This Year's Christmas Letter

Usually this time of year I think about what to write about in my Christmas letter.

I am one of those old school people who send cards with letters in them with actual postage stamps and everything.

I often think my letters are boring.  Well, except that one year when I told everyone that my son was an European soccer star and my 8 year old daughter ran off to marry the prince of some unknown country.  Yes, I actually did write all that since it was amusing and it wasn't the standard "everyone is just great" letter.

This year has been a bad one as far as years go.

I lost my home.  I lost my job.  I lost a battle with the health insurance company and my surgery was denied.

Sometimes I have half a mind to write all of that in the letter.  Family and friends have no idea what kind of crap happens over here.

I always think that the new year will be different, better some how.  It just never seems to get any better.

Oh well...

Maybe I will just write a poem:

Jingle Bells, Santa smells...
This year kinda sucked
Hoping next year is better.

:-)

I Don't Work at All

When I had lost my job, I was shocked.  (but not super shocked, I didn't like the job and it showed)

It isn't easy being fired.  It beings emotions of not being good enough or being a loser.  Truth be told, many successful people have been fired.  Google it if you want.

When I was down and out, I decided to make a list of all of the jobs I had over the years:

Babysitter
Custodian
Student Research Assistant
Administrative Assistant
Walmart Associate (CSM)
Laundry Cleaner
Hostess
Busser
Bartender
Waitress
Financial Aid Employee
Order Entry Clerk
Club Manager Assistant
YMCA Guest Services

The list goes on and on....I held many hats over my lifetime.

The point of my list was to help me figure out which job made me the happiest.  Which job did I enjoy doing despite the compensation.  Which job I wanted to focus on.

This helped me target my next employer.

I loved my Walmart job the most with being a hostess as a close second.

Then I listed why I liked this (these) job(s) the most.

It was simply because I enjoy customer service and not being tied to a desk for eight hours a day.

I worked for Walmart in the mid 90's.  This was before I had kids and I was able to work the whacky hour schedule and I could live on a minimum amount of money.  I loved the people I worked with.  I still see a few of them when I stop in my old store.  They welcome me with hugs and smiles.  They ask how everything is and then they ask when I am coming back.  This always makes me feel good about the type of people that Walmart hires.

So I decided to apply again at a store closer to where I live now.  I didn't expect too much as I thought that they might think I was more of the office type since I haven't done customer service in a million years.

A week later I was offered a job in the sporting goods/automotive department.

I was stunned and happily accepted.  

I was nervous of course since it meant a pay cut from what I was used to and the hours aren't the typical 9 to 5.  

I was also nervous because I was afraid that I lost my customer service touch.

It was been almost two months since I started there and in these two months I have received many compliments from my supervisors on my job performance.  I also have such great satisfaction in talking with do many different people on a daily basis and helping them find what they need.  

Now this may seem silly and kind of dumb for someone to enjoy their job at Walmart but what really matters is that so many people have jobs because they just pay the bills.  People go to a job where they don't enjoy it.

I finally can say that I love what I do so it really isn't work at all.

If Life Throws you Lemons, Pick Up More Vodka

Ha!

I love that line....the one I used for the title.

Life has been quite interesting lately.  Lots of changes all at once.

I maybe should have mentioned that I hate change.  Especially negative change, change that is stressful and ugly.

Oh well.

I moved and changed jobs again.  This is because it just happened, it wasn't my choice.

Good thing I can adapt.

I don't mind downsizing so much since it means that someone else cuts the grass and blows the snow.  I don't mind the new job because I like what I do.  I like working with actual customers and am appreciated for the work I do.

Being happy isn't about the size of your house nor is it the amount of money you make.  Being happy is about being content and stress free. 

I am slowly figuring this out.

Everything eventually becomes ok.

Where to Go From Here...

So I've been unemployed for about a week now.  The novelty of staying home has worn off and I am beginning to climb the walls.  I have watched enough Law and Order SVU to actually solve a murder, try the perp and sentence him/her to the appropriate amount of time for the crime.

Thank God I haven't started in with soap operas and game shows.

Lately I've been working on my crafts (while watching Law and Order) and making wonderful things with wire, beads and hair clips.  It takes hours to come up with a few things since I have the equivalency of writer's block.

sigh

I've signed up on job service websites.  I cruise those to see what's out there.  I giggle as I refrain from applying for a detective or something legal like a lawyer.  I can't put Law and Order on my resume.

