tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65432907941311842942024-03-13T06:25:38.324-07:00Little Black Dog For Sale (by owner)All about my little black dog, and why he needs to go!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-20074134411490387082015-02-14T06:35:00.001-08:002015-02-14T06:35:02.526-08:00Changes<p dir="ltr">I feel inspired, energetic, hungry, thoughtful, confused, ravenous, open-minded. So many things. Everyone cries and comes together upon word of a dog being beaten, terrorized, skinned left for dead... Well that happens to the cows, pigs and chickens in the U.S. everyday. Everyday you demand that cheeseburger, milkshake, scrambled egg, an animal was raised with no love, no health benefits, in some cases no sunshine and they are killed in fear. And we are eating that fear. Shots to the head, death by hanging by a leg, diseases, all allowable by our government. The government does not protect animals bred for food. Ever wonder how the dairy cows can pump out so much milk? They are artificially insemenated, constantly. Thats tons of hormones, not to mention the baby cow taken away for milk or veal. They are constantly pregnant, constantly nursing so you, the adult human can drink its blood and puss laden milk. We don't need milk after being weaned from our mothers. Angry. On the road to becoming Vegan. Check out the documentary, Vegucated, among others to see what I mean.</p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-7079793324474706462015-02-06T07:49:00.001-08:002015-02-06T07:49:35.169-08:00Day 4<p dir="ltr">Feeling inspired to do new things with my photography. Wellbutrin is going well, was drowsy the first two days. Yesterday was fine and today its too early to tell :-)</p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-71225079457926878902015-02-03T14:36:00.001-08:002015-02-03T14:36:24.082-08:00Day 1<p dir="ltr">Day 1 on 75mg of Wellbutrin as prescribed by my doc. Took it a little later than anticipated this morning, but it was done in a blink. Been feeling a light buzz all day. Flipped through some magazines, and nibbled a bit here and there. Just got up from a delightful nap with my bed complete with electric blanket. No jitters or restlessness as I was warned. So far, I'm feeling 'safe'. Safe from myself? Safe from my mind? Safe is all I can say. Should take a couple weeks to fully kick in. Hoping for no or minimal side effects (please no nausea!)</p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-31768412806690371192015-02-02T16:45:00.001-08:002015-02-02T16:46:13.132-08:00Evaluate<p dir="ltr">I'm taking a moment to evaluate myself. I am currently 25lbs over my ideal weight for my height. While I have the anxiety somewhat under control, the depression is not. I'm home all day in minor but significant chronic pain due to carpal tunnel syndrome. I'm not sure what to do for work not that I am very limited in my time that I'm able to spend on the computer. I could go back to school, but I'm not sure what I would want to study and for what career. The little black dog sits restless at my feet. I have recently cut 95% of the dairy from my diet and bread as well. I feel better. Tonight will be my last glass of wine for the near future as my doctor's visit today resulted in a Rx for Wellbutrin (and samples of blood drawn). I take alcohol and medication very seriously. Hopefully it's all for the best.</p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-78288632873411356922015-01-21T08:17:00.001-08:002015-01-21T08:17:29.788-08:00Wise words<p dir="ltr">Everything adds up to something</p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-1909765395357709422015-01-16T09:55:00.001-08:002015-01-16T09:56:12.141-08:00On this overcast morning<p dir="ltr">I find myself somewhat content this morning. I'm sitting on my sofa, the dogs are asleep nearby on the carpet. The house is quiet. Breakfast and coffee have been consumed and I'm listening to the soothing sounds of the dishwasher going through its cycles. How long can this go on? Will I ever return to a normal job? Do I want one? Should I return to school in pursuit of dreams that aren't entirely my own? Ssshhh mind, relax. </p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-85000798671256057222015-01-12T18:51:00.001-08:002015-01-12T18:51:52.546-08:00My suspicions are un-officially correct<p dir="ltr">While on vacation, we stayed with some family of mine. Lots of great times, food, laughter and long talks with wine late into the evening. The last evening brought up the topic of my non existent relationship with my mother. It's been over a year now (and not the first time) since I have seen or spoken to her. I essentially made the decision to cut ties or 'break up' with her out of a need to protect myself and my family. She can be nice, helpful and giving (usually with thick ropes attached). But there have been hundreds if not countless times in my life where she was yelling, screaming, irrational and violent (even to herself). As a child, I knew these fights and episodes weren't normal. While