No Regrets, Just Love

Have to say that taking anti-depressants might be the best thing I have ever decided to do.  Other than switching teams, of course.  I feel so fantastic these last few weeks that I’m kicking myself for having such an aversion to the help.  I mean, I’ve always believed that taking brain meds was a good thing for people who needed them.  If there’s something wrong with your thyroid, you take a pill.  If your legs are broken, you fix them.  If your ticker is weak, you get a pacemaker.  Why should the brain be any different than any other bodily organ?  Problem was, I felt this way about other people taking meds.  Not me.  If I knew it could be this good I’d have insisted years ago.

Today was a wonderful day.  I told Rachel last week to call me any ole time of the morning and not to worry about my sleeping.  I’ll sleep when I’m dead.  So she phoned me up this morning, her client canceled on her and she wanted breakfast.  We went out for breaky and had a good chat.  Popped over to the grocery store and got stuff to make some corn bread.  She had me grab a pack of smokes for Steve while she was paying for the groceries and I got IDed.  It was fantastic.  I don’t look old enough to legally by smokes.  Oh yeah.  Who’s young and hot?  Moi.

We made corn bread in the bread machine I gave her and then I came home to shower up and get ready for work.  I’m loving these boys boxers.  Tres comfy.  I think men have the market cornered when it comes to comfort and clothing.  Work was dull but then when isn’t it?  Rachel was going to come by with bread but she got caught up making pizza dough and told me to come by after work.  I watched her make some pizza.  Rosemary in the crust, topped with cheese and fresh basil.  We popped out for a drive so she could pick up a few things and a bottle of wine.  I played her Katy Perry’s new song “Teenage Dream”.  It reminds me of how I feel about my girl, at least partially.  I’m completely addicted to the track.

Getting back she let me make the second pizza.  It had extra garlic in the sauce.  Green onion, fresh mushrooms, hot peppers, sun dried tomatoes and olives.  Nummy!  I got to roll out the dough and everything.  I like when spending time with my friends means learning things.  Especially to cook.  I always make the same things for myself when I’m at home.  It’s nice to learn.  I’m not very brave when it comes to trying new recipes because I don’t like to waste food and often wonder if I’ll hate something.  At least if I’ve eaten it before, I’m likely to make it later at home.

We had a beer each and sat on the couch watching some tube before I booked it home.  Took the scenic route so I could  listen to my new music.  Clear my head a bit.

I’m doing these 30 day meme thing and tomorrow is going to be a touchy “in depth” description.  Today was talking about my first love.  I feel sort of like a loser sometimes that it took me 25 years to let myself fall in love with someone (today’s topic being ‘first love’).  It frustrates me to no end that I am the way that I am.  That said, if I had to do it all over again…if given the option to have my first love at 25 or at 15, I’d leave things as they are.  I realized that in the last few months I’ve really learned to love more openly.  Not just with Cortejo but with all of my friends and it doesn’t spook me to say it anymore.  I regret nothing.  I feel full of love for the people in my life who deserve it.

Not sure what I’ll do with the rest of my night.  I have a couple of movies I could watch or some episodes of Ashes to Ashes.  I have such a crush on Keeley Hawes.  Tomorrow morning I’ve got an appointment with the doctor about my meds.  Cortejo warned me that after 2 weeks comes this clarity but also leads people to commit suicide.  I don’t feel like that at all.  I mean, I have the clarity, but I’m happy.  I feel blissed out and zen like.  Even when I’m expressing negative emotions, they’re no where near the intensity I felt them at when I was un-medicated.

Another good day under my belt.  I didn’t get a chance to lift any weights.  Tomorrow before I shower.  Arms are starting to show.


Where Gaynip Gets Off Her Ass

The humidity has been too much for me to deal with this summer.  I’m so prone to heat exhaustion and heat stroke that I don’t even bother to exert myself physically outside.  I’ve been lifting weights inside, but it’s not been enough.

Suffice it to say, I’ve been feeling cagey.  Today was mild, a perfect summer day, really.  25 Celsius with a bit of a breeze going.  I avowed, on the air, that I would go home and go for a bike ride.  Rachel canceled on me anyway, as Stephen had made plans without informing her.  I went for a bit of a car ride to cheer myself up, then walked in the door and pumped up the bike tires.

