Corey Feldman wants you to have a happy Thursday.

It’s a beautiful Thursday in Denver and I’ve given myself the day off. Cause I can. Freelance is rad. :)

I was sitting here thinking about what to do with myself and I remembered, “Hey! I have a blog!”

The problem, though, with having a blog and going for months without posting is trying to figure out what your first post back will be. Do you try and sum up all the things that have been going on? Do you try and explain your absence? Or do you just ignore your time away and post a picture of Corey Feldman saying, “Happy Thursday!”?

Eric says I don’t owe anyone any explanations. I should write about what I want to write about. And he’s right. But as it turns out, what I want to write about is what the crap was going on when I wasn’t here. So here we go. :)

First of all, let me say, I am doing fantastically (now) and am in no way looking for sympathy with what I am about to share.

Secondly, let me say, depression can suck a bag of dicks. It’s an evil, little, lurking bastard of an illness and it affects more people than you know. Myself included.

About 6 months ago, I found myself lying in bed for about the 5th day in a row because I couldn’t think of any good reasons to get up. I was insecure and anxious all the time. I wrote this: 

Right before you left you said, “You’re stronger than this. You can beat this. Kick its ass.” 

But that’s the thing. I’m not actually stronger than “this”. That’s the problem. My entire life, I’ve been telling myself I’m stronger than “it”. I carry on. Tell myself I can beat “it”, I can “Kick ‘its’ ass.”  I’m tough. I can handle “it”. I put one foot in front of the other. I take a shower, I eat breakfast, I go to work, I try new things. 

It wasn’t really a wild hair that brought me to Denver. I say that because then it sounds whimsical and fun. Truth is, I was tired of feeling sad all the time. I thought a new location would solve all my problems.

Moving worked for awhile. Until it didn’t. Those same old haunts started creeping up again. Insecurities, anxieties, existential angst. All to the point of paralyzation. I called in sick to work. I forgot to eat. I slept 16 hours a day and stayed in bed for the other 8. And then I found roller derby. And I threw my whole self into it. That kept me distracted for awhile. But there’s not any one thing that can entirely sustain a person for very long. 

I started slipping again. And here we are. I’m at about as low as I’ve ever been and I’m tired. I’m tired of the cycle. I’m tired of fighting. This “thing” and I have gone toe to toe and come out even. I could do like I’ve always done and put one foot in front of the other, take a shower, eat breakfast. I could try another new thing and hope that it sparked some sort of meaning or passion. And maybe it would. And maybe that would sustain me for a bit. But after awhile I’d end up right back here- a withered, broken, shadow of a person. 

So that’s the thing. I’m not stronger than what “this” is. I’m not that tough and I can’t handle “it”. Not on my own. But making that realization and acting on it are different things. Admitting that I don’t want to do this alone anymore, that I want and need help in breaking the cycle… that’s what has brought me to this lowest of lows. I feel weak and defeated, like I’ve given up. I want to be strong enough to beat this on my own. I hate myself for needing help. 

This “thing” knows that. “It” mocks me. “It” plays with my confidences and turns them against me. “It” tells me that I’m smart. Just as smart as some dumb therapist. What do they know that I don’t? “It” tells me that I am strong. I’m self-reliant. I take care of myself. Asking for help is admitting defeat and I’m no quitter. “It” tells me to get up and fight some more. Maybe this time I’ll win, “it” smirks. 

So what do you do about a “thing” like that? What do you do when what you’ve always considered to be your greatest strengths have become your greatest weaknesses? When all your confidence is lying in a puddle on the floor, how do find the courage to overcome your strengths?

Yeah, I was in bad way. And maybe a bit dramatic, if we’re being honest. But that’s what depression does. Fucker.

I found myself googling, “Am I depressed?”
The internet responded with a resounding,

Mean ‘ole internet.

But it was right. And I knew it. And I finally found the courage to get over myself and get the help and support I so desperately needed. And today, I feel like a different person. One who is excited about getting up in the morning. One who is confident and proud. One who is finally realizing what it means to be “happy”. And one who is excited to start blogging again.

So, yeah. That’s what’s been going on. I promise my next post will be more fun and with less of the feeling crap. :)

Until then, here’s a picture of Corey Feldman wishing you a Happy Thursday:




Speech Impediment

Driving the other day, this song came on the radio. It’s been around for a bit but I’ve never managed to figure out the lyrics.

Me: Is he saying, “Your sex is on fire??”
Eric: Kinda sounds like it.
Me: That doesn’t make any sense.
Eric: Maybe he just can’t pronounce ‘house’.

That’s probably it.



Chest hair villagers

John and I have some crazy awesome pillow talk.

Me:  “Good lord, man – you have so much chest hair that little people could live in it like it’s their forest.  The hair would be their trees and provide them with shelter.”
John:  “Oh yeah?”
Me:  “Yep.  And this area on your tummy that’s not covered in hair?  This is what they would call The Wasteland. Outcasts and criminals would be sent to The Wasteland, banished from the Chest Hair Forest.”
John: “That’s quite an imagination you’ve got on you…”
Me:  “And this?” (pointing to Adam’s apple) “This would be their great mountain. Hair trees do not grow there, and it’s considered a sacred place.”
John: “Actually I just shaved.  So it’s more like deforestation.”
Me:  “Well that’s a damn shame.”
John: “I could shave my chest too I guess…”
John: “You frighten me sometimes.”
Me: “Because I’m so much more awesomer than you?”
John: “Did you really just say that?” 



My how the time flies when you aren’t chained to a soul-sucking, mind-numbing, spirit-crushing, lame-excuse-of-a-job, job. I’ve been free for a few weeks now and holy crap, you guys, freedom tastes good. Kinda like Fresca. and chicken.