I also have been thinking about working for myself.

What could I do that would pay the bills and that I would enjoy?

I think of all those designers out there that design shoes, handbags, jewelry, hats, and other things.  I design barrettes and bangles for cell phones.  How do other designers get noticed?  How do they design and then mass produce it?  hrrmmmmmm....

So many questions....

I have a friend who is a travel writer.  She travels and writes.  I would love to do something like that but I don't think I am that great of a writer nor can I just pick up and leave with kids.  I just live through her writings and pretend that I went with her.

So much goes through my mind as Eliot and Olivia (reruns) solve crimes.

How will I pay the bills?  How will we eat?  

I need to figure something out.

How do others find jobs that they enjoy?  I haven't enjoyed a job since I worked at Walmart.  (I know, right?)  I loved working with people.  I loved supervising cashiers.  I loved little old ladies who couldn't find the right TV.  I loved the fast paced holiday season.  It didn't pay well, but I loved it.

My second favorite job of all time was working as a hostess in a local restaurant when I was a teenager.  I think I made $4.50 an hour but I loved it.  I loved the customers.  I loved my co-workers (Hell, I even married one of them).  I loved the holiday seasons.  I loved the smell of ribs cooking.

I guess the theme here is that I loved the two jobs that didn't pay the greatest but where I could work with people (customers).

So, maybe I have my answer just by writing all this out.

hrrmmmmmm......

We All Run Out of Gas Sometimes

Insomnia is setting in.

I expected it this time.

I have never hidden the fact that I suffer greatly from depression.  This isn't new news.  Sometimes I feel that it is old news and I whisper to myself, "People are really sick of hearing about your shit, Julie".

Oh well, my blog...my shit.  If you are sick of it, why are you reading?  :-)

Anyway, back to my day.

I am somewhat embarrassed to say it (write it) out loud...and I keep stalling, can you tell?

So...

I guess I will just say it.

I got fired today.

So what does this have to do with depression?

Well, besides the risk of adding to it; it also is the cause of it.

I stopped giving a shit.  I didn't catch it or heed the warning signs.  I just stopped giving a shit and it showed.

I haven't been this bad in a very long time.

The last time I stopped giving a shit at work, I lost the job and it catapulted me into a brand new life in a new state with new adventures.  That was 1998.

I didn't cry and carry on after I was let go.  I accepted the fact, packed up my desk and proceeded to move on.  I didn't even cry when I ran out of gas on the way home.

It is almost comical in a strange sort of way.

It is 1:30 in the morning and I am not tired.  I am not sad.  I am not melancholy.  I am not sobbing "oh poor poor me".  I am not even stressing about what to do next.

Nope

I am writing...well and also toggling back and forth between tabs because I found this...

I am going to be freaking famous someday

Some times things happen for a reason.  Yeah yeah...I know everyone says this to make a bad situation seem not so bad but in all seriousness...

I stopped giving a shit for a reason.

I just wasn't happy.  Happiness is important, sometimes more important than other things.  Life is just too short.

The job was a job that I wasn't passionate about.  It didn't tap into my creative side.  In order to be happy, I need to have passion and creativity.

I know it did pay the bills but I did move to a reasonably priced apartment (that's another thing that happened for a reason).  I can survive until I figure stuff out.

This is all a weird feeling because I thought that as a victim of depression, this would have sent me over the edge...spiraling out of control and dialing up the therapist the second I got into my car (lord knows I had time since I was waiting for eternity for someone to rescue me).

Nope, I have a sense of relief.

"Funny" Does Not Translate Into "Happy"

I wasn't going to mention Robin Williams but I guess I just did.

Seems that the whole world is buzzing about it.  It also seems that many are also mentioning suicide and posting links to hotlines and such.

Not to be a negative Nancy, because it is all quite nice and all, but why wait to say something after someone famous dies at their own hands? 

Many of us suffer from depression.  I have written about it numerous times.  I struggle daily with it.  It isn't something that you can just make all better with pills and conversation.

Trust me....

To describe actual depression to someone is almost impossible.  We each feel it differently and yet similarly at the same time.  We try all sorts of methods to keep it in check.  We talk about it, write about it, sing about it.  It is just still there.

Sometimes it becomes too intrusive and we have to go the drastic route to eliminate it.

And that's unfortunate.

I haven't been blogging much.

I have been struggling with my own issues.  Life hasn't been too grand.  It has been downright shitty.