Amazingly, I was able to lift the bike up effortlessly and carry it up a flight of stairs and outside to the parking lot.  Hurrah for measurable results with the weight lifting!  I took the path that leads into the woods by the house and had a hard time almost immediately.  Soft ground, uphill, branches everywhere.  I got off, grunted a bit at myself for not being able to do it, and pushed it up the hill.

Once I got to something a bit more level, I hopped on and away I went.  I had to stop a few times as the path was uphill and not really maintained.  It was a lot of peddling through longer grass, a felled tree and odd stones.  At one point I reached a spot where the path got kind of dark and gloomy looking.  Reminded me of that scene from Beauty and the Beast where Belle’s father, Maurice, has the horse (Phillipe) with his invention.  He wants to take the shortcut down that scary dark path with wolves howling, and the horse wants to go down the sunny path with birds whistling.  But, I made myself go on ahead.  And nearly had a heart attack.  Scared a nestful of grouses or pheasants or something.  Their wings make a loud flapping and they do this little call.  Must have been trying to lure me away from their nest.  One of them looked like he was thinking about taking me on.  I sorta watched them for a bit, then continued.

Along the way I found some blackberry brambles and cursed myself for not having anything to put them in.  Then I remembered the little pouch on my bike and grabbed it.  I’m glad I wore pants as my legs would be all torn up now from wading into the brush.  I was eaten alive by bugs and bloody from thorn scratches.

Arriving  home, my heart rate was a decent 75%.  This is pretty good considering I was in the cool down mode.  I was drenched in sweat.  My back, my belly button, my face, neck, arms…you name it and it was pretty much covered in a sheen of sweat.  I even smelled bad.  I feel like I have earned my shower tonight and my supper.

Sort of amazing really, the sense of accomplishment one gets from something like a good hard bike ride.  Tonight I will go to bed tired from effort.  That’s simply lovely.

Fresh Blackberries!

Where Gaynip Returns, Sorta

The thing I hate most about depression is the way it steals your drive and your ambition.  I tend to feel hopeless, lost, frustrated and stuck in a rut.  I acknowledge that I need to do something to get out of it, but then I lose the ability to copy, the ability to push myself into action.

It feels like falling into a cavernous hole.  Knew it was there, tried to edge my way around it, but one misplaced step and I’m ass over teakettle into the pit.  It’s not a straight decent to the bottom, either.  You might hit the sides on the way down.  Land on a ledge and try to climb out using weak footholds and old bits of root.  Eventually, I’ll hit the bottom.  I might lie there a bit, feeling defeated and sorry for myself.  Sink into the gloomy depths before I sit up and take stock of the situation.

When I’ve faced depression before, I haven’t had much of a support network.  Even my former doctor ended up in tears when I’d tell him stories about my childhood.  He’d stand at the top of the hole from a safe spot, and eventually, after telling me where the handholds were, and watching me scrabble along, I got myself out of the hole.  Where was everyone else?  My parents stood off to the side, shaking their heads.  To them, that hole didn’t exist.  They were ashamed of me for being weak and not able to cope as adults are supposed to.

My friends, limited as they were, knew the hole existed.  Been in the hole themselves, some deeper than others.  But they weren’t interested in lending a helping hand.  In some cases, I didn’t blame them.  Hard to help someone else out when you’re busy with your own climb out of a deep, dark place.  Others just didn’t feel like getting down and dirty with me.  Part of me understands that too but part of me is angry, because I’m the type of person to get down and dirty for my friends.  Even if it means sacrifice.

This time, it’s really weird to be depressed.  I’ve got friends at the top of the hole, shouting down encouragement.  I’ve got friends who are willing to repel part of the way into this abyss to lend a hand getting out.  And of course, I’m better equipped at the bottom this time.  I’ve found some tools that will help me get out.  When I get out I’ll be able to backfill some of this pit in so I don’t fall so deep again.  Or at all.  Wouldn’t that be great?

Yesterday, I had my assessment done.  I still need to get a proper diagnosis.  As it turns out, my aversion to pills aren’t completely unfounded.  I’ll hear back in a month again.  The wait for the kind of therapy I need (specialized) will take a little longer.  There are a few options for me.  It’s really a huge relief to hear someone else tell me that I’m not crazy and that this isn’t my fault.  I come from an extremely dysfunctional family.  I’ve been told that the steps I’ve already taken (visiting Momar and Jo) are healing ones.

