c'est la vie, I suppose - I must now work with what I have.

People have been telling me that they have seen a huge difference within me over the last year - indeed, the last six months. I do feel that I've grown substantially in that time. It's not been an easy journey by any means, but... I sit here and I think that maybe I wouldn't change anything.

The depression is now a part of me - maybe was a part of me. I'm still hesitant to say that I've recovered or that I'm cured of it - but I can safely state that I am in the process of recovery. That's a hell of a lot better than where I was this time last year. Or three years ago.

Everything happens for a reason.

I am better equipped to handle disappointment, or anger, or negative feelings. I don't run off into a blind rage anymore. I am starting to learn how not to blame the world at large for issues that I may (or may not have) caused. I am beginning to open my eyes and see others around me, others that have for years tried to reach me, tried to help me, haven't turned away from me. I am beginning to allow new people into my life, slowly. I no longer feel that time and circumstances are against me.

Three years ago, I couldn't have fathomed this kind of growth.

If you're still here after all this time... thank you for staying. Thank you for seeing me through what I can only describe as a living hell on earth. And thank you for remaining my friend throughout it all. I treasure my friends dearly, and you are one of them. :) If you're a new reader, welcome to my crazy-assed life. Strap yourself in... my life has been up, down, tossed around, it's hit manic highs and crushing lows... but one thing is for sure - you will never be bored.

My blog, like my self, is growing up. :)

I never thought I'd be able to say "welcome to year 4". But... here we are. Let it begin... may it continue to be a time of growth and change.

Bring it on. :)

Struggling... but forging ahead.

I had been feeling better about things for the last couple of days, but I find myself turning melancholy once again. The situation last week has taken more of a toll on me than I ever dreamed... and it's frightening because I don't know that I'll ever really recover from it.

Part of my therapy session this week dealt with that loss, and intense discussion about it. I had never really talked with anyone about it before (maybe because the circumstances were such that I felt a little ashamed of it). After a good deal of explanation, including specifics of the situation, my doctor said something that resonated with me... it not only made me feel a little better, but it's given me hope.

He'd said to me, "You cannot blame yourself. You have the hope of a normal, healthy relationship. Once you deal with all of the pain that you've been subjected to... you have a chance of being happy with another person. The other person in your situation does not. The other person in your situation has very deep issues, issues that are brain-related. Speaking from a psychological point of view, this person is very sick. They will never get any better or have anything more than what they have right now - because their pattern keeps repeating, over and over. They will not ever have a successful, healthy relationship... but you will."

It was like a sledgehammer had slammed into my brain.

I try to hold on to my doctor's words. I really do. It's eased some of the still-intense pain that I feel. It gives me hope that one day, one day.... I'll find a person that I can relate to and that can relate to me.

I've met someone recently, through one of the myriad online dating sites. We seem to have a lot in common, but... he recently dropped a bombshell that he was "legally married, but hasn't seen her in years", blah blah. He's told me 4 days after meeting me, so perhaps he's on the up and up, but... I just feel like I can't trust him. I know that it's because of all of the shit I've been through. I know that. I'm still speaking with him, because after all - we're only friends. It's not went any further, and even if it did, it wouldn't happen right away, as he lives in Florida.

Why can't I meet someone that's decent, honest, and lives HERE, for Chrissake?

Ah, forgive me. I really should choose better music... I'm listening to a song that reminds me of ... well, the situation. Oddly, the lyrics sort of fit....

Babe, baby, baby, I'm gonna leave you
I said baby, you know I'm gonna leave you.
I'll leave you when the summertime,
Leave you when the summer comes a-rollin'
Leave you when the summer comes along.

Classic Led Zeppelin. I love it so. Only right now it's full of pain.

The overwhelming anxiety has finally disappeared. But I know I'm not the same. I don't laugh or smile anymore. My appetite has been reduced to nearly nothing (not that that's a bad thing, as I'm losing weight like crazy, heh). And even the smallest of triggers can reduce me to a sobbing ball of mush.

