I hate boxes, part one

She said, "So, as the adult child of an alcoholic, you probably don't have any close friends."

Wow. You go through life thinking you're unique, that no one can understand your pain, and then you're pigeonholed in one sentence.

There's lots of other things I learned at The Place:

• A LOT of the people who ended up there grew up with an alcoholic parent.
  
  
• I wasn't the only one who no longer handled my own money.
  
  
• Self-harm was not just for young teens.
  
  
• Auditory hallucinations were not uncommon among the mentally ill.
  
  
• Alcohol and drug abuse, along with other addictions, went hand in hand with mental illness - the addiction temporarily masked the pain.

The most important thing I learned is that I was never alone. Not only were there others out there with similar issues, there were also others out there who wanted to help.

To be continued...

LOVE: How has poor Dwayne put up with Michelle for so long?

So, Dwayne picks me up from work today, and on the way home...

Dwayne: Did you remember to call about your medicine?
Me: Noooo. Hey, did you hear Jay and Silent Bob are coming to town?

Dwayne: Don't you need to stop by your mom's and pick up that book?
Me: Not todaaaaay. Hey, wouldn't it be cool if we could go to Fandomfest?

Poor Dwayne. He's always trying to lasso me into doing what I'm supposed to do. He doesn't understand procrastination, which IS ME.

We've been together 17 years now. No, not married. He's perfect. Well, perfect for me. Well, he does drive kind of slow. But he's never been in a wreck, which balances me out nicely. :)

He's my best friend. I definitely got the better end of the deal.

Straight Talk: The Fight Against Depression

I AM getting better. Every day. But there are still some things I'm working towards.

I don't drive anymore. At all. I've lost my confidence.

I don't play any of my instruments anymore. I just can't. I've lost my music.

I don't handle my money anymore. It goes to my mother, who pays my bills for me. I've basically lost my adulthood.

Just putting these things down on paper make it seem a little overwhelming. I really put myself in a deep dark hole to climb out of, right? And these are just the highlights.

But still. I am getting better. I really am. I'm getting up every day. I'm going to work. (mostly.) I'm doing something besides sleeping.

I won't be dragged back down. I am getting better.

Take it in but don't look down

Family portrait, 1993

See that cute little baby in that picture up there?

That's MY baby.  I don't care how old she gets, or how sappy this sounds, she will always be my baby.

Even if she is 21 years old today.

(sniff)

That is all.

oh, wait...

To the most beautiful, wonderful, awesome daughter in the world:

Happy Birthday, Chelsea.

Now this happens...

The summer of 2001 I was vacationing in Myrtle Beach and I picked up a `beach book` to read from the local Wal-Mart. It was by a sci-fi author I'd heard of, but I'd never read anything of his. The book was called `Pastwatch: The Redemption of Christopher Columbus'.

Well, the book was great, and my obsessive self wanted more. I looked up the author's list of books and the most recommended by far was a book called 'Ender's Game'. I ran to the bookstore, bought it, read it in one sitting, and the rest is history.

It immediately shot up to the top of my list of favorite books. Not only was it my new Favorite Book Ever, but I became insufferable about it. I made my mom, my brother and my daughter read it. My brother agreed with me. Mom and daughter thought it was very good. I made Dwayne read it too, and my friend Mark from work. Both of these guys are of the 'haven't read a book since high school' variety, and they both loved it!

I started giving the book away as Christmas presents...and then I started buying extra copies, so that I could say, "Have you read Ender's Game? No? Oh, well then here's a copy."...

And it has umpteen sequels, those are all wonderful, too.

So finally, the movie they've been talking about making for YEARS is coming out, and I'm soooo excited. But wait...there's a controversy...what's that...

It turns out that the author of all my favorite books ever is a raging homophobe. Not only that,  but the kind of raging homophobe who says things like, he'll destroy and bring down any government that supports gay marriage.