I am amazed at how well I am holding up.  

I did take a time out from Facebook though.  This always helps. People are shitty.  They may not think that they are, but....  Well, you know.

I get sick of hearing about other peoples shitty lives.  I get sick of people passing judgments.  I get sick of all of the negativity.  I get so sick of the narcissism. I get sick of all the happy posts too.

None of this shit is good for those of us who have depression.

There just ain't a big enough pill for that.

I find that taking the time to focus on other things helps.  I start reading more, creating more, getting out more...everything else more and FB less just helps. 

I suppose I could write out all of the shitty shit that I have been dealing with but seriously, no one needs to read it.  I am not looking for sympathy or solutions.  I certainly don't need another anonymous letter showing up.

It's my shit and I'll deal with it.

I just want others to know that depression sucks.  You can say poor Robin, he was battling some serious shit....blah blah blah.  Yep, he was and that shit won.

Those of us who suffer from depression tend to mask it rather well.  We sometimes are silent.  Some of us tend to use humor.  I think some of the funniest people are also the most depressed.  

When reading some posts about Robin and so many people can't understand why someone who was so funny would want to kill themselves.  

I know exactly why.

Funny does not translate into happy.

Good Night Nobody

She decided to get up from the couch and head for bed.  She locked the doors and turned out the lights and slowly climbed the stairs.

She checked in on the children, gave them each one last kiss goodnight and sighed.  The children became instant reminders of the broken promises made by their fathers.  Today was a long day.

She turned her light on low and hung up her work clothes from earlier that evening and changed into her pajamas.  Thoughts of him filled her mind and she flipped on the tv for an instant distraction.  The late night show that they cuddled and watched together filled the screen.  Tears stung in her eyes and she cursed the power that he still had over her.

Days turned into months since she had last heard from him; her calls went unanswerd, her text messages were ignored.  This is the time of night that they usually spent talking and laughing and now it just became empty and silent.

She quickly swore at Jay Leno and turned him off with the push of a button.

She lay in the darkness with memories in her head.  The tears wouldn't stop no matter how hard she fought them.  She damned him for not letting her go, not telling her it was over, not speaking to her at all.

She wished that she mattered more to him.  Her friends said that she deserved better.  She wanted a normal relationship but was left empty and broken with no answers and no closure.  He has said that he loved her and she believed him.  She felt like a fool.  Her tears mourned for her heart.

Eventually the tears slowed and she was tired.  Tomorrow was another day.

She sighed and covered herself as she rolled over and said good night to nobody.

Anonymity is a Voice of Cowards

Today was a trying day to say the least.

I have been having weird issues with headaches, dizzy spells, metal taste in my mouth, losing hair and abdominal pain.  I saw the doctor today to rule out some things but nothing really got ruled out.  I just have to see a different doctor on May 9th.  I won't say too much about what is going on since I don't have the answers yet.

I can deal with it.  Even though I am worried, I can deal with it.

She did discover that I have a sinus infection...still.  I thought it was cleared up but apparently is it really good at trickery.  So I have some huge horse pills to take.

Isn't that great?

So let's get to the point of this blog entry....

I come home from the doctor to find a letter in my mailbox.  There was no return address and no signature on the letter.

The letter is anonymous.

It goes on to tell me that I need to make the decision to be happy. Apparently, I am not happy and this person gathers this from whatever I post on facebook.

Yeah, facebook drama....

I hate facebook but then again I can't turn away from it.  Isn't that weird.  I suppose that many people have this issue.

Moving on...

the writer of this letter also tells me to move on and to get over it.  I guess I am angry all the time too.  

hrrmmm

The writer of the letter talks about my mother and what she did to me. (look up narcissistic mothers and the damage that they do...just look).  I'm not letting that go, not yet.  My therapist said that it is ok for me to be angry about it.  I am allowed to be pissed off and bitter and have negative feelings.  There is some serious damage done and I am NOT letting that go.  If that bothers you, then too bad.  Too fucking bad....

I guess the writer says that I am passing this anger on to my children.  Um, I don't think so.  I have done a lot of work to not be the kind of mother I had.  I allow them to follow their dreams and do what they love.  I support them emotionally.  I tell them every day that I love them.  And if that is passing my anger on to them, then so what.

The writer also used the phrase "be happy" so many times, I wanted to vomit.  Choose to be happy, just be happy, in fact....be happy were the last two words on the letter.  Really?  Just be happy?  Is that all it takes?  This person must be on some sort of medication or doesn't really understand depression.  