I feel better today.  I woke up feeling happy.  I’m dealing better.  Tomorrow I’m shelling out $260 for two new tires for the car and I’m not spazzing out.  This is what the savings account is for, after all.  I’ve still got some nasty side effects happening.  Dizzy.  Headaches.  Tiredness.  Aggravated restless leg syndrome.  Insomnia.

On a side note: I may not be as big of a lesbian as I had initially thought.  How odd.  Cortejo and Reyl are always talking about how sexuality is fluid.  But the funny thing is, when I see a naked woman, I can’t imagine wanting anything else.  Yet, I find myself contemplating men.  It’s very strange.

Where Gaynip Pumps Some Iron

[Flex]  A few weeks ago I started lifting some “weight”.  I don’t say “weights” because sadly the bar was heavy enough for me to just do 60 reps/day without hurting myself.  Sounds lame but I didn’t want to hurt myself.

Surprisingly, it has started to pay off.  Sunday morning I had my knees up and my arms crossed and noticed my arms.  I’m not even talking about a little bulge and when you squeeze it the muscle gives way either!  You can squeeze them when I flex and they don’t move!!  Testing this theory I can push myself up and hold myself there longer than before.  I’m sure this is helped by the fact I play with my stomach muscles when I’m bored.

Tonight I got home, inspired by the new muscles and the desire to have a nice set of “guns” as it were.  I put two 10lb weights on the bar.  I managed to do 5 presses and 5 curls before my arms and brain were telling me this wasn’t going to  happen.  Off they came and on went two 5lb weights instead.  I managed 25 presses 20 curls, 10 lifts.  My arms are a bit wobbly.

When I took the garbage out tonight, I noticed the apple tree was dropping it’s fruit.  I threw 20 of them as hard as I could into the woods from where I found them for a bit of extra exercise.

Thursday/Friday I think I’ll bike to work since the humidex isn’t a factor.  22 degrees?  Yes please!  Perfect weather to bike to work in.

What’s really amusing is between the new haircut and the weight lifting, I noticed today I’m getting a bit of an attitude.  I catch myself thinking I’m good looking.  I swagger when I walk.  I smirk slyly.  When I was popping into the grocery store to get more coffee beans, I wasn’t even at the crosswalk (maybe 5 or 10 feet away) and this truck stops.  He had enough time that he could easily have gone without impeding me at the crosswalk.  Instead he waited, watched me.  I watched him back a little.  Gave him a smirk, he gave me a little wave.

I needed this.

Bring it on, Universe.  I’m ready.

Wish I May, Wish I Might…

I wish that my mom didn’t leave me when I was 4 years old.

I wish that my dad didn’t leave me with my grandparents when I was 4 because he couldn’t find my mom and couldn’t take care of us himself.

I wish that when they found her they didn’t send us back.

I wish that my mom didn’t ship me off to live with dad when I was 6.

I wish that when I was 6 and Dad had never hired that nanny who ignored me for a month, sent me to school with a can opener and zoodles.

I wish I didn’t get shipped back with Mom and spend the next few years getting abused at the hands of a guy with a drinking problem.

I wish that when people in that house got angry they didn’t beat their kids or break their toys or break the furniture.

I wish that I didn’t know what the inside of a cop car looks like.

I wish that when my parents were angry with me for being bad, they’d never have said things like “We don’t love you” or “I hate you right now” or “I can’t even look at you without feeling sick”.

I wish that my Mom didn’t ship me off to live with my Dad when I was 9 because “that’s what I wanted” but really because she was overwhelmed having 3 kids and I was the one who clung to her the least.

I wish that I could have spent my teen years being myself.

I wish that when my parents got angry with me, they’d tell me instead of putting on the cone of silence for days or weeks on end until I’d have to beg them to tell me.

I wish that when they’d ask me why I was doing what I was doing, they’d hear me out when I explained my feelings.

I wish they hadn’t rendered me incapable of stating “I’m feel…” without being afraid someone will yell at me for feeling that way.

I wish that wasn’t a knee-jerk reaction.

I wish I could trust people not to just leave because I’m going through a tough time.

I wish I felt like it was okay to be weak or human.

I wish that when I eat things I don’t hear “Are you sure you want to eat that?  Okay.  Your thighs.”

I wish I could trust people enough to know that not all of them are going to be assholes to me just because my parents were/are.

I wish I didn’t build walls.

I wish I didn’t push people away before they can hurt me.

I wish I could be happy go lucky all the time like people want.

I wish I could fall apart when I need to.

I wish I could get angry and express it.