(sigh) His name is Orson Scott Card. He has every right to think this way...it doesn't affect the books. It will, however, cause certain people not to read his books, and that makes me sad.

The saddest thing is that the first sequel to 'Ender's Game', 'Speaker for the Dead', is a book I've talked about before in this journal.  It's a beautifully written book, and is the start of its own trilogy, about acceptance and peace between all the living things in the universe.

It's hard to believe that the author could write something so beautiful about the concept of acceptance between all living things, yet he couldn't include gays in with them.

I need another story...

Imagine you're standing next to Vincent on that starry night...he's setting up to paint the valley before him, his eyes alight with wonder. You say, 'Vincent, this is the same valley that we see every day, what's so special about it?'

Well, nothing has changed with the valley, it's as special as it ever was.  It's Vincent who has changed. He has to get his vision on the canvas, NOW. 

The stars are great glowing yellow orbs of light in sky, The Milky Way is the dominant part of the sky as it sweeps and swoops around the other beings in the sky.  The Moon is a brilliant yellow crescent in the sky, also, refusing to be ignored.

There is a grove of fir trees to Vincent's left that obscures his view of the night sky. There are also mountains in the distance that don't get a second thought from him.

Van Gogh's `Starry Night` is a look at Vincent's reality.

What my point is, is that what one person sees and what another sees won't ever be exactly the same.

I look at the mall and my anxiety levels spike as I imagine the crowds of people inside staring at me and crowding me and small talking with me.  Whereas my daughter sees the mall as the happy place where she says, oooh, my mom and Dwayne and Mamaw have given me money let`s go buy stuff yay!

Sooooo....I felt like I really did have a point...I'm Ambien blogging so who knows what that might have been.  I THINK it's something like - none of us are coming from the same place. We all see something different with our different eyes and minds and experiences and hearts. It's a miracle that we get along in this world, but we do.

We successfully live and learn and grow and love.  And there is no reason why we can't continue to do that even in the wake of bad things going on around us.  We MUST continue to love each other, in spite of our differences.

Go Wherever You Wanna Go

In the few days before my grandma died, she slipped into a coma and never woke up.

I had trouble understanding the concept. In the back of my mind, I always thought she would get better.

We spent all of our time at my grandparent's house. I would sit in Moma's room and hold her hand, while her favorite band, Dailey & Vincent, played softly in the background.

At Dwayne's insistence, I called my dad. I honestly hadn't even thought about it. My grandma had always thought of my dad like a son, and my dad loved my grandma.

My dad came to see her and admonished me for not calling sooner. I hadn't talked to him in over a year. And I was still in denial...thinking my grandma was going to wake up.

That same night, the night before she died, I was talking to my grandpa about her terrible breathing. She seemed to be struggling... My grandpa said that was the 'death rattle'.

The next day I sat with Moma some more...I held her hand, and told her I loved her, and begged her to wake up, but she never did. I finally kissed her goodbye, and Dwayne, Chelsea and I left.

We weren't gone five minutes before my mom called me and said just two words, "Come back."

We went back and I ran in the house and my grandpa said, "She's gone."

.....................................................................................................

After everything was over, after the wild grief that I hope to never ever have to go through again, my mom told us,

She was sitting with Moma and holding her hand, and suddenly Moma's breathing eased up, and she was breathing so easily. My mom called out for everyone to come. Moma was lying there, so peaceful, breathing so easily, and while Mom was still holding her hand, Moma just slipped away.
..................................................................................................

That was two years ago. I was in no shape to write about this until now. I'm still writing it with tears running down my face, but it's really okay.

Oh, boy...

My BA is in Philosophy. This means that 1) people invariably give me a blank look when they hear this, and 2) I have no hope of ever finding work in my field. There's not a lot of job opportunities out there for 'philosophers'.

My schooling doesn't go to waste, however - I use it every day. I'm the epitome of absent-minded because of the debates I've got going in my head. I'll think an issue to death...argue both sides of it, examine all angles, dig under rocks, until I'm satisfied.

