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About this blog

‘If you’re going to complain about being upset or triggered by a blog you sought out, do a better job of managing yourself.’

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Life, Work, and Writing....

You know, it occurs to me that I do not have a very good work - life balance. And my saying that should be taken as a massive understatement probably.  I have no life outside of work.  I can't afford one - we only have basic bills, we can't pare anything down anymore. No safety net (ie savings or credit cards)... it's hard to try to have a life when you cannot afford to leave the house, you know?  I guess, now that I think about it, there are things I could do.  I've tried crocheting recently. It's been a few weeks since I picked it up, but I am working on a scarf. I"ll have to show you when I get it done enough. At the moment, it could either be a scarf or a really big dish cloth, LOL.  I'm only doing single stitch crochet, and just barely at that. But it's something.  I keep trying counted cross stitch, but it's so detail oriented, I get tired of it after a while. I'm also writing again, sort of.  I've put down my Supernatural - Doom fanfiction for a while, and my original Supernatural fanfiction.  I started a version of Supernatural that incorporates more 'Christian' beliefs.  I'm not very far into it - only about 15 pages or so - and I'm just getting to the part where I need to figure out how these changes affect Sam and Dean Winchester, and specifically their lives 'in canon'.  How much will change?  So far, I've primarily dealt with Castiel and some other side characters I made up. For me, the hardest part of writing has not been the actual writing - it has been the research and thinking.  I finally had to put my Supernatural-Doom AU fanfiction down because I had so many re-starts in the beginning (re-working it because there was a serious flaw in what I came up with) that I just completely lost the story in my head.  I set it down nearly a month ago and haven't picked it up again.  That taught me a lesson - certain things need to be thought through before I start typing.  Because having to interrupt that process once I get started really ruins my ability to continue writing the story.  I am also wondering if in those cases I should just keep writing the story out the way I had planned, flaws and all, and then re-work it.  But some of the flaws I felt were too big - big enough to influence where the rest of the story went. So I kept re-starting. It's been probably two months or so since I picked up my original Supernatural fanfiction, the one that started all this.  Well, that's a lie. It's really Sherlock (BBC series) that started it.  Just like in real life, how Sherlock was the original fandom.  Sherlock is the fandom that started it all. When Doyle tried to kill off Sherlock, fans protested in large numbers, wearing black mourning armbands.  He had to bring Sherlock back.  So we are the first - fitting therefore that my start in writing fanfiction should be with Sherlock.  I haven't published it on AO3 yet, though.  It really sucks, actually. My Watson is far too open and comfortable with his sexuality to be true to Watson in the series.  Watson in the series is a stereotypical repressed Englishman.  Feelings, what?  I haven't figured out how to fix that. As far as my own original story, I am also stuck there.  I'd really like to write a dragon story set in relatively modern urban setting. Hardly anyone does that seriously, and when they do, it's always in terms of shifters.  But my imagination is still locked in 'McAffrey Pern' Mode.  If you've read Anne McAffrey's Pern series, you'll know what I mean.  If not, what I am referring to is sentient telepathic dragons and humanoid riders  in a pre-industrial setting.  I'd like to transfer that over to a relatively modern urban setting, without making it steampunk or going too far back to early industrial / Edwardian / Victorian times. I'd like to stick with current time, or slightly in the future, without being dystopian.  But there are so many moving parts - can you imagine the US military industrial complex if someone bio-engineered dragons? Forget the size for now, just the concept; size brings its own problems, too.  And how expensive would that be initially to 'own' one?  And how does a sentient dragon population affect culture, societal norms, and the previously mentioned military industrial complex?  History has shown us how long it took for us to consider our fellow humans - who happen to have a darker skin tone - as human. And they look like us.  In many ways, we are still struggling with race as a society, at least in the US.  And like I said, that is our fellow humans.  How much more difficult would it be for humanity to admit that dragons are sentient and have the same right to self determination as humans?  And that doesn't even count starting on characterizations.  I have two completely different story ideas in my head - one pre-industrial and one tentatively future modern. I know that if I can get it straight in my head, I can write it.  I'm still not sure about my ability to grasp characterization, though.  One of many things I am not sure about.  Oh, and I still haven't mentioned my Christian-based Armegeddon storyline.... Anyway, enough rambling on. Time to put the old nose to the grindstone so to speak.                                  
 

Positive Power of Persistence...