I wish I could take all my bad feelings and keep them in a place that wouldn’t touch anyone else.

I wish that I knew more about the world.

I wish I hadn’t held myself back so often.

I wish that I didn’t get a case of brain weasels when I spend too much time all by myself.

I wish standing here and looking at this pit of depression that is in front of me I knew what to do to not slide into it.

I wish that I had the strength to deal with this again without having to cave in to meds or therapy.

I wish I was a strong person.

I wish I was brave.

I wish I could explain these things to people.

I wish that wishes came true.

Post 200!

This is my 200th post.  I missed it, but about a week ago, my blog also reached 20,000 hits.  Impressive considering 1 year ago (this month) I had 3 hits.  Not that I blog for anyone other than myself, except maybe the eye candy stuff.

Today was the official Day 1 of my Vacation.  Let me tell you it sucked the big one.

Technically it started yesterday with the sucking.  I was feeling snuffly and my throat was sore on the trip home from Kanata.  By the time I got home and into bed it was 11ish and I couldn’t swallow or breath through my nose.  I was up and down, up and down all night.  I’m pretty sure I had a fever at one point as I was completely soaking wet.

I must have had 5-6 showers today and 1 bath.  I can smell the infection in my sinuses, and that makes me paranoid that I smell.  I was standing under the hot hot spray of the shower covered in goosebumps.  A few hours later, I decided to go to the store (this was around lunchtime) and get sick food.  I got my pants on and fell back to sleep for a few hours.

Somehow I managed to propel myself out the door around supper time and get some supplies.  A neti pot bottle (it’s not the pot, it’s a big squeeze thing) and was alarmed by what I flushed out of there.  I took meds.  Took a bath.  Got the fever sweats in the bathtub even when I had the cold water on.  I finally caved and called Office Mom to see if she’d take me to the hospital a few towns over because they don’t have as long of a wait time.

Was there 2 hours tonight, not too shabby.  The nurse was really nice.  I got cold and when I walked back to the waiting room she had a blanket in her arms and wrapped me up in it.  The doctor wasn’t actually at the hospital, oddly enough.  I was in the little room for a while on my own and sort of drifted in and out between dizzy awake-ness and sleep.  The doctor didn’t seem to be all that concerned that I was anything except actually sick.  Only, my face hurts, my eyes are sore, my ears are sore, I have a fever, my throat is getting scratchy again, my joints ache and I slept 16 hours today.  Not even the normal sleep disorder type sleep of 16 hours (where I feel lethargic and sore from being asleep so long) but genuinely run down.

The doctor asked me how I was doing.  I think that’s sort of a stupid question.  I’m at the hospital.

My old doctor wasn’t sure I could have penicillin and I know that Cortejo can’t be around it, so he prescribed me a z-pack.  Not without first being condescending and doubtful.  “You know, if this is just viral it won’t help.”  Yeah, because I really wanted to hang out at the hospital for 2 hours in tiny little room so I could go buy expensive pills without a health plan that I don’t need.  Right.  That was top priority for my vacation.  Waste $60 and the time of the medical establishment.  If I hadn’t been so completely docile from being sick I might have told him off.  I certainly thought it.  Loudly.

I haven’t eaten much today.  Packet of soup.  2 glasses of juice.  Handful of grapes.  My stomach hurts, I think I’ll go eat some soup and go to bed.  Setting my alarm for 8am so I can be at the store when the pharmacy opens.  The great thing about the Z-Pack is that within maybe 2-3 hours after taking it, I feel completely healthy and fine.  So I’ll pop some, come home and nap and then hit the city.  Here’s hoping Day 2 goes better!

Cranky and Crashy

I’m having a sugar crash and I’m exhausted.  It’s not giving me a positive outlook on things at the moment.  I am glad that I can at least recognize that I crashing to hold my tongue.  I feel really pissed off and things that don’t normally bother me are whispering in my ear.

The smart thing would be to have a juice and calm the hell down.  The hypoglycemia book I’m reading says you should only eat when you’re hungry.  I’m not hungry.  But I’m crashy.  What to do, what to do.  Maybe I’ll lay down and when I wake up I’ll feel hungry and perhaps less pissy.

I hate when I get like this.  Especially since I was in the best mood ever this morning.  Oh well.  I’ll feel better after a nap, some juice and supper.

On a happy note, my blog cracked 10,000 before I hit my 1 year blog-o-versary.  Wewt!

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