In the meantime, the real world has passed me by, and I've missed conversations, knocked stuff over, dropped a few things, and have been completely oblivious to the chaos around me.

I love when Dwayne or Chelsea says something like, 'Don't you think...' I can't help myself. Even if I agree, I will NEVER admit it - I always have to play devil's advocate and disagree, so I can get a debate going. So that I can win.

Because obviously, I'm a terrible person. Poor Chelsea gets so upset. Wow.

I have to stop writing now and go apologize to my daughter.

:(

This is me.

Me.

Missed.

Two years ago, we celebrated Fourth of July at my grandparents house. My grandma was in the last weeks of her two-year struggle with ovarian cancer, and we were all aware that this was likely the last holiday we would all be together.

As I sat and gazed at my beautiful grandmother, I thought about Thornton Wilder's "Our Town". I felt like the young female protagonist who died and visited her life as a ghost, and implored everyone to appreciate their life and loved ones while they could.

I struggled to take in every moment of the day: my family laughing as we cooked out in the backyard; sitting in the family room with my grandma and my daughter; setting off fireworks in the street while my grandma watched from the porch. She had to be so exhausted, but she stayed up and with us every moment of the day.

Eight days later, my grandmother slipped into a coma. She died on July 16, 2011.

We didn't celebrate Independence Day at all the next year.

This year we did get together for our family thing. The pain is still there but time has eased it, and now we can smile and laugh and remember without our heart always breaking in two.

This holiday, though, is no longer just a holiday. It's the last holiday I spent with my grandmother, and will always be the most precious to me.

I'm always dragging that horse around...

It's hard to keep your spirits up when your head hurts all. the. time.

I fondly remember back when I didn't have a headache. I think it was last year sometime?

Things are bad right now. I know I have it within me to make a positive change, but I can't seem to move because of the paralyzing pain.

I hope I still have a job when I go back to work.  And I hope my family is still talking to me.

I wish I could just be me.

Know it'll all be clear...

Life's too short to have migraines.

I've tried to convince myself that the pain's all in my head (haha) but it's. not. working. (sob)

If I was feeling better, I could be putting together a really fabulous entry on what a week we've had!  Wendy Davis rocks!  DOMA is no more!

But the good is tempered by the bad, of course...Rick Perry doesn't seem to understand that no means no.  What is wrong with him?  And DOMA being struck down doesn't affect my Kentucky... I live in Louisville, which is a wonderful city, but there's still a whole lot of bigoted rednecks that live in the rest of the South.

But still, there are two things I picture from this week that almost make my headache go away:

1) Wendy Davis and Leticia Van De Putte on the floor of the Texas Senate - Davis standing for a reported 15 hours, Van De Putte coming straight from her father's funeral - and making me SO PROUD I nearly couldn't stand it.

2) Sitting at my desk at work covertly reading the SCOTUS live blog and seeing Justice Kennedy's beautiful wording and realizing what it meant - DOMA had been struck down. I was so happy I literally wanted to jump for joy but that would have given me away so I had to get up and sedately walk away from my desk into the break room so I could bounce.

I have to believe that things will work out. I haven't stuck around this long for it not to. ... Because obviously, the world revolves around me.

Well, it's coming from my perspective, why shouldn't it?

I WISH that was my doctor...

Went to visit my psychiatrist today.  It used to be a weekly thing but now we've stretched it to every two months.  Go me!  I also used to have to go see a psychiatrist AND a therapist but I cut the therapist loose...I don't really like someone probing the dark inner recesses of my mind, you know?

So anyway, my psychiatrist visits are usually short and sweet, but also a little disturbing.  My goal is to go in and say whatever I can to make him believe that I AM OKAY.  His goal is apparently to see right through me and get at the truth.

Me, after a migraine-filled week in which I've taken 20 Vicodin and am feeling a little sick about it:
"I'm doing great!"
DOCTOR:
"So how much Vicodin do you take a day?"