But I'll get over this. It's not my fault.... I'm normal. I'm normal. I have to hang on to those words... I'll recover and I'll be happy. Won't I?

I wonder sometimes.

It is over. I am free.

After a very rough week, I have calmed down considerably. Although I'm still very sad over what has occurred (and to make a long story short, I've pretty much ended a tie that I've had for a very long time, ever since I moved back to Maryland)... it is time.

I once read a phrase that fits this situation very nicely. And that is: people come into and out of our lives for a reason.

At first, I thought, "What utter crap." But then, I got to thinking about it. And it's true. Nothing is really meant to last forever, is it? If it were, people would live forever, my best friend at 4 years old would still be my best friend... and a love relationship would last forever.

Life doesn't work that way.

The fact is that people change. Lives change. We grow apart. And it's very hard to let someone go after you've grown to depend on them, enjoy their company, spend time with them, share your life with them. The fact is that after a while, pain starts to outweigh pleasure. In truth, the situation I refer to began to hurt a very, very long time ago. I just didn't have the courage to cut the cord.

Until today.

I am free-falling now.... but in some ways, it feels good to know that I will never be hurt again by this. That I've learned valuable lessons to take with me into the void, where the next person I meet will benefit from that knowledge.

I'm very scared of the future. After all, six years is a very long time. But... just to live, one takes a chance. Maybe I'll make it and maybe I won't.

But at least I know in which direction I'll land.

Forward. Home.

Quick, though not satisfying, update.

I am still locked in a struggle with my more negative emotions as of late. I think that it's because I've been partially re-visiting painful memories in my head, and partially because a huge amount of people have let me down this week.

I haven't announced it or made a big fuss about it, but my birthday passed in the last two weeks. Although I'm well aware that I haven't said much about it (and those of you who know me well also know that I tend not to talk about it), there were a select few that DID know when it was and for their own reasons, failed to acknowledge the day, which hurt a hell of a lot more than I had expected.

I have had some very unpleasant conversations in the past couple of days, with more to come, unfortunately.

One good thing is that I'm absolutely not holding back my displeasure or anger at said people involved. I'm outright letting them know just how they've made me feel; devalued, not even worth a simple phone call or a text message. I've made that crystal clear to quite a few people in the past 48 hours. This isn't worth holding in anger or letting it fester - oh, HELL no. Those days are over.

If people piss me off, they're going to know about it. Quickly, immediately, and with zero hesitation.

I'm sorting out shit in my own brain right now, and not really paying attention to much more than that. I mean, I'm going to work, doing what I must. There's been some positive gain in that I've lost nearly 12 pounds since I began my personal "fitness quest", if you will, at the start of the year. It's beginning to take root in my stupid head that I need to take care of myself, because it's obvious no one else is fucking going to.

But I'm lost in my own "fog", if you will, at the moment. I just have too much going on as far as work and projects and personal development, blah blah blah. I don't have time for all of these negative things that are floating in my head, you know?

Still, they come. I wonder sometimes if it'll ever stop and I'll have peace.

Anyway. I haven't had a chance to write for a while, so I wanted to stop in. Hopefully it'll calm down some this weekend so I can catch up.

Until then.

One more step away from the sofa!

I've had the last four days off of work, though I've not really accomplished much around here. I did finally buy a bed, though, which is a definite step forward. I didn't get the bed that I really wanted, which was a nice TempurPedic (at nearly four thousand dollars, heh) - I did some thinking, then more thinking, then realized that it was a bit too lofty for my budget and "settled" for actually using the old mattress with a platform bed. It'll do. My body's not in THAT bad of a shape that I need a Tempur, at least not right away. The platform bed cost 400 dollars and I can still use my old mattress, which - if I want to be honest with myself - still has a lot of "life" left in it, as I only bought it in 2006. A lot of the reason why I wanted to get rid of the old mattress has to do with bad memories attached to it, but... well, if I allow myself to do that, I let whatever drives those bad memories win. Which I'm just not about to do.

Besides, I'll admit it - I'm also stingy enough with money to not want to spend 9 times that amount on anything, much less a bed, heh.



