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