Me, after spending two weeks in bed, avoiding my family, and Dwayne ordering me to tell the doctor about it:
"Everything is good!"
DOCTOR:
"So how's your relationship with Dwayne?"

Me, after another marathon migraine and my regular doctor gives up and refers me to a third neurologist:
"Doing really good!"
DOCTOR:
"So what has changed for you medically?"

It's a little strange and stalker-ish how he seems to know things!  And I'm dying to know what he's writing down in his little notepad about me...

But it's worth the uncomfortable trip, to make sure I stay out of the hospital, healthy and on my meds.

So yay!  I'm doing good.  For now.  Hopefully for the next two months.  :)

Such a lovely place

So it was about this time two years ago that I melted down completely and went into the mental hospital.  Here's some advice if you ever find yourself in the same situation:

1. They're tricky. You're saying, I know, I don't feel good, blah blah blah, and next thing you know you're locked into a psychiatric hold and you can't leave.  
TIP: Be prepared.

2. They put psych patients in with the drug addicts and the alcoholics.  Guess who's considered the scary ones in that bunch?  You could always tell who the psych patients were in the room because no one would be sitting by them. And I can't blame people.  I spent most of my time staring into space, sleeping or crying.  One of the other psych patients in there with me tried to escape.  From a voluntary check-in!  
TIP: Stay away from the psych patients. Unless you are one. Then, sorry. :(

3. The days go by with excruciating slowness punctuated by meetings, doctor visits, group therapy, checkups, yoga, meditation, ART TIME.  I stayed in my room and slept through meetings, therapy, yoga and meditation, until they finally put their foot down and said I had to go to art time.  Which was fabulously fun.  Or just may have seemed that way when you've been beaten down by life and staring at the walls of a treatment facility for a few days.  Whichever, the point is, art time lets you see grown adults coloring diligently around a table WITH an instructor and helps you get at your inner self. TIP: Don't miss art time!

4. The place where I stayed had a very nice kitchen.  I didn't know this at first, because I refused to leave my room through two mealtimes before hunger finally drove me downstairs for supper.  My fear of crowds made me very uncomfortable, but the food was great.  
TIP: Be ready to face your fear on a daily basis if you want to eat good.  Otherwise, you'll be eating crackers.

5. Families were allowed to visit on certain days.  I never missed my family so much as when I was locked in and couldn't get out.  I had no laptop, no cellphone, no ebook; so I stalked my family on the public phone as much as I could.  I had to take my turn, though, because everyone else was doing the same thing.  The important thing was they had to come visit me on my allotted day, and bring money.  Because I missed them, and snacks.  
TIP: STRESS to your family how important family day is, because it's really disappointing if you're one of the ones whose family doesn't show up.

So that's all I've got for now...I'll tell yall later how the next two months went.  Really a short time in my life, but it'll stay with me forever.

...And yes, I said she tried to escape.  From a voluntary check-in.  Ensuring her spot in the IV chair at the nurse's station for HOURS and then the room with the 24-hour surveillance cameras.  There's crazy, and then there's CRAZY...

Happy Father's Day 2013

We had Father's Day for my grandpa today.  He was diagnosed with a brain tumor in December, had emergency surgery, then radiation, and has had lots of complications since then.  The doctor said this week that he has pneumonia again.  Is it because we went out of town last weekend?  I don't know, but I'm so grateful he's still here.

Popa, Father's Day 2008

My daughter never met her father.  I have the distinction of being one of those girls who managed to give birth AND get dumped by their boyfriend on the same day.  I was the clear winner, however, because that day I met the person who I would love more than anyone else in the whole world.

Michelle and Chelsea, 1992

I've always been a single mom, but not.  Chelsea grew up with me AND my mother AND my grandmother...and Dwayne and I started dating when she was four so she really had me plus two other moms plus a kind of stepdad. So I always had help, and HELP, but it still has always felt like me and Chelsea vs. the world.  I wonder if my mom felt like that with me?