my brother was in the 2nd grade, him and most of the boys in his class were being diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder with Hyperactivity- he was prescribed Ritalin. My mother thought she would take one to try it. He was later taken off of it and she took it for the next 10+ years. It was hell. She told her psychiatrist that she liked how she felt on it. I knew early on that adults shouldn't take medicine prescribed for children. It had an adverse reaction. Combine the upper of the Ritalin with coffee and downer of the beer in the evenings, it was a horrible roller coaster. It wasn't until high school, that I noticed a how the beer was playing a clear role in the evening fights she'd pick with myself and my brother. Like others at 18, I found a way to distance myself from her and move out. I have always been cautious, as even though she raised me in a non-conventional way (more on this later). A couple years ago, after I bought my first home, I tried to be cool, she wanted to help so I let her and there were a few good times. I was careful but she kept bringing up conspiracy theories. I'm serious. It was torture. I wanted to explain reason to her, to disspell these things she kept saying were her 'opinions' that she had a right to. These conversations would end in blow out fights. It was too much for me to handle. I felt so many emotions, anger, guilt, sadness. I knew it was out of hand. I walked into my home with my brother to find her in my entryway screaming at my husband who was sitting, holding our dog who looked terrified. I told her it was time to leave. <br>
Fast forward to now and I come home to a letter in my stack of mail received while on vacation and she doesn't know why I have ceased communication. After all she has done for me (uh, raised me? Who else's responsibility was I?). I just can't win.<br>
My aunt said what I had imagined to be true. Schizophrenia. Just like their mother. The hell I experienced as a child and an adult now made more sense. The worse part is she has no idea anything is wrong, and never will. I think this really helps explain my own depression and anxiety. When you try so hard to do things right, play by the rules, save money, get good grades, please your parents, etc, you get exhausted. It's tiring trying to explain yourself constantly so you wonder what the problem is. How can I fix this? What's the solution? Well, time is the solution. Sad to say, but she will pass on and I will be relieved. Relieved of her heartache and my own. Perhaps she is my little black dog.</p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-36134965050122631452015-01-04T18:47:00.001-08:002015-01-04T18:47:27.720-08:00Posting from holiday vacation<p dir="ltr">Winter has found us traveling domestically. Instead of exchanging gifts, the hubs and I opted to create memories. We have talked about visiting Texas (specifically Austin) for some time now. Being native Californian Millennials, its "the" place to be right now. Jobs, affordable real estate, music, arts and food trucks. We finally made it and so far so good. Everyone has been talkative and friendly. Hopefully the little black dog doesn't find me here!</p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-70080609371829557442014-12-27T20:46:00.001-08:002014-12-27T20:46:04.578-08:00Friends asking for Donations....<p dir="ltr">I have some friends that are currently seeking donations for their "cause". Well one of their parents is the organizer of the  online fundraiser. I don't mind donations or fundraisers in general, although I do mind feeling obligated. I also mind when its not a fundraiser that once reached, will be completed. <br>
In this particular case, I find myself glad and irritated. You see, they are asking for donations to adopt a child. This couple has two of their own and they are a Christian family-- you know, righteous and all, except for the whole 'they conceived their first born out of wedlock' and but we should just ignore that sin I guess... <br>
I'm glad they are stopping with two of their own, I think that's enough people to indoctrinate... But now they want their friends and family to donate so they can adopt a child through some Christian organization. So once they reach this goal ($5,000), are they going to ask us to help donate to raise the child? (Food, diapers, clothing, toys, etc.) If they can't afford to adopt, how can they afford to support it? And don't say 'God's love' or something ridiculous like that. Ugh.</p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-46695004624600073212014-12-22T15:34:00.001-08:002014-12-22T15:34:31.350-08:00Why I won't tell my "potential" future children about Santa Claus<p dir="ltr">It's a few days before Christmas and I had a thought. If I have children, I'm not going to tell them about Santa Claus. There are multiple reasons for this. But first, I'm not mean, ill spirited or a grinch. However, I am an atheist. And I studied Psychology and Anthropology in College. My views are shaped by the experiences I have had and the subjects I have studied. Simply stated, I believe that telling children about Santa Claus is perpetrating a lie. A lie that I was told, a lie that my parents were told. Did it hurt me? No. Did it cause me detriment? No. But it did make me think, what else have I been told is a lie? My parents lied to me, plain and simple. I just don't think that is right. Mostly because Santa isn't real and what he is described as is basically a god himself. He can see everything, speak all languages, deliver gifts all over the world in one night, etc. It's just not right. <br>
