Ever get annoyed? Ever feel like someone needs to be told where the dog died? Or handed a crowbar and a tub of Elbow Grease to help them pry their head out of their arse? Congratulations--you've come to the right place.

And when I'm not commenting on the latest thing to piss me off, I'm trying to figure out my own twisted life. Because, hey, I'm like that.

On a gentler note: for anyone dealing with depression, anxiety, and other assorted bullshit: You are NOT alone.

And if you're looking for a laugh, search on the key word "fuckery." It's just my little thing (as the bishop said to the actress).

Monday, October 18, 2010

Wrestling the Noonday Demon

We're learning to live with somebody's depression
And I don't want to live with somebody's depression...
- "Fantastic Voyage," David Bowie

Good afternoon, cherished blurkers.

Your Empress returned to Hell's Vestibule last night, an hour past schedule. I took the long way home after I hit NH--got off in Portsmouth after 300 miles of freakin' Maine to get some gas (and wasted 15 minutes outside of the restroom while some little kid played in there--was ready to murder the parent), took the Route 1 toll road bypass, got back on 95 as far as Lynnfield and Wakefield, and then took a wrong turn on 129, and ended up touring Wakefield instead of back on Route 1. The Jerry Jingle (Lynn Fells Parkway to modern readers) didn't even look familiar, I was so zonked at that point. I actually had a cigarette (yes, I smoke the occasional clove cig--deal with it. It prevents me from killing people, and one cigarette every other week ain't gonna kill me. And if it does, it's my own fuckin' fault) to keep myself awake.

Sorry, did I sound a bit defensive? Ah, well. I feel like I have a little gremlin in my head whacking away at the inside of my skull with a sledgehammer. It also doesn't help that I woke up so depressed at being back, I posted a status of: "Dear Monday: Drop dead."

I had to talk myself out of bed. Even the cat purring didn't help. Of course, I realized then that I'd forgotten my meds the day before, so I popped the happy pills quickly, knowing it would take a little while for them to kick in. I may still need an emergency half-tab of Xanax later. Argh.

My own fault, in part, for forgetting the meds. In part... in part, it's just returning to that Gods-forsaken, hateful, horrible, ugly, miserable, awful, fucking hellhole. The title of today's post is taken from a book (that I have yet to read, but I liked the title and the book flap): The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression. I invoked an old David Bowie song in today's epigram because I've realized that I'm depressed not because I'm depressed because of other people's issues.

Let's start with Mum's hoarding.

All of the fucking cleaning I did while she was in the nursing home has been undone. All of it. My kitchen... Oh, Christ, what a fucking mess. She hadn't cleaned out the fridge since I left. the table... the table was a sea of crap. Papers, DVDs, meds, supplements, junk EVERWHERE. No clear place to sit and eat, the one thing I had asked her for. She never had Idiot close the windows for her, so the house is freezing, which means we're wasting heating oil...
*slams head on the desk*
*slams head on the desk again*
*slams head on the desk repeatedly*

She had actually prepared a meal (and to be fair, it was good) for me so I could eat when I got home. I was thankful, but at the same time, who the fuck wants to eat in a place where there's no place to sit and prepare a plate and eat like a human being? I want a dumpster, I want a shovel, and I want the whole fucking place EMPTIED. She's hugging me and telling me she's glad I'm home, and all I want to do is curl in a ball and cry.

The fucking cat couldn't even get to her shitbox because Mum had (as usual) blocked her path. There was no fresh water down for her, and there were papers over the dry food. And she tells me that Piddy has been "very vocal." NO FUCKING KIDDING! I'D BE BITCHING TOO IF I COULDN'T GET A FUCKING DRINK OF WATER OR TO HALF OF MY GODSDAMNED FOOD! Yes, I corrected this immediately. I don't care if she has a water dish in the bathroom as well, as soon as I put that fresh water down in a clean dish, the poor little thing went at it like she'd crossed the Gobi.

"Need to murder... rising... rising..." [Thank you, Homer Simpson. BEST SIMPSONS EPISODE EVER!]

If I had the gas money, she and I would be heading north right now and never looking back.

So I guess I should be grateful that they're foreclosing on the house, right? That she's not even going to fight it. I should be happy that soon, the place will be gone. Of course, that leaves us homeless, but hey, that's just a little concern. After I gave her a stack of information of where she could get help, she's done nothing. NOTHING.

Makes me want to hit something. (Note, I said "something." I've talked about this before, just in case someone of lesser intelligence reading this thinks I'm contemplating elder abuse. I'm not. I'm just considering forcing her arse into counseling because I think she's FUCKING INSANE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

This is not a happy blog today. I am sorry. *ack* *gag* *choke* And the Idiot in the Office has just blown by me in a haze of heavy perfume. Fuck, I hate people. I really do.

*sigh* OK, time for an attitude adjustment. I will allow myself to feel like this for another hour or two--while getting copious amounts of work done--and then I will find a more positive approach so that I can change my situation and better my life.

At least the Captain has been in touch and is eager for my company. Small consolation. Potential Paramour is sniffing around again, as well. *rolls eyes* One of my favorite baristas has gotten a job in his field--HOORAY! That made my morning (as was being greeted with, "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever!"). Finding Cape Breton oatcakes in the staffroom was happy-making. Piddy cuddling up in my arms and purring made me happy. Being welcomed back by friends here made me happy. Knowing I'm going back to NS in April makes me happy. The compliments from and old friend (and the like from another old friend) for the blog on FB were encouraging. KJ bailing my arse out in Northern Maine yesterday (for gas, not jail; long story) was awesome, and a reminder of the amazing friends I have. Seeing Nova Scotia and New Brunswick in the glory of autumn was awe inspiring. NaNoWriMo is next month, and I've figured out the next twist to put in the first book to make it all work. Finding out Russ got married... that's hurting and hurting hard. I will get over it; I may never get over him completely, but... *sigh* Yeah. But I got to meet my latest Celebricrush two weeks ago, and damn, was he amazing on stage and hot as hell in person. And one week from today, I can pre-order my b-day present to myself, his new DVD, Alcoholocaust.

A number of my friends are hurting right now, too... four of my nearest and dearest are in pain, and there's not a lot I can do but be there and give them what I can. Another friend is going to be deployed to The Sandbox... hard, hard, hard. I cannot tell you how guilty I, as an American, feel when I hear about soldier from other countries being sent into a conflict that we started and have failed them so badly at supporting.

So life is OK. Not perfect, not fabulous, but it's OK. And with a little hard work and determination, it will get so much better. Have decided to give Gold's a miss and try Planet Fitness--it's around the corner from the house, on the way to work, parking is easier, and it's right down the street from Sbux, and nothing lifts my mood like lifting weights. Yay, team, go, team.

*slams head on the desk*

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