Michelle and Chelsea 1994

Michelle and Chelsea 1995

Michelle and Chelsea 2004

Us, now

It's dark inside.

I hate when I get this twitchy feeling inside...like my nerves are jumping around and things just feel wrong and I want to curl up in a ball and hide from SOMETHING but I don't know what it is.

Even though I'm getting better, I still get this feeling often.

And I know I'm getting better.  It's taken a very long time to get this far, but I still have a long way to go.

I saw the movie `Silver Linings Playbook` tonight.  My co-worker lent it to me for the weekend after he watched it four times in a row and gushed over how awesome it was.

And it was really, really good.  It had our hometown girl Jennifer Lawrence in it, she was great...

But seeing it once was more than enough for me.  It just made me so exhausted, because I've been there.  I've been in that psychiatric hospital, and in those group therapy sessions, and on all those different medications, and fighting to be a `normal` person.

I'm glad I saw the movie, I just don't want to see it again.

Back home, at last

I'm finally back home. The past few days have been difficult - traveling, shopping, dining out and being a tourist, when I've spent the last couple of years being a shut-in.

There were still times I stayed behind in the hotel when the family went out, but I really did try to take part.  I don't want to be tired all the time. 

One of the places I went:

And further down:

I've rafted the river below the falls twice. Back, before, you know...

I hardly recognized myself when I got home and looked in the mirror.  I actually got some sun the past few days and am not my usual shade of pale white that comes from being in my room 24-7.

I'll try to keep it up. I really did push myself. For every moment I sat waiting alone in the car or the lobby or the hotel room, there was also a moment I uncomfortably endured the crowded restaurant and park and shop.  It can only get easier.

But for now at least, I'm home with my kitty:

Sunday after the second Saturday...

This is my grandpa putting flowers on my grandma's grave for Decoration tomorrow.

I'm not sure why we started early.

If you're not from the Appalachians you may have never heard of Decoration Day. It's what the idea of Memorial Day came from. It warranted its own paragraph in Wikipedia under Memorial Day -

"Annual Decoration Days for particular cemeteries are held on a Sunday in late spring or early summer in some rural areas of the American South, notably in the mountains.
 

In cases involving a family graveyard where remote ancestors as well as those who were deceased more recently are buried, this may take on the character of an extended family reunion to which some people travel hundreds of miles.

People gather on the designated day and put flowers on graves and renew contacts with kinfolk and others.
 
There often is a religious service and a "dinner on the ground," the traditional term for a potluck meal in which people used to spread the dishes out on sheets or tablecloths on the grass.
It is believed that this practice began before the American Civil War and thus may reflect the real origin of the "memorial day" idea." 

This is my great- grandparents grave... I called them Ma and Pa but my Grandma, in true Appalachian fashion, called them Mommy and Daddy her whole life.

Further down this way in the Taylor Family Cemetery are the graves of my great great grandparents and my great great great grandparents.  Tomorrow morning the cemetery will be full of distantly related people we don't know and lots of firsts and second cousins we haven't seen since last Decoration.

This is my first Decoration since Moma's been gone.  Two years ago we all came down here for Decoration and my grandma was so sick - she would only live for another month after that. But she went everywhere with us. She was such a fighter.

I couldn't come the next year,... I had emergency surgery and couldn't get out of bed. 

So I've made trips in between to decorate her grave for the seasons, but this is different.  I've never been to Decoration without her.  What do I do, how do I act without her? This is her thing and I am just a supporting player with no one here to support.

I miss her so much.

Safely rest

I grew up on Army bases...I've probably heard 'Taps' played over a thousand times.

It ALWAYS affects you.  On base, when it's played every evening, you're expected as a civilian to stop what you're doing outside and hold your hand on your heart for the 24-notes it takes to play the song.

