July 11, 2023

Just a Little Anxious

I feel as though I’m a broken record skipping and popping over the same fucking track, depression. For once I am regularly taking my meds. I’m not drinking, which with Lexapro is an issue because it makes it leave my system. Yet regardless of my taking it daily I am still sad. Well… not frequently. The swings are just giant arcs from one feeling to the next. Today’s seems to be the worst.

In addition to the sadness I am also riddled with anxiety. It is sitting like a bowling ball at the top of my stomach distracting me from thinking of anything else. What adds to this anxiety is this morning my husband appeared weak. Weaker than he has been the past few days. Now I can only compare this same feeling of anxiety to the day I felt the same, when we got his diagnosis.

I am sure it is nothing. It could be a great number of things causing these feelings. The primary one being, the meds aren’t working or are not strong enough to combat the level of my mental illness. I would much rather up the dosage than have to return to the parade of drugs that cause me more irritation than the last.

To ward off any further anxiety regarding my husband, I will just finish up at the office and work from home. I don’t like doing that because I will inevitably get pulled away from my work to do some task or I will have access to a whole pantry filled with food that I have (evidently) set as my task to devour before the end of the week.

July 7, 2023

Reflections of a Journey

I was a really weird kid growing up. I’ve been “myself” for as long as I can remember, marching to the beat of my own (off-beat) drummer. I was one to say “Thank you!” when a kid called me weird, with his eyebrows forming a single line of disbelief. Sure my response made me an odd-ball to my peers but then (and now) I rather have been weird than try and “fit in.”

One of my more obscure and bizarre characteristics was that I also craved “a struggle.” I distinctly remember watching “Angels in the Outfield” and being annoyed that I had two loving parents who were there for me. I wanted to be Joseph Gordon Levitt’s character, a foster kid who “wanted” a loving family, instead of actually having one. So, when I say I was weird, this is mainly where that statement roots.

From a young age I liked drama. I wanted a real story to tell and the one I was “living” wasn’t very “exciting.” I imagine that is why I became a writer. If I couldn’t have the drama I would cast myself as the lead and punish myself through the written word. Forcing myself through bizarre obstacles wherein I come out triumphant on the other side.

During high school I had longed for some “drama” because I felt as if life had grown too mundane for me, and then it turned topsy-turvy. I lost my circle of friends, I jumped out of the closet, and found a whole new group of companions. It was a strange time. The thought I had had at the settle of everything was “be careful what you wish for…”

In my early 30’s I felt as though my life had once again gotten stale. I had gotten stuck in a rut with my job, my relationship, and my emotions. Once again I longed for some sort of excitement or… Drama.

As I love to do, I once again reinforced the fact that I never, ever learn from my past mistakes.

In a whirlwind of events I lost my dad, my mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and then my husband was diagnosed with a terminal illness. All in the span of a year. Oh, and the world was plunged into chaos with a pandemic. So life has been interesting since 2019.

I wrote all of that to say today marks the 1 year anniversary of my mother’s passing.

The first thing my husband said to me, after I got the news she had left this reality, “You’re an orphan now.”

It’s a strange realization. You never think of someone in their (mid) 30’s being an orphan. Yet once you no longer have your parents that’s exactly what you are.

I look back on those feelings of wanting to be “an orphan” and cringe. Why would anyone want that? Just for the sake of drama? That’s insane. Really… unhinged.

Yet if I break it down I think I wanted a struggle, a hero’s journey so to speak. Something that would be my “call to action” to bring me out of my complacency and put me on the path to becoming a “hero.”

When the call finally came, I was and am a very reluctant, flawed hero. Every bit of these past three years was thrust upon me and I want nothing to do with it. But being the valiant protagonist I accepted my fate, begrudgingly. It’s my desire to be the knight in white that keeps me going. Even on the days that I am so exhausted I just want to disappear from this world.

I hope I was the hero for my mom. Everyday I question whether or not my every choice was the right one. Even now, they feel wrong. I feel like I somehow failed my “quest.” But how did I expect it to end? There is no escaping the clutches of Alzheimer’s.

July 3, 2023

Fucking Over It.

It’s fairly certain, at least to me, that homophobia is drastically on the rise. The rhetoric surrounding our culture has once again looped us into being pedophiles (as opposed to their religious leaders and coaches who have been caught multiple times) and it’s genuinely scaring me. Having my little scrape within my own bubble popped me out of my delusion.

I will be the first to admit that as far as homophobia goes I haven’t really had anything done directly to me. Sure, when I was a kid they were the ones to tell me I was a faggot (before I even knew what it was) but since then it’s been relatively mild. Just the “political” stuff. Oh, and my mother disowning me and treating me and my husband rudely.

Other than that I haven’t come across anything “scary,” for lack of a better term.

As noted in my previous posts, that is no longer the case. Now I am hyper-focused on every little piece of news that references our community. What I have seen is quite chilling.

Now I don’t want to be the one screaming “the sky is falling!” when it’s not but… The sky is fucking falling bitches. Hopefully I’m wrong but, it is what it is.

I think the thing about the whole situation is that all these fucks are “so concerned about the kids” but choose to ignore the deep cuts to school funding, climate change is rearing it’s ugly head, and statistically the number one killer of children is guns. Do they bother to focus on of those issues “for the children?” Nah. It’s drag queens. Drag queens and gays are the issue here.

So, to make sure I don’t lose my mind completely I have been actively working on the subtle art of “not giving a fuck.” Haven’t read the book yet, but I am trying to accept the things I cannot change. Which is basically everything in my life.

June 27, 2023

Old Wounds, New Blood

It’s amazing how one never really gets over childhood trauma. One could spend copious amounts of time in therapy and working through it and it still finds a way to rear its ugly head.

The weekend after my first workplace “bullying” I kept complaining about it. Growing angrier as I recounted the story and even more anxious as it ruminated in my unending thoughts.

Then during a blur of verbal vomit I spat out the nugget of truth. I was hurt that once again, after I believed someone was my friend they betrayed me.

When I was a kid, and even still, I was so desperate for friends that I gave too much of myself. I’d do things for them, but then things, and tell them my deepest darkest secrets all in an effort to forge some kind of friendship. The problem with that kind of behavior is you tend to attract a lot of unscrupulous people. Which I did.

I was burnt and betrayed many times over my youth that I put up really high walls and a prize winning RBF that I continue to wear to this moment. It was a way of warding people away from me. And even though I was short I was broad as a preteen. (Aka I was a fatty.) Coupled with the mean mug I was thoroughly unapproachable.

This whole incident shoved me right back there, where I feel like an idiot and never want to feel that way again.