I will have you know that blathering on here is part of what finally got me up and around - well, after I took my shower.  It took me just over twenty minutes of first moving out to the sofa, then laying there on the sofa convincing myself I wanted to take a shower.  Should have taken one yesterday like a good little civilized human being, but that's another blog post. So I'm laying there trying to convince myself not to wait until this evening, which is code for 'it will not happen today'.  I kept trying to remind myself I would feel refreshed and clean, but it really didn't have very much selling power.  I reminded myself I could not shower tomorrow morning, because I have to be off to the Big City for an all day workshop - that means I'll have to leave by 700, and I'm usually not even fully conscious at 700, much less dressed and ready to go.  At least it means I won't be 'in the office' tomorrow.  Sort of a modified three day vacay, sort of.  Hey, I take the breaks where I can get 'em.  Anyway, I think I'm improving a little bit - usually it takes at least 45 minutes to an hour of convincing myself, falling asleep, convincing myself.... just to get out of bed and go lay down on the sofa.  By the time I get out to the sofa, I tell myself I could write a blog post or check DF, and that is what gets me up and around. I have to do it by degrees.  When I was a lot younger, I used to get up and shower and style my hair and do all my makeup - full nine yards, as they say - every. single. day.  I marvel now that I was able to do that - that at the time I considered it a bare minimum for stepping out the door for any reason.  Then I had kids, LOL.  They teach you how to be casual about things like that.  Like the meme says - 'motherhood is always with you, usually in the form of something gross stuck to your clothing.'  LOL.  'Struth!   So on another subject that I'm sure is just as riveting as my shower struggles - hey, the struggle is real though, when you're depressed.  Showers on a regular basis are frequently grounds for legit celebration.  You have to work hard to keep those nasty defeating negative thoughts out, though.  There will usually be some small voice inside that tells you that everyone showers regularly and that you are a loser for struggling with it.  You just have to remind yourself that a)those people don't usually wake up wanting to blow the top of their head off and b) you decided to stick around for one more day instead of blowing the top of said head off and c) you accomplished something besides breathing and being here, top of your head intact.  You really have to focus on the positive side, and it can take some real work to keep those negative thoughts from pushing their way in.  Be persistent, though, and it will make a difference.  Persistence is key.  Your mind will naturally 'gravitate' to the negative.  You will have to work hard to overcome that - this is why persistence is key.  Because you have to keep up with it even though you won't necessarily see any 'difference' for a while.  And it might take some effort to even recognize those differences. Again, depression makes your mind naturally gravitate to the negative.  And it also seems to 'wash out' any positives in your life - it's hard to explain to people that you are not 'ignoring' those positive things, but that for you they literally do. not. exist.  Like a filter that washes out everything of a certain color in your environment - those things are technically still there, but they are invisible to you.  At that point you have to kind of take those positives on faith and again - be persistent about it.    I like Captain Harlock because I can really identify with him.... He actually fucks things up quite a bit; but he doesn't give up, he persists....   I also like this quote using a fanart image based on Blue Exorcist - the old man was a mentor and father figure - and I love the quote....   Sometimes you just have to decide to 'continue living', and the motivation will come later.  Deciding to keep living can be so monumentally difficult, dear ones.  It can be the single hardest decision you ever make - and sometimes you have to make that decision every. single. day.  If you persist, and just keep moving in one way or another - and sometimes just choosing to be here is a form of 'moving' -then eventually you will be able to conceive of motivation.  And conceiving - absorbing, accepting - the concept of motivation can be just as monumentally difficult as deciding to continue.  Don't be afraid to take it in stages, dear ones.  You don't have to make that entire leap in one go.  Take one step at a time.  One stage at a time.  Persist.           
 

A Poem Or Two...

I've been GIMPing this afternoon.  Playing around with images (free ones off the internet) and some of my favorite poems. Here are a couple of them... The Taxi by Amy Lowell makes me think of hubby dearest, every morning when I go to work....    Landscape With the Fall of Icarus by William Carlos Williams...   when god lets my body be by ee cummings  (one of my all-time favorites)  
 

Frodo and Samwise

This might get a little dark, but don't lose hope...... > > I can't seem to get a grip on anything.  It all feels so far away, and yet it makes me panic just thinking about it.  Does that make any sense whatsoever?  I keep wondering why I'm trying. I feel like I'm trying really hard, but if you looked at me, you wouldn't see it.  I'm not running around like a chicken trying to accomplish everything. Actually, I've given up on accomplishing anything.  I feel like just being here is trying really hard. You know?  I feel like choosing to just stay is taking all my energy.  I feel like I don't have any energy left to step back from the cliff.  I feel like it's taking everything I have to just stand here and not jump, you know?  Experience tells me that I won't feel like this forever, even though it seems like it.  I know at some point I will be able to step back from the edge again, and look around again, and assess my surroundings again, and figure out what direction to go again.  I know it, but it doesn't make it any easier.  And I apologize for not being able to tell you something different.  If you persist, you will be able to see the colors eventually.  They won't mean the same things as before, though.  But you will be able to see them.  And when the colors disappear again, you will be able to tell yourself that they will be back.  And even though your whole mind and body will scream against it, something small and quiet inside will be able to say 'no, this won't last'.  And it will be enough.  Just barely enough, but enough nonetheless. So right now, I am standing on the edge.  I am looking down and reminding myself what it was like to lay down on my belly on that edge and try to save someone.  Like Samwise Gamgee did for Frodo Baggins in the last movie of LOTR.  Frodo has fallen over the precipice while fighting Gollum for the One Ring.  Frodo hangs quietly on the cliff edge, and you can see it in his eyes.  'Let me go' his eyes say.  But Samwise won't let go. I cannot watch that scene without bawling.  Because I have been Frodo.  Because I have been Samwise.  And it is still Samwise that saves me.  It is my memory of being Samwise, and trying to save my Frodo.  And failing.    And watching in horror as my Frodo lets go of the cliff face and falls into the fires of his own Mordor.  So if you are ever thinking that no one cares, dearest Frodo, that you have no Samwise to yell at you and grab you by the hand, you are sorely mistaken.  Because I care.  I don't have to know your name to care.  I know the nature of the battle you fight, and that is enough.  Like I said, it is Samwise that saves me every time.  Because I cannot be responsible for inflicting that kind of pain on my loved ones, or on people who look to me for some sort of strength.  I have enough mistakes to carry, I cannot add that to the list. So the next time the Spectre grows large, remember that if you take your own life, you will be hurting people.  Take it on faith, if you have to.  Your family will hurt, even if they don't understand your struggle right now.  Your friends will hurt, even if they don't understand your struggle right now.   And we here at DF will hurt - I will hurt - and I do understand what I'm asking of you.  I understand that I am asking you give up the oblivion of the fires of Morder to keep fighting.  I could remind you that it will change eventually, but I know you won't believe it.  Because I could not believe it, hanging there on the cliff face, above my own fires of Mordor.  For now, take it on faith if you have to.  Grab Samwise's hand and scramble to the top of the cliff and just sit there a while until you feel like you can think about moving again.  It will be hard to take that first step back from the edge - nearly as hard as it was to grab Samwise's hand.  The fires of Morder look enticing when your whole life is blood and battle that almost no one sees.  For like Frodo, you carry the One Ring.  We all experience the One Ring differently.  And most cannot understand the battle we endure every day carrying it.  Focus on those who do understand. Focus on those who do understand the Burden of Carrying the One Ring.  Believe them when they say you are valuable and you are loved and you are appreciated, and that you will make it through this fight.  It will sound like a foreign language at first.  The words will have little meaning for you initially.  Take them on faith until you begin to understand the language. Then make it your own.           
 