So that's the one I picked. I hope it looks as good upstairs as it does in the picture. Now I can work on buying rugs, furniture, other things for the house - perhaps I can finally make this place look like a real home instead of a hostel I just stay in.

I just wish I didn't have to spend money to do it. I just got out of debt - now I have to go right back in, sigh.

But it's worth it. Isn't it?

Imagine....

Somehow it just doesn't seem like it's been thirty years.

If one were to ask me what the top three unforgettable moments of my life were (at least right now), I would say 9/11... the moment the Challenger exploded... and the death of John Lennon.



December 8, 1980

Time to catch up, at last.

So I've been scarce recently. As always these days, things are crazy busy, but I've also really not had too much to say. Nothing's much changed, but in my life that's always a positive.

I've been a bit antisocial as of late, without really knowing the reason as to why. I'm not mad at anyone, nothing's wrong, everything's peachy. I think that I'm going through a phase right now where I'm just kind of satisfied with my own company and I'm learning to enjoy that. My therapist would say that this is a great sign - maybe it is, because I've never just taken the time to relax and enjoy... well, my "self", if that makes sense. Still, I'm trying to make an effort to keep up with people, as I have enough trouble with making social connections as it is. I don't want to lose what little I've got, you know what I'm saying?

I felt really, really good this morning (both physically and mentally) coming in to work, which is not something that I'm much used to. It was weird, but there I was in Union Station waiting for the subway, tapping my heels to some silly song and feeling like dancing, of all things. Dancing? Now you know something isn't right, haha. Still, it was a shockingly good feeling. And one that I haven't had in a very long time.

Have I reached the end of this long, lonely road called depression, at last?

I don't really know the answer to that. I'm still seeing the therapist once a week, so I guess I need the help, and I don't foresee that ending any time soon. I can easily say that I feel I'm in a better mental place than I was a year ago, and even three months ago to be honest. I can say that I no longer have depressive attacks on a scale of "total annihilation". I am able to function, able to work, able to sleep normally. I take joy out of little things now, and get angry when it's warranted. The apathy is disappearing. The feelings of loss, dread, blackness, a life without a future, no longer come. I am no longer, at this time, suicidal.

Maybe, at last, I've learned that the person I've needed to really love all along was myself.

Sinking into the abyss.

I should be doing my biology classwork tonight, but the truth of the matter is that I just don’t feel like dealing with it, or much of anything. It’s been a very rough couple of days for me, where my emotions have been up, down, back, forth, and Christ knows what else. Just another depressive episode, only it’s colored by the fact that I’ve discovered a few unpleasant things about myself – again.

I was abused as a child. This has been pretty much known to me for a while, but:

1. I did not know or realize the extent of the damage, which I have discovered via therapy is MASSIVE;

2. I am suffering from severe emotional abuse more than anything, which shocks me because I wasn’t aware that there was such a thing. Physical, sexual, mental, sure. But emotional abuse? Yet, that’s exactly what I suffer from, and it’s the worst of all of the four;

3. Just like all abusers, I myself have become emotionally abusive toward people that I’ve supposedly loved. This particular fact is the most difficult thing to grasp for me – I’ve turned into my parents, and it’s shocking and hurtful.

Now you know why I will never have children. Because the cycle of abuse would continue. And I would love my children enough to spare them that pain.

My therapist has recommended a book for me called “Born to Win”, which I’ve ordered, along with another book that I discovered on my own called “Healing Your Emotional Self” by Beverly Engel. It’s sort of a workbook, I guess. I read snippets of it on Amazon and immediately started crying, because that woman was describing ME.

I find that I’ve been crying a lot when I recognize my pain in other sources. It’s impossible to listen to either Pink Floyd’s “The Wall”, or “Wish You Were Here”, because they’re talking about me.

From “Us And Them”:

Black and blue
And who knows which is which and who is who.
Up and down.
But in the end it's only round and round.