I will tell my children who Santa Claus is. They will know the story, they will also know that parents are Santa Claus. They will also learn that not all children in the world get gifts. No one will (hopefully) break into our home the night of December 24 and leave presents behind. I believe in educating, not betrayal. Why tell your child a lie? Only to have to tell the truth later? <br>
Oh and no creepy elves on shelves either.</p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-53530160317824365242014-12-08T09:42:00.001-08:002014-12-08T09:42:59.154-08:00Found this great animation<p dir="ltr">Surfing the web takes you to many places far and wide. I like to call it 'time traveling' because you end up spending far too much time on the computer and boom it's a few hours later! Found this short video and wanted to share it: http://www.upworthy.com/what-is-depression-let-this-animation-with-a-dog-shed-light-on-it     </p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-21806262875010521412014-12-01T15:03:00.001-08:002014-12-01T15:03:45.567-08:00Holidays in the home of a Minimalist<p dir="ltr">We only have two bins in which to store our holiday decorations. It's not for lack of space, or lack of money. Quite honestly its because we had to put a cap on it. Seeing our parents' and grandparents' holiday items shoved into box after box, stored in the attic 11 months of the year, really gave us pause when we packed our holiday items last year. We sorted the items and chose our favorites (anything with the Abominable Snowman stayed). We went to Target and purchased two standards size rubbermaid bins especially for this purpose. What fit, made the cut. <br>
A few days ago, at my request, my husband pulled the boxes down from the garage. He left to get a few things done and I opened the boxes. I started digging around in them. I found a few strands of white lights, some picture frames with photos, a few random decorations and a small faux tree. Yes, the tree fits in one of the boxes. All that I found was great, however I realized a small problem. We have no where to put anything. We have a decent sized home, but very few furnishings other than the main things a home needs (sofa, ottomon, dining table, etc. No end tables, coffee table, etc. So there are no flat surfaces free for extra decorations. Hmm, so I'm debating if I should borrow a table or just forget it altogether? Being a minimalist is difficult sometimes, but so rewarding.</p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-71190890950616903872014-11-25T15:59:00.001-08:002014-11-25T15:59:25.766-08:00I'm not sweet, I'm sour!<p dir="ltr">As the holiday season approaches, my husband and I find ourselves out a little more often. Trying to squeeze in some last day trips before the weather turns gross, seeing new movies on discount Tuesdays, heading to the mall for new winter clothes and with all that comes customer service. I really do hate that term, but thats an entirely different blog entry right there. Usually I'm mistaken for younger than I appear (yay), sometimes closer to the correct age (usually when I'm with the hubs). Either way, I too can guess ages. I can tell if you are my age or younger, and it makes me bat shit crazy when I am called "Sweetie" by someone my age or younger. If you are a sweet grandmother, then it is perfectly acceptable. Just don't do it. By calling my sweetie, it feels like you are belittling me or about to follow it with "bless yer heart". Ugh. It's gross and awful. Same goes for Sugar, Honey or Doll. Miss works, Ma'am does too, although I like it less. Thanks. Have a great holiday!</p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-41439186519575168112014-11-02T21:36:00.001-08:002014-11-02T21:36:15.829-08:00Friends say the darnest things<p dir="ltr">I have some really great friends. I really do. On facebook, I have a lot of friends from childhood, school and even ex coworkers. I love hearing about their lives, the good, the bad and even the 'tmi's'. What I don't like is reading things that are just plain unnecessary. The comment that I found particulary irritating was this 'My wife delivered our second baby today and again without drugs.' Ok, while I see the point, I also found myself upset. I'm a female and I do not have children. With that said, I really do feel that women have choices when it comes to the delivery of their baby. It is their body after all. I feel like a woman that gives birth (drugs, no drugs, c-section, etc) is still a major