Failure & Other Things I Do Alot....

I think I fell through a time warp yesterday..... Am I the only one who has those pop up randomly?  Somehow I didn't get much done except reading and messing around online.                       I didn't even look at reports and stuff from here that really need attention.  And, I didn't go walking either.  So my first week of having to walk three days a week, and I failed. I'm wondering if I need to revise my schedule back some.  It's so hard to make myself do things, even things I end up enjoying somewhat as or after I do them.  What is up with that, by the way?  I mean, really, WTAF (What The Actual F*ck?).   You would think that, oh, I don't know, enjoying something to even a mild degree would be enough motivation to do it.  But no.  Not idiot me.  I'm tired of always feeling like a failure, and always only seeing my mistakes even when others say I've done well. And my anxiety over this mistake I made at work is getting more difficult to control. I've had to wait about two weeks to talk to the appropriate people & 'own up', and I don't do well when that happens.   If it weren't for the anxiety  meds, I'd be probably at a solid 3.5 out of 5 right now on the Richter Scale of Anxiety/Panic.  5 is a solid severe panic attack that makes me think I'm having a heart attack.  1 is normal, 'gotta get to work on time & remember to pay that bill today' anxiety.  I'm working really hard to hold it down to a 2.5 - I think that's why it's been so difficult to motivate to walk.  Even though walking helps my anxiety - sort of.  My earbuds don't work right, so I can't listen to Gojira like I usually do, and so my mind wanders and the walk tends to end up as an anxiety session.  Earbuds are cheap, but I'm not worth spending money on.  I barely even spend money on getting myself a haircut or hairstyle twice a year, and trust me, my hair needs a trim or taming at least every other month.  I have long, frizzy, crazy-cat-lady hair right now.  But when I think about taking a shower, or styling my hair, it just feels like climbing Mount Everest.  You know?  I don't go in for all that girly stuff like makeup and styles and painted nails, and I never have. It's sort of a combo of not feeling attached to my own body and caring more about my thought life than my real life.  I know that explanation s*cks, but it's the best I can do.  Like anyone really cares, anyway.  I write because maybe someone out there will think 'Thank God I'm not the only one'.       
 

The Anxiety Treadmill.....

Anxiety is back..... I love my mind (read with heavy sarcasm)....   I love how it takes one little mistake and blows it up to Atlantean proportions. (no I haven't see Aquaman, I just thought it sounded good to say it that way) What should be a small little fire burning in the hearth is now blowing half of Mt. St. Helen's off the face of the earth. Apparently I made a mistake at work last week.    I never even realized I made the mistake until my boss pointed it out Monday. Then we went on New Year's holiday. (small yay that I work in a place that allows that) So I haven't been able to resolve the mistake, and due to circumstances, I may not be able to do anything about it until tomorrow.  I barely slept last night. I think if it wasn't for my anti-anxiety (I'm on Atarax), I would be having near-biblical proportion panic attacks almost 24/7.  The last time I spent the weekend having near panic attacks was about November of 2016, and it was due to work events then, too.  Back in 2016, I finally had a big one before work that Monday morning, and it honestly felt like a heart attack. We were on the way in to the hospital in the next town (I don't like the one in our town) early that morning when the symptoms started to abate. That's when I realized it was panic and not a heart attack. This morning, I feel pretty sick from lack of sleep. My body cannot seem to handle lack of sleep anymore. As I type this, I'm having trouble breathing, my chest feels heavy, I feel weak - I'm waiting for the Atarax to kick in. When it kicks in, it dulls the anxiety down a couple of notches. So I go from a four out of five to a two out of five.  The anxiety is still there, but it is at a more 'realistic' and manageable level.  I really hope I start feeling better once it kicks in, because it is just me and the part-timer today. (my boss and co-worker are off for other reasons today.)  So I cannot take off work and take care of myself.  I never can.  I rarely even consider it anymore.  Usually when I need to take off it ends up being during times when I have no choice but to be there anyway.  I have been repeating to myself 'this is not the only thing in the world'.  Because right now, it's literally the only thing my mind can seem to focus on. And that mantra - 'this is not the only thing in the world' - seems to be helping me much more than what I was trying last night, which was 'I don't really have to work'.  Yeah, right, I didn't believe that either.  Until hubby is old enough to retire, I'm the primary income. No work, no food, no heat, no internet.... I'm stopping there before I trigger myself again.  All this panic and anxiety because I made a mistake.  Ironically enough, I made the mistake because it was just me in charge last week, boss was on vacay (again) and I knew I would have to handle it.  So I panicked, and when I panic, I feel like I have to take action. Right then.  I don't freeze up with anxiety. Instead, I feel like someone will die if I don't act or speak immediately.  I'm getting better about catching it, recognizing it, but I missed it last week.  So it sort of became a self-fulfilling prophecy.  Ironically enough.   
 

Religion....

I'm going to wax a wee bit opinionated about religion for this one, so if that's not your bag, or if you are really attached to what you believe, this is your cue to leave now..... Still here? Everyone left?  Oh well..... Still typing....

20YearsandCounting

20YearsandCounting

 

Crying Buckets....

