Better Living Through Chemistry

I gave up and gave in.  I went and asked for, and got, anti-depressants.  I got them from my nice internist, and have an appointment in A MONTH to see a prescribing psychiatrist.

Now, I hate and despise anti-depressants.  I probably shouldn't, but I do anyway.  They are fabulous drugs, they help me climb out of the Pit Of Despair and feel vaguely normal.  Whatever that is.  However, I have had a couple of prescribers push me into taking them "forever", as a prophylactic measure.  This does not work out well for me.  After taking one for awhile, I get this strange sort of *click* in my head, where I know I'm done.  If I continue taking them for too long after that place, I get to another place, one where I have very few emotions at all.  I call it FLAT.  It's not numb, I know numb.  It's some other place, where I Just Don't Care About Anything.  It would be scary, if I was capable of feeling scared.  I guess it's intellectually scary.  To quote Leonard Nemoy, I Am Not Spock, because it's not like I'm any more logical than usual for me, I'm just emotionless.  Whatever it is, it is Not Good.

So, I will do this druggy thing, for maybe 6 months, until the click happens.  I have explained this to the internist, and I will explain it to the prescribing psychiatrist.  When I am done, I will take advice on how to taper off safely, but I will indeed stop.  That place of feeling so flat?  I'm not going there again.  Too dangerous.

Gwan Ta Kawlidge, Wair Thair Iz Nawt Privacy

This week I managed to convince the local community college that I actually do live here and qualify for the in state tuition prices.  I also completed a FAFSA and have an appointment scheduled with the nice people down at the counseling center to talk about what I want to do when I grow up.  (like *that* is likely!)  The FAFSA is about financial aide, which I presume I won't get any of, but it's part of the dang process, can't skip any steps, it only upsets the bureaucrats!  So now the IRS is involved.  Argh.  It's probably all fine, but all these things want my Social Security Number.  And the borderline rude person behind the counter at the college the other day gave me eyebrow when I wanted a student ID number that WASN'T my SSN, even though the paperwork all says that they are HAPPY to do that very thing.  I guess I'm some kind of unnatural Luddite, gingerly angling for privacy in an increasingly "transparent" world.

In theory, they also have my transcripts from the other place, and I may need to take placement tests.  The chances of my needing Bonehead English are remote, but I apparently need to demonstrate that to somebody.

In the meantime, I might take a class during the short summer session.  I would claim it was to jump start my brain, but look at what I'm considering:

There is a class titled, simply enough, "Chocolate" and is further described in the catalog in the following manner; "Studies the history and manufacturing of chocolate as well as the practical uses and techniques in working with dark, white, and milk chocolate."

Yes, this is a For Credit class.  Admittedly, it's only ONE credit.  However, it probably doesn't have much at all to do with my *brain*.  

Thank You Strunk & White

My counselor wanted to know if I kept a journal.  She said something to the effect that because I read so much, I should be able to write.  (she actually said that I'm "well read", which I had to edit out here, I just couldn't face it.)

While when I am inspired, I think I probably write reasonably well, I usually don't have much of any substance to say.  I know a couple of "real" writers, people who *work* at it and get published and *paid* and things.  I'm not a writer, not in that fashion.  I certainly don't have any stories beating on the walls of the inside of my head, hammering to get out. 

Back in the day, in various schools, I got good at padding.  Five pages on <insert some boring topic name here> when I only have three facts?  No problem, I am your huckleberry.  Instead of stories, I have marketing.  And I'll be the first to admit that I like words and phrases with curlicues and filigree and lace trimmings.  I'll come all over Old British Novel stylistically, which is just wrong.  Sigh.  So, out in the real world, when self-editing, I have to cut and cut and simplify like mad.  Strunk and White would be pleased.  At least, I hope so.

I am a reader who is capable of occasionally making it go the other way.  Crafting something out of words feels immensely complicated to me.  It's a variation on the smorgasbord problem.  There are so many fabulous words and you can put them in almost any order.  It's intimidating. 




Note - I do this blog just to put things somewhere, to try and bleed off the steam as it were. 

