Thursday, May 7, 2015

Too sad

I'm too sad to blog. Seriously, I'm so overwhelmed with despair, I can't even work up the enthusiasm to write.

That being said, I made it four days without crying.

Tuesday, May 5, 2015

I forgot

I forgot to wish myself a happy birthday on my blog this year. I don't think I've ever missed doing that.

Unlike previous years when I said acknowledging my birthday was disingenuous because I'd wished I'd never been born, I didn't feel that way this time. This year I felt more like, hey, I made it through another one and no one is more surprised about that than me.

Sometimes I wonder if the people who know me are actually taking bets and gambling on the likelihood/inevitability of my quitting life. I suspect they are. I wonder who has the closest date in the pool. Who will win? will it be you? How much have you bet? You can tell me.

I can tell you it won't be this year. I have three things I need to do in 2015, not the least of which is divest myself of at least 50 percent of the physical possessions in my home. That task is going to take some time and real thought. I would never intentionally leave Frank with all of the clutter that has accumulated because of me. This situation must be undone. Yard sale, donations, gifts, giveaways. Despite the sheer volume, there is essentially no trash or actual junk among so much stuff.

Anyway, I made it to my birthday. Nobody cared. Nobody, not one person, thought to say, I'm glad you were born and I'm glad you're still here. My world is better with you in it.

The truth is, despite my best efforts, I've not been able to make myself have any value in this world. As a worker I have and as a helper, but not as a person. Maybe in my next life I'll get that right.

Happy birthday to me, though. I stuck it out another year and probably made at least one person lose a bet.

Friday, April 24, 2015

This. This. This.

OMG, this article. Spalding Gray. Suicide. Neurology. Frontal Lobe. Depression. Rumination. This, this, this.

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

No change

Still sad. Still obsessing over every word I say and desperately hoping I've not offended anyone. Still trying to figure out  what the appropriate facial expressions and responses should be when interacting with others.

Still sad. No change.

I want... Why can't I just keel over, boom? Why?

Thursday, April 16, 2015

New here?

If you're new to my blog, welcome. Here's some advice for tooling around:

Most people come for the information about shingles but stay for the witty banter. I'm not an expert on shingles; I just know a lot about it from doing intensive research while I was laid up for a month. I never did try the medical marijuana, so I still can't give an opinion on that.

45 Mercy Street: That post is not an academic analysis; it's only my take on the poem. My blog post will not, I repeat, will not help you with your academic coursework. Sorry.

My posts from 2012 on aren't that great because I wasn't focused on writing so much as I became immersed in Facebook and Twitter. That being said, there's some good reading prior to that (at least, I like to think so). I'd say your best bet is to go back to 2008 and work your way forward from there. There's a lot about the nature of hope, friends who betray or abandon friends and mourning the end of relationships, why I think a lot of adults with ADHD get misdiagnosed (really misdiagnosed), and lots of my thoughts on what the world of medicine and doctors can and can't accomplish for mere mortals who ask a lot of questions.

I somewhat neglected my blog for a long time, but I'm back and should be for a while. I'm going through some stuff and this is where I come to hash it all out. It's like having one of those therapists who doesn't talk and makes you do all the work to reach your own conclusions, except Blogger is free.

Also, I'm reasonably sure I'm on the path toward a major coronary event, so I want to keep writing so there's some documentation of my condition leading up to that. I've been really good at predicting things I was told were unlikely to happen. Doctors don't listen to me enough which is why I only go to them if I'm in agony or there's a compelling risk of death or disability on the horizon.

Also, I talk about suicide a lot. It doesn't mean anything; I currently have no imminent plans to take my own life, but I still contend it's the ultimate human right and I'm entitled to it if I get to that point.

Go ahead--snoop around the old posts. They're not too bad.

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

I'm nothing if not consistent

I've been re-reading the 2013 portion of this blog. I've made no progress. Still accurate. Feeling this one in particular:

Monday, April 13, 2015

If I don't know, how can anyone else?

I can't tell if I'm losing my mind or reclaiming it.

It could just be menopause. At least, that's what I keep reading. Except...I take hormones, so that's not supposed to happen.

Here's what I do know: When I am depressed, I can't keep up, physically or intellectually.  I hang back, I'm slow, I wander, I don't grasp conversations, and I can't keep track of what people expect from me. I just can't connect the dots. I can't follow the rules because I can' rmember what I'm supposed to say or how I'm supposed to interact.

Do you have any idea how frustrating that is?

It makes me even more of a dory dork than I am under the best of conditions. Ugh.

Let's review

Here is a post from 2008 that sounds an awful lot like my current situation. It's uncanny, actually. I do know myself, that's for sure.

I found that picture on a Bing search, which is where my MS clipart now defaults. I don't  know whom to credit, so there's this:

A song in my head

I was going to post the lyrics, but they're pretty clear. Fun fact: I still have this album on vinyl.

Because we can't call in sad

Ikon Images/Corbis via NPR
A few days ago, NPR ran a story about how people who are depressed usually don't or simply can't take off from work. I've never missed a day of work from feeling depressed, although my productivity has been known to take a significant hit.

It's a good story and worth the time to listen. There's a recap on the web page, but I'd recommend you listen to this one in its entirety.

Click here to go to the NPR story:

Working Through Depression: Many Stay On The Job, Despite Mental Illness

Maybe it's just menopause

Of course, that would mean I've been going through menopause since the late 1970s. I only mention this because there seems to be a prevailing attitude in American culture that if you are female and not doing well emotionally, it must be hormones. I find that to be simplistic and dismissive.

I'm just hoping this mood lifts sooner rather than later, because the longer it goes on, the less I like people, including people I normally like a lot. I'm not paranoid, exactly, but anything that is said to me that feels even slightly harsh, feels like boiling oil to me right now. I've lost all perspective, along with my sense of humor and many IQ points.

I'm deeply insecure under the best of circumstances, but my current state has amplified that by about a thousand. Some people will understand that and be patient with me, but others will take it all at face value and keep score for later.That's their short-sighted prerogative.

I keep thinking back to the therapist I had who would admonish me to "look at the data." She'd say, look at the data. Is what you perceive actually true when held up against facts? she was right. I need to keep doing that exercise. Maybe I'm just projecting my own self-hatred out of me and onto everyone else. No one else is the problem, no one else has anything to do with my perceptions. It's all in my head. My intellect hasn't waned so much that I don't know that.

In other news, my debt-payment and gift-distribution plan is progressing nicely. I feel really good about that. I hope all of the recipients feel the same, even if what they receive initially seems puzzling. I've sent some off-the-wall things in the last week. Cans of soup may be the most odd. Ah, well, it makes sense to me, and that's really all that matters in my head.

Why keep a diary?

For me, blogging is way to process and organize thoughts going through my head at any given time. It is unapologetically self-indulgent in nature. I'm OK with that.

Here are some actual writers' thoughts on the topic: