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The Universe & Me

whackafaith.jpg

It’s an old picture, but you get the point.

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Adieu, 2007.  Parting, not such sweet sorrow. No sorrow at all, in fact.  Go. Get thee hence. Just get out of my face.

This has been an intensely trying year. And I’m not downplaying the good things that have happened–a mini-vacation with Joe to California, getting involved with MoMentuM, new friends like Jehara and L-Squared, not having breast cancer–but it’s been overall a hellish year. My depression has spiraled out of control, and I cannot wait to get to a doctor after the first and get some meds that may actually give me some relief. Joe’s travelling all the time is kind of good and kind of bad at the same time; it seems like we fight more when we’re together, but maybe it’s not more, maybe it’s the same amount condensed into less time. I don’t know, but it sucks.  I gained back all the weight I worked so hard to lose, and I’m having an impossible time getting myself into the right mindframe to get going again. I feel like a complete utter failure. I didn’t finish a book. I didn’t accomplish any of the things that I’d set out to do this year.

So good riddance, 2007. I hope 2008 is better.

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A little blue

I’ve got the blues today. I think it probably has a lot to do with having been sick for what seems like a couple of months, on top of almost no sleep last night. Whatever the cause, it really stinks.

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It started not very happily (for me) when I got the word that Joe’s company has decided to keep him as their roving trouble shooter. He’s over the moon about it, and I’m happy for him, because he truly enjoys the challenge. He’s said that going back to an on-site position after this would be soul-destroying. So when I say I’m happy for him, I honestly mean that. No, my feelings come from missing him so dreadfully. But he will be home most of the month of October, which will be truly lovely.

Then I was also stressed about almost all of my plans for the weekend falling through. And I’d honestly had a strong feeling we were going to be moving, so that was a disappointment in its own way. Not that I wanted to leave my family & friends, because I don’t, but I was looking forward to new horizons and adventures.

So I was emotionally all over the place during the day. L-squared helped me get a little more even keeled as she helped me see what I could do with the house to feel better about it. And when I got home, Soleil was there for me with a book and a trashy magazine and big hugs. Soleil does great hugs!!! And we had a quick dinner and talked about things before she had to go to work.

I decided for my weekend project to tackle what I call “The Big Ugly,” aka the main bathroom. I rarely go in there for anything but the fastest of showers because the room’s so disgusting. It’s Joe’s domain. He junks it up beyond anything describable. And he almost never throws anything away in there. So on Friday night I got one of those huge heavy-weight contractor’s trash bags and threw away every empty or mostly-empty bottle of shampoo, skin care, whatever. I threw away the stuff we’d tried once or twice and didn’t like. I threw away the stuff with broken lids that we couldn’t get out. I threw away the hairspray with the broken nozzle that sprayed all over your hand instead of your hair. I got rid of the cheap Avon cologne that smelled like, well, I don’t know how to describe what it smelled like.  I threw away the old Q-tips that were laying on the counter, used matches, old cotton balls, newspapers, samples that we’d had in there for untold years. All gone.

That’s what I did on Friday night.

And I cried. And cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried. I got two very well-meaning but thoughtlessly worded e-mails from people I love very much and who love me. And in any other mood I’d have been able to shrug off the sting, but on Friday night I was in such a bad place that it was truly frightening. It reminded me of when I had the breakdowns when I was working for CPS. I’d manage to stop crying for an hour or so, and then it would start up all over again.  I had plans to go into the office and work for 3 or 4 hours on Saturday morning, but when I was still awake, and still sporadically crying, at 4 a.m., I knew there was no way. I finally fell asleep between 4 and 4:30, and slept until around 9:30.

I woke up feeling fine. Not great, but fine. I got up, went to the Evil Empire (TM) and bought some cute smallish wicker laundry baskets, some non-adhesive shelf liner, a couple of scrubbing brushes, and went back home to tackle The Big Ugly. I scrubbed the shelves. I lay the non-adhesive shelf liner. I discovered that I could fit two of the cute smallish wicker laundry baskets per shelf. I decided what stuff I would put in which basket where. I had salvaged two laundry hamper-sized baskets that Tom Thumb was getting rid of last week, and I put those in the bottom part of the shelf area; one’s for clean folded towels and the other’s for dirty laundry. And the wash clothes get rolled up and placed into one of the small baskets. All very pretty.

And I scrubbed the tub. We have a very large very old tub, and it’s badly stained. One can scrub for a long time and never make any impact. It was slightly better when I was finished. I, on the other hand, was hot and sweaty. So I took off my clothes and lay on the bed with the a/c blowing on me until I cooled off enough to take a luxurious bath. No, The Big Ugly wasn’t finished yet, but I had a “party” to get ready for and I was stinky from the sweat and the scrubbing. So nice bath with a lovely bath bomb Joe got me from Lush in California, and then I was dressed and out the door.

