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).

Thursday, March 20, 2014

The Long Dark

Hey, kids, long time no blog.

There's an old curse (Chinese, I think) that goes, "May you live in interesting times."

Well, that could sum up the past three years really well.

On the upside, I am in the best relationship I have ever been in with quite possibly the best man who has ever walked in shoe leather, to borrow an old family saying.  It ain't perfect, but it's good.  We've both seen some shit, and the advantage of being older and getting in a relationship is that you know a) what you will tolerate; b) what you WILL NOT tolerate; and c) what's important. I looked back over this blog last week, at the entries, and the difference in my life is staggering. Not only am I a partner in a serious adult relationship, I'm a step-mother to an awesome 20-year-old in college.  I have a job again--it's part-time, selling tea and spices and medicinal herbs in a small shop, working for two amazing women--it's a good fit, letting me use my writing, marketing and cooking skills for a small business that can use it and, more importantly, appreciates it. I'm looking into starting a business--home baking, bolstered with a food blog and video cooking tutorials.  I'm a really, really amazing cook.  I had a huge garden last year, and this year it will be bigger (and hopefully, will provide all the veggies we'll need for the year). I learned how to can.  I've learned to knit.

On the downside, I lost Mum in September.  I feel like a lost child, to be honest. I'm relieved--she's no longer suffering.  But my heart hurts.  And I'm angry--I have to deal with all of her stuff.  It's caused a strain, to put it mildly.  I also lost Piddy on her 20th birthday--the stubborn little beast lived long enough to have her birthday turkey, and when she could only eat two bites, I knew it was time.  I buried a piece of my heart with her in the front yard--if you've never had a beloved animal companion (as opposed to a "pet"), I'm sorry.  Losing them is hard, but the benefit is astounding.  I'm hoping to get a rosebush to take root from the old bush at Hell's Vestibule.

BTW, Hell's Vestibule was lost two years ago.  It was a good thing and a bad thing.  We got most of it cleaned out, and the best part was that Mum severed all ties with her despicable younger brother, may he die in a gutter alone. She lived with us for the last year and a half of her life, and that's what a lot of my time went to--watching over her and making sure she was OK, but then, that was what I've done for a long time.

As a part of dealing with Mum's stuff, I had to deal with my stuff.  Going through over twenty boxes of files (most of them mine) and a 10x30' packed storage space brought on a bit of a crisis.

Fuck that, I had a meltdown of epic proportions.  One of my therapists (I have three these days--personal, couple, and EMDR, but I'll get to that later) told me I needed trauma work as she watched me fall apart during our couples session.  (We're trying to improve our communications--we've got the relationship down pretty good, but there are a couple of things we need to work on.  It's good, it's positive, and it's the Next Step.)  That led back to my regular therapist who told me about EMDR.  At first, it was going to be a six-month "adjunct" therapy--just something to help me over this hump and get me to a place where I could put the grief and anger into perspective.

And then I was told I needed at least a year if not two of it.  Because there was "trauma on trauma" in my life--that I'd been through too much.

The best way to describe that moment, that news, was like an emotional kick in the balls.  However, I couldn't argue with it because, honestly, kids, I'm not functioning.  I mean, I'm getting through the day to day, but barely.  And it's so hard to watch Al being patient with me, hard to watch his face when he's hoping I've had a good day instead of one of my typical days when getting the cat fed (we have a 2.5 year old tuxedo who is the light of the household--we rescued Miss Lulubelle when her people couldn't keep her anymore, and she has rescued our hearts more than once, particularly through the grief process), the dishes done, and supper planned means I have accomplished something.  But there are days when playing for hours on the computer or the Nintendo 64 are about all I can handle. Or hours of posting useless shit on Facebook. Or wandering from store to store, shopping for shit I don't need and projects I never complete.  I haven't been able to write, I haven't been able to read a book, and finishing anything is more challenging than I care to think about.

I can't handle most movies these days, especially if there's a lot violence in it.  I only made it through 10 minutes of Catching Fire, and I desperately wanted to see that.  I can't handle anything out of my comfort sphere, and that comfort sphere is about the size of a ping pong ball these days. I can handle working because it's quiet--we're in a small storefront, customers are polite and the community we're in doesn't encourage impoliteness, and the store itself is serene, so work isn't challenging--I get to write food blogs, research food and recipes, fill jars with spices and bags with herbs and tea, make beautiful window displays, all on a very relaxed schedule.  There is a zero asshole factor there--everyone there is NICE--good people, decent people, and all of us committed to the success of the store and farm.  It's the way it should be.

The television... with the exception of a couple of things (Legit, Once Upon a Time, Cosmos, and Sleepy Hollow--Al has actually gotten me to watch TV), I can't bear the fucking thing. The noise... the noise sensitivity is driving me insane.

And I feel like a loser.  I thought I'd taken care of this shit--I thought I'd done the work, done the therapy, gotten it under control and leashed in. And now, when I have everything to live for, when I have the life and the opportunities I've dreamed of, I can't function.

If EMDR doesn't work, I don't know what I'm going to do.  I have three novels waiting for me to finish them. I have a studio full of materials and a sketchbook of designs waiting to be brought to fruition.

I have everything to live for, and while I have no desire to die, the only real desire I have right now is to curl up and sleep and have the world go away and not ask anything from me.

So I'll take any good energy people can throw my way.  I'm still fighting--I have a reason to fight now, and his train is going to be pulling into the station in five minutes, and I need to pick him up.  I'm not alone in this.

And that... that makes a big difference. I have a reason to succeed, I have a reason to fight--I'm a part of something I've always dreamed of. We've built a life, a good life, and I want that life.

That's a good thought for the first day of spring.

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