Duty Is Another Four Letter Word

Well, I fell into another hole.  Or the same one.  Or something.  My analogy is not working well for me today.  Of course, very little is.

I'm a mess.

The Law of Attraction business that says that somehow one has chosen the life one has?  That's really aggravating.  I don't know how to un-choose, or choose differently, not without stepping all over other people.  And, of course, I'll always choose to damage myself before I will damage other people.  Well, maybe not always, but when it's folks I care about?  In a bloody heartbeat.

I suppose if this is a blog it should have a topic, and be erudite and reach conclusions.  They are mini essays after all.  But I'm circling around inside my own head.  I have these obligations, these duties.  I don't know how to make them palatable, and I don't know how to get out of them honorably.

Duty.  There's a concept.  Maybe a whole essay, right there.

Wagons

And The Falling Off Thereof:

So, I got close to firing my counselor.  Because things were going okay, not because she did anything wrong.  But I've decided to not do that.  I want instead to do some real work, to maybe deal with and/or fix some of the damn laziness or whatever it is that keeps me sitting on my hands.  While reaching "no longer miserable" is excellent and a relief and all that, I should not settle for it.

If I waste my life not doing what I want to be doing, doing what I think I *should* be doing, waiting for Calgon to come and take me away, and not only give me my hearts desire, but divine it for me in the first place,  I really and truly deserve what I get, which will be whatever random chance brings.  (delayed run on sentence alert)

I don't know what, specifically, it is that I want out of life.  I never have.  I could always point at things and holler, "NOT THIS!", but that's about all.  I have always presumed I'd know it when it happened.  I wonder if I'm wrong about that.  So, I have consumerist desires common to many.  (mine are more on the travel end of the spectrum than the big house/new car end, but you know what I mean)  I don't know what they mask.  I suppose that I don't know who I am, if I don't know what I want.

Grumble.

PantheaCon

Was amazing.  I came home very thoroughly Poached.  Almost recovered, I suppose.  Among other things much harder to describe, I have not been so thoroughly intellectually challenged in quite a while.

Exercise

I got my shit together and went to a water aerobics class this morning.   I really and for trulio cannot remember the last time I was in the water.  I'm sore in some weird places, too.  While I'm not saying I won't go back, I will look for other things, somewhere else.  The facilities were somewhat lacking for the price.  Or maybe that's just the California inflation at work again?  The bathing suit issue is still an issue, too.  Those cute tankinis float all around and get in the damn way.  I need a simple swimsuit that's large enough *and* long enough.  Apparently, that's not a simple requirement.


One of the ladies in the pool was talking about all the snow much of the rest of the country is getting, while we're having days in the 50's and 60's.  She was saying that her mortgage was offset by the lack of the price of fuel for heating.  I'm not sure I'd buy into that completely, but then, I'm biased.

Also, I keep thinking about chickens.  As in, maybe I am interested in keeping them, for the eggs.  (I'm far too cowardly to keep them for meat.)

Oracle

I realize that I'm getting over the move.  I still intend to go home one day, but I'm much less angry about it all. Still, this is *work*, this building a new life.  I can also foresee, in my Delphic way, that when I do get to go home, I'll have to do it all, yet again.  Just because it's home doesn't mean that I'll have a life waiting for me there.  If I go back to the city, some things will be easy, but not many.  If I settle somewhere else in the valley, all will be new.  Another thing; my sons are growing up in California.  Will they want to stay here when I go home?  Will my need to go  home be trumped by my need to be near my boys?  This is all annoying and exhausting to contemplate.   

It's all very irritating, even if I am feeling better.  I suppose I should just pull a Scarlett and not think about it.  I have enough to deal with in the here and now.

So, I Hit Him

Perhaps I should start by saying that I'm sick and twisted and only hit folks I like, when they have made bad puns or been smart arses or somesuch.  What this says about my psyche, I dunno'.  If you figure it out, give me a holler.

