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,
“YES, YOU DUMMY! LOOK AT WHAT YOU JUST GOOGLED. OF COURSE YOU ARE DEPRESSED!”

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:

HAPPY THURSDAY!

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.

 

Funemployment

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.

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?
AWESOME AND A HALF.

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

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.

I don’t have to wear pants anymore!

In related news… Eric and I finally found a place of our own. WOOHOO!

It’s super-duper cute and cheap and in the neighborhood we wanted and there’s a toilet ghost that sings when you flush and it’s perfect.

It’s a whirlwind of fuck right now with the moving in and unpacking and organizing but I did find some time to customize our shower curtain:

I’ve also already managed to set off the smoke alarm. Making tea. It’s starting to feel like home. :)

Zombies Vs. Vampires

The other night Eric and I were talking about very important social issues:

Me: So when the zombie apocalypse happens, who do you think is gonna win, zombies or vampires?

Eric: Vampires, obviously.

Me: Why obviously?  Zombies are a real threat.

Eric: Vampires are smart, and dead. Zombies only eat things that are alive.

Me: But zombies eat brains. Vampires have brains. The zombies wouldn’t want the vampires brains?

Eric: Zombies don’t eat brains because they’re hungry. It’s animal-like instinct. They don’t go around digging up graves. They just kill things and gnaw on them.

Me: Oh… I guess that’s true. So the zombies wouldn’t care about the vampires.

Eric: Right.

Me: But the vampires would kill the zombies because they don’t want them killing all the people.

Eric: Yeah, I guess. Hadn’t thought of that. Vamps do need to eat, so they would have to keep a food supply around.

Me: Right. They’d just kill the competition. So, who will beat the vampires? Ware-wolves?

Eric: Doubt that. Some higher demons could though. Vampires and Warewolves are half-human. Not as strong.

Me: So, evil Pegasuses then? Oh! that’s a fun word, Pegasuses. Pegasuseses. Try it!

Eric: Um… no.

Me: No, they won’t win or no you won’t try it? It’s really fun! Pegasuses.

Eric: …

Me: Fine. Don’t try it. But you should know that when the evil Pegasuses take over, they plan to kill all the fun-haters first. That makes me worried for you.

Eric: I’ll take my chances.

The next day:

Me: I think I’m going to post our zombies/ vampires conversation on the blog. The world needs to know about the evil Pegasi. I thought about it today and that’s probably how you make Pegasus plural.

Eric: Probably, yes.

Me: But Pegasuses is so much more fun to say! Did you try it?

Eric: No.

Me: Are you sure? Your eyes say you tried it.

Eric: Well, not in public.

Me: You did try it!

Eric: Shut up.

Me: Maybe the Pegasuses will let you live after-all.