accomplishment! I just don't see that her not taking the drugs is a) any of my business and b) anything to be proud of. So let me get this straight, you suffered hours of horrible and excruciating pain and you didn't have to? It's almost assinine. Ok, I have heard but not researched the concept of mothers that take the delivery drugs-- their babies are essentially born on the drugs too. So there's that. What freaks me out is the epidural itself. The needle goes into the spinal fluid. If its wrong, you could be paralyzed. Big risk. And yes I've heard it is rare, but a risk is a risk. Heck, having a baby is a risk, you could die from childbirth. Anyway, I just didn't feel it was necessary to add that tidbit about the drugs. And I still wish them all the best. Drugs or no drugs, she pushed out a healthy child. Awesome.</p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-67578427981486141222014-10-28T13:13:00.001-07:002014-10-28T13:13:47.173-07:00Enjoying the quiet<p dir="ltr">Being home unemployed these last few months has given me time to reflect on what I want in life. As much as I embrace the minimalism culture, I also view it as a very extreme way of life. I prefer to embrace the ideas of simplicity leading to a more fulfilling life. Stuff does not equal happiness, it actually just gets in the way. Its a lot easier to clean up with less crap. Our livingroom is very basic. Two dvd shelves, the tv unit and large tv, modern sofa and matching ottomon. We have even lowered our once almost 500+ dvd collection to under 150. We have embraced the minimalism idea of only keeping our favorite movies. It has been challenging but when it was done, we felt great. Those types of things have helped add order and structure to our home. <br>
We still have more to do here, but its not much. We still hope to sell our home and live in a smaller home, having less stuff will make the transition easier. Well, since I've got less to clean, I've got more nap time!!! </p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-9914753918707161552014-10-23T10:50:00.001-07:002014-10-23T10:50:17.859-07:00No sympathy here<p dir="ltr">Thanks to social media outlets, namely Facebook, it is easier than ever to plead for ungarnered sympathy. If sympathy were a consumable good, I'd be a grinch. I just do not give my sympathy away freely. It's not that I can't feel for others, I can. It's just that I'm a 'shit or get off the pot' kinda gal. Beautiful image, I know. Stuff happens to all of us, but when all it does is rain in your life YOU are the problem. <br>
I've "lost" (if unfriending on Facebook is equivalent to giving back your BFF's "Be Fri" half of the heart shaped necklace you once shared) friends and have somehow severed ties with related connections thanks to sympathy. <br>
I had a friend named Kara who was always playing the sympathy card. Everything 'just' happened to her. She once pointed out to me a wrinkle on her forehead, we were about 23, she said, look isn't it awful??? I replied, well its ok, you can get it filled. She went berserk, didn't talk to me for weeks. She couldn't believe I would say such a thing! Did I mention that her very fair skinned self tanned... A lot. She was managing tanning stores, tell me it wasn't self-inflicted, really, I dare you. Fast forward a few years and shes riddled in credit debt, in a car she can't afford and a new baby with a guy that doesn't care about her but lets her stay at his house because he feels bad. Uhhh??? <br>
So here was the straw that broke the camels back... Kara posts on facebook that she just got pulled over for talking on her cell phone and how its going to be a very expensive ticket. She gets a lot of 'oh you poor thing' comments. Me, being so practical, point out that that could have been a lot of diapers for her baby. It didn't seem rude to me. What I was trying to say was that she deserved it. She made the conscious decision to talk on the phone while driving. No it wasn't an emergency. And yes, her child was in tbe car. So no sympathy from me. She PM'd me, furious. Well, yeah, I made her look stupid. She tells me off and that she wants to unfriend me, Im like ok, good luck with that, I already unfriended YOU. I was tired of her whining.<br>
The moral here, is don't feel bad for everyone. And don't be play the victim.<br>