We binge-watched LOTR Monday and Tuesday.  Yay.  One day I'm going to read the books.  Hey, don't look at me like that, I'll get around to reading them, really I will.  Anyway, I've decided I want to watch the series over again, and this time keep track of all the scenes that sock me in the gut.  Paying attention to what movie scenes really sock it to me often reveals quite a bit about what I'm going through that I don't necessarily want to admit to myself.  Sometimes, though, it's just straightforward - the character says or does something that I have struggled with, and it hits me on a visceral level.  Like the last scene in 'TROK' , where Frodo, Merry, Pippin, & Sam are accompanying Gandalf and Bilbo as the latter two take the last boat to the Undying Lands....  From the moment Gandalf half turns and reaches out his hand and tells Frodo 'It's time, Frodo,' until Frodo sets foot on that ship and smiles back at his friends.... I am a bawling mess.  Yesterday, when Gandalf said those words, I clapped my hands over my mouth and tried not to cry out - I don't know why. It was just my husband and me; he was sitting right by me because he knows how that scene hits me.   Gandalf said those words, and that was it.  'It's time, Frodo.' And I know why it hits me so hard.   Fair warning, this is where we get into Afterlife and Higher Power and spiritual stuff and even thoughts of death....   For me, Gandalf represents God... So much of me wants to hear God say 'come on home, honey...'  So when Gandalf says 'It's time, Frodo' I just lose it.  Because for me it's God standing there saying 'It's time to come home, honey'.  I cannot describe how every cell in my body longs for that.  At once afraid of the unknown that Death represents, and also craving the release home.   And then Frodo says those words to Samwise Gamgee....  The Words, Capitalized.  The Words that make me think someone Has Been Peeking Into My Soul.  'We set out to save the Shire Sam, and it has been saved - but not for me.' How deeply that line hits me..... In that moment, when Frodo embraces Samwise and tells him this.... That is me, looking at my loved ones and knowing deep down that I have been too much scarred by my struggle to ever be 'normal' again, if I ever was. Too much scarred by depression and mental illness to ever really be as attached to this world and this life as I should be. I endure, because I know what loss through suicide does to those left behind. It's not conceit; it's a simple refusal to add one more mistake, one more ounce of pain to the already unwieldy heap of wrongs I am responsible for.  Frodo carries the One Ring, and the carrying of it scars him far more deeply than even the Nazgul blade wound in his chest, perpetually unhealed.  Depression, mental illness, anxiety.... these are my One Ring.  My mistakes - manifold and numerous as the stars - are my Nazgul Blade. So when Frodo struggles move forward under the weight of the One Ring, there I am sobbing internally - looking into those exhausted, despairing eyes and seeing myself.  It is at once comforting, and agonizing.... Comforting to know that someone understands the struggle... Agonizing to be reminded of it so forcefully and openly.     

20YearsandCounting

20YearsandCounting

 

Missing My Meds....

I've been missing my meds quite a bit the last few days.  Doesn't make it any easier to deal with everything.  I'm currently wondering how I make it through, and whether I can call this 'making it through.' I feel like I've spent most of my life doing the emotional equivalent of subsistence farming.  I'm working my ass off every day just to feed myself, but I cannot see any way around it.  It's like a never-ending loop that feeds on itself.  Like some sort of twisted Ourobouros.  I guess now that I think about it, I can see a way forward.  It just looks really, really intimidating and impossible.  For me, at least.  For normal people, it's just another day, just another 'so what' day.  For me, it feels like scaling Mount Everest. And I cannot explain how frustrating that is, for such simple things to be Mount Everest.  My doc wants me to walk a mile a day.  I'm working on it, but it's really intermittent, because I'm having motivation problems.  I don't want to die (which is a disturbingly new concept I am not entirely sure I embrace), but I cannot seem to be able to grab onto anything.  I cannot seem to be able to find it in me to value myself - I guess that's the crux of the issue.  I see absolutely no value in myself at all.  I am a complete and utter waste of humanity.  My lifetime would have been better served given to some poor child dying of Leukemia.  If I knew that the remaining hours of my life would be apportioned thusly, I would have taken that 'out' long ago.  Yet, I am still here.  By some gruesome combination of sheer cussed stubbornness and the knowledge that my leaving like that will affect my loved ones in a negative way.  I know that from personal experience, when my late first husband chose that.  It took me nearly a decade afterwards to be able to listen to 'Silent Lucidity' by Queensryche or 'Mama I'm Comin' Home' by Ozzy Osbourne without bawling my eyes out.  So I feel like I'm stuck in the Hinterlands.... in the No Man's Land of this gruesome war.  Frozen on the battlefield, surrounded by invisible Claymores and Concertina Wire, knowing I need to move on through but unsure which way to step, and afraid to step that way.  I googled 'barbed wire battlefield' and that last image is apparently from 'Battlefield I: Barbed Wire Maze of Pain'. I cropped the player names out of it. It just really sucks that this is what I go through to do the dishes or take out the trash.  I can't help but wonder where I'd be if I wasn't weighed down by this. You know?    

20YearsandCounting

20YearsandCounting

 

Oh How Fun....

Me here with my quiet holiday.  Thought I'd be able to spend more time here, maybe respond to some posts.... but technical glitches have meant that I now have a mysterious fifteen minute window to work in before the site freezes up and locks me out. Beyond frustrating.  I can't seem to get started on anything, and my temper seems to be set on 'Hair Trigger' - glitches here are def not helping.  I hope everyone's holiday is going better than mine.  I should be grateful for a quiet few days, and I am trying to be, honestly. I guess that might be why I'm having such a problem - usually I bury these things because I don't have the strength to deal with them and make a living, you know?  And the making a living part is not exactly negotiable at this point in my life.  So I guess it's good that I'm feeling these things.  Right, we'll go with that.  Oh, I did get little candies made for holiday gifts.  Pretzels covered in white chocolate (they look like a third grader made them, LOL) and Rice Krispy treats (heavy on the butter just the way hubby likes them).  I'm going to try and make 'fried cheerios' tomorrow.  Don't laugh at that, I'll get upset. One of my parents made them for me and my siblings one year - we wanted popcorn and didn't have any.  Sautee cheerios in butter - proportions are up to the person depending on their tastes.  I usually do 3/4 stick of real butter (salted) to about 4 cups of cheerios on low to medium heat.  Yeah, so that's my weird family tradition, haha.  Anyway, hopefully I'll be able to post this blog entry, and failing that, hopefully I'll be able to resist the wild urge to throw my laptop across the room.  Fun Christmas GIF.  I love Chong....