If you're driving, you stop the car.  If you're in uniform, you get out of the car and salute until the song is over.

The song is special.

Today I remember the more than one million Americans who have died serving in our Armed Forces.

Forward and back

I successfully made it to work I think six weeks in a row, before I slipped and missed a week and a half this time.  When I fail, I fail big.  My first day back was today.  It's interesting living life on the edge.

And I hated myself for not getting there...and taking that step backward...not to mention the disappointment I could feel from my mom and my daughter and Dwayne.  Oh, the waves and waves and crushing waves of disappointment...

The only time I left my room in the last week and a half was to go the doctor.

So I guess it was nice to get out today.  It was really hard.  Once you fall back into the pattern of never leaving the house, it's hard to escape.

Every day is a battle.  If I didn't have a family that loves me I would have succumbed long ago.  But I do and so I keep fighting.

The ambien effect...

I used to sit and watch my grandpa count out his pills every night and think, wow, old people need a lot of medicine.

And now I'm pretty sure I take more pills than he does.  He's 83, and I just turned 40 and am in denial about it.

I regularly swallow 9 pills every night.  That's not including any Benadryl or antibiotic or whatever else I might sporadically need.

My most important pill is, of course, the AMBIEN.  I can't go to sleep without it.  I also wouldn't be able to explain away all my strange middle of the night behavior without it.

"Michelle, why did you buy $500 worth of music from iTunes in the middle of the night!?"

Oh, wow, it must have been the Ambien...

"Mommy, I told you to get up and put these in the fridge and lock the door!"

Oh sorry, it was the Ambien...

"Why does the cat have all these bald spots?"

I was giving her a haircut...what...it seemed like a good idea with the Ambien!

So now I'm up because this one time the Ambien hasn't put me to sleep yet.  Which means everything is suspect.  My judgment is compromised and my memory will be faulty.  Everything I'm typing right now holds the potential for embarrassment.  But I really want to go get a diet Pepsi which is full of awesome caffeine so I'm gonna hit publish and blame it on the Ambien.  

No Escape

We were on one of those Halloween `Ghost Runs` about fifteen years ago...Dwayne and I, a couple of friends, and a whole bunch of people I didn't know.

The group decided to go to `The Haunted Forest` but when we got there only three went in, leaving about eight of us sitting in the van.  For a very. long. time.

Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore, and I asked if anyone had ever read Sartre's "No Exit"...and started explaining a little bit what the play was about.

"So," my friend Jim said, "are you saying that sitting here in the van with us is like being in hell?"

OUCH! BUSTED!

Dwayne still likes to make fun of me for that one...he says I need reminding that I'm not always the smartest one in the room.

I was totally put in my place.  I think it was probably a few days before I said anything at all...

Ties, baby

We go to Cumberland Falls every year.  My daughter feels the pull as much as I do, and insists on it.  She'll be 21 in July. !!!.  She was 2 or 3 in this picture, and my grandma had talked us to the edge to get a great shot.

We're Kentuckians, through and through.  Even though I was an Army brat and lived in a lot of different places, it was a relief to come back home.  I'll never want to live anywhere else.  Why would I?  This is the best place in the world.

I blame my grandmother.  She raised all of us to be like this.  I'm not kidding when I say that when I was little, she'd sing me to sleep with a lullaby that began, "Kentucky, you are the dearest land outside of heaven to me...".

I'm a city girl, but I can trace my dirt poor tobacco-farming eastern Kentucky ancestors back to the 1700's.  That's because they're all buried in our family cemetery in Blackwater, KY, where we go every year on Decoration Day.  My grandmother is buried there, and my great-great-great-great-grandmother is buried there. There's still room left for me, too.

We were taught how to handicap the Kentucky Derby by the time we were 5, the basics of country music at 6, and had field tripped the state's major landmarks before age 10.  The UK Wildcats basketball worship training began in the womb.