And that’s how I feel. It’s all the same no matter what happens. I’m hurting and confused and scared. The more I do this therapy, the more afraid I feel. I seriously feel like I’m just too emotionally broken to heal. There is so much anger at so many people that I’ve suppressed, stuffed down, swallowed – how can I get it out? How can I safely get it out without alienating what precious little I have left?

That’s what truly frightens me. It’s the anger. It’s the incredible, all-consuming, furious anger that I feel at my parents, at myself, at my family, the people I know, once knew, might meet later that will inevitably hurt me. Just thinking about it makes my throat hurt because I’m trying to swallow down the tears that just come up, almost automatically.

What am I going to do? What is going to become of me?

Next to this, a biology assignment seems inconsequential.

So. Life rolls on.

It might seem like a really bad thing to say, but as of late, my life has been more or less quiet and calm, with little to no flareups of the depression or anything close to it. Of course, that's not a bad thing for ME - I'm enjoying this stretch of peace immensely. However, I find that the peace has come at a cost. I pretty much no longer have any kind of social life or connections or obligations. I find myself in the same position that I was in thirteen years ago - alone, isolated, hiding from the world in my little living space. The only difference is that it's a house now, not an apartment.

And yet I'm not unhappy about it. I feel that I need to just stay away from people right now, do my best to heal from all of the stress and abuse and bullshit that I've seen and heard and experienced, and live for myself - something that I don't think I've ever learned how to do. I feel an odd thrill every time I pay my mortgage, or find myself planning a shopping trip - little things that the "normal" take for granted every day, but for me have been a constant struggle. Yes, sometimes I get very lonely - I won't lie. But if that's the price that I have to pay for some sense of order and normalcy, then so be it.

I'm completely turned off of any type of intimacy right now, anyway - physical, emotional, mental. I'm not ready for it, and may honestly never be ready for it. That's okay, right now. I find that it's okay to just not want to deal with humanity on any but the most superficial level at the moment. I need to heal, and to learn to live with myself, in whatever form that might take. That's why the therapy.

The first appointment is on Monday afternoon at 4pm. Would it be strange to say that I'm half looking forward to it, and half dreading it? I'm looking forward to it because I know it's the beginning of what may turn out to be the longest, hardest journey of my life - but I'm dreading it because I know, I know, I KNOW it's going to be full of incredible, paralyzing pain. You see, I've been in therapy, but I've never really told anyone a lot of the things that I've been through - I've never been able to stay with a therapist long enough to delve past the basics. Hopefully, this time will be different. As a matter of fact, my doctor called me personally a few minutes ago to confirm the appointment and said that he was looking forward to meeting me on Monday. None of my previous doctors ever did such a thing - so I consider it a good omen. I'm hoping that this will help me start to heal from all of the crap I've been through in my life, whether it was self-caused or not.

I am so ready to start to live and not just exist.

Work is somewhat a mixed bag - while some good things have happened in the last few days, other things have become irritants that I'm not going to be able to ignore much longer. As usual, it has to do with coworkers being idiots, only I think I've begun to find my voice as far as protesting such behavior is concerned. Where I might have once let my complaints fester unspoken and shred me up inside with stress, instead I've been speaking out and making my opinion known. Somehow I'm just not afraid anymore to say something, perhaps?

One of the possible "good" things is that I may be considered for the "customer service of the year" award - this will be my second year in a row that I've been chosen for it, should I win. Honestly, though? I don't want it. I've been made fun of in sneaky, snide little ways ever since I won it last year, and I don't want the burden of it again. I keep telling myself that everyone who makes snarky little comments is jealous of my achievements - and I know that, deep down. But I've had to deal with jealousy all of my life every time I've managed to do something well or achieve good things. It's funny, but one of my ex-boyfriends (specifically Matt) once said, "You always seem(ed) so afraid to show how smart you really are/were."

Well, no wonder. Wouldn't you be afraid if you knew that people were going to attack you with nasty, back-handed comments when you managed to achieve something positive or "win" a contest of some kind?