If I don't make the choice to be happy then I guess I prefer to live my life in misery.  Yep, that is what it says.  Sounds like this person doesn't know diddly about me at all.  

Also, the writer stated that my mother, me and my daughter are angry, bitter, drama queens.  

Pfft....whatever.....

Oh and the very best part....wait for it.....

Wait

For

It

The writer says that I suck the good, the positive, and the happiness out of people because of my choices.

Yep....that right there just pissed me off.

So many people enjoy my company.  They enjoy my conversation and my humor.  I have an ability to take whatever stressful situation and put a funny spin on it.  The doctor's office today was a great example.  I can make my broken ovaries a very funny discussion.

If anything sucks, it has been numerous people and what they have done to me.  I have been taken advantage of so many times.  I guess that has been my choice in the past.  I chose these people to be around and they sucked me out of my happiness.  So, I no longer really talk to those people anymore.

The letter goes on the say that my father and my exes help me out and I have a nice place to live and blah blah fucking blah....and I should be grateful for it.  I am grateful, really.  All three of them really caused a lot of hurt in the past and I got over it and moved on.  I forgave the cheater, the pansy and the leaver (I won't say who is who, just that all three of them left me and left me wounded.)  I am grateful for my ability to forgive and my ability to ask for help.  I am grateful that I can look past the past hurts and allow these three people to be a part of my life.

How's that for being grateful?

Therapy has been a very positive choice that I have made.

I have become so much stronger.  I have realized that I am entitled to be angry and pissed off.  I allowed to have feelings.  I am also able to look in the mirror and see what a beautiful person I am despite all the negativity I have dealt with.

Apparently, what I write on the interwebs is always up for criticism.  I never minded that.  I don't really ever give two shits what anyone thinks.  I am who I am.  I am not here to impress anyone.  I never cared about stuff like that.  If you don't like me or what I say, that isn't my problem...it's yours.


This person could have sent me a nice card.  Maybe something to cheer me up, you know, a card with puppies or kittens on it.  They could have told me how pretty I am or how wonderful my kids are.  Hell, they could have not bothered to send anything at all and kept their freaking stupid opinions to themselves.  Now there's an idea.

So whoever wrote this letter and took the time to mail it, is a fucking coward.  This person think they know me and all my crosses, all my hurts, all my smiles, all my thoughts and feelings.

They don't.

They suck at anonymity.  

I know exactly who they are; a cruel, ugly, mean, horrible, stupid, heartless, little person.

and that made me happy to write that.  :-)

All Right Stop, Collaborate and Listen

How's that for a little earworm?

haha!

I have read and re-read a blog about a stop doing list.  Back in the MySpace day I used to blog lists all the time.  I love lists.

Lots of lists....


I love reading other lists as well as writing them.

I'm funny that way.

But to get back to the purpose of this blog....  I did read "A Celebration of the Stop Doing List" several times.

You can read it here:

A Celebration of the Stop Doing List

I kept thinking about what I would put on my list.  I mean seriously thought about it.  There are so many things I need to stop doing and there are some things that I already stopped doing a while ago.

I will stop:

1. Biting my nails.
2. Dwelling on the past
3. Telling myself that I used to be beautiful
4. Accepting bad behavior from others
5. Being a door mat
6. Leaving the fridge open when I get a glass of milk
7. Neglecting obligations
8. Worrying about things I can't control
9. Living my life to please others
10. Closing myself off
11. Telling myself that I can't
12. Surrounding myself with negative people
13. Listening to the gremlins in my head

So there you have it in all its glory....my list.

So what are you going to stop doing?

Ever Wish That You Did That One Thing?

I met with the photographer that took my son's senior pictures today.  It is always a good hour of conversation.  He shows me photos that he has taken of other kids, weddings, families...you know, that stuff that photographers take photos of.  

I remarked on the lighting and the color combinations and how this compliments that.  I also pointed out that so and so was slouching and that one girl should have popped her boobs out more.

He said I have a good eye.

I knew that.

Once upon a time I wanted to work in the creative arts.  I wanted to design.  Interior design, graphic design, photos...whatever.  I just wanted to do it.

In fact, I was accepted into a school to do just that.  I wanted to do it so badly.

BADLY!

My parents told me that they weren't paying for that school though.

damn...

I regret not doing that so much.