</p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-25141608464275420982014-08-25T14:41:00.001-07:002014-08-25T14:41:45.726-07:00So what is next?<p dir="ltr">Still recovering from a RSI, I find I'm only spending about 2-3 hours a week using the computer. This does not include using my phone however, which is probably closer to ten hours a week. I spend my time at home, as while I was home recovering, my employer decided that my position could fulfilled by other members of the team. While I'm glad they finally terminated me, I sit here anxiously unsure of my next move. In six days, our mortgage is due. My husband is trying to be upbeat, but I can tell he's gaining in irritability. It's my fault he can't take a day off to rest. Poor guy has just about been working everyday of our marriage (fours years now) with no job that he loves, much less likes, at a much lower pay rate than his intelligence is worth. The job market here is so so. Most listings are for solar sales or service jobs like waiting tables. Its just about impossible to "get in" to a state job (CA). I have bounced around from job to job, trying to stay somewhere for a while but either the pay is awful or I end up bored beyond belief, and when I say bored, I literally mean that I just sit there. I sit at a desk and count away the hours. Dream about places I will never get to go, and things I will never get to do. We have ideas to get ourselves out of the grind, but actually doing them is a whole different story. Nap time.</p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-11022460064969294712014-08-19T22:35:00.001-07:002014-08-19T22:35:07.421-07:00Lately things are... OK<p dir="ltr">Was finally terminated from my job, but as these things go for me, it wasn't without getting an RSI (repetitive strain injury) from Carpal Tunnel, in not one, but both wrists. What I didn't know was how it also affects the fingertips, fingers, palms, wrists, forearms and even elbows. Was taken off computers by my doc for three weeks and subsequently terminated by my employer as they decided they no longer needed my position any longer. Well I'm fine with that except I now need a job and I'm not looking to do computer work full time. Still in some pain but overall happier. Taking it easy and laying low with one of my dogs by my side. He's not concerned, he just wants to be pet. I am happy its just him. Haven't seen the little black dog in a while and I'd like to keep it that way as long as possible.</p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-1145206884709205022014-07-11T11:07:00.000-07:002014-07-11T11:07:00.765-07:00It's all different, yet totally the sameI have moved, changed cars and changed jobs all about 19 times... each. Since I was 17. School schedules were always changing and my jobs weren't always accommodating. My first favorite car was totaled (I wasn't in the car) and I've been chasing that ever since. Some cars were too expensive to maintain or insure, some were gas guzzlers, too big, too uncomfortable, some I flipped for profit. I always had a reason. We've owned the same two cars now for almost 2 years. That's almost a record for me! HA! They're ten years old but they are both really good us. I wish their ages/mileage were more staggered but I guess we'll have to see what happens. <br />
I even changed schools (colleges). I attended 2 junior colleges and 2 state colleges over the course of 8 years and I didn't even officially obtain my BA. On the upside, I have no student loan debt. But the point remains, what I was able to control, didn't even help me succeed, I just danced sideways like a crab.<br />
We bought a house last year. It was the largest home on the largest lot in our price range, but with that came a laundry list of things to fix or update. It's been 16 months since we got the keys and I can't wait to pass them on (maybe I can leave the pesky little black dog behind too!). I will save this for a later blog. Again, I want to move because I'm unhappy. I need to get myself better before I can focus on things like choosing what laminate floor to put downstairs.<br />
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I work my job so I can drive my old car and fix my old (1970's) house. What the heck? Sounds like a scam! Why would anyone want to barely make ends meet while suffering with depression and anxiety? We thought having a quiet, peaceful home with lots of sunshine and a nice yard to relax in would help me. I guess we didn't factor in that I would become quite obsessed with fixing it even though I have no know-how of what to do, only what I want. I can't change out floor tiles! So I struggle. I want a smaller home with an easier yard to maintain. Last night we made a simple dinner and picked weeds in the front yard. What a shitty evening. Then I freaked out and tried to go to bed at 8:30 because I wanted to "clock out" for the day and my husband wanted to help talk me down from my anxiety attack. He talked, I cried, he was right, I'm unhappy... I'm in a vicious shitty cycle of B.S. right now and I have the best husband- I just hope I don't push him away.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-64000369418886762612014-07-09T00:16:00.000-07:002014-07-09T00:16:00.626-07:00not capable<div id="yui_3_16_0_1_1400773662596_29756" style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
