Kinda Neat

I'm drinking tea. There is classical music playing from a tab next to this one. A frog has taken up residence in our pond outside. I've named him of course. Kermit. There is a book next to me that I've been wanting to read for awhile. Instead, I surfed the internet-remember when people used to say that? I looked at low carb recipes and watched videos and read articles and silly quotes and I thought about writing a blog. So...here I am.

I feel like the screen should look like Homer Simpson's in that Halloween episode where they spoofed The Shining. 'Feelin' fine'. Because I actually am.

I don't feel like it might change any time real soon either which is sort of refreshing and different. I'm trying to type this with a very insistent tuxedo climbing all over me by the way. Also not apt to change real soon.

I'm feeling more confident in my job. I have a lot to learn, always will no matter what the job is. But I have support and encouragement from coworkers and I'm creating a successful routine.

I've started a new way of eating. I have given up sweets altogether. No cakes, candies, cookies, or chocolate. I don't eat ice cream or pasta, bread, rice, or anything else that's delicious. And I'm doing ok. The first week I had a few bouts of nausea but I'm ok today and I was able to resist some really pretty doughnuts this morning. I try to celebrate the little triumphs with non edible rewards. I've bought a lot of books lately.

Me and The Fella are amazing. He's such a good person and we love each other, support each other and complete each other. And dad approves of him which is pretty much the first time that's ever happened so...plus!

Dad is good. We don't talk as much as we used to. I used to call him when I was walking to work in the morning. Now I drive The Fella into work. Sometimes in comfortable silence, sometimes with a cd he's 'getting used to'. Dad usually gets his phone calls on Saturday mornings now. We share a coffee and a chat and it's nice. He always says to tell The Fella hello.

I took a mini road trip. Well, I drove for an hour to see The Fella's Parents. The Fella enjoyed not having to drive or count shots of whiskey with his dad and I got to get in some driving long distance practice. I'm gearing up to see The Girls. One is almost 2 hours away, one is 1 hour away. Different directions, different traffic situations, different girls.  I miss them.

I'm doing grown up things. I'm enjoying childish moments. I'm living.

Kinda neat.

Get Back To Where You Once Belonged

I went to the doctor today. Just a well check thing, to establish a relationship with a new health care physician.

I'm not fans of such things. But I went. And I drove there myself, realizing later- it was the first time I'd gone to the doctor by myself.

I walked into a warm office and immediately noticed they had a cat. A beautiful Siamese with the bluest eyes I've ever seen. It gazed at me sleepily and then curled back into a furry  ball.

I was nervous. The first visit is always the most awkward. You're sharing all your physical and sometimes mental weaknesses with a stranger. I tried to take comfort in knowing it was  the right thing for me to do.

The room I ended up in was canary yellow. It had a pedestal sink, a scale like the one I have at home and a poster of a naked woman. I felt myself begin to ease while I waited for the doctor.

She came in smiling and introduced herself. We talked about why I was there, what I wanted to do...she listened. She gave suggestions and while she acknowledged my weight, instead of telling me it was the root of all my problems, she gave me suggestions-helpful suggestions-on how to improve. She listened to my history and made a few more suggestions. She smiled encouragingly, not condescendingly.

I felt better. I felt heard.

I have some changes to make. I felt that was going to be the case but for the first time since I was diagnosed with depression, I felt like I might actually get some help. She wasn't quick to shove a new pill down my throat. She made some suggestions about changes I can make to my lifestyle that make sense.

But they're going to be hard. I may be slightly miserable for a few weeks as my body and mind adjust.

I'm so tired of feeling...not good. So I will try. I came home and told the Fella about the changes I wanted to make and he hugged me, told me he would support me all the way. I'm very lucky to have him in my life, in my corner.

I was so nervous about this appointment and now it feels like it may be the beginning of yet another chapter for me. The chapter where I start to get back to where I used to be. Inside and outside.

Loss

Loss: the fact or process of losing something or someone....


I didn't know him but he still felt like family. His name sounded like a character from a book. Everyone said he was a good kid. He was walking home in the dark rain when the car hit him. He was 18. The driver, 16.

I was at work so I was professional. I was there to help which is when I feel the strongest. I looked up information for grief counselors and words jumped off the page into my memories. Words like 'grief', 'depression', 'death', and 'loss'.... I pushed past them. I was working.

I called people on the phone that I rarely speak to. Everyone's voice was different. So much sadness in their voices, in our hearts, and in the halls as people walked by-trying to figure out what to do.

The day progressed and it became the day after. It was a Friday and everyone feels a little better on Fridays. There were exchanges of, "How are you"s that meant more than usual, but it was ok.