This afternoon, I was out running errands with That Man.  Somewhere in conversation he said that I was obviously better since the surgery.  I asked him how, and he said I wasn't as tired, I wasn't as grumpy, and (he's on a roll now and grinning slyly) I'm not as mean.  So I punched him on the shoulder and he took back the not as mean part.

Now that's an amusing little story, but it got me thinking, about things I've been thinking about anyhow, about what the overall result of the hysterectomy will look like in the long run.  Every woman I've spoken to who has personal experience in this matter talks about how fabulous she felt, a couple of months later.  As it happens, tomorrow is one month to the day.  And if That Man has already noticed that I'm not as tired or grumpy (see paragraph two), where will I be, a month from today?  How much of my life and energy was eaten by this issue, before I ever knew about it?  I know there's no way to know these things precisely, because I change every day anyhow, but I surely do wonder.

What about important decisions I made while under this influence?  Should I spend any time looking back?  If so, *how far* back? 

I suppose I should just say okay and keep moving forward.  Most of the unhappy decisions I've had to make in the last few years are irrevocable anyway, so no use bothering about them.

Thank You, Robert Morse

I have a cold.  It was rotten earlier in the week, now, it's just a cold.  Stuffy nose, cough, etc.  I'll get over it eventually.

However.  Today I'm singing.  And that's a surprise.  It's been a long time.  As a personal barometer, me singing show tunes means good things.

So, just for giggles:

Now there you are.
Yes, there's that face.
That face that somehow I trust.
It may embarrass you to hear me say it.
But say it I must,
Say it I must

You have the cool clear
Eyes of a seeker of wisdom and truth,

Yet, there's that up turned chin
And the grin of impetuous youth.

Oh, I believe in you,
I believe in you.

I hear the sound of good
Solid judgment whenever you talk.

Yet, there's the bold, brave spring
Of the tiger that quickens your walk.
(roar, roar!)

Oh, I believe in you,
I believe in you.

And when my faith in my fellow man
All but falls apart,
I've but to feel your hand grasping mine
And I take heart,
I take heart.

To see the cool clear
Eyes of a seeker of wisdom and truth,

Yet with the slam, bang, tang
Reminiscent of gin and vermouth.

Oh, I believe in you,
I believe in you.

Stand Offish?

So, I've spent much of my life looking for community.  I've also noticed that people tend to keep their distance from me.  Which would explain why I look for community, as it's often lonely out there.

I have a thing.  I can't see it or explain it, it is invisible to me.  I can only describe it's effects.  The world keeps its distance, there is a glass wall.  People are perfectly pleasant, but not overly friendly.  What is the common denominator?  Ummm, yours truly.  I have presumed for some years that I give off some kind of distancing vibe.  I don't know if it says, "fuck off" or, "I'm a little busy just now, please go away" or even if it varies between the two, but people seem to slide by me.  Or I slide by them, somehow just not being able to connect in a significant *enough* fashion.  (enough for me, that is)  I end up with acquaintances, when I think I have friends.

We can insert all sorts of stuff about being raised Roman Catholic, in a dysfunctional family, about my essential distrust of people, about my cautious, possibly paranoid outlook on life.  Blah, blah, blah.  What can I do, today, to find a door through the glass wall?  My family of origin?  Well, the wall can stay up for them.  But, if I'm lucky, I've got another 40 years of life in front of me, and I want it to be different than the years behind me.  So, *I* have to do the changing, as the world is bigger than I am.

So, I've discovered virtual worlds, via Inworldz.  I followed a mention made by one member of a MeetUp.Com group I participate in, to a group that does some spiritual stuff virtually.  It's an interesting concept, raising (and storing!) spiritual energy via the internet.  I know it's not a new idea, but it's a new experience for me.

I've been exploring their particular area, which is lovely.  It feels like Myst and/or Wild Divine, only with a fairie / fantasy slant.  My machine is really a bit slow for all of the graphics, so occasionally weird stuff happens.  Weird is harmless, though.

I actually completely spaced on the Recovery, Inc. meeting this past Monday.  I did my afternoon stuff, made dinner, hung out with those guys and, voila'!  Along about 10pm, I remembered.  D'oh!  I'll try again this next Monday.