Meh. I had so much to say, but as usual it's all gone after a long, exhausting day at work. This week has been absolutely brutal, especially Tuesday. I've found that I need to take a Tylenol PM every now and then in order to sleep without pain. It's just another sign that I'm starting to get old and I'm not going to be in great health in a few years if I keep going the way I am. At one time, I could have cared less, but now... well, I don't know if I still don't care or not, but I want a shot at trying to improve things. At least, today I do, anyway.

Blugh. You all know what I mean. I'm too tired to try and correct myself tonight, heh.

And so, here's the beginning.

Today, I've made a very real stab at packing, sorting and cleaning my stuff for moving - again. As I'm working, I feel a very real sense of sadness that, once again, it's come to this and I have to pull up what little roots I've established. I try to comfort myself with the fact that this is what could amount to being the very last time I ever have to do this, but it doesn't blunt the sadness that I feel. It's compounded by some very real issues that I'm facing in that I feel like I'm losing the last bits of support that I had for the last few years, which have been very difficult, as you know if you've been reading here with any sort of regularity. I'm not too sure that I'm strong enough to deal with it, emotionally or mentally, but as usual, the choice has been taken away from me - I have no choice but to deal with it, as I've had to deal with everything else that has been painful to me over the years.

I was telling someone recently that it'll be very, very hard not to just isolate myself from everything and everyone once I'm settled - because I know myself well, it might be what will happen. It's yet another cycle where I attempt to make effort to be social - it works for a brief time - then crash and burn, and back to hiding from life for a few years, to "lick my wounds", if you will.

People just don't understand or "get" me, nor I them. They don't understand why I'm not more excited about this house thing, they don't understand why I'm not head-over-heels happy about my grades (I got an A in my information systems course, don't know about the others as of this writing), they don't understand why I'm not more happy about my promotion at work, etc. That's just it - I am happy, okay, but I'm not manic-excited over anything. I can't seem to summon up that much feeling. And maybe that's what's wrong with me. I just feel nothing other than fatalistic, to be honest. "Oh, really. That's great, thanks." Sort of like, I'll take whatever comes, be it good news or a slap in the face, with my fully expecting the latter reaction to happen.

I was thinking the other day about all of the bridges I've burned behind me, and all of the ones that are pretty much on fire now, as I'm transitioning out of my old life and into the unknown. I don't go backward in time anymore, or I try not to. I've learned well what happens when you try to live in the past. Besides, most of my memories are bad, even if I thought at one time they were a good thing... a good example of that is the days where I was running a bulletin board. I thought for a long time that this was a good period in my life, but... when I think of it now, I just want to forget that it ever happened, for some reason. I wasn't a good person back then, nor did I accomplish anything of value. And all of the people connected with that time... they don't evoke any bad memories for me but at the same time I kind of just shy away from them, because I don't know them anymore. They're people I once hung out with, but they're not truly in my life now, nor would I think they'd understand me if they were. I'm in a different place and time... hell, maybe I'm in a different world altogether. The point is that anyone who gets close to me had maybe best be prepared for what always seems to happen... they're going to get left behind, because that's just what it's always been. And it's not of my own choice. They either leave me, or life takes them away.

Anyway. This is starting to take a depressing turn, not that I haven't half felt that way all day, so I'd best end here. If you got this far, that's great, but as usual I've had nothing productive to say, it's just a bunch of fucking whining. Now that I'm good at.

Later.

More shower ruminations.

I recall that exactly this time last year, or close to it, I wrote a post about having rambling, disjointed thoughts in the shower. Funny how it's happened a year to the day that my mind is also focused on this topic...

Anyway, I was thinking this morning about certain happenings going on over at Facebook with my friends, apparently all interested in catching up on their past. Friends from high school talking about a reunion (it's 20 years this year - big whup), people from the BBS's making groups, blah blah. I was thinking about all of that, and measuring how vested an interest I have in all of it... and, well, call me antisocial but somehow this is all striking a "so what?" chord in me.

At one time, I would have been thrilled to revisit my past. But for me, "revisiting" always, without fail, tries to turn into "reliving". And for me, that's dangerous, not to mention counter-productive to what I'm trying to do, which is reconcile my past - to accept it, and to move on to whatever future there is.