It's a good thing the brainwashing began early and intense, because it might not have otherwise survived the big 3-year move to Germany.  We didn't get basketball over there, I had to rely on country music cassette mix tapes sent to me via APO mail, the only mountains were the Alps, and the only landmarks were various castles and the Schwarzwald.

I got shipped back home right before I turned 13.  A little culture shock.  But my family!  My trees, my basketball, my Derby, my bluegrass, my mountains, my falls, my Kentucky...

Edit: My mom reminded me exactly how the song goes:

Kentucky, you are the dearest land outside of heaven to me,
Kentucky, I miss your laurel and your redbud trees…
When I die, I want to rest upon your graceful mountains so high..
For that is where God will look for me.

I need a Speaker.

Ender was the first Speaker.  He didn't eulogize...he instead spoke of the intentions and hopes and regrets that made up the essence of an individual's life.

I need a Speaker.  I've become so lazy, self-centered, slow, dumb, uninteresting, vain, mean and a host of other bad things I can't think of right now because I'm slow and dumb...

I need a Speaker.  To explain all this away...

Tango.

I'm enjoying some small things:

1. My new iPhone - I really love it
2. `Imagine Dragons` and `The Lumineers`
3. Netflix

4. My SeanCody membership
5. All the free time I have now since I stopped playing on Facebook.

That I'm enjoying anything at all is a good sign...I'm really hoping my doctors have hit the right pill combo to keep me steady and sane.  I've been to work every day five weeks in a row (yay!).  And I've thought about doing other stuff...that part is taking me baby steps, but at least I'm thinking about it...right?

There are billions of heroes...

There are two heroes in this picture:

The man who stopped the tanks...and the driver of the first tank, who stopped.

Anne was spending her teen years being hidden away in an attic from the Nazis; yet still she believed that people were good at heart.

And I agree.  Bad people can shout and make bombs and kill, but billions of good people will show courage and save lives and prevail.

Just a little...unwell.

I've been chronically depressed since my teens, and taking medicine for it for the last ten or fifteen years or so.

But four years ago, my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer, and not even the medicine could stop my mental breakdown.

I still don't know why I stumbled and fell, and others didn't.

I wrecked my car.
I broke my leg.
I went on a mad online spending spree with money I didn't have.
I landed myself in a psychiatric hospital.
I no longer drive.
I no longer handle my own money.
I had emergency surgery.
I no longer leave my house except to go to work.

I live for the weekends, when I can sleep.  And sleep, and sleep.

And trust me, I'm better than I was.  Two years ago, I wasn't leaving the house AT ALL.

I promise I'm trying.

Friday. Weekend. Still employed. For now.

I actually can't believe I made it 40 years before I was finally the subject of gossip...finger pointing...whispered conversations...

Actual long drawn out made up falsehoods about me started circulating work last week while I was out and seemed to get even worse after I got back.

Ever had conversations stop as you walk by?

Wow.

If I wasn't on three different anti-anxiety medications I probably would have taken it with a lot less zen.

I just don't want to be fired for real now, and make the gossip come true.  

Forgot about the loss of income - I just don't want these people to think they were right!

Secrets

It feels like I've already lived my time, and now I'm just waiting to die.

I don't want to give in.  If my tiny frail grandmother could fight and fight and fight against the cancer, I can fight against this black hole of depression.

No. Way.

I can't believe today is my 40th birthday.
I'm the age my mother used to be when I was 20.  And now, my daughter is 20, the age I used to be.
What?
How did this happen?
And I've been drifting and dreaming the years away...
I want a pause button, so I can figure out my great contribution to society...time's just rushing on and on.
...
Then again, only John Lennon could write `Imagine`. It takes the rest of us to appreciate it.  

Hypocrisy is my middle name...no, wait...

1. My sweet adorable kitty is so cute, she follows me around like a puppy and does whatever I do.  But lately, she just lays around and sleeps all day.  Hmmm...