I'd like to learn how to disconnect my "Take Things Personally" button.  So many things are not about me, they just sort of happen nearby, and I get so upset.  I don't want to Not Care, that feels wrong, but I'd like to not always be reacting as if someone is being deliberately nasty to me.

Reality vs. Delusions

I had an interesting thought yesterday.  To explain, here's a summation of the circumstances.

I thought I had some friends.  It turned out that I was wrong, I had some acquaintances.  Much of my, "I want to go home" stuff is because I'm lonely.  However, I'd still be lonely even if I went back to my previous city, because I've learned that I was delusional in the friend/acquaintance department.  So, much of my distress is not about location, it's about reality vs. delusional thinking.

See, I was happy, because I was delusional.  Now I'm less delusional, and I'm unhappy about it.  This delusion was all in my head, it was how I was thinking, not fact, that kept me content.  So, without becoming delusional again, what/how can I think to become more content in my new circumstances?

Rude People

I'm just sick to death of aspies.  I'm tired of always having to understand and not let my feelings get bruised when they are thoughtless and rude.  Which is apparently all the ever loving time.  I don't care that these particular aspies are my husband and children.  I just don't like them today.  I'd really like a different life, please.

And, because of my over developed responsibility gland, I won't leave them, even if they deserve it.  Not yet anyway.  Is there a difference between co-dependency and being overly responsible?

Crabby.  Sore.  Angry.  Lonely.

Pfui.

Debt Makes My Teeth Itch

There has been a small financial windfall at our house.  A retention bonus for that man from his employer.  (that he's worked at since all of October, yay!)

So we're in discussions as how to best use that money.  We accumulated too much debt after moving.  It's been worse in the past and I've paid it down, I don't see any reason to let it get that bad again.  And in this economy, I like it even less.

Now, I'm temperamentally allergic to debt.  My upbringing made me hate and fear any sort of debt.  It's a big piece of why I did not continue in college.  I couldn't pay for it without taking out loans, which I refused to do.  I was too scared of owing money.  I realized, years later, that it was a bone head decision.  But, what are you gonna' do?  Onward.

Anyhow, so that man does not worry about debt like I do.  He says it's unsecured and they can't do anything to us over it if anything horrible happens.  And, if something horrible happens, yes, we probably will lose the house.  The bank owns it anyway.  But debt still makes my teeth itch.

Outside of debt reduction, it's a new house.  It needs all sorts of things that could soak up this little bit of extra money 10 or 20 times over.   New oven, new stove, flooring in the living room, a furnace would be nice, new windows in the living room, a fence that actually keeps the dog in the yard, landscaping, omg landscaping.

So, instead of cleaning house, which was part of todays plan, we're going to Ikea.  I promised the boys new dressers well over a year ago.  Our compromise seems to be neither house things nor debt reduction but economic stimulation.  How did *that* happen?

Surgery Update

Went and saw the surgeon.  Everything is apparently fine.  There is a small pink & white knobby thing in my belly button, that he wants me to hot compress, but that's it.

All my questions got put out of my head when he told me that the fibroid had had an infarction.  (a heart attack, essentially)  It had lost its blood supply and was dead or dying.  I asked him if that meant if we'd left it all there, would things would have gotten better?  He said no, that it would have gotten all necrotic and rotten and deader and yuckier.  Ick.

We're having a False Spring right now.  It's sunny during the day, and gets near to 60 degrees F.  Apparently, the cold and rains and muck will come back in awhile and last through April-ish.  So, I keep opening the windows of the house, to air things out a bit.  And right now (early afternoon), I want to close the windows of my bedroom, wrap up in a quilt and go to sleep, leaving the rest of the house to be chilly.

I have mixed stuff going on.  Much of it is boredom.  I'm tired of my kids, I'm tired of my marriage, I'm just damn bored.  I realize that this probably means I'm boring to others as well, but, there you go.