20YearsandCounting

20YearsandCounting

 

How Am I Doing This?

Some days I wonder how the ever loving f*ck*ll I am making it through one week after another.  Granted, I don't do much at home once I get there - my poor husband shoulders most of the burden of household chores when they get done.  I"m beyond lucky to have found someone willing to do that.  I still don't have any over-arching goals, beyond 'get through the day'.  I still can't seem to feel connected enough to anything to develop them. Sometimes I would like to get in shape, sometimes I would like to crochet stupid scarves or make stupid little craft projects.  I've been thinking of one using a combination of random objects and wire to make a little pseudo-snowman figure with a little scarf.  I can crochet that much at least, though it still looks like crap.  My stitches are getting better. I've found it easier to use cotton thread than yarn, because with yarn I have a tendency to stretch the thread and make my stitches too tight.  Anyway.... I have to admit that I am not in the festive mood - I don't even have a single Christmas related ornament up.  At all.  And it may not happen this year at all.  A huge part of me really does not care, and is thankful that at least now I don't have to try and pretend anymore.  It will be a quiet holiday around here, since we are celebrating the last weekend of December.  I don't mean to be a Scrooge, I just cannot get into the holiday spirit anymore.  I wish Christmas could be like Thanksgiving - family gathering with plenty of food and no expectation of gift exchange. I just don't feel it anymore, at least not until the holiday has passed.... I don't mean to be a Grinch, but this sort of sums up how I secretly feel this time of year....    

20YearsandCounting

20YearsandCounting

 

Up in the air....

I think it's this time of year, primarily.  I always stress around the holidays. I love Thanksgiving, but it all goes downhill from there until about a week after Christmas, then I start to feel relieved - like when you set something heavy on the grass in the springtime, and then you lift it up, the grass blades sort of spring back.  I really love DF, and it's such a great place and such a safe haven for so many people. I love having some small part in keeping it going.  I will be traveling soon, so I hope being able to get out on the open road will help me sort through things and keep them in perspective.  I appreciate each one of you, and I am so glad to be able to interact with you here.  This pic is from anime DRAMAtical Murder.  I love Japanese to English translations, LOL. I often wonder what the more accurate title would be. I love the anime, but I've never played the game.  I also love No. 6 anime, putting a pic below this one.   I'm putting a pic of Nezumi and Sion, and also one of the most moving parts of the anime below it, and the next lines will discuss key plot points for No. 6, so spoiler alert.  In so many ways, I am like Nezumi, but I am also like Sion. When Sion dies, Nezumi keeps his word and gets him out of the building before it explodes, then he literally just lays down next to Sion, waiting for the building's imminent explosion, which will end up killing him due to his proximity.  Sion's dead, so life is not worthwhile.  It's not healthy to be that connected to someone, but it very much reflects my love for and attachment to my husband. He's the best part of me, and I don't think I could breathe without him.  When couples who have been married for 30-50 years die within days or hours of each other, it hits me now on a visceral level.  My husband had a health scare several years ago coming up in February, and I thought he was dying - I thought I was dying. Anyway, don't know what got me started on that....      

20YearsandCounting

20YearsandCounting

 

Is this it?

Things have happened recently that may mean I end up leaving DF.  I wanted you to know, so you don't think I k*ll*d myself or something, because I know my blog posts have been a little dark lately.  If you don't hear from me, it's because I'm elsewhere, not because I finally gave in. You guys mean the world to me, I want you to know that. Tami               

20YearsandCounting

20YearsandCounting

 

Roller Coasters....

One thing the struggle with depression has left me with is a relatively low tolerance for what I think of as the 'roller coaster ride'.  Emotional states that fluctuate - up, down, up, down - it's all really exhausting.  I had another painful experience at work earlier this week.  Higher ups had to come in and help settle things.  And no, it wasn't me causing the pain.  Incidents like these keep happening with one person in particular, and I seem to be a lightning rod for them, unfortunately.  It has been such a problem that I have actually been planning my exit; granted that would have been quite a ways away because let's face it, I'm not rich.  And yeah, you read that right - I said 'would have been'.  Because I had a very encouraging discussion with higher ups that helped give me a second wind in dealing with this situation.  So now I feel pretty good about work again.  And silly me is fighting the dread.  Am I the only one who is afraid of feeling good?  There's really no way to explain the special kind of dread that can creep up on good feelings - like gliding, and then you hit the wrong pocket and suddenly you're dropping a few feet with your heart in your throat.  It's only a few feet, but when you've fallen all the way to the ground, it can be harrowing.  This whole situation has been teaching me a valuable lesson, though.  I have a very strong tendency to internalize things, personalize them, and blame myself.  Even when situations or events don't involve me in any way, I somehow still feel like I messed up somewhere.  That thinking has made it particularly toxic for working with this particular person, because that person is highly critical.  My natural tendency is to blame myself even when I'm not at fault, and they tend to criticize everyone and everything.  It's a toxic lose-lose for everyone.  And because of my personality, I tend to attract that attention without even trying. The roller coaster is getting more than a little exhausting, but I am starting to get positive feedback and support from others, and I am starting to learn how to distinguish when things are not related to me at all.                      

20YearsandCounting

20YearsandCounting

 

Writers and writing....