I know I am not capable of suicide. All I really want is to be left alone or to leave my life. I just want to get away, where no one knows me. A place I can start fresh, where the little black dog and past sad memories can't find me. Is it me ruminating over past failures or my lack of solid accomplishments? I find I am not truly proud of anything I have done. I have existed, I am not even sure if 'survived' is the right term because in many ways I am still here, in my own mental hell. What legacy do I have to leave behind? I have no children, my dogs are not my own. I do not have wealth, I barely have health. I have shared air and used resources. I was an 'accident' by all accounts. It seems I have accidentally gotten this far. But where am I going if I know that I'm unhappy? Where is there to go? Is there an end of the rainbow? A land where the grass is truly greener? Do better things lie ahead if I can just hold on a little longer? #sadness #anxiety #suicide #depression</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-9574819151626725612014-07-08T21:08:00.000-07:002014-07-08T21:08:00.021-07:00truly happy?<span style="background-color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Have I ever been truly happy? I can think of happy times, but surely the demons were never far. Just an emotional trigger away from crippling sadness and overwhelming misery. Asleep, awake, in between. The depression lurks inside me like a bomb waits to go off. Will I shake this? Will I survive? Will the depression take me away from this cruel world? </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-81015378886160191232014-07-08T20:47:00.000-07:002014-07-08T20:47:00.361-07:00tears flow too freely<div id="yui_3_16_0_1_1400773662596_26910">
<span style="background-color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm crying as I write this. Perhaps it was the conversation, or the wine, I can't be sure. All I know in this very moment is that I sad. The tears flow freely, often preventing me from seeing the words as I attempt to type them. The thoughts move through my brain, like thunder in a storm. How after all these tears can I have any tears left to cry? After all the pain and suffering, emotional trauma, do I have anything left inside me? </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anything sad in my life is now a trigger for more sadness, more tears, more loneliness. Even though I have an amazing spouse, I am all alone in my struggles. Although he tries, he cannot fully comprehend my sadness. My fears and anxiety are my own demons, and I must face them alone.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-32143379976626328942014-07-02T09:51:00.000-07:002014-07-02T09:51:00.149-07:00Sometimes pleasure brings you pain<div class="yiv7404770387" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1400793238712_3728" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
I hope you read that correctly. I had my first massage last night. It's been 5 years since my car accident and I don't count the massages given by the large Russian women during Physical Therapy "massages" although they helped ease the pain. My massage therapist, Kellie was referred by an old friend. I was nervous but she made me feel welcomed and comfortable. She is a bit more petite than I am but man she is strong! I think I'm a 1/4" taller now from her working out my back muscles. 30 years of anxiety coupled with the pain from the accident and a mattress I really need to replace, all adds up. I did an hour session and it was wonderful. Some of it hurt, but I'm a sensitive soul so I told her my "ow's" were good ones. Just meant that there is more work for her to do next time!</div>
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My husband brought some takeout home for dinner last night and I had a small glass of wine. After a really hot shower, I was passed out in bed by 9.</div>
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This morning one side of my lower back pelvic bone is very tender, very grateful for my heated seats! I'm at work, icing the area now. Feels better. Since its probably safe to assume that having a beer at lunch is a no-no, I better grab some Tylenol, haha.</div>
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Go get your massage! Why didn't I do this sooner? Oh wait, I know, I was too busy focusing on the negative.... nope, gotta stop that, go away Tiny George!</div>
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#massage #aromatherapy #relax #anxiety #tension</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-2324581806651644332014-07-01T07:03:00.000-07:002014-07-01T07:03:00.267-07:00 every boy and every girl, decaf your life!<div id="yui_3_16_0_1_1400793238712_3185" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
I drink decaffeinated coffee. Which is just as weird if not weirder than meeting someone who doesn't drink coffee at all. I started drinking coffee in the form of iced mocha's when I was 17. It made my bones hurt and even though I didn't know it yet, it was making my blood sugar rise fast and making it fall even faster. I attributed it to not being used to the caffeine. I drank iced tea from time to time and rarely finished my own soda. So drinking an entire medium or large sized iced sugar drink laced with caffeine was probably a shock to my system. But man they were delicious. Oh if I could just be normal for a day (more about my blood sugar later). </div>