This therapist lady I'm seeing is not overly useful or insightful yet.  Everything she says is so trite.  Maybe I've had enough talk therapy in my life?  I know what the answers are, I just don't like them, or I refuse to do some of them, because of the consequences.  I think she tried to fire me yesterday, asking if I wanted another session.  I'll use the two sessions I have already paid for, and then maybe I'll make another choice.

Somewhere else in blog-land, I found a reference to this:

http://www.recovery-inc.com/index.asp

It looks interesting, I'm going to be trying to contact them today and see about attending one of their meetings.

Blah

Nothing much to report.  Some gloominess is setting in, I am hoping it's just boredom.

No Title Yet

I find that I have skipped two days of posting.  Sigh.

Recovery continues, slower than I would like, but I'm still doing just fine, in a tired sort of way.  While I'm not 25 anymore, neither am I dead yet.

The homeschooling boy is going to transfer into a small, alternative, charter high school.  I hope it works better than what we have been doing.  That boy scares the socks off of me.  I worry that he won't get a high school diploma, that he'll never be employable and that he'll live with me for the rest of my life.  What the ever loving hell happens to him after I die?  Not to mention the, "OMG, I am never going to get my life back" issue.  Raising kids, I presumed the commitment had an end, that they would grow up and move away.  Silly me.

I just did a ritual, designed to transmute negative energy into positive energy.  I don't know if I *have* the energy to do ritual right now, what with healing and all, but it needed doing.  I am stepping up my magical/sorcerous behavior.  I chose this particular ritual because it was not complex and did not require wing of bat.  Some recipes are just discouraging to read, much less attempt.  There will be a follow up to todays ritual.  Probably tomorrow or on the weekend.  Sea salt was used, thoroughly moistened with peppermint oil.  I will dissolve the remains of the salt in water and cleanse the house with it.

Who Put This Monday Here?

I stole that title from my friends blog.  It seems so appropriate.  It's Monday, the one child has gone back to school, the other one is "homeschooling" this week, and that man has gone back to work.  Even though he went to work yesterday, too.

And, I'm tired.  I had explained to the homeschooler that he had to help me with chores this week.  And, now, when I say, do it, I'm getting some serious sighing and eye rolling.  I could just slap him.  I'm talking using the machines to do laundry here, folks, not painting the dining room.  Of course, all the homeschooling he was supposed to do last week?  Didn't happen, because I wasn't here to prod him along.  So he has twice as much to do this week, so he thinks he shouldn't have to help with the laundry.  I hate teenagers.  I may have to call and apologize to my mother again, for ever being one.

Also, that man had forgotten that he had to do school delivery this week.  I'm lucky I mentioned it last night, or I might have woken up pretty much abandoned.  And he doesn't have the brownie points banked to cover *that*. 

Basically, I'm dealing with the usual shit, with a much smaller amount than my regularly recommended amount of "cope" available.  I keep reminding myself of that.  Besides, I'm too damn tired to pack up and leave.  Do they count on that?  Of course not, they're aspies.  They are too thoughtless to think that far.

Right, Then

So, I had the surgery.  I'm told it went really well and I got out of the hospital in the time expected.  I'm sore and I'm not supposed to do a large variety of things for a while, while my core recovers, but mostly I'm okay.  I noticed yesterday that as the day progresses, I get more sore as I tire.  All to be expected.

I had some interesting thoughts and then questions about hospital care while I was in there.  It seemed that at the beginning, there was lots of care, but by the end, there was a passive-aggressive "go away" vibe going on.  I don't know if that's just how hospitals work, or if it was a product of how I was doing or what, but I know I didn't like it. 

Also, I had all these thoughts about getting into shape.  Because if getting older is going to include trips to hospitals, I should be in better shape for it.  It may have been the drugs talking.  I *think* about getting into better shape every day.  But it hasn't actually  happened, so I don't know that I should go counting on it just yet.

The house, as expected, was a pit when I got back.  The dishwasher had broken a day or two before surgery, and apparently the people I live with are incapable of doing dishes by hand.  Since I got back, that man has ripped out the dishwasher, fixed it, but not re-installed it.  That last bit should happen in a day or two, I think.  I went out to the kitchen a while a go and all the dirty dishes are gone and dishwasher is running.  So, progress, of a sort.