I know design things on the side and sell them in an Etsy shop.  I say things because it is phone charms, hair stuff, jewelry, bookmarks...whatever tickles my creative nerve.

When ever I pull out my beads and tools I am the most happy.  

I should have just found a way to do what I love to do instead of pleasing others.  

Regrets are a bitch.

Oh and you can find my stuff here:

My really cool shop called Inspiralicious

Angry Angry Hippos

It amazes me how much anger I can have bottled up.  I don't really let it out in constructive ways either.

I can almost feel my insides shaking with it.  It crawls under my skin.

I think anger is just an extension of my depression.

I stay depressed and then it manifests into something quite ugly.  For some reason it gets to that level sometimes.  I never really know what triggers the flip from one feeling to the other.

I am angry because my brother brings up my mom.  It isn't his fault because he doesn't know the whole story of the narcissistic parent/daughter thing going on.  I don't dare tell him because I don't think he would get it and that will just turn into something incredibly ugly.

I am also angry because I feel used.  I loaned money to a "friend".  (ya ya...I know the lecture) and of course this was a couple of years ago and he still hasn't paid me back.  He was supposed to pay me back two months after I loaned it to him.  Now I see him posting about going here and there and of course it requires spending money.  Jackass.....

I am angry for not being able to allow myself to spend my very first bonus on something I want.  I wanted a tv, so I looked at tvs.  Did I buy one?  Nope.  I wanted a sewing machine, so I looked at sewing machines.  Did I buy one?  Nope.  I wanted a new fish tank so I looked at fish tanks.  Did I buy one?  Nope.  I wanted new pots and pans and then at this point I just said "fuck it" and didn't bother.

Damn it.

I am angry at ignorant people who don't take the time to validate facts.  Why this bothers me, I have no idea but it does.  If you are going to share a "fact" with the entire world, you should make damn sure that it is in fact, a fact.  Why spread stupidity?  WHY??????  My mother used to do this and it just pissed me off.

I am angry because my drive way is icy.  I mean "fall on your ass" icy and "break a hip" icy.  I am so sick of winter and it angers me.

I am angry that my phone broke.  I am so angry that I do not plan on replacing it any time soon.  Screw that....I don't want to talk to anyone anyway.

So, if you need me, I will be over in the corner, keeping to myself, with no phone.

If She Can Do It, Why Can't I....

This weekend included a vendor fair in which I was selling my hand crafted bows and charms and other fun little items.

One of the other vendors was with Origami Owl.  As a maker of little fun items, naturally I was intrigued.  I went back to her table several times and learned the scoop on the company and its founder and how it worked and a whole bunch of other interesting tidbits.

The one thing that had me was that the founder was a teenage girl.  This girl is now a muli-millionaire at the age of 17.

What. The. Hell....

She is 17.

I am 44.

I have always dreamed about starting my own business.  Not necessarily for the money aspect (although that would be awesome) but for the whole reason of not having to work by anyone else's rules.

I am thinking about joining the Origami Owl team but at the same time I wonder about coming up with my own thing instead of selling someone else's thing.

It gives me so much to think about.

I have been reading so many books and blogs about starting up a business.  I have also been reading up on how to target your dreams and make them into a reality.  

My head is literally swimming with so many thoughts.  It is making me nuts.

I feel it in my heart that if I just find what makes me the happiest, I can truly make it into something successful.

Currently I am just crafting and selling on Etsy....

https://www.etsy.com/shop/Inspiralicious?ref=si_shop

But....there may be something else that would be an even better idea coming.

I can just feel it.

Hell, if she can do it, I can do it.  ;-)

The F-Bomb

I have never been comfortable dropping F-Bombs.  I don't know why.  It is a very strange habit of mine.

Maybe because my grandfather once told me that swearing tends to dumb people down.  For some reason they cannot express what or why they are excited, angry, happy, sad....whatever.....so they swear.

I have no problem uttering "damn it" or "shit".  Hell, I can even swear in several different languages.

But the F-Bomb....

One memory that stands out to me regarding the F-Bomb is the time my grandfather was having open heart surgery.  He was rushed to a hospital about an hour away and I was living in the same town as my grandma so I had to drive her to the hospital.  My mom met us there and we waited together.  It was a long long wait.  My grandma was so distraught.  I was worried.  I think my mom was too.

The surgery lasted for several hours and once he was out of surgery, it was late.  My grandma, mom and I ended up getting a hotel room for the night.