My high school was, in a word, strange. It was certainly segregated into black/white terms (though you wouldn't think it would be, for an inner city school - but it was, there's no getting around that) and definitely had its "in" groups, including one particularly powerful clique that had been friends since they were knee-high, and more or less controlled nearly everything in the place - not really so different from a lot of American high schools, I suppose. They're still friends to this very day. Powerful stuff, I guess. But in truth, I'm thinking that high school cliques only mattered - in high school. Today, 20 years later? Big whup, right? :p

I never really fit in anywhere, which is the pattern of my life. Not with the powerful clique(s), not with the black kids, not with the "slow learners" because I was placed in advanced classes, no one. I became a chameleon. I learned to adapt. But in truth, I had nothing but acquaintances. People I hung out with, but never really got to know.

So I'm faced with the possibility of a 20-year high school reunion maybe coming up. Am I going? Honestly... if I'm asked (which I doubt I will be), I will have to say no. Because I'm not like them, never have been. I truthfully don't feel that I'm a part of .. well, whatever group(s) they have, not then and not now. And 20 years ago means nothing now, as my enrollment in school shows. Things have changed, the world has moved on. I need to, as well.

As for the BBS thing... I'm a little less torn about that, but my head is still in the same place for the most part - let it lie. No good can come of digging up old bodies and issues. Yes, I had some great times, but they can't be relived. I also think of the really awful times I had, too, and for some reason, that's what sticks out in my head. There are still people I'm angry with from that period of time, and I haven't resolved my issues with them as of yet. There are bigger fish to fry right now.

Anyway. I have to dash off to work, but I figured I'd share these disconnected thoughts floating through my brain this morning. Any comments are welcomed, as you all know.

:p

Back to the usual way of things.

Bleh. For some reason, I'm a bit more like "myself" tonight, meaning pessimistic. I don't know if it's because the weather's been so crappy lately (rain, which isn't the bad part - it's adding in the cold that makes it bleh) or what, but I'm just like...oh, God, people are fucking idiots and they act even more so when it's like this out. They can't drive, they complain and bitch (sort of like what I'm doing, haha), and are just such a pleasure to be around. /sarcasm

Don't say one word about how I'm turning into them, or you'll get a backhand across the chops. I promise you. :p

I'm more sleepy than anything, to be honest. I've adjusted to the medicine, but it still makes me feel drowsy on occasion. I did not increase the dosage like the doctor told me to, because I just can't afford it. If I keep at my current level (150mg of the Luvox), I feel fine enough to get through life and I'll be able to stretch it out over a two-month period. I know, I'm going against the doctor's advice, I shouldn't, bleh blah. I know that. But the doctor can afford 145 dollars a month for medicine - I can't. I'm a lowly grade 4 government worker who takes urine for a living, I'm not the President, heh. We need socialized health care, goddamnit. Canada has it, the U.K. has it, Australia has it. When are we going to join the ranks of civilized countries that actually CARE about its populations?

It's funny, but I was reading back over my old posts from when Obama was first elected, and I predicted that he wasn't going to be able to fulfill the promises he made. And so far... he hasn't. I was right - as usual. When are people going to start listening to me and not dismiss my opinions as crackers? :p

You know why I don't really get into political stuff? The reasons are myriad, but I'll start with this - as usual, it goes back to my bitch of a family and what they put me through. My mother was "an activist" - she dragged me along to every protest march she could find when I was growing up, and I eventually grew to hate it - and her. She was "a Communist and proud of it", and she wouldn't hesitate to tell everyone and anyone who would listen - my friends, their parents, their friends, etc. As you can imagine, this didn't make her - or me - popular with my friends' parents, and consequently they dismissed her.... and me. I lost a lot of friends over the course of my life because of her big mouth. Either their parents said that my mother was crazy and not to hang around me anymore, or my peers themselves would get sick of her spouting off about shit that they at ten or eleven couldn't understand anyway.

