Truth, or Dare I Say It?

I think my expectations of life really are unrealistic.

My goals are very crookedly out of line.

I make really bad decisions.

I sleep a lot!

I can’t keep the depression at bay.

Or my tears.

My smile is broken. Or at least I can’t seem to make it work.

My heart hurts a lot.

I’m in love with a boy who doesn’t love me back.

I miss my kids.

I miss my kids when they were little.

I miss my life when my kids were little.

I miss my ex-husband, a little.

I just want the holidays to be gone. Over. Done.

But then there’s Valentine’s day.

I want it to be gone too.

I wonder what a woman feels like when a man loves her, unconditionally.

I wonder what it’s like to be caught up on bills.

I wonder what it’s like to have no financial stress.

I wonder what it’s like to have no stress.

I have toxic people in my life.

I need them gone.

My co-workers are gossipy.

Prison is a depressing place.

I hate where I live.

I hated where I lived before.

I wonder if any place will ever feel like home again, like 503 did?

I feel freakish in my skin sometimes.

I need to quit smoking.

I need to start drinking.

My face is getting wrinkly.

I wish people didn’t get old.

I miss summertime.

I need sunshine.

I tried to write a reflection of 2009.

I couldn’t remember much of it.

I didn’t want to remember the parts I did.

Humbug is biting, bah!

Hell-oh rock bottom, nice to see you again. Not.

There is this form of depression that affects people at season’s change. It’s called Seasonal Affective Disorder, otherwise appropriately termed S.A.D.

I’ve been becoming re-acquainted with it since, oh, about Thanksgiving-time, or so.

Just for the record, for those who refuse to believe that depression is real, fuck off. This shit is wreaking serious havoc on my life.

I feel like every choice I make is wrong. I feel like nothing goes right.  I feel like every day is cloudy. I actually feel like the modern day version of a female Schleprock. Remember him? The unfortunate little guy on Flinstones with the really bad luck? Yea, I feel like him.

I can’t laugh. I can’t even smile. I can’t sing (anything nice anyway). I simply cannot find any thing to be happy about. The only mood I continuously find myself in is ‘sad’. The worse part is, people are noticing.

Case in point; the other night a male co-worker approached me and said “I heard something about you.” Me, not giving a rats ass what anyone is saying about me, especially at work, grumbled back, “Really? What else is new.” He proceeded to tell me that he heard that I’m much prettier when I smile. As if that wasn’t bad enough, his tone was that of ‘I wouldn’t know’. Sad thing is, he probably wouldn’t. He’s about a month new and I’ve been in this funk for about that long…so he’s probably right. He wouldn’t know.

As a young girl I got hayfever at every single seasons change, without fail. My eyes would cry rivers, and the snot-flow was never ending. My entire face would puff up like I had drowned in my own sinus fluid. My head felt like that. I remember being sent home from school because of it. It’s awfulness was beyond describing. For some unknown reason that stopped around the time I had kids. Looking back, as intolerable as it was, I wish I had that right now instead of this S.A.D. stuff.

I’ve thought about getting out and doing things. And some things seem fun. But then I wonder how in the hell could I walk through the Zoo full of Christmas lights when I cry at the first twinkle of a colored light that I see as I’m driving down the road?

Why in the hell are Christmas lights making me cry anyway? Why does the thought of a Christmas tree make me want to throw up, let alone actually see one?

I mean seriously. This feels like the worst time in my life. It especially feel like the worst time in my life to be alone, and yet, all I want to do is be alone.

It doesn’t help that Mr. Cupcake himself just made me feel very un-loved … again. Why do men have to be like that? I crave a healthy relationship right now more than anything (except Sunshine). Someone who not only says they care for me, but shows me what that feels like. Is that too much to ask? Do men even know how to do that?

Santa, all I want for Christmas is to be happy. Do you think that’s possible?

Here’s the skinny

… and not quite as quickly as it came, the depression is again departing. I swear that thing resembles what I would describe as “bi-polar”. Doctors say no. (Doctors say if I wouldn’t lose my meds my dog wouldn’t hide my meds in her clubhouse for two weeks, that wouldn’t happen. At least not as bad.)

Whatever.

I hate it. I wish it would leave me alone.

Oh, in case you’re wondering, the fly died.

I forgot to mention yesterday that, in spite of a very-shitty-mood-day, I took another step toward my happiness.

Per the advisement of big-muscular-hunky-guy-at-work, I picked up some Pro Performance 1850 Calorie Shake Mix during my not-so-lovely-mall-excursion. I got the Strawberry-Banana flavor because it was the only flavor that had just one jug left.