2. My shrink put me back on the scary medicine... okaaaaaay...

3. Did you notice it didn't get dark until 6 p.m. today?  The days are getting longer...

4. Today was my first of undoubtedly many missteps of 2013 - I called in to work.  I'm such a disappointment, I'm so predictable, yes yes yes I already know.  I just don't know WHY.

5. Hopefully the medicine will help.  If it doesn't drive me battier than I already am...

I feel so...stupid.

Get busy living or get busy dying...

`Some birds aren't meant to be caged.`

`Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.`
I will always be grateful for this movie...

More more more

I go back to the doctor on Monday.My new medicine that was supposed to help me get better actually had this unexpected side effect.
Auditory hallucinations...
Sheesh...I'm supposed to get LESS crazy, not get pushed over the edge.

Pressure, Darkness, Freedom

Popa and I heard it firsthand from Kris this summer - `Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose.`

- And sometimes, when you fall, you fly.

It's time to start being me again.

At least I got 3 hours in...

Why why why does my kitty wake me up at 2:30 in the morning?
Am I being punished?
I'm bad, right?:(I've been up for 3 hours and 20 minutes and I only have 25 minutes left to go back to sleep.  Arrrgggghhhh, BAD KITTY.

Baby, It's Cold Outside... I Wish...

I had a dream that Moma was still alive. I woke up and for a moment, I still believed it, and I was so relieved.  That meant that the last year had been a terrible nightmare.  Then I woke up, for real. 

I still have that same sort of vague, floaty mentality I've always had.  Will that ever change?  It's so much easier to float than it is to hurt.  When group therapy and the shrinks pinpointed me to a tee, it totally freaked me out.  How'd they do that?  How'd they know all that about me?

I wonder if anyone else gets tired of being who they are all the time... I wonder if anyone thinks I'm a big fake...or is that what everyone thinks?

Charade

    
I've taken the Ambien and am patiently waiting to fall asleep, fully expecting to not remember writing any of this in the morning. That stuff is scary.  And really scary when I take it with some Benadryl and a Vicodin.  But at least I don't wash it down with a whiskey...

Sleep eludes me anymore, without a pill.  Unless it's non-threatening catnaps, in the middle of the day.  Those are easy. The pressure of lying down to sleep 6-8 hours at night in the dark has gotten to be too much, without some help...

I'm not sure at what point I'm supposed to stand back up and do things on my own again.  The crazy place floated around the idea of a year...

It's been a short seven months and I miss Moma terribly.  I'll never get over the fact that she's not here anymore.  I was blessed with a very close relationship with the perfect grandma for the first 38 years of my life.  I wouldn't trade it for anything.

100 words

I'm trying to get better.  I think I'm trying to get better. 
I don't know if I'm getting better.
I suspect I'm not getting better.
I want to be better.  I want to live.
I want to surprise people and defy expectations.  I want to feel.
I want to laugh and run and cry and breathe.
I want to shine on, and stay gold.
How do I get there?
How do I get better?
No hiding, no shame, no fear,
I guess.
I really don't know.
But I am trying.
I want to know.  I just need to try.
LIFE.

Numbness, denial, escape, self-medicate, run run run

I'm not that important.

I'm trying really hard to get better. Or I think I am. I have pressures and hopes and expectations weighing down on me. Just get better. Buck up. Get with it. What is your problem, anyway?

And I caught a glimpse of real life and maybe I don't wanna get better, maybe I'd rather stay in a nice fog, where my grandma isn't gone and my daughter isn't suddenly grown up and life isn't so ugly and dreary and hurtful.

I can't cry hard enough for you to hear me now...

The summer of 1983, my parents moved me away to Obernburg, Germany, and I spent my first night there crying for my grandmother.

Now, 28 years later, it's the summer of 2011 and I'm spending the night again crying for my grandmother.

I didn't realize when I saw her briefly this past Saturday, and kissed her on the cheek, and said 'I love you, bye,' that it would be the last time we would ever speak.
I don't know how to do this.