Writers gonna write, write, write, write.......   LOL, me trying to be cool is hilarious.  Trust me. Once again, it is only 15-20 minutes until I get dressed and leave for work, and here I am blogging.  Not procrastinating at all, nope, not me. I have been working on a fanfiction mashup of the Doom movie (2005) and the Supernatural series.  I just put a deleted scene out on my chosen platform from the new mashup. Deleted because I felt like the direction I took wasn't realistic enough, so I posted a scene from that as a 'one shot'.  I haven't heard anything back yet from any readers, but I only posted it yesterday afternoon, so it's early days yet.  I've really enjoyed writing fanfiction for Supernatural, though I'm not really comfortable sharing my ID here because I'm not sure how what I've written will be received or impact people, or if they will even care.  I've taken a hiatus of sorts from writing about Castiel Novak and Gabriel Novak, and John Grimm, and Dean Winchester, and even from writing about the straight Supernatural fanfiction.    I wish I had a picture, I guess I'll have to work on editing one  together.            

20YearsandCounting

20YearsandCounting

 

The Fun Never Ends....

I seem to have lost a blog post, several PM convos, and the ability to start new PM convos..... I smell a glitch.  I can't even find any record of what I did yesterday in my activity feed.  It's all gone, I guess.  Bummer.  Par for the course for me lately.  When I wrote my last blog post, I was feeling pretty suicidal - but don't be alarmed.  I know that sounds antithetical, but I've lived with suicidal thoughts for many years now.  They are not constant anymore, and I have frequent periods where I feel pretty much what 'normal' must be.  So I'm making progress.  It's still a moment to moment, narrow thing.  The short of it is that I am pushing 50 and my youngest is in her senior year in high school and has moved in with her boyfriend's family.  It's a long story as to why.  My middle one just moved across state to live with my mom while he gets his degree.  My oldest lives a short distance away, but I"m lucky to get over to see her and her family about once or twice a month.  So, they're all gone.  And all I can think about is what I messed up and what I didn't do.  It was really bad this weekend when we met my mom halfway to drop my middle kid off.  Well, I guess I can't say kid - he's in his early to mid-twenties.  My oldest is nearing thirty, and my youngest is already 18. Anyway, that's the struggle.  Breathing. Working. Repeat.  Breathe. Work. Repeat.  Breathing is astonishingly difficult right now.  I don't know how I'm going to manage work.

20YearsandCounting

20YearsandCounting

 

One Foot In Front of the Other....

Does anyone else hear that phrase as sung by Kris Kringle and the Winter Warlock in the old claymation movie 'Santa Claus Is Coming to Town'?  I dearly love that scene- it makes me bawl like a little baby every. single. time. And no, I'm not spreading Christmas cheer - my attitude towards the holidays is more like 'so it begins'.  I love Thanksgiving, I have a ton of wonderful family memories from Thanksgiving.  And Christmas too. But Christmas comes with a virtual obligation of gift giving, and I can barely keep my family fed in the good months.  So Christmas becomes a reminder of 'oh, look 20YaC at how badly you are failing!'  So yeah, not excited about Christmas, nope. Things blew up a little Thursday at work.  I can't really say much more than that - I just erased it all and thought better of it.  I was going to put this blog entry out Thursday and decided not to.  That's where I'm at right now. I hate it when work is like this-walking on eggshells all the time and waiting for the inevitable explosion. Because I feel like who I am and how people perceive me means there is a target painted on my back, regardless of my behavior.  It triggers my anxiety and panic into overdrive.  I hate feeling terrified so much of the time.  And the crazy thing is, that it is only in the last couple of years that I am figuring out two basic things most people already know :  a) it's not always my fault or about me and b) work shouldn't feel like this.    

20YearsandCounting

20YearsandCounting

 

Lost Time...

Somehow I've managed to lose a couple of weeks.  Crazy, I know.  I don't know where they slipped off to, and now it's too late to use them.  Like expired coupons.  I would like to be able to keep a journal every day, and failing that, at least three times a week.  And yet here we are with the first thing in two weeks. I feel like it's been a rough two weeks, though. We did our first 'Photo Walk' and got to see my dad. My dad had knee surgery. My step sister had surgery for breast cancer.  My oldest had her second child, we helped get the house ready for that.  My boss and co-worker went on vacay the same week, so it's been just me and the part-timer.  It sort of makes me mad, though, that my boss went on vacay this week. She actually changed her plans. Initially she was going to be back the day my co-worker went on her vacay - which my co-worker goes on vacay the same time every year.  Then the last week of September my boss changed her plans to be gone this whole week, knowing my co-worker would be gone and knowing we had a program this week, too.  Thankfully the program ended up cancelled for unrelated reasons.  What makes me mad is that my boss did this, yet would not let me take a day off before our local charity group (that works closely with the library I work at) had their annual book sale last month. She was going to be there that day, and my co-worker and the part-timer.  So there was really no need to deny me a day off I requested.  So I feel like that is 'double standards' in action.  Our bosses' boss wanted me to tell her about these types of incidents, so I am debating doing that.  I've realized the last couple of days how really burned out I am.  I've thought it was just physical exhaustion, but it's deeper than that.  I am so burned out.  I really don't care anymore. I'm the only one paying bills, so I keep going in to work.  But I really don't want to be there anymore.

20YearsandCounting

20YearsandCounting

 

Procrastination....

Is it still procrastination when you cannot afford to do something you need to do, so you put it off?  I'm not sure. I'm really good at procrastinating, though.  I've been putting off a dental visit, because of difficulty getting away from work and mainly because I don't have the money for a copay. I find out today if they will take my insurance. Everyone says yes they will because everyone takes that insurance, but I have to know for sure.  Because it's my normal luck that they won't. So I've been putting off having a tooth pulled since about August, and it's finally getting to the point where its making me sick.  I start antibiotics this week in preparation for my appointment next week. I hope it helps me feel better. I feel beat up and achy and exhausted, and I can't sleep well because my hips hurt so much.  Here are a couple of pics, because I need cheering up already....    