I do that often. I think that if they’re almost sold out, it must be a good thing. Probably more with my luck, it’s been sitting there for a year waiting to be sold and not being re-ordered.

Doesn’t matter, something called “Aminogen and Carbogen” plus 18-other-things -I’ve-never-heard-of-but-am-suppose-to-drink, doesn’t exactly sound appealing no matter what “flavor” is added. And, it’s expensive! 30 bucks for 4.3 pounds. Typically that would amount to only 5 servings, but I’m starting low on the intake. Hunky-guy-at-work says my body couldn’t handle that many added calories so quick. So, I figure to start out, I’m paying about $2.50 a day for a calorie shake that probably tastes like crap, not including the milk I have to add. Is that dumb?

Then there’s the bill for the yumm-o foods like waffles, pizzas, pasta, (Cheetos), and good stuff. That’s not cheap either. I’m used to buying junk. Cheap junk.

I’m contemplating the gym thing. I really should  get over my procrastination problem before I do that one. I do have a few weights at home, so no matter, I will be following a structured work-out program, too.

And vitamins. Got to have the vitamins.

Jeezo, with my NFL meal plan, my name brand calorie drink, my expensive groceries/necessities, and my hunky-guy-at-work-advisor; I feel like a designer-weight-gainer.

Huh. If I wasn’t so sensitive about the subject matter, I’d kinda like that name I just came up with.

Hope someday it looks as good as it sounds.

Since I’m not 100% ready to start this thing full-on, I’m going to give myself until September 1st to sample with it, get what I need, and be ready. Then, I will begin my goal of not just gaining 15-20 pounds, but keeping it on!

Sounds like a plan!

Next step, following the plan.

Lost and Found: My mind

So far, today is not much better than the one before. However, I’m seriously trying to find the spirit in here somewhere so I can attempt to lift it a little.

One serious problem that I can admit now that it has been resolved, (I know, I know, I’m in trouble for this), I had misplaced my medication. Correction: I didn’t misplace my meds. My dog misplaced my meds. In her clubhouse. Under the sofa. For two whole weeks.

(Yes, I take permanent meds, I’m a wobble-head…whatever you want to call me, it’s fine. I’d be called worse without them. SO much worse).

My mind has been sans the contents of approximately 14 Lexapro, and yes, I will admit, it was starting to show. I knew it, too. Even though I despise admitting that I can’t survive sanely without medication, I was on a fast moving downward spiral. Yesterday’s post is just a glimpse. Do you really think I’d tell you just what a (female dog) I can really be?? That lady was just lucky yesterday. All of them.

I had done a thorough search of my house and had come to the conclusion that maybe I had accidentally thrown the bottle away. It was nowhere to be found, so I kind of stopped looking with the ever-so-wrong-mindset that ‘I have a doctor appointment soon enough so I can do without them until then’.

Then yesterday happened.

Last night I couldn’t take it anymore. I knew if something didn’t give, the white-coat-people would have custody of me today.

Interruption….there is a fly buzzing around my head. It will not stop. It’s making me very edgy.

Back to the story; so, I’m not sure exactly why I was drawn to the underbelly of my sofa, but thank God I was. I found socks, bras, toilet paper, a plastic fork, a sponge, and. . . my meds. Among other now-un-identifiable things.

That makes 2 known clubhouses for this new puppy. The other, under my bed, had been previously searched to no avail.

Now, if she had been smart, knowing that I had already searched the other clubhouse, then she would have moved all this crap into that one. But nope, I regained ownership of my things, including my chill pills, and I am soon to be reunited with my sanity.

Finally.

Anyone want a dog? She’s cute. She’s playful. She’s FREE!

I actually do feel a little better already, but two pills is not quite enough for me to allow this fly to live any longer.

I’m out…

Have an amazingly peaceful day (for me).

Unwell.

Be forewarned; today sucks for me, but I need to write. Therefore, this post may end up as nothing more than a bunch of scribbling nonsense . Let’s find out…

This is the thing I hate about depression. You can be going along about your life and BAM!, out of the blue, it kicks you square in the face causing you to feel mentally and physically and emotionally and every-which-way like, complete and total, 100% crap!

It’s stupid, really. It’s sort of like PMS, only worse. I mean, I get so upset over the dumbest things.

I thought about going for a walk today to get some fresh air, but where’s the logic in that? I smoke. I walk a gazillion miles a day at work. And according to big-muscular-hunky guy at work….no cardio for the weight-gain program.

So I tried the mall, thinking that would help me feel better? Hell no. What kind of “feel better” is window shopping when you’re dead broke? Especially when you need stuff, and it’s right there just staring at you, but you can’t have it.