Since the situation was stressful and our nerves were rattled we decided to drink several drinks.  We proceeded to get drunk.

Mind you, three generations sitting in a hotel, tying one on was quite the site itself but when my mom dropped a F-Bomb, I was flabbergasted.

"Mom. you can't say that in front of your mom." 

Then my grandma started in with this...

"Why can't she say fuck?  Seriously, how can such a pleasurable thing be such an offensive word?  I mean if you really want to swear, say "unfuck".  Now there's a word."

I sat in stunned silence.  Not only did my mother drop a F-Bomb in front of her mother, my grandmother was dropping F-Bombs all over the place and also stating that fucking was pleasurable.

Holy Crap!

I looked at my grandma and then my mother and then we busted out in laughter.

Even though I still can't bring myself to drop F-Bombs, it is one of the best memories.

Baby Not on Board

I suppose I will catch a bunch of flak for what I am about to write but I really don't care.  It is just a weird fact about me.

I am not a fan of babies.

I didn't like being pregnant.  Not. One. Bit.  It was a weird yucky feeling and then it became unbearably uncomfortable.  

I know that it has been noted that pregnant women look glowing and beautiful and all that blah blah shit.  I was even told that of myself way back when.  I didn't feel it.  I looked tired and grumpy.  

My belly never "popped" out until about 8 months and then everybody was touching me.

I probably should mention that I hate strangers touching me.

I would mention the fact that I hated being pregnant in various conversations when others would gush about how they loved it.  I just didn't get it.

bleh....

When I was pregnant with my son, I didn't have morning sickness.  It came about mid evening.  The very thought of Chinese food would send me flying into the bathroom.  I craved canned spinach and ate it right out of the can.

When I was pregnant with my daughter, her baby body was pushing on something and I couldn't stop coughing.  The doctor couldn't prescribe anything for it because it would hurt the fetus.  I coughed so hard, I would throw up.  I slept most nights on the bathroom floor.

I was miserable.

Now you are probably thinking that I just hated being pregnant.

Oh no...

Babies aren't my thing.  I don't like guessing why they are crying.  I hated that whole diaper thing.  Then they spit up that yucky stuff.  I don't care to hold them.  I don't like the smell of them.  Bottles, nooks, diapers, mixing formula (my kids had issues), car seats, no sleep.....my list goes on...didn't like any of it.  You have to plug all the outlets, baby proof the cabinets, put all your breakable collectibles away. Do I even have to mention stretch marks?

Oh and I cannot stand the smell of baby powder.

HURL!!!!

Someone would come into work with their new baby and everyone would ask to hold it.  Not me!  Nope....  Everyone would gush over how cute it was.  Not me!  Nope...  I would look at that new beaming mom and think "you poor woman, no sleep for 2 to 3 years" and "good luck getting back to normal".

I know I sound terrible.

I can't help it.

My kids think it's funny that they made it out of babyhood.

It isn't that I would lock them in the closet when the cried or left them in poopy diapers. 

I did the whole mommy thing and suffered.  I just would go out of my way to have more babies.

Once my babies started becoming little people, I just enjoyed them so much more.  As they continue to grow into young adults, I continue to enjoy them. 

They have grown into wonderful people.  They are intelligent, witty and awesome.

and...

They are not babies.

Dirty Little Liar

Depression

Many people talk about it, many people have it, many people don't understand it.

There are many descriptions of it and how it feels to have it.  There are treatments for it.

I have had it for many many years.  Ever since I hit puberty, I have dealt with it.  Sometimes it ebbs and then there are times it flows.

This time of year is difficult.

I have the moments where I don't want to get out of bed.  I have the teary eyed drive home moments.  (The car is such a bastard because it traps me with my thoughts.)  I have the moments of insecurity and can't even stand my own reflection.  I have the "I'm so broke, I can't do anything fun" moments.  I lose interest in anything that gives me the slightest joy.  I think I have no friends or have friends that just don't give a shit.

Life becomes flat.

There is no other fix for it than just plugging through it.

I try to block out the damn lies that depression whispers in my ear.

It tells me things.

You are not good enough.  Nobody loves you.  That big zit on your face will never go away.  You will never ever have any money.  You are ugly.  You are fat.  Everyone leaves you because it is your fault.  You can't do anything right.  Your animals are going to die because you mistreat them.  Your kids think you are a failure.  You are just so stupid.  

and the list goes on....