20YearsandCounting

20YearsandCounting

 

Just Another Fangirl....

I'm just gonna fangirl about Karl Urban a minute. Not long.  I'm actually really tired right now. I'm thinking about how my newest fanfiction will go. I've already got a good start on it, but I"m only just now getting to the part where directional decisions will need to be made.  I really love writing.  It really helps a ton with my anxiety to be able to direct all those restless thoughts into a direction that has a result.  And I really devoutly wish I could get my hands on Almost Human. It's really not fair that they cut it short.  Like, Firefly. That wasn't fair, either. (Browncoats, unite!)  I really love watching Karl Urban, no matter what role he plays. I've seen Doom about four times now, just for him and my new fanfiction.

20YearsandCounting

20YearsandCounting

 

DefCon & Cliffside Dwelling....

Gotta warn ya' it might get a little weird in here.... And a little spiritual, too.... so forewarned if Deities aren't your bag........... >>>> >>>>> Well, here we are on the cliffside.  I've managed to find a little shelf of sorts, and have camped out here a little, resting up.  I may be here a while.  Climbing the cliffside is equivalent to me finding motivation and attachment to this body and this world. Reaching the top of the cliff would be achieving that goal.  I'm not sure I'm up to that particular fight - it's a long one; like, 48 years long and counting.  Attachment for me comes and goes.  I regularly feel the strongest attachment to my husband, and then my kids, and then a couple of DFers I work with, and then my family. I just can't seem to grab hold of this life like some people do.  It feels so much like water when I try to do that - it just squeezes right between my fingers like it was never meant to be squeezed like a toddler clutching grapes. I have to find a way to cup my hands and hold it gently, offering it up to God.  Okay, here's your warning if you are allergic to Deities or spiritual talk..... Skip down to the pics if you want.................... >>>>>>> >>>>>>> The only way I've found to hold on to my life is to let go of it and hold onto Christ. Sounds paradoxical, but that's how it works for me.  I have been through points in my life when I honestly could not have given two flying f**k* about God in His Heaven.  But I've always loved Christ with my whole heart.  I can't help it, it's like my soul just cries out to Him, resonates with Him. I don't know how else to say it.  And the only way I know to connect with this life is to connect with Him.  Okay, spiritual talk over. Maybe. Here's your pic if you're actually looking and still reading..... The man looks good, does he not?  And now, because this is me, I'll swing to the other end of the spectrum, sort of, from spirituality. Physicality. That's how I think of it, anyway.  I have to admit I am a fan of men.  I really am.  Sorry if that's uncomfortable.  I can't really say more because this is a public forum.  (wink) And I'm a fan of one man in particular. I don't think my husband realizes how often I fangirl over him every day. And really that's entirely my fault.  I want you to know every time you see a Karl Urban pic, or a Misha Collins pic, I'm secretly comparing them to my hubby and they're actually falling more than a little short.  Mainly because for me, Karl and Misha are paintings on the wall.  Pretty to look at, but I have absolutely no desire to take them down and admire them up close.  He's the one that's up close. He's the one that's been in the trenches with me, bled for me and bled because of me, fought with me and fought for me...... I love him so much I can't even................     You know?  So there he is, walking through the kitchen like f**k**g Mr. America in his ratty tee shirt and do-rag and sweat and motor oil and cologne, and he smells so good and I just feel so freaking unworthy guys.  I'm nothing to look at - literally. When I was younger I was plain at best.  Now the kindest word to describe me is Matronly.  And he is aging well, I have to say.  So I need to gut up and let him know how awesome he is.  Because he is.  Really. Awesome.  And he's struggling so badly right now - he's a Classic Work Hard American Dream Man who can't work right now & can't quite retire. His dreams were so simple - sometimes I want to punch God in the Ever Loving Jaw for letting such simple dreams die....  Because he did everything he could to keep them alive.  Should I tell you one of his dreams?  Maybe you can help me figure out how to put the pieces together into something new for him.  One of them was to work at the same place for 40 or so years and retire.  He really admired that about the men he looked up to.  See what I mean?  Simple dreams.  Shattered. By greed. The company he worked for was sold to another company who put dozens of Hard Working Men out of work here in Oklahoma so they could ship it all down to Mexico and save a few bucks.  Those simple dreams are part of the reason I love him so much.  He's everything good about me, and more. Right now I'm carrying the Load of Primary Wage Earner. And while he's proud of me because of it, I know that he's also Traditional Enough that he's castigating himself a little for not being able to Be The Wage Earner.  I don't know how to tell him that he holds me together, that he's the sun in my sky and earth under my feet and the reason I feel like I can Get Up And Do This Shit All Over Again.  I'm glad to do that for him - he's worked so hard for his whole life, and gotten nothing but sand kicked in his face for his trouble.  So if I can be some Small Blessing in his life, if that's my purpose, then I"m more than elated to Bleed For The Cause and give my all for it.  I just wish I had more to give.            

20YearsandCounting

20YearsandCounting

 

Coming Down....

Things are normalizing, thanks mostly to the anxiety meds and situational stuff cooling down.  But I'm going into a very hairy time of year for me - typically October, November, and December are not good months for me. At. All.  I really do not look forward to the holiday season.  I'll put a meme down here that really hits it for me.  Oh, and an update on the whole Supernatural/Doom fanfiction.  There is. Nothing. About Doom anywhere. There is the game, and game history, such as it is. There is the movie, and one lonely half hearted Wikia.  So it looks like the path is clear for me to start a Supernatural/Doom fanfiction. TBH, I wanted to start an AU (Alternate Universe) Supernatural so I could write something light hearted about Castiel and Dean in a library, but apparently I don't do light hearted.  It's morphed into something else entirely.  And now hubby dearest is telling me I have to include Duke Nuke'Em, too.  So there's that.  Oh, here's my holiday meme. So here's Karl Urban again, because why not?   