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It wasn't until a few years ago, as I was wrapping up my time at college and in my very own place, I decided to cut back. Drinking coffee was keeping me warm in Monterey, California where I was attending school and I like coffee more than I like tea. Hot cocoa typically has more sugar so I reserve that for special occasions usually shared on winter days with my husband. I only add milk to my coffee having realized the flavored coffee additives do nothing fantastic for my waistline. So I dropped to half caffeine, half decaffeinated coffee, affectionately referred to by me as 'half-caff.' I did this for about 6 months until I decided to make the leap to... decaffeinated only. I felt better immediately. No dependence, no foggy head in the mornings, just a nice hot cup of yumminess and no after effects of sore bones or withdrawals. It's been this way over 5 years now. At first my brother thought I was ridiculous for having done this, "Why drink coffee at all?" he asked. I genuinely like the flavor. But guess who jumped on the decaf bus too? Yes. So now, we can enjoy our coffee for what it is and its quite lovely. Consider it: 'minimizing your dependence.' I'm down to a cup a day and sometimes I treat myself to a second when I'm out shopping or getting my nails done. I think it's ok to enjoy things. Don't you?</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6543290794131184294.post-23966240606467931192014-06-27T19:30:00.000-07:002014-06-27T19:30:00.393-07:00The little black dog made me do it<div class="yiv8529619558" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1400773662596_30225" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<span class="yiv8529619558" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1400773662596_30224" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;">My experience with anti-depressive meds can be summed up with a sentence. "I'm not currently on them." A few years ago, after what felt like days of crying, heartache, laying in bed and pain all through my body, I finally summoned the courage to reach out to my doctor and make an appointment. I was a fairly new patient, with a few routine checkups having been 'normal' in the past. I was desperate and I asked for pills, anti-depression pills to treat my depression and anxiety. Along with a prescription for Zoloft (My doctor's first choice, Prozac seemed too cliche), came prescriptions for meditation, thought journals, sunshine, a regular exercise regimen and follow up appointments for both my doctor and the psychiatrist. Being the cynicist I am, my first thought was, "Boy this is going to be expensive!" But my tear ducts felt dried up and my heart ached with sadness, so I hoped it would be worth it.</span></div>
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<span class="yiv8529619558" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1400773662596_30223" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;">So I get the prescription, I start the group classes, I see the psychiatrist. No one can really help because I'm just sad. It's also winter, so they slap me with a side diagnosis of SAD or Seasonal Affective Disorder, which basically means that I'm human. Really, I just can't take the gloomy weather. It depresses the heck out of me, which made sense, but my current sadness goes much deeper that grey skies and clouds. The pills start to kick in, and for the first time, I can't cry. Seriously, weirdest shit ever, from crying non-stop to no tears is very bizzare. That part of my brain that says "you're sad, you should CRY!" was simply gone. It was nice because while I wasn't happy, at least I wasn't sad. Unfortunately, I got a few awesome side effects. Slicing pain above my right ear in my head. So bad I had to stop what I was doing and just hold my hand for the duration of the pain (5-10 seconds). I also got a great bout of nausea! No action, just the feeling of being sick... for four months... straight. I couldn't take it anymore so my doc switched my meds. I said, "Anything I don't care, I just don't want to feel sick anymore," so he prescribed me Prozac. It was fine because I wasn't nauseous but I still felt a little sad, I had a few other side effects and I really missed having a drink from time to time. So after 7 months of Prozac, I told the doc I was done. I weaned off and I stopped. My charts are noted that I was "allergic" to Zoloft, which I find amusing. I'm allergic to most every other common prescription, let's throw anti-depressants on the list too. In the last year, my doc prescribed me "use as needed" anxiety pills for "attacks" and I get different responses everytime. The other day I took a .5 mg of Ativan for a horrible anxiety attack (which inspired my blog today!) and by Saturday at 2pm, I was cancelling plans with two different friends due to drowsiness. I was zonked out! Last time, I was able to work! Poor chemical balance? Probably. Til next time...</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02479167944813275837noreply@blogger.com0