The banned book party, well, it wasn’t so much a party as a dinner with two other people. We did some book talk and had one game of sorts. I went down a list of the top 100 banned books in the last decade, and the person who had read the most was proclaimed queen of the banned books. She got a tiara and a $10 gift card to Half Price Books. The other person got a bag of banned books, including Baby Be-Bop by Francesca Lia Block, The Great Gatsby, Tess of the D’Urbervilles, and I forget what all else. We talked a bit about the reasons some books were banned, and we exchanged books. I received a copy of Huckleberry Finn, which I haven’t read in ages. I brought Lysistrata, and the other person brought Anne Frank and Walden. So it was all fine as far as that went. I’m sorry more of my friends were unable to make it, but we had a pleasant evening.

Yesterday I sporadically read, and cleaned The Big Ugly. I had to make another trip to the Evil Empire (TM) for a step stool (there was a shelf I couldn’t reach and needed to make use of) and another basket or two. And I got kidnapped by my sister, the incomparable Izzybella, and hauled off to the book store and forced to select a book that she wanted to buy me. Don’t you hate it when people want to buy you books? Yeah. Me neither. Not only that, but she also got me a Godiva dark chocolate bar. Mmmmm. Booky and chocolately goodness, all in one fell swoop. So the only thing left to do in The Big Ugly is to clean the floor and the outside of the toilet. I just flat ran out of time this weekend. But if one looks at where it started–which I’m the only one who did, and Joe of course, because I would never let anyone see it–and looks at where it is now, it’s already so much better one would plotz. So I don’t feel bad about running out of time. Plus, hey, I did a load of laundry to boot.

So I feel pretty good. I had a mini nervous breakdown, almost finished cleaning The Big Ugly, read several books, had dinner out with some friends, and got kidnapped by the incomparable Izzybella and spent time with Soleil. All in all a very eventful weekend.

Oh! and hey, Janet of Fond of Snape tells me I won her book drawing! All with the good there too, right?

Books I read this weekend:

Extras – Scott Westerfeld. The fourth book in the Uglies trilogy. Soleil got it for me. It’s fantastic. Unlike the first three books in the story, Tally is not the main focus of the story. She comes in later on. But she definitely plays an important part. Four thumbs up.

Elsewhere – Gabrielle Zevin. The book that the incomparable Izzybella got for me. It’s fantastic. I really really enjoyed it. Quite an unusual take on the afterlife. Four thumbs up.

Dusted: The Unauthorized Guide to Buffy the Vampire Slayer – Lawrence Miles, Lars Pearson, Christa Dickson. One of the better of the Buffy guides. Yes, I practically know this stuff by heart, but when one is having a mini nervous breakdown, one needs this kind of fluff. Besides. Buffy. Four thumbs up.

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Screw it. It seems like when the depression is at its worst, and I still try to force myself to make plans, they always mess up. So why bother? I just end up feeling even worse than if I’d not tried to do anything.

I’d actually been looking forward to going out tonight. The incomparable Izzybella can’t help being sick. It sucks. I’m not upset at her in the slightest, so when you read this, squirt, don’t start apologizing, okay? But the other person who was going to go with us already bailed. And she’s dropping hints that she doesn’t want to come to the party tomorrow night. Which, okay, her prerogative. But the so-called party is already down to two people besides myself. Some party. And I like the people who are coming, don’t get me wrong. But yeah, some party.  And that’s no criticism of people who have to work–because I understand that. I’m not criticizing anyone. It’s just this sonofabitching frustrating situation that’s driving me insane!

And every email I get from V. makes me feel like an incompetent poseur who has no business being involved with anything to do with the theatre. I love her, and I know that’s not what she’s trying to do. And I know full well I have no experience and no background, and I feel privileged to have even been a part of what I’ve gotten to do. But it has completely sucked all the joy out of it for me.  I feel like I’m embarrassing everyone by even thinking I can do this.

So I just want to go home and hide my head under the pillows all weekend. Of course, I do get to come to work tomorrow. And I’m not going to let down those who have committed to the “party” tomorrow night. I’ll be at the restaurant with the things I’ve got planned (about which I’ll write on Monday). And maybe they’ll actually make it.

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The deep dark pit

That’s what depression is, folks. It’s a deep pit, with matte black walls, and you can’t get a foothold to find a way to climb out assuming you were able to find the energy or desire to even want to make an attempt to climb out. And that’s a mighty big “if.”

I haven’t been in this bad a depression in a very long time. I can’t make myself do anything beyond going to work. I don’t want to see anybody, talk to anybody, do anything. It’s horrible.

I am taking my meds, but since I just started them back up a few weeks ago, I know I’ve got a while before they’ll fully kick in. So if you’re wondering why I’ve dropped off the planet, that’s why. Bear with me. I just need to be alone for a while.

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