20YearsandCounting

20YearsandCounting

 

Buggin' Pretty Hard...

I'm on a new (to me) anxiety med, Atarax.  So if you know anything about Atarax, lay it on me.  I might have to start a new thread for it, I couldn't find it on the boards. I'm supposed to take it several times a day, so I'm still working on dosage timing.  I'm struggling to hold my anxiety down to a very strong 2.5 pushing 3 very hard.  My meds oughta kick in soon.  I think they already have some, since I can type this without too many shaky fingers or even discuss the general need for anxiety meds without being 'triggered'.  I'm going to have to push off and get ready for work soon.  Just recording this since I'm trying to make 'journaling' a regular habit.  It seems to be easier to put a brief note here than it is to write pages and pages in my journal.  As a writer, that stumps me a bit, call me thick, I guess I am.  Anyway, here's Karl Urban.  I'm currently thinking about a John Grimm/Doom fanfiction, but there is so much to the Doom universe to catch up on, not to mention the games (I can't play video games, it's not pretty when I try).  So I'm thinking of taking the easy way out and maybe trying a Priest fanfiction, not as much material to catch up on.  If you have any advice for research on either of these, lay it on me, man.     

20YearsandCounting

20YearsandCounting

 

Defcon 3 and holding.... maybe

Yeah, I'm not dramatic at all.  That's how it feels, though.  If anxiety and panic were rated on Defcon levels, like US national security, Defcon 1 would be all the normal stress you might have in life - have bills to pay, feel a little sick but have to go into work anyway.  Defcon 5 would be a panic attack that is so bad it feels like a heart attack.  The situation I am so panicked about really does not merit more than a 2, but I cannot seem to help how bad it feels.  I have been a solid Defcon3, frequently edging into Defcon 4, since Wednesday.  That abated back to a 2 for a while on Saturday when I was able to make today's doc appointment to see about getting something for anxiety.  Then I replied to an email from family, and spent less than 10 minutes typing about it.  It was enough to put me back into a solid 3 again.  I've been at 5 before. I had spent the entire weekend at 4, and Monday morning it got so bad I thought I was having a  heart attack.  We were on our way to the hospital when it started to get better, and that's when I realized it was panic.  I'm actually a lot closer to the edge this last week than I would be if I were struggling with even the darkest depression.  Something about anxiety and panic really weakens me mentally and emotionally.  I have more trouble fighting s*ic*d*al thoughts when I'm consistently anxious or panicked than I do when my mood is so black that I can see shades of it. So my fingers are a little shaky hanging on to the tenuous little finger holds I've found on the side of my little cliff here. But the doc appointment is today, and that means a life line, a rope from the cliff top I can use to pull myself up.  I'm using my coping techniques, which might be a little different, but they are the most effective when the anxiety is this intense.  Normal calming techniques just do not register when my emotions and resulting anxiety loops are this intense.  So I have developed a system of 'substitution'.  I can only use it when I get home; if I'm at work, I have to bury everything anyway, for several reasons.  Which means cramming it all in a suitcase and stuffing it in the trunk and hoping the suitcase doesn't pop open.  My most effective technique utilizes obsessive tendencies.  Basically, when I am at this level of anxiety, I use one of my obsessions and focus all my mental energy into that for a certain minimum period of time, while doing my best to push anxious thoughts to the side a little. Generally I need to keep the focus up for nearly the full length of a movie when it's this bad.  So while it may seem counterintuitive to watch something so intense when I'm this anxious, I need something that can match the level of intensity I'm already feeling, so I can switch things out.  Kind of like Indiana Jones and his little statuette. Currently Karl Urban is pinch hitting for Misha Collins because Supernatural is too triggering to watch, and I can't find any other Misha on Netflix.  I've only watched Doom twice now, and I really would like to watch Almost Human.  They both are pretty heavy on Karl Urban, and Doom has the bonus of intense action but no emotional scenes. 

20YearsandCounting

20YearsandCounting

 

I'm Trying to Hang On.....

I'm trying to hang on.   I only have one reason to stick around, really, but it's pretty big. My reason? It's that I refuse to do that to my family.  I have seen how s**c*de affects the people left behind, I have experienced it firsthand. And I refuse to do that to my family, no matter how convinced I am that they would be better off without me. Right now, I'm the only income my family has.  I'm little more than a pack mule right now, and that's been okay so far. I can't carry my load very far or very well, but that's what is needed right now.  I'll carry it as long as I can. [I'll add a trigger warning in here. It's gonna get ugly, but please don't worry. ] > > > > > > It's just getting so hard to carry.  It's getting so Heavy.  I remember I first heard the song 'Heavy' by Linkin Park just about a month ago. I know it came out earlier than that, but it took me that long to listen to Chester's pain. It really resonates for me.  It really does get very heavy sometimes. Sometimes life feels like a burden, like a prison sentence. Hence my username, that's what it refers to.  https://youtu.be/5dmQ3QWpy1Q I've fought this battle so many times. And it never gets easier. It's a near thing. Every. Time. And feeling so disconnected all the time doesn't help as much as you'd think.  It makes it harder -nearly impossible - to find something to really 'attach' to.  You know what I'm referring to, don't you?  When you lift yourself out of that, you have to find something about life you can cling to. You have to switch your hold - like Indiana Jones stealing that little statuette, and subbing a bag of sand for it. And then you run like hell when the big boulder comes rolling after you.           

20YearsandCounting

20YearsandCounting

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