All lies

When you are in the pit of depression, the lies become so believable.  One million people can all tell you that they are not true and tell you so many positive things but you tend to believe those whispery lies because you know you best.

Even your little helper pill doesn't help.  (citalopram, zoloft, lexapro, paxil, prozac...for examples)

So how to deal with it.

Good question

I tend to just accept it as it is and hope it passes quicker than the last bout with it.  I never have thoughts of suicide but I can see where someone may be pushed to that level.  I tend to think about running away, just disappearing into the unknown.  I start looking at other countries or places to go.  I look at job postings and plan an escape.  It takes long enough to check everything out that I kind of forget about the depression.

Funny, eh?

I know that there are so many other people who deal with depression and that is just sad in itself.  Sometimes I wonder why so many of us have to deal with it.  

This world would be such a better place if we just didn't have depression.

If Wishes Were Horses Then Beggars Would Ride

Sometimes I sit and just wish....

I wish I was taller sometimes.  It seems like I am three inches too short to reach just about anything.  Why in the heck do they put two liters up so high at the local Piggly Wiggly?  I just stand there and sigh and say a little prayer that I won't just drop one on my head as I try to finaggle (yes, that's a word) it out of its spot and into my cart.

I wish I were prettier sometimes.  I look in the mirror at my poor tired face and think I just looked better about 10 years ago.  Life really takes its toll on a woman's face.  Just sayin...

I wish I were richer sometimes.  Not just with money but with wealth.  It seems that I don't have much of anything.  I don't have an estate.  They do say money can't buy happiness but I don't think I would be sad sitting in a big house with no payment.  I also don't think I'd miss my job much.  It tend to make me tired.

I wish I had more friends that lived closer and wanted to do shit.  I basically sit at my job all day (looking tired) and then I go home and sit (looking tired) alone.  I don't interact with anyone other than my kids.  I don't go to a Saturday bridge club nor do I go bowling.  I don't do much of anything except spend time with myself.

I wish I could just go some where else.  I get tired of being some where.  I watch that House Hunters show where these people just leave the life they are living to live another life some where else that is different.  I think, "Wow, such new experiences and cultures."  I was to just go do that.

I wish my kids got along better.  They bicker and argue.  This makes me tired (and have a headache).  They aren't very tolerant of each other.  I keep thinking that things will get better as they get older but so far they are just older.

I wish I could have spent more time with my mom before she died.  I regret not just going to spend time with her.  Instead I stayed here with no friends and my crappy job (my old job that made me not only tired but angry).  I should have just left here and went there.

I wish I could have explained to my mom how therapy was working.  She would have just got defensive though and probably angry and most likely would have stopped talking to me.  She got mad at everyone else including her mom and sisters and my dad and other people and just stopped talking to them.  She made it difficult to be me sometimes.

I wish I was skinnier.  I know I should diet and exercise and all that crap but I don't.  It is my fault but still, I can wish for it.  I wish french fries made you drop the pounds.

I wish I could be with someone who wouldn't just leave me or cheat on me or just be a real douche bag.  This tends to prevent me from dating.  It also makes me lonely.  Maybe this is why I got the three damn cats.  This is why women get cats.  They get tired of being hurt.  I wish this wasn't the case, but it is.  

I wish I was happier.  I need to find out what exactly makes me happy.  I need to find a passion or have a goal or something.  

I wish I could write a fabulous book that allowed me to do tours and be on stage to talk about the crap in my book.  People would always want to come listen to what I have to say because I am witty and wise. 

I wish my asthma would go away.  I cough so hard sometimes that it feels like my brains will explode out my mouth and leave me dead right there on the street.  My chest hurts and it makes me tired.

I wish I could go back in time and just do what I wanted to do instead of what others wanted me to do.  I would have made mistakes.  I probably would have had regrets.  I most likely would have failed a few times.  I just would have been better than wondering "what if".

I wish I wasn't so tired sometimes.

I just wish....

I Wanted to be a Farm Girl

Over the last year or so....or maybe even longer I have really been thinking about what I am passionate about.  

You see, I struggle with depression.  Some of it is because I am not doing what I am passionate about.  I sit in an office all day doing what I do.  Not that I hate my job, but I am not passionate about it.

Insurance is not what lies within my dreams.

Nor was law....(I was a legal assistant for a good stint of time.)

I went to counseling when I was really struggling.  I spoke about my past.  I spoke about my dreams and what I desired to do.  I think this was the first time ever that I voiced it and didn't receive criticism for it.