And then, all of a sudden, it wasn't.

I was just sitting there, working on a project when I felt what I can only describe as a wave of emotion move through me. I was intensely sad for his family, friends, coworkers...I understood where they were a little because I'd been there too. Simultaneously, I was overwhelmed with gratitude.

I am surrounded, every day, by wonderful people that love and support me. I am incredibly lucky and I don't take it for granted. I don't forget but sometimes, when someone is suddenly gone...you remember.

I thought I was ok then but this morning there is still a sadness lingering inside. I am incredibly impacted by loss. Any time I'm even slightly connected, I am sent into a vortex of remembrance. I recall every person I've known that's not here anymore. I instantly relive the pain I experienced at the time and feel an overwhelming need to help the people currently suffering. I know I can't do much-everyone needs to process loss differently and in the best way they can for themselves-but I want to.

A list forms in my head of all I've lost. From the time I was 4 and my grandfather died on Christmas, to the most recent loss of my beloved cat...I relive them all. But not always on the surface. If I could watch a sad movie, have a big cry and feel better, that's what I'd do. Sometimes, I don't even recognize that I feel sad.

I felt compassion for this young man's circle of people, and I felt sadness for those affected but I just...kept working, you know? I did my job, I discussed the circumstances, I comforted others and offered my ear, shoulder and heart to those that might need it. I did what I could. But my subconscious wasn't through.

Everything came out in my dreams. I woke this morning, terrified that all I loved was gone. My Fella, my Dad, my cats, my friends, my family, my job, my books....everything. It took way too long to wipe the dream away.

I guess this is my way of dealing with loss. But it doesn't feel healthy. I don't like that the list looms-even now. I don't like the feeling of helplessness that comes along with loss.

I went downstairs after waking from that dream this morning and found the Fella. He held me as I breathed through some tears. I went and cleaned the kitchen next, made some coffee. I found both of my cats and pet them, told them I loved them even as they squirmed from a hug. I sat down and I started writing this. To understand myself a little better. To try and get through the loss. To do whatever I have to do to shake that dream, the list.

Searc

Outside the Lines

I feel overwhelmed with life fairly often. Usually about once a month I fall into a deep self-actualizing pool. I look at myself, how I'm living, what kinds of things I should change to improve myself. I take inventory of aches and pains, decide which are important enough to seek medical help. I stare at my body and frown a lot. 

I'm still so unhappy in my skin most of the time. I really really wish I could be one of those 'plus sized' girls that is proud of herself and doesn't pay attention to shit that others say. I haven't even had anyone say something nasty to me about my weight for years. 

But inside my head, I'm berating and mean to myself. I make myself see the back and front and sides, and profile and chins and fucking ankles that are cankles now....and I hate it. 

I know it's not good for me and I do nothing about it which makes me think there's something deeper I need to address but I don't really want to because, well, eating cake for dinner is way more fun. 

So find something else to be mean to myself about. 

I used to dwell on not driving or not working but those things have been checked off the 'list' of thoughts that come at me. I honestly thought that once I had those things accomplished I'd feel....better.

Instead, I think about my book that's been on hold since my cat died. And then I think about my cat. And then I think about my coworker that helped me and then I think about work and it just goes on and on and on and sometimes, I just don't want to think. 

I try reading and that works for a little while but most of the time my brain is having a battle with itself and I want to wave the white flag. 

Why does everything have to feel like such a goddamn struggle? Is this the depression? The anxiety? The middle agedom? Is it hormones? Adjusting to change? 

I don't know. 

I've talked about  my feelings before to others. In response I often hear, 'Don't be so hard on yourself. You've been through a lot. Give yourself a break." and I so wish I could but honestly? I don't know how. 

I know I'm not perfect. But it pisses me off that I'm not. 

When I was in second grade, I would get upset when I colored outside the lines. Evidently so much so that the teacher felt she should mention it to my mother. I don't remember this but it absolutely is indicative of my personality. 

I started a new job in December. A new job doing something I've always been interested in and was very excited about, but knew very little. Within the first week of January I was pissed at myself for not being able to do all the things I'd never done before. I'm still working on being ok with myself when I make a mistake. 

It's a difficult struggle for me. 

Why? Why is it so hard for me to forgive myself? To love myself, always and all parts? Why is it such a tremendous challenge to accept a compliment? To just say 'thank you'? Why can't I be ok with coloring outside the lines?

Is this the depression? The anxiety? The middle agedom? Is it hormones? Adjusting to change? 

I don't know. I don't want to think about it anymore.