I’ve been spending my days sleeping in, daydreaming, playing with Grace, watching entire seasons of Burn Notice, napping, building forts, burning pancakes, eating burnt pancakes, going on walks, having milkshakes for lunch, thinking about what I want to be when I grow up, deciding growing up is dumb, daydreaming some more, and finally getting back to a place where I’m feeling good about me again.

And that’s it. It’s been awesome.

And I guess that’s it for this post. I wish I had some sort of brilliant, sum-uppy punchline but I don’t. That’s what I get for writing while sober. Sorry. It won’t happen again.


Megan, Me, Food, Drinks, Cabin in the Woods

That sums up the evening pretty well…

Megan: “OK, what can I eat?”
Me: “Well I kinda whipped up this coconut curry tomato soup thing…”
Megan: “Of course you did.”
Me: “Wanna try it?  I put tomatoes in there with some sauce, some coconut milk, honey, salt, curry paste..”
Megan:  “Yeah, I can taste all of that. Yum.”
Me: “It’s great over Ramen noodles, but we ran out of Ramen.”
Megan: “I think I have some in my car…”
Me: “Of course you do.”


Me: “Thanks for bringing the orange juice.  Somebody left cake-flavored vodka at our house – I think it’d be good with that.”
Megan: “Works for me.”
Me: “I want something fizzy in it too.  Would it be weird to put beer in there?”
Megan: “I dunno, go for it.”
Me: “This could be total genius or totally gross.”
Megan: *sips drink. Scoots drink closer to her and turns away with it under her arm.
Me: “I’ll take that as ‘genius'”.  


Megan: “MERMAN!!”
Me: “I know, right!?”
*many giggles from both sides.

We needed some quality time together. :)



Porsche VS Miata

John picked me up from work last night…

John: “Use your blinker, asshole!!”
Me: “Well, they ARE driving a Porsche.”
John:  “That’s not a Porsche, that’s a Miata.”
Me:  “Oh, well then they’re just retarded.”

Made me think of this (just the first 10 seconds)…

If you haven’t seen “Go” (what this clip is from), you probably should.  It’ll remind you of all those times you didn’t do drugs and go to raves when you were in High School in the 90’s. :)



I’m quitting my job!

Not Scarface from Half Baked quitting, but quitting. I’ve hated this job for a long time, and life is too short to spend 40 hours of every week doing work that makes me homicidal. So I’m quitting. I have no idea what I’ll do next. I’ve looked at everything from dog-walker to cheese researcher to ninja. The possibilities are endless. It’s overwhelming and exciting and terrifying. In the best way.

Talking with Eric yesterday:

me:  I’m just typing up my letter of resignation and am having a freak-out moment.
shit’s about to be really real.

Eric:  don’t freak out.
shits about to be AWESOME + .5

me:  just .5??  auuuugggggggghhhhh!

Eric:  maybe I meant *1.5?

me:  oh. okay…
except i feel like I might vomit.

Eric: i believe in you.

me:  i was right. i could send it.

Eric:  \o/

me:  \m/
and also whatever the emoticon is for “oh, holy fuck.”

Eric:  uh, no idea.
something like that perhaps?

me:  exactly that.

I do realize that the economy is kind of in the crapper right now and quitting a perfectly good (albeit godawful boring) job to go find my bliss is probably incredibly irresponsible. I do have those moments of clarity. Fortunately for me though, I have super-supportive people in my world. Ones that remind me that change is active. And good. And scary. And sometimes it needs to be irresponsible. Sometimes you just have to jump.

So here I go, friends. I’m jumping.



Home Sweet Home

The new place has come together. There’s art on the walls, food in the cupboards. The smoke alarm has proven itself worthy. Grace has puked in the corner of the living room. Eric has (almost) stopped giving me a weird look when he finds me watching The Golden Girls in my underwear. We are home.

As we were settling in, we found that we had a fair amount of household stuff to buy. We were both all too familiar with the Target trap- go in for Kleenex, walk out two carts and $200 poorer- so we decided to explore the online route. We navigated to Amazon and ordered ourselves 6 months worth of paper towels, laundry detergent, dish soap, etc.

I guess I had thought that we would get monthly shipments of our various wares so imagine my delight when I came home to discover the toilet paper had arrived in bulk!

Naturally, I made a fort.

and Eric (almost) didn’t give me the pantsless Golden Girls look.


Let’s talk about something funny

Me: “I haven’t been able to think of any good blog posts lately.”
John: “Well, you could write one about us talking – those are always funny.”
Me: “Yeah, but we haven’t had any particularly funny conversations lately.”
John: “What? We talk about funny shit all the time!”
Me: “OK, then let’s come up with something funny to talk about right now.”
John: “…”
Me: “Good effort there, captain funnypants.”
John: “Shut up.”
Me: “The Bloggess was telling a story about her and her husband riding in the car discussing whether or not her eyeballs smelled.  Do you think eyeballs have a smell?”
John: “Probably.”
Me: “OK, her conversation was way funnier.”
John: “Let’s move on.  Are you excited for the Rockies / Cubs game tonight?”
Me: “Sure!”
John: “Who are you rooting for?  You know I’m rooting Cubs.”
Me:  “I dunno.  But I want to wear my purple sweatshirt.”
John:  “Then you’ll be rooting for the Rockies.”
Me:  “Oh, that’s right!  Yeah, purple!”
John: “That was kind of a funny conversation…”
Me: “Wooohoo!  Blog post!”
John: “It wasn’t THAT funny.”
Me:  “Well, it’ll have to do.  I’ve got purple to wear and places to be.”