You see, when I was five years old and a wee tot in kindergarten we were asked to state what we wanted to be when we grew up.  I was so excited to share that I wanted to be a farm girl.  I drew a picture of a girl standing next to a horse in a barn.  My detail was extraordinary for a five year old. (In my opinion)  You could really tell that was what I was passionate about in 1975.  Really, that is what I wanted to be.  I loved animals. I loved the big yard.  I loved the garden and orchard.  I loved living on a small farm.  And my teacher asked what I wanted to be.....with my chest bursting with pride and joy and a sticker on my picture I ran up the driveway to show my mom.  With a big smile on my face I handed her the picture and she looked at me and asked...

"Why on earth would you want to live on a farm for the rest of your life?"

I was deflated.

That was the first of many attempts of figuring out my passion and was the first of many replies of "Why in the hell would you want to do that?" and "You can make any money doing that." oh and my favorite....

"Have you lost your damn mind?"

Obviously my mother was not supportive.  My dad was pretty much non-involved.  He was off selling insurance.  He sold insurance for a good portion of his life.  I am pretty sure that wasn't his passion.

But....that's his story and this is mine.

I cannot just blame my mom.  (I do love her and miss her)

I could have just thumbed my nose at the negativity and just have done what I wanted to do.

In high school we were supposed to work with the counselor to develop our goals.  I really never had any.  I was afraid to dream big and reach high.  I molded myself into whatever anyone wanted me to do.

I was accepted into a university in Colorado to pursue a degree in design.  I wanted to design buildings and their interiors.  I still look at structures with awe wishing that I took that path. 

There were other plans.

I was told that I had to go to school locally or it would not have been paid for.

Again, I was defeated.

Worried that I couldn't do it alone, I set out to major in Economics and pretended to be happy.

That was then....

And now, I sell insurance.

*sigh*

It isn't my passion.  My passion is lurking somewhere underneath, just wanting to bust out again.  Fear is what keeps it hiding.  Hiding so deep that even I am unsure what that passion is anymore.

I have dreams at night of me up on stage.  I am a motivational speaker.  I am telling others to find out what it is that they really want in life and to go out after than damn dream.  

We only live once.

There are no do-overs here.

So many of us are unhappy.  We walk around pretending that this is the life we want.  We take our anti-depressants and plod along.

I often think back to my drawing.  I know I have it somewhere in a scrap book.

I believe that it is time to pull it out and hang it where I can see it.  It needs to become a constant reminder that my passion is there and I just need to find it and let it soar.




*Update*  Here is the drawing.  Don't be too jealous of my five year old self and my creativity.

Why Dating Sites Make Great Blog Fodder

The kids told me (not asked me but told me) to start dating again.  They worry that I will be lonely (translation: I need help around the house.) when they are gone.

I haven't dated anyone since my break up (a bad one, mind you) with "he shall who shall not be named".

The break up caused a bit of heartache and also left my head really messed up since the issues with that relationship didn't surface until shortly (well, right after) that break up happened.

Anyway....

I decided to sign up on the dating site where I once was a while back.  I met some cool guys who remain my friends today.  I also met someone I fell in love with until he did a dumb ass thing and I fell out of love with him.

I signed up about 30 hours ago.

^^^^ see that ^^^^

30 hours

I received several messages.  Some were worth responding to and I even let one guy text me.  This one guy asked to be friends on Facebook.

I agreed.  I mean, what could it hurt?

right????

Well...

This jackwagon goes through my photos, texts me how gorgeous I am.  I politely thank him for the compliment.  (Silently, I wondered if he was blind).  Then all of a sudden he texts me saying that he couldn't figure me out.

huh?

I didn't know I needed figuring.

I am not a math problem.

So I questioned him.

He said that he didn't think I was serious about dating anyone and that he thinks I am wasting men's time by being there. 

Huh???

Yeah....ok....

He got that from the few texts and exchanges on the damn dating site.

hrrrrmmmmm....He must be Dr. Joyce Brothers in disguise.  Who is wasting who's time here buddy?

So I confronted him.

This is what he read.....ready????

"I don't have any tattoos because I'm not a fam of pain or commitment.  Pretty much the same reasons I'm not in a relationship"

Apparently he didn't get my sense of humor and promptly "unfriended" me.

He also isn't getting any more correspondence from me either.

Oh and...I also removed my profile from the dating site.

Ain't nobody got time for that.

*sigh*