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Showing posts from June, 2016

Driving Myself Crazy but Not Knowing How I Got There??

One of the things my psychiatrist noted in her update to my insurance company was that I had been able to spend a few hours a day at my "desk" which seemed like a step forward.  
What she failed to note was that "at desk" time could be interpreted by the insurance company  as "doing something productive/can concentrate".   The reality is "at desk time" is spent doing one of two things:
Writing here. (AKA brain dump)
Flipping frantically back and forth between a series of websites in an obsessive compulsive sort of manner. 
What pets are up for adoption at the shelter now?  (Oh this is how I got three dogs....)Any insurance requests for information?  Refresh, refresh, refresh.Oooo look a 24 hour sale on cruises.Wonder if they have posted any new animals for adoption.....Are there vacancies at the campsite I went to last year?E-MAIL CHECK---nothing ok so ....FACEBOOK CHECK.Ohhh cute kitty video---and look at the puppies/elephants/sloths.  Wasn't …

Smoke Signals from my Brain

Today, when my kids wake up, I will tell them I made  "extra crispy sausages" for breakfast.
They aren't stupid though. Half of the package are burned black on one side.
Here they are:

I know how this will play out: "These look burnt" "Extra crispy!" I will insist, but I am already imagining the raised eyebrows, sausage crumbling to charcoal on their plate when they stab it. "Fine! Don't eat them then." See, look.  Now I can actually skip the whole conversation because I have lived it out in my mind.  This is how depression works for me....I get a preview of my failure and then get a live show!  Two shots for the price of one.
Now you might be thinking, why not just imaging that the kids say, "Wow these are great crispy sausages".
Really?  False bullshit like that just makes the crushing reality of their scorn feel worse by a factor of ten.  If I berate myself before hand, it just hurts less when small children do it later.
Ok, so you…

Sorry It Has WHAT?

As a former English teacher, and native Anglophone, I am perpetually annoyed at the improper use of the language.

Let's take much vs. many.
I have MUCH time and I have MANY minutes. NOTI have many time and much minutes.

IRREGARDLESS. It's just regardless people.
Supposibly ---It's so wrong I am not even sure how it exists.
If you don't have no time---that means you  HAVE  TIME!
When someone speaks like this I cringe, but I don't actually SAY anything because it's not really hurting anyone.
But there was one exception......  
A couple of summers ago, my local Library was hosting a family reading session that explored the theme of "under the ocean".  

I live in a very multicultural community, and the staff reflected in both the customers and staff of the Library.  I don't go often, but on a trek home from the mall, Youngest and I swung through to take advantage of the air conditioning.  The story time room you see was in the basement.  Th…

Rage Pretzels

Brené Brown talks about being vulnerable, naming your shame, sharing your stories with people who have earned the right to hear them...... which takes a lot of courage.
Sista is that person for me.  We can be brave and courageous with each other!
We name our shame, pick at the vulnerable parts and lay them out like a picnic on a blanket and invite each other to sit and share.  
We name the shames, explore the tender spots  and  find places where love fits instead.  Then, we toss the garbage and end with a hug, smile and we might even laugh until we pee a little. (Damn you age and babies...)
I feel the need to say, if it was a real picnic, Sista would have the super healthy one with lots of greens and legumes, no meat and delish sugar free, wheat free snacks! She works hard to provide a good dietary foundation for her family.
Mine would be brownies and licorice.
Last night Sista texted me from evening swimming lessons with her kids:
It read:
Today C broke me this morning with another epic tan…

Please Be Patient While we Tweak the Medication - A Moment Inside My Head.....

I spend a lot of time writing about all the stuff that goes on inside my body, mind, heart and soul as I dig through messy me to try to find something that I can hold on to, wave in the air,  and call "joy" or "happiness" or much more desirable, "peace".  
Each day is another chance to practice digging deep to find it.
The best place to look is often in the "small world" of my deck, or at my tiny trailer in summers, or even within the yellow orange walls of our backyard tent. I can be still, and I can find calm and peace in these small places.
And yet, some days the smallest physical place I go is the one that most routinely dumps me soundly on my ass.  

With a late spring, no trailer or tent or gazebo in sight, I have been seeking the smallest of physical spaces to call my own---my mind.
The problem is....that is not the safest place right now as my doctor and I tweak medications to assist with the roving landslides that have been occurring within.

Rage Against the"Find Your Purpose" Machine

Everywhere you look--on posters and bumper stickers, blogs and bookshelves...
practically shouting at us, is the call to arms  to "FIND YOUR PURPOSE". 
(Which without your glasses on could be mistaken for find your PORPOISE which got my 11 year old excited).
Frankly, I think he had it right.  

Finding a porpoise is a hell of a lot easier (and more exciting) than finding your purpose.  If I open a book or check on the "Interweb", I can actually be told where I can locate a porpoise and go see it.

(Vancouver acquarium has two named Jack and Daisy.  Here is their schedule. Go nuts.)
Every book on finding your PURPOSE? One disappointment after another.
Fair enough, most of them tell you straight out that your answer will not be found among their pages, which then makes me think:
"Ok so your purpose is to publish books and drive people crazy.  Good job assh*le.  You accomplished your purpose."
But once in awhile, one title actually does promise that the illusive a…

Damn You Insightful Talk Doc!

This week I had an appointment with Talk Doc, my therapist/psychologist.
All this research about personality types and radical acceptance had me feeling purrrr---it----tteeeee goood and even as I drove to her office I was thinking: 
 What will we talk about?  
The last time I had seen her was early March, feeling like a wet dog, soaked in self-doubt, dripping fear and self-loathing about my inability to manage my new job role after the IT manager quit and I needed to pick up his tasks. She assured me I was NOT crazy and that the expectations work had set were indeed, unrealistic.  
It had been two months since then, so I caught her up. 
The first two weeks I cocooned and watched a lot of TV.  Then.....
...I bought a new van,  painted  and redecorated almost all the rooms in our house, (built a LOT of IKEA furniture), refinished our deck, donated two dozen bags of clothes and misc 'crap' to local charities----emptied, fixed, painted and refilled our shed----painted all the outdoor fu…