That's the first reason. Another reason is that I, myself, seem to be in the middle of the road on a lot of issues. I quite frankly am a part of Generation X in that I don't much care about anything that doesn't have to do with me directly. I also don't take a hard line toward one "party" or another as they seem to expect you to do here. I'm pro-abortion and pro-death penalty. I'm for gay marriage and I'm against economic waste. I don't take sides firmly on one issue or another - it is what it is. I once took one of those stupid quizzes on the subject and it stated that I was more of a Libertarian, which I guess is close enough to what I believe in. But I wouldn't apply a label to it. I'm just not political and it makes me ill when someone is too active in it - it's not that I don't respect people who march, I do. But it brings back way too many painful memories for me. I stay as far away from it as I can.

Believe me, I wish that I could sound a little more 'learned' in this blog than I do. But politically? It's painful for me, just like many, many other things in my life.

Man, my family fucked me up but good, didn't they? :( In retrospect, I'm very surprised that my previous and many suicide attempts didn't work - and very lucky. Because most people would have crumbled by now, with all of the issues that I've apparently got.

My mother found out that I was taking Luvox and she was like, "How much more are they going to find that's wrong with you? How much?"

Thanks so much. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have these problems.

These are the kind of people I spring from - insensitive comments like this are a way of life for my family. This is what they do. I'm almost used to it. But now you know why I just won't have children - I wouldn't subject them to this. And as we all know, the violence (physical or emotional) repeats itself. No, thanks.

Sorry for the downbeat turn this has taken - I guess the weather's affecting me, too. It's the start of the weekend, though, which is always good. I hope I'll feel better in a while.

Thanks for listening, if you've gotten this far.

Nothing much doing.

It seems that the Luvox has removed all sense of drama and/or stress from my life, as I've really not been anxious about too much of anything. The social life hasn't much improved, but then again I'm not really trying too hard as of late. I am more willing to get out and do things, so if that's what it's meant to do, I'm happy for that. I was shocked to see that the medicine (this one alone) is seventy dollars. At this rate, I think I'd rather be a fucked-up hermit than pay those prices. God, it's expensive to be sick.

It's been a quiet weekend. I'm off tomorrow for Columbus Day, not that I care much about the holiday or anything, but it's nice to relax. I got my paper in on time and I think I rather did well on it, but I won't know for sure until the instructor gets around to grading it. I have a feeling she's going to be a hardass about grammar and APA and... bleh. I did my best, that's all I can do.

I bought an external hard drive over the weekend and have been having absolute fun with backing up all of my music onto it. I thought I had a lot - 35 gigabytes - but that's only 1% capacity of this new drive, so I'm thrilled to have so much space. I don't think I'll ever be able to fill all of that up, but then I never thought I'd have so many files, either, or that I'd hear of so many bands. I do love my music, I will admit to that.

Seems that my life is horribly boring without the angst, isn't it. I need to get back to the gym tomorrow, I've been horribly neglectful on that front. I do still feel angst about that - sometimes I feel like exercising does me zero good, I'm still overweight and it doesn't seem as if it helps me... but I know that I have to at least try. Sure could use some results, though. I think that maybe I'd better see my doctor, because I'm one of those ones that has tried nearly literally everything to get rid of this weight, to no avail. I'm convinced that there's a medical difficulty somewhere - there has to be. This seems to be the month for reminders about medical appointments, as I just got a notice from my optometrist to go see them, too. And Miss Dandy Lion's got a checkup scheduled for January...

I can't believe I've had that cat almost a year now. Goddamn, where did the time go?
I'm not nearly the same person I was then...

Sigh. Too much nostalgia again. I'm moody.

Speaking of nostalgia, here's a video from 1977 - does anyone remember that fake-ass shit records that K-Tel used to put out? It's kind of the vinyl version of the "Now" series of CDs out today. Anyway, there's some commercials on this thing that... well, it'll make you laugh out loud. I want to know how much they paid those idiots in those robot suits to step around like they're standing in a nest of rattlesnakes. And a 12-inch black and white TV for 70 bucks? You'd laugh your ass off if they tried to sell one of those today.



Until next time, darlings. :p

Luvox and hope.

Today is my fifth day on the Luvox, and already I'm noticing some improvements. I'm able to talk to people again - about real things now, not just conversational filler such as "uh-huh" and "oh rilly" and "is that right". It's early days. I'm not quite out of the woods yet. But I'm starting to see a difference. I'm not sure if others do, no one has told me so if there is, but ... it's just how I feel, I guess. I've actually said that I would meet one of my friends later in the month for a drink, provided that they get their shit together... this is a move that I couldn't have made even a couple of weeks ago. As far as I'm concerned, that's a huge step. And a good one.

It's been a long, hard-assed road, this depression of mine. It'll be with me for life, I know that, and I may never get off of these meds.. but if I can feel better like this, after so many years of frankly not remembering shit, I'll take them as long as I need to. It's worth it.

As "consciousness" returns to me, I see that I need to not only acknowledge my past mistakes, but I need to maybe start forgiving people instead of holding grudges against them. And maybe the first person that I need to start with is myself. I've done a lot of things in my life that I'm not proud of, some of which would curl your toes, dear Reader. I've really done some awful things in my life. But... I need to maybe understand that I might have had to do some of those things in order to survive, or to get through. I've probably had this depression since my early teens - certainly all of the signs and symptoms were there, so I've been told. And I believe it. There are portions of my life from those days that I only partially remember. It hurts, a lot. But perhaps I need to start forgiving myself. I've paid my dues, in pain and in tears - so now maybe, just maybe, it's time to let things go for good. What do you think?

Lots of reflection today. I guess that this Luvox stuff has cleared the cobwebs out of my brain, at least for now anyway. I hope that my new-found clarity stays with me... but if not I'll keep trying to find it.

Thanks for listening.

Facebook "friends". How insidious. And how wrong.

This past weekend, I had found a person on Facebook that I had worked with at the computer store a long, long time ago... granted, it's been years, at least 15. So I send a request to be added onto his list... and he sends me a mail back. "Help me remember you." So I described my vitals, blah blah, who I am and how I knew him and all of that...well, apparently he remembered me - but didn't add me to his list, effectively snubbing me.

Now... even just a year ago, this so-called "rejection" would have had me doing the screaming meemies dance. People with depression, remember, don't see the world the same way that you do. I would have taken it as "the end of the world".

Today? Fuck 'em.

That's the thing about Facebook and similar social networking sites... they are so incredibly flawed as to whom to consider "friends". I have 118 people on my contact list, currently. One is family (my cousin). Three are very, very close friends, the best friends I have. Three more are friends that, while not extremely close, are close enough that I would consider a necessity in my life. The rest? Well... how well do I know them, or they me? A good deal of them are from either high school days (where no one knew anyone), or from my various places at work. So... 7 out of 118? See what I mean?

Facebook and the like shouldn't term people as "friends". I, with my social anxiety and depression, do not have anything close to 118 "friends". Maybe six if I'm lucky.

And for people like me - even for people like you, dear Reader - it's misleading. It's insidious, how places like this have taken over the landscape of the Internet, really. I see people at work checking their "eff-bees" constantly... "Oh, what did he say, what does she think?" Does it really matter? Do you have to be "on" 24 hours a day? I would think that would be more exhausting than just unplugging and chilling out, wouldn't you think?

I'm starting to move away from it, just as I have IRC, just as I have WinMX and the BBS scene. I've been there for all of it, and quite honestly... it was good but I wouldn't do it again. What for, when I've seen the best of what each has to offer?

So as far as I'm concerned, people can refuse my "friend" requests all they like - until you've been with me through the worst of times and have put up with me through all of the crap that I've dished out... until you know me as intimately as you know your own family... you're not anywhere close to a true "friend". You're an acquaintance. That's how it is. Stick around and I might be a friend - I'm a pretty open person despite my illness - but one request on a stupid social networking site does not a "friend" make. People wish it was that easy.

Because I'm classy (despite the fact that I say 'fuck' a lot), I won't name said ill-mannered douchebag. But I could.

Rant over.