I wandered into Bath and Body to smell things. I thought maybe I could get a good whiff of one of those stress free gels and this crappy mood would go away. I got a whiff alright, along with an irritating itch…..meaning yes, my body is allergic to “stress-free-things”. Go figure.

I have this terrible bad habit, too. At work, the Offenders move out of the way for Officers. It’s not even something you think about, it’s just what they do. For 40 hours a week, I don’t share staircases, or my half of the walk, etc. If someone is walking toward me, they move. Not me. Well, I’m so used to that, my mind thinks that’s how it is everywhere. But it’s not. Obviously. My eyes shot daggers at every one of the 10+ fellow-shoppers today who got in my way. No joke. Like they should know better than to get in my way. That’s rude, isn’t it? I mean, of me. I was rude.

Nice visiting with you, mall, but see-ya-later.

As I’m leaving the parking lot I stopped for an oncoming car. The female driver screams…screams at me to ‘get off the phone and drive’, then refers to me as a (female dog). Are you serious, female dog back? I wasn’t on my phone. I didn’t even have the stupid thing with me! And I couldn’t drive, til you got out of my way!! Thank you stupid woman for giving me a nice hiatus in this very-shitty-mood of mine, because you actually made me laugh. At you. Because at moments like that, that’s all a girl in a very shitty mood can do.

Ah, home-sweet-home. Eh, home-sweet-messy-home. Hmph. Home. Just, home. You know what? Not even home. It’s a house. It’s where I am trying to live.

Whatever.

Also today,

I told off the lady at Sprint. Not sure why.

I told off my, uh, LBF. I know why, but not sure why I bothered.

I told off my dogs. I feel bad about that.

Note to self:  Sing. Sing loud.

I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell. I know right now you can’t tell. But stay awhile and maybe you’ll see a different side of me.

Hello? Is anyone there? Because it was really easy finding this stupid shitty mood place. And it might be really really easy to stay here if I had company. You know, misery loves company. Well, hi, I’m misery. So, please go away now, because quite frankly, I ‘effin hate it here!

Kristy Are You Doing Okay?

Now that I’ve introduced my blog, I guess I should introduce myself. Especially before I go off on some random tangent out of no-where (no white-coat people needed).

First, no, I’m not a huge fan of the Offspring. But when I first heard that song, I seriously thought they wrote it just for me! Wow. It so fits, and I like it! And yes thank you, today, I am doing okay.

I soon will be in the midst of the 4 year anniversary of the absolute undeniable total rock bottom of the bottoms of one of the most difficult struggles I’ve had to endure through my life.

Depression.

In spite of what some people think, depression is very real. “It” is not something you can just “get over”.

It, hurts.

I don’t “choose” to be un-happy, or refuse to “move on”.

I wish it was that easy.

It’s not.

Most people don’t understand depression, and I think that’s sad. I’ve been called “crazy” and other sorts of hurtful things; so for that reason, I don’t typically talk about it. But for the record, and for the sake of explaining the logistics of my writing; just know, I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell. That’s all.

I’m blessed that most of my days recently are brighter and happier, due in parts to many factors; however, depression is sneaky. It will attack you at any given moment.

And it does.

Also sneaky are those irritable little *things* that seem to get stuck in my head. You know…things.  Curious things. Odd things. Why-things. How-things. Just, *things*. They stick, because I’m the curious sort and I need to know, so they make me think.

The way I typically relieve those *things* from nagging in my head is by writing.

So, no matter how random, stupid, confusing, or totally intelligent the end product might be, I’ve been writing about *things* for as long as I can remember, and it seems to help.

My former therapist (yes I see one) suggested I blog. At first I was very leary of sharing what I write, but once I tried it, it turned out to be ok.

However, my latest therapist suggests that I should move beyond the shadow of My Space Blog where only my “friends” can read, and write more publicly. Yikes! (Most likely she just wants to read it herself and see if I’m being the “real me” in her office. I am. I always am, no matter where I am. I’m just, me.)

I’ve actually learned a lot about myself through blogging, so I can only hope that this will be a good thing.

Does it take the ‘pain’ away?

No.

But it at least calms the chatter in that chaotic neighborhood upstairs. And sometimes, that’s all that really matters.

Enough of the, eh, serious stuff.

Apart from all that, I’m the mom of two amazing children. I get paid to be a Corrections Officer. I’ve reached 40. And about a year ago, I started learning how to live life on my own for the first time, e-v-e-r.

Life is not understandable to me. Most *things* are not understandable to me. However, discovering who I am and what I love and/or hate, (without someone else making those decisions for me) is making a huge impact.

It’s been a long time coming, but I’m SO moving on.  Someday I know that my default expression will be happy 99.9% of the time.

In a nutshell, that’s me.

Until next time,

Peace.