I will say that major surgery is at least distracting from all the emo shit.  Maybe I'll come down somewhere different when I'm all over the physical stuff.  That was hope that just happened right there, in public, wasn't it?  Remarkable.

I've been reading lots of pagan blogs and seeing some predictions for 2011 and one I read is particularly distressing, predicting *martial law* for around August.  Bleah.  I suppose I will start doing the stocking up/prepping thing again.

Nervous and Crabby

I have surgery tomorrow.  I will be doing laxatives today.  Oh joy.  I'm irritable.  That man is trying to 'be here' for me, and that is very annoying.  He's got the right idea, but it feels like too little, too late.  I've braced myself to do this without any emotional support, and his attempts are only illustrating that usually I have to do without.

Fuck Nice

Today, I got fed up.  I'm tired of being sad and depressed and frightened.  I got mad.

And that's not a bad thing, right now.  I say, Fuck Nice.  I keep waiting for the world to be nice back to me, to somehow reward me for my niceness.  It ain't working, I'm noticing.  I'm a timid old lady.  And I'm changing that, right now.

Focus

I am aware that I "should" focus on good things.  For my mental health and any desire to helpfully use the Law of Attraction / magick theory to my benefit.  What I don't know is how to go about this.  So many unpleasant things have happened, I'm just braced against any more.  And, of course, I get to feel guilty/responsible for those things, BECAUSE of the LoA / magick theory.  Thanks so much, over-developed responsibility gland.  I get to blame myself for the ugly bits, but don't get to change the future.  Bleah.  Talk about learned helplessness.

Currently choosing numb, because anything else involves crying.

Maybe I should do what that cancer guy did a couple of decades ago and just rent a huge amount of comedies and watch them repeatedly, just to practise laughing.

Wrote This Elsewhere Today, Saving Here

During the recent economic unpleasantness, my favorite hubby got laid off up in Portland and could not find anything else there. He found a job in Silicon Valley, though. So, here we are. I had lived in Portland for 18 years, considered it my home and was quite reluctant to leave.

It has been a hell of a couple years for me, with various and diverse alarums, disappointments and personal setbacks. I want desperately to not be sad or depressed or frightened anymore, so I've only just started seeing a counselor. (second appointment tomorrow...) While I really should meet people and make some new friends, I worry that I'm currently too crabby and self-absorbed to actually do so.

Historically, I would say that I'm poly, that I just up and fall in love and see no problem with loves overlapping. Pretty damn quick, too. However, it's been years since I've done that. Probably because I had not met many new men in those years, either. Also, I've developed a certain cautious diffidence, as I try to be an actual grown-up and pay attention to the realities, rather than the fantasy. I'm willing to indulge in hope, yet I don't want to be completely naive, as I have done so often in the past.

So much for consistency

I spent so much time reading other blogs yesterday, I "forgot" to post. 

I will say, there are a lot of interesting people saying stuff out here.  I seriously doubt that I will be one of them anytime soon.  This is more a private thing, I wonder why I'm putting it out for anyone in the world to peer at?

I've spent several days doing nothing.  And that's exhausting.  So I'm doing piles of laundry today, and running a few necessary errands.  Today is the last day of winter break, school starts up again for the boys tomorrow, and I've got a busy week of health related activities, including a hysterectomy on Wednesday, that will sort of fill of the following several days.  There's an appointment with the nice counselor lady tomorrow, too.  I never can see what the point of counseling is in advance, but I keep going back.  Hope springs eternal and all that.

I'm tired.  And lonely.  And bored.  And bored of being depressed, if that makes any sense.  But sad seems to be taking the cake these days. 

I just don't see the point anymore.  I can't tell you want I want to do/be/have, all I can do is point to most of the things surrounding me and say, "Not THIS.  Not this.  Oh dear Goddess, no more of this."  <sniff>

I'm tired of crying, too.