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.
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. ;-)